Love Waltzes In (Dancing Under The Stars)

by Albertson, Alana

  “Hi, Karen. You look beautiful as always.” Bret kissed her hand, and tried to create some distance between them.

  “Oh, Bret. I can see you are still the charmer. I’ll tell Carlos to watch out—I might have found my next husband. Need to catch up to Benny.” She laughed.

  Her cackle reminded Bret of the screaming golden jackals in Iraq.

  Benny rubbed his temples. “Are we done? We have a show to cast? Don’t mind her Bret, she’s got kangaroos loose in the top paddock.”

  Bret laughed. He had always loved Benny’s funny Australian slang.

  Karen playfully smacked Bret’s butt. “Well I’m ready for a show.” Her fake, plumped lips curled and she flashed Bret a smile.

  Bret made his way toward Selena, his body clenched, nervous to touch her. “So now you know why I’m here. I’m still in the Marines—they just gave me special leave to do the show. I’m trying to raise money for my buddy’s family. He was killed in Iraq.” Bret left out the detail that Pierce was killed on a patrol that Bret was supposed to go on.

  “Bret, that’s horrible. I’m sorry about your friend.” Selena’s green eyes seemed almost dazed.

  It was now or never.

  He reached his hand out to her. She looked sweet, exactly as he remembered her, though he wasn’t a fan of her blond hair. Selena’s skin glowed, showing off her freckles that always were airbrushed in the magazines. Her hair was pulled of her face and seemed wet, as if she had just emerged from the shower, a vision Bret was trying to push out of his mind.

  “I didn’t expect to run into you today. I wanted to make the show on my own, without any favors.”

  She bit her lip, then stood up, took his hand, and got into position. “Ready?”

  “Absolutely.” He forced a smile but couldn’t look her in the eyes more than a second.

  Once he’d returned from Iraq, his mom started training him in secret. She had rented a small dance studio in Oceanside, and Bret was stationed in nearby Camp Pendleton. He had adopted Banjo, a pug/lab mix from a high-kill shelter in Los Angeles. Every day after work, he would practice. He spent most nights escaping with Banjo to dog beach to relax. Well, that and trying to teach Banjo to turn off the lights, open the refrigerator, and fetch him a beer. Being back on American soil and staring out at the clear ocean, Bret had regained his sanity and made peace with his time in Iraq. He had enjoyed his last days of anonymity. Now, his moment of truth had come.

  Benny turned on the music. “How about a foxtrot?” George Michael’s voice started singing “Feeling Good.”

  Bret pulled Selena into his arms. “Sounds good.” He adjusted her into a classic foxtrot hold.

  Selena leaned her body against his. He swayed her back and forth. They took a few basic steps, and he led her into promenade. He turned his head toward her and held her gaze this time. He remembered when they had been “America’s Ballroom Sweethearts,” the entire industry pinning its hopes on their backs like a million targets. Their career was mapped out for them, with sponsors who funded their travel, their coaching expenses, their costumes. They’d been the future of dancesport. But Bret wanted to do something honorable with his life and she had initially supported his decision to enlist. And at the time, it was a practical decision. Back then, there was no future in ballroom dancing. No television shows, no endorsements, no way to support a family. She said she’d wait for him but by the time he graduated from boot camp, she was long gone.

  Her thumb hooked around his right bicep as they merged together. The thump of her heartbeat vibrated off his chest. He still knew every inch of her body. It wasn’t right, to get caught up in the past like this, to remember her this way. But dancing had a way of doing that, of grabbing onto any weak flame and igniting it. Bret took charge and guided her through the steps. They flowed around the floor.

  After two laps, Benny changed the song. George was now singing “Jesus to a Child.” “Rumb-er, please,” Benny called out.

  Bret’s fingers traced over her wrist. They began to dance a slow, soulful rumba.

  Their rumba.

  He pushed her away from him and led her into an overturned back break and then pulled her back into him. His hands dropped around her tiny waist, and their hips melted together. Her body moved with his, perfectly in sync. They had once danced as a boy and a girl. Now, they danced as a man and a woman. The back of his hand brushed her neck. A lock of hair fell on her cheek. His fingers traced down her body. “I missed you,” she whispered as she wrapped her leg around him.

  Missed him? She had left him while he was away for three months and before he’d even had a chance to chase her, she had run off to dance with Dima. He’d missed her plenty—all those lonely nights of boot camp. Every time he got his ass handed to him by the drill instructors, thinking of her had given him a reason to push forward. At first she wrote him weekly, then the letters tapered off. She then sent him a final letter, ending their engagement and telling him she had returned her ring to his mother. When she didn’t show up at his graduation, he pushed her out of his mind. It worked for a while—until she started popping up on television and every newsstand in the country.

  He pressed his lips to her ear, but no sound came out. He placed his hand on her lower back and dipped her to the floor.

  Benny cut off the music.

  “Ace! Bravo, mate. You haven’t lost your step. I told the suits as much. What do you think, lassie?”

  Selena pulled away from Bret. “It’s as if he never quit.”

  Benny conferred with Karen, acting like professionals, not ex-spouses. Karen laughed at something Benny was saying. Selena and Bret stood there, both keeping their gaze up front.

  A chill crept up Bret’s back. Selena had been so warm against him just a minute ago. But she belonged in his past. Maybe he had held her too close. Could she see right through him still? He’d been wrong before. It wasn’t dancing that was awkward as hell. It was this, the aftermath.

  Benny turned and smiled. “Welcome to Dancing under the Stars! I told them the other day; I said he’s the good oil. Surer than a bum in the bucket. The others thought you might have lost your touch. I said, ‘not unless the Sahara freezes over and the camels come home with skates on.’”

  Karen kissed Bret and rubbed her nails through his hair. But he was so thrilled he squeezed her without a thought.

  Bret had done it. Everything had fallen into place. He’d have enough money to help out Pierce’s family.

  “Congrats, Bret,” Selena embraced him. “I can’t wait to work with you this season.”

  His mouth stretched wide, and he was seized with the urge to hold her again. But he couldn’t let himself go there, ever. Bret could never trust Selena. He hoped that he didn’t have to ever dance with her again and could focus on raising money for his fallen friend.

  He decided to thank her for making him look good on the floor. A dancer was only as good as his partner, and despite her shock of seeing him without warning, she’d held her own with him. But she was already looking away, so he aimed his grin at Benny and Karen instead, extending a hand. “Thank you, Benny, Karen. I won’t disappoint you.”

  “I’m sure you won’t. We have some details to go over with the contract.” Benny addressed Selena. “Thanks, lassie. We won’t need you anymore.

  She twirled a lock of her hair. “You sure? I can stay and give him some pointers, if you like.”

  Benny shooed her away. “I know you have to get ready for tomorrow. You can shoot through.”

  “Okay. Bye, Bret.” She turned toward Bret and gave him a quick hug. “See you soon.” She removed her shoes, placed them in her bag, put her sunglasses back on, and walked out of the ballroom. The door slammed behind her.

  “She’ll be apples. Now, tomorrow night, we have a crew ready to take some footage for your introduction on the show,” Benny said as he rifled through his briefcase.

  “Tomorrow? At the competition?” Bret didn’t want to watch Selena compete. At least not with Dima
. Bret wanted to focus on the show.

  “Well, you must lob in. You’ll get to mingle with most of the cast. There’s also a surprise for you.”

  A surprise? Dancing with Selena was enough of a surprise. What else was Benny plotting? “I’ll be there.”

  Benny rattled on about schedules, media appearances, and payment plans as Karen gazed at Bret. Bret could've paid attention, if it weren’t for Selena's lingering scent on his skin.

  Chapter Four

  Loud booms caused the floor to vibrate. Selena followed the bass path to the sound system where she found Dima dressed in a flashy Armani suit. She almost tripped over him. Not that he’d notice with his gaze set on Elizabeth, his latest blond haired, blue eyed, baby-faced prodigy and the youngest professional dancer on the show, at only eighteen. Dima had discovered her at a studio in Utah and recommended that Benny cast her on the show.

  “Excuse me...” Selena interrupted.

  “Hi, Selena,” Elizabeth said. “Dima was, uhm, he was just going over some steps with me. Good luck tonight. I’ll see you inside.” Then she ducked away.

  Dima leaned on the pillar next to him and smiled. “Ready to win, Zaika?”

  Selena winced. Though she was once quite fond of his cute nickname for her that meant rabbit, hearing him use it now made her want to hop away. “Found out who the mystery dancer is. It’s Bret.”

  Dima’s back straightened, temples bulging.

  “I know. Benny texted to me. I don’t understand. Isn’t he in the war? He hasn’t danced together with anyone in years.”

  Selena took a step back, crossing her arms. “He’s still with the Marines. Guess they’re letting him do the show to raise money for his friend’s family. His friend was killed in Iraq. Benny asked me to partner him in his tryout today. It’s official.”

  His lips curled. “That’s ridiculous,” he said, tapping his foot. “It do not matter. We need to focus now. Remember, we are nothing without each other.”

  Dima loved her in his own way, Selena knew that. But she couldn’t help wonder if their partnership was preventing her from ever finding true love.

  Jenny Ming walked over to them. “Selena, we have to leave now.” Jenny’s pale face flushed red, her eyes darting at Dima. She held Selena’s makeup case. “You still have to gossip with the judges, and I have to sew you into your costume and do your makeup.”

  In five minutes time, Selena would be chatting with the judges downstairs in the lobby. Picturing their faces, she started to feel that fluttery sensation in her stomach that she got before every competition.

  “Let’s do this,” Selena said. Jenny competed in Standard, not Latin, so the two friends could always help each other get ready. Tonight was Selena’s night and Jenny rushed about, making sure everything went as planned.

  Dima hooked her arm and led Selena inside the ballroom.

  The trio made their grand entrance. Before Dancing under the Stars was on television, competitions had been low-key events, relegated to the ballrooms of hotels. These days, when one of the dancers on the show competed, a red carpet was rolled out and TMZ cameras were in the dancers’ faces. Dima, Selena, and Jenny smiled at the cameras, gave a few autographs to their fans, and headed into the ballroom. After waltzing through the luxurious lounge, they walked over to the cramped vendor room and made their way through the maze of stage jewelry, ballroom shoe peddlers, photographers, and costume designers.

  Jenny headed over to the registration table and checked Selena and Dima in. Even though people were paying the organizers to come see the competitors dance, all competitors still had to buy tickets to the event.

  Selena started grooving to the Latin music playing in the ballroom. She swayed to the beats of cha-cha and scanned the ballroom for familiar faces. She breathed a sigh of relief after reassuring herself that Bret wasn’t lurking around. The last thing she needed was to be distracted by him tonight.

  Jenny returned from the desk and handed Selena and Dima their tickets. “Go schmooze, Sel. I’ll get set up for you in the dressing room. See you in fifteen.” She hugged Selena then rushed off to set up her friend’s costumes and makeup.

  They did their rounds and kissed up to the judges in the house. Dima flirted with Karen as her son Jared chatted up Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s partner, Ricardo, only had eyes for his young boyfriend.

  Selena observed Benny. His arm was wound tightly around his wife. Vika’s platinum hair was slicked into a sparkly bun, gold earrings framing her face and violet eyes glinting. She looked like an angel. Dima had introduced them at a competition in Moldova. Benny had certainly given her the life, plucking her from her small village in the Ukraine, training her to be his protégée, forcing his son to be her partner, casting her on the show.

  Vika walked toward her and leaned in for a cheek kiss. “Selenichka, you look beautiful to me. Good luck to you tonight.”

  “Cbacibo, Vika. I love your dress. Good luck to you.” Five seasons on a show together could turn anyone into close friends. This cast of characters was Selena’s family.

  “Ahh, Selena. You look stunning, lassie. Let me have a gander.” Benny moved toward her.

  She steadied her nerves. “Thanks, Benny. You must be thrilled to see Vika and Jared compete tonight.”

  “Yes, luv, it’s great to see them give it a fair go.” He wet his lips and whispered in her ear, “But we both know they’re a no-hoper against you and Dim’er. Sorry about earlier with Bret. I wanted to give him the best chance and knew you would try to knock back if I told you ahead of time.”

  Selena smiled, glad for his vote of confidence. “It’s fine. I was just shocked. I’m glad he’s going to be on the show.”

  Nicole and her husband, Eric, walked over to the group.

  Nicole kissed Benny. “Hi, Daddy. Hi, Selena. Are you excited about tonight?” Nicole cradled their infant daughter.

  Selena was in awe of Eric and Nicole, one of the only couples in the ballroom world that were truly in love, on and off the floor. “Hi, Nikki. I’m thrilled. Thanks for helping me with my cha-cha choreography.”

  “No worries.” Nicole placed baby Rebecca in Eric’s arms, and Selena melted. A pang clutched her belly as she wondered if a family of her own was even a possibility.

  Selena took out her phone and looked at the time. “I have to run and get ready.”

  “Me, too.” Vika gave Benny a kiss on the cheek, and he patted her bottom.

  Nicole took Vika’s bag from her father and smiled at him. “Let’s go.” Selena still would never understand how it didn’t bother Nicole that her stepmother Vika was ten years younger than she was.

  Elizabeth joined them and the four women walked down the hallway together. They posed for a few fan pictures for the younger dancers. Selena remembered what it was like to get an autograph from the professionals when she’d been an amateur. Visions of her twelve-year-old self squealing after receiving a kiss on the cheek from champion Dima flooded her head.

  “Selena, about time.” Jenny’s voice rang out as Selena walked through the door. That girl couldn’t whisper if her life depended on it.

  Jenny stood before a single-mirrored makeup table. She helped Selena get into her costume. After giving up on Selena’s stubborn dress straps, Jenny settled into gluing crystals above Selena’s eyebrow so quickly that it looked like someone had hit fast-forward on the scene in front of the mirror.

  Nicole led Vika over to a corner and unfastened her bun. Elizabeth’s sisters helped her get ready. At least ten other dancers were in various stages of undress. Another dancer bound her long black hair into a knotted ponytail on the top of her head, like an Arabian princess. One dancer rubbed baby oil on her body; another was being sewn into her costume.

  The door flew open, startling everyone. The rancid smell of yesterday’s Stroganoff wafted into the room.

  “Lovely, the Russian Mafia is here,” Jenny muttered. She threw a look of pity Vika’s way then buried her head in Selena’s bag, looking for God kno
ws what. Nicole excused herself to go check on her baby.

  Vika’s grandmother Irina and their six-person entourage took over the dressing room. Irina and two pre-pubescent Ukrainian dancers started spreading Vika’s costumes in the cramped right corner of the room. Vika stripped down to nothing but her dance heels.

  “Vika, sidyat!” Irina grabbed a still naked Vika by her hair and shoved her into a chair to finish her makeup as her ladies-in-waiting fussed with her nails and her jewelry.

  Compared to Vika’s life, Selena’s problems seemed silly. Vika had been forced to marry Benny to get a green card. Dima had married his first partner for a green card and had been trying for years to get his cousin over here legally. He had set her up with Benny. Benny adored her but Selena doubted that Vika truly loved him in any way other than a father figure. Vika’s family bullied her into competing, teaching long hours at their studio, showcases, and keeping up appearances. Dima was constantly drilling into Selena’s brain that this lifestyle was a privilege and Americans like Selena didn’t know how to sacrifice. To Vika, happiness was a blend of success and wealth. She had told Selena as much.

  But Vika’s eyes told another story.

  Jenny glued on Selena’s mink fur eyelashes with rhinestones on the tips and rubbed on a final coat of Pro-Tan and Sun Shimmer to make her skin gleam. Then she started on her makeup: eyes brushed with rainbow iridescent shades of a peacock, cheeks stained blood red, and lips painted the color cotton candy.

  Yakking with the judges had cost her precious preening time. Selena shoved her hair into her sequined headband. Through the mirror, she stole a glance at Vika in her smoking hot gown. It was completely nude underneath with a shear slip and had hand-sewn rhinestones that adorned her body, with pink Swarovski crystals covering her ta-tas and, as Benny would say, her “Map of Tasmania.” From a distance, she would appear to be dancing naked.

  “Okay, Selena. You look beautiful as usual,” Jenny said. “You’re going to do great.” Jenny gave her a hug.