by Alexis Daria
“You’re okay with that?” Gina gestured at the wheel.
Natasha shot her a look. “As soon as you took that first shot, I knew our designated driver roles had switched. Kevin was drinking my shots.” She gave an evil grin as she started the car. “He’s going to have a wicked hangover tomorrow.”
“Good.” Gina shut her eyes. “He deserves it for winning the trophy so many times.”
Natasha chuckled and pulled out of the spot. “You’re probably going to have a wicked hangover tomorrow, too. You want to tell me what that was all about?”
Gina leaned her overheated head against the cool window. Her ears still pulsed from the music, despite the quiet car. Stone’s scent clung to her.
“No.”
She didn’t have an answer anyway.
* * *
After Gina got home, the first thing she did was change out of the sexy red dress she’d borrowed from Natasha. She was never letting Tash dress her again. While she changed, Natasha yelled at her from the kitchen.
“I’m mad at you.”
Gina’s heart sank. “Uh-oh. Why?”
“Come back out and I’ll tell you. I’m making guac.”
Sure enough, when Gina entered the kitchen, Tash was smashing avocados in a silver mixing bowl.
“Why are you making guacamole?” Gina glanced at the clock. “At one in the morning?”
Natasha shot her a look. “Are you ready to sleep?”
“I guess not.” She was amped from dancing and buzzed from those fucking tequila shots.
“The real question is why am I mad at you.”
Gina sighed. “Fine, why are you mad at me?”
Natasha stuck the masher in the lump of avocado and turned with her hands on her hips. “Pero coño, you didn’t tell me he looked like that.”
“Oh my god.” Gina pulled out a chair from the kitchen counter and perched on it. “I told you he was hot right after I met him.”
“Nuh-uh, girl.” Tash wagged a finger at Gina before turning back to her snack-making. “Mira, get the cilantro and stuff from the fridge.”
Grumbling, Gina pulled out the necessary ingredients and started chopping.
“That man is more than hot,” Natasha said, adding diced tomatoes to the bowl when Gina passed them over. “I think we can safely say he’s muy caliente. Like, for real.”
“That’s why you’re mad at me? Because I didn’t make a bigger deal of how hot he is?”
“No. Yes. That’s part of it.”
“Okay, what’s the other part?” Gina dumped in a handful of cilantro and took a deep breath. The smell reminded her of her mother’s kitchen.
“You said he’s on a TV show?”
“Yeah. It’s called Living Wild.”
Tash let out of a frustrated sigh. “Have you even watched it?”
“No.” Gina pursed her lips as she smashed a clove of garlic with the side of her knife. “I’ve been busy teaching him to dance.”
“Sinverguenza.” Natasha shook her head. “I cannot believe you. This has to be fixed immediately.”
“It’s one in the morning!”
“No me importa. We’re watching that show now. And then I won’t be mad at you anymore.”
When the guac was ready, they bypassed the counter and bar stools and carried it over to the sofa with a bowl of tortilla chips. A few episodes of Living Wild were available on demand, so they picked one from the middle of season two, settling in to watch.
There was something voyeuristic about watching Stone on TV, almost like she was spying on him, but Gina couldn’t turn away. Contrived as it must be, the drama and setbacks drew her in. During that one episode, Stone hauled lumber with his brothers—to disastrous results, built a greenhouse with his sisters, and patched up his dog’s injured foot. Around him, the rest of the Nielson family attended to other tasks that were deemed necessary to “living wild.” Over it all hung the constant threat of oncoming winter.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Stone was the “hot one” of the brothers—probably why he’d been picked for The Dance Off over Reed, Wolf, and Winter. They were all good-looking guys, tall and strapping from manual labor, but Stone stood out from the pack. He was also the quiet one, the serious one—as they called him. The look of intense concentration he wore while making the greenhouse was one she’d seen a few times when they rehearsed.
In spite of herself, she was impressed. Stone had skills, real skills that meant the difference between life and death in the Alaskan wilderness—the “bush,” they called it.
She and Natasha had grown up in the same neighborhood in the Bronx, and moved to LA together as soon as they could. They giggled and goggled through the episode, amazed at what it took to live like the Nielsons. Why on earth would anyone want to live this way?
At the end of the episode, Natasha hit “play” on the next one.
“How many are we going to watch?” Gina asked, polishing off the last of the guac.
“I want to see if they manage to build that treehouse or not.”
“Spoiler alert: they do. I’ve seen it.”
“You’re such a pendeja. I’m watching anyway. The description says they do something with a boat.”
Halfway through the next episode, Tash was swooning over Stone’s younger brother Wolf.
Gina glanced at Tash out of the corner of her eye. “Really? Wolf?”
Tash shrugged. “He’s a weirdo. I like him.”
“I didn’t meet any of his family while I was there. They were filming somewhere else.” What must it be like to have such a huge family? Gina missed her own, so she could only imagine how Stone must feel. At least she had Natasha with her.
At the moment, Tash was giving her a dirty look. “I can’t believe you aren’t going to make a move on Stone.”
Gina huffed and leaned back into the sofa cushions as the man himself appeared on the TV. Shirtless, of course. “I’m not interested.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No.” Gina crossed her arms. “I’m not getting involved with anyone in the industry. Been there, done that, got bitten on the ass. I don’t care to repeat the experience, no matter how hot he is.”
“Or no matter how much he wants you?”
“He hasn’t made a move either.” She wasn’t going to count whatever the hell had happened on the Club Picante dance floor. That was just dancing. And tequila.
“Come on.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “You’re not gonna try to tell me you haven’t noticed his reaction to you. Dwayne barely has any interest in me as a person and he’s still semi-hard every time we get too close.”
“Ew, Tash.”
“What? It happens. They’re new to this. You’re telling me Stone has never . . . you know what, the innuendo is too easy with a name like that. I can’t even go there. He’s never sported a stiffy while you’re dancing?”
Gina sighed. “Not usually.”
“But he has?”
“Well . . . he was kind of hard during our photoshoot, but I think that was because Donna was there and she told the directors to have us do extra sexy poses. We were closer there than we’d been in practice.”
Tash smirked. “You were certainly close tonight.”
Gina covered her face and groaned. “I hope I didn’t give him the wrong idea.”
“That you want his body?”
Gina whacked her with a throw pillow. “Yeah, basically. I was a little drunk. And in the moment. That’s all. Anyway, our lives are too different.”
“You’re both on reality shows,” Natasha said. “Not that different, from where I sit.”
“Different enough for it to never work. Besides, he’ll be gone in a few months.”
Natasha held up her hands in defeat. “Whatever you say, chica.”
* * *
“Mr. Nielson, we have a message for you.”
Stone glanced at the nametag of the guy behind the concierge desk. “Thanks, Omar. My mother?”
Om
ar smiled. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll call her.” Without a cell phone, Stone received messages from Pepper at the front desk. He called her back from his laptop once he got upstairs.
His mother’s face popped up on the screen immediately.
“Hi, son,” she said, smiling when she saw him. “How’s everything going?”
“Ah . . . fine. Everything’s good.”
No point in telling her about the tension underlying his rehearsals with Gina. Gina was all business, as if their near-kiss at Club Picante had never happened, which was fine with Stone. He didn’t need the distraction. The cameras wouldn’t pick up on it, but he could feel the difference. While he missed her easy warmth and joking manner, it was for the best, all around.
“I hear you’re off to New York to do that morning news show?”
Stone didn’t ask how Pepper knew. She could make anyone spill the beans about anything. “Yeah, I am. We’re one week away from the premiere. Can’t talk long—I’m leaving for the airport soon. We’re taking an overnight flight on The Dance Off’s private jet to do the cast reveal.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
He held back a sigh. Here it goes.
“Your father and I just want to remind you how important it is that you not say anything that could jeopardize our show. We’re relying on this, and we’ve all worked hard to build this image.”
“I know, Ma. I won’t.”
“Okay, then. Have a great time in New York City. Safe travels.”
Once her image disappeared, Stone scrubbed his hands over his face. This was a nightmare. He had no idea what to expect the next day and his whole family was counting on him not to mess up.
He glanced at the clock. Shit, he had to pack.
CHAPTER NINE
Being packed on to a private plane with over a dozen dancers and ten other celebrities—plus the show’s two hosts—Juan Carlos Perez, a former teen TV star, and Reggie Kong, a stylist to the stars—reminded Stone of crowding into small spaces with his family. Everyone joked and teased each other with an easy camaraderie, and groups split off for private conversations. Gina and Natasha huddled into their seats next to each other with eye masks and ear plugs to get some sleep, so Stone sat with Alan Thomas—a gold-medal winning Paralympian in Track and Field—and Jackson. He’d gone out for drinks with them the previous week. Alan was staying in Stone’s hotel, and Jackson lived nearby.
Make new friends who weren’t Gina: check.
People were making videos on their phones and snapping selfies left and right, but no one was mic’d. A team of producers and stage managers would meet them in New York.
“It’s like being on the school bus without the teacher,” Jackson said, glancing around the plane.
Stone made a sound of agreement in his throat. He wasn’t allowed to talk about his schooling, per his contract with Living Wild. “Have either of you ever been to New York?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I lived there for a little while to try my hand at Broadway.” Jackson shrugged. “Ended up bartending in the Village and singing at shitty clubs on the Lower East Side. The winters sucked, so I moved to LA and started booking TV spots right away.”
Stone smirked. “I’m sure the winters aren’t that bad.”
The other two guys laughed. “Probably not to you,” Jackson agreed.
Lauren wandered over to them. “Hey, boys.” She leaned over the back of Stone’s seat and twined her fingers in his hair. Stone bit back a sigh, wishing he’d thought to twist it up into a bun.
“Do you two know each other already?” Jackson asked, pointing to Lauren and Alan. “You’re both Olympians.”
Alan shook his head. “Winter and Summer. Big difference.”
“And technically they’re separate events, with separate committees.” Lauren sent a pointed glance at Alan’s prosthetic leg, visible below his cargo shorts.
Stone’s blood boiled at her insinuation, but Alan only shrugged and said, “For now.”
“Well, we’re all on equal ground in the ballroom,” Jackson said, changing the subject.
Lauren scoffed. “That’s what you think. Only one of us here has spent her whole life learning to dance on ice skates. This show is going to be a breeze.”
Jackson flashed her a sharp grin. “It’s not just about the dancing, sweetheart.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Lauren shot back. “It’s a fucking popularity contest, and I’m already a household name.”
“Because you’re a gold medalist, right?” Jackson tapped his chin, then pointed to Alan. “No, wait. That’s him.”
With a snarl, Lauren stalked off to the other end of the plane.
“She’s got a rep for being nasty,” Alan said in a low voice once she was out of earshot. “Watch out for her.”
“Bring it,” Jackson said. Then he nodded at Stone. “Maybe you’re the one who’d better watch out. That girl’s got her eye on you.”
Stone sighed. “What am I supposed to do about it?”
Jackson shrugged. “Just saying. I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. Her partner, though . . .” He twisted in his seat and waved to Kevin, who was taking pictures with Rick Carruthers. “That boy can get it.”
Stone put Lauren out of his mind and slept for a few hours before they landed at the airport. Everyone donned baseball caps and dark sunglasses, which Stone would have found funny if he hadn’t been so exhausted. A party bus waited to drive them to the Morning Mix studios in Midtown Manhattan. Since Morning Mix and The Dance Off were owned by the same network, the lively morning news show always got the scoop on the cast announcement.
The next two hours were a rush of activity. The drive into Manhattan offered a brief glimpse of the Empire State Building from the car windows, glinting in the dawn. Then they were hustled into the studio building for a whirlwind turn through hair and makeup, before receiving barked instructions on how they should enter the set.
Stone waited backstage with Gina, who managed to look fresh as a daisy despite the early hour. His eyes were gritty with lack of sleep, and his back hurt from being jammed into a plane seat for six hours.
Her hand touched his lower back and rubbed in small circles. She hadn’t done anything like that since the club. “You ready for this?”
“No. Not at all.”
Her brows dipped in concern. “What do you mean?”
He struggled to put it into words. “I’m not good with interviews. Promise you’ll do all the talking?”
“I—okay.” She smiled and patted his arm. “I’ll handle the questions. You’ve got the strong, silent type thing down pat.”
Of course he did. It was his role, and he’d learned to play it well, even when it rankled.
The Dance Off’s hosts, Juan Carlos and Reggie, went out first to chat with the Morning Mix hosts about the upcoming season. Finally, they called out the couples one by one.
“We go in order of fame,” Gina whispered to him. “Least to most. We’re somewhere in the middle, I think, because you’re on a cable show.”
Keiko Simon, a swimsuit cover model, and her partner Joel Clarke, went first. They were followed by Rose Jeffers and Matteo Rossi. Rose’s only claim to fame had been as one of the stars of The Lab, a hit TV show in the nineties about teenage mad scientists. Stone’s younger brother Winter had loved the show.
Alan went third with his partner Rhianne Davis. Stone would have thought a gold medal-winning athlete would have been more famous than a cable TV survivalist, but who could make sense of these things?
Next out was Farrah Zane, the teenage star of a hit kids’ TV movie, and her partner Danny Johnson.
“She’s supposed to be really good,” Gina said in a low voice. “We’ll have to watch out for her.”
Stone didn’t like the idea of being rivals with a nineteen-year-old girl, but he didn’t reply. They were going out next.
Gina tucked her hand into his elbow and fixed a big smile on her
face. The stage manager waved frantically at them, and they strode out onto the set.
The live audience packed onto a set of bleachers cheered, and Gina waved at the crowd while Stone walked them to their seats, situated stadium style on three levels. Since Stone was so tall, they were given seats in the back. He helped Gina up onto the platform since she was in monstrously high heels, and took his spot next to her.
They were followed by Norberto “Beto” Velasquez, Argentinian millionaire and the most recent “star” of Your Future Fiancé, and his partner Jess Davenport.
The other celebs followed with their dance partners—Jackson and Lori, Dwayne and Natasha, Twyla and her pro partner Roman Shvernik, Rick and Mila Ivanova, and Kevin and Lauren.
Stone would have picked Twyla Rhodes or Rick Carruthers as the most famous, but he was biased.
The rest of the morning passed in a manic blur. The hosts asked him all of two questions, and he supposed he answered them. Gina did most of the talking, smiling through the whole experience. This would be her fifth time doing the media circus for a new season. She’d be used to it. More than that, she shined. It hit him suddenly that she loved this stuff. Being in the spotlight, feeding off the cheers of the crowd—she’d said as much the other night while talking to Kevin. She wanted more of this. This was her life.
Meanwhile, Stone was itching to get away. The live audience, the glaring lights, and being packed onto a stage with the rest of the cast made him claustrophobic and distracted. They couldn’t have been on set for more than five minutes, but it felt like hours. Finally, the hosts cut to a commercial break.
Gina let out a deep breath and grinned. “Isn’t this exciting?” She must have seen the answer on his face because her smile dimmed and she touched his shoulder. “Stone, are you okay?”
Aware that there were microphones everywhere, he just gave her a tight smile and nodded, patting her hand. “Tired.”
He could see by the concern in her eyes that she didn’t believe him, but she let it drop. The commercial break ended, the hosts asked questions of the other dancers, and at the next break they were all rushed off set.
“Is that it?” Stone asked, relieved he’d gotten through it without embarrassing himself.
