Bret hoisted Banjo out of the backseat of the truck, attached his leash, and led him to a bush to pee. It was dark so Bret couldn’t read Selena’s face. She had just invited him to spend the night. He wasn’t sure he could sleep in the same house as her. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”
Selena just laughed and turned on the lights. “Relax, Bret. It’s really not a big deal. You can use the guest house out back.”
Guest house? Bret should’ve known that there was more to her house. It sure made his tiny place off base look like a slum. She’d probably laugh if she saw his small apartment, which was about the size of her living room.
In the main house, there were red tiles on the floor and dark wooden beams on the ceiling. Her yellow painted walls had pictures of Dima and Selena everywhere: winning competitions, on the television show, on the red carpet. But Bret was taken aback when he noticed a framed picture of him and Selena winning Nationals. The same picture that was in that magazine cut-out that Benny sent him.
“Why do you still have this picture up?”
Selena smiled. “It was my first national win.”
Bret remembered that night well. After they celebrated with Dima, who had coached them, Bret proposed to Selena.
Banjo jumped up on Selena’s brown leather sofa and curled into a ball.
“Well, I’m tired too. So just show me the guesthouse and I’ll get out of your hair. We have to leave at zero six hundred tomorrow morning.”
Selena laughed. “I’ll assume you mean six a.m. But it’s okay, Bret. You can relax—we don’t have to be there until five in the evening.”
“Well I don’t like to be late. Punctuality was never your strong suit, if I remember correctly.”
Selena walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. “Do you want a beer? Dima mostly stocks Vodka but he does have some Russian beer.”
“So Dima fills your fridge too? What else do you do together? File taxes? You sound married.”
“Stop Bret. I have a place here and he has one closer to the studio in Glendale. Sometimes he crashes here—in the guest house. How about that beer?”
Bret would’ve loved a beer to relax and take the edge off the tension in the room. But he didn’t trust himself alone with Selena. Before he could decline, Selena popped off the cap of a bottle and handed it to him.
Why was she being so nice to him? If it were any other woman, he would be certain she was flirting with him. He studied the label, written in Russian letters. “Peba? What’s this crap?” Bret took a swig. It tasted like vinegar. “You don’t have a Corona? I guess Dima’s taste hasn’t changed. I’m good, thanks.” Bret poured the bottle out in the kitchen sink, then sat on the sofa and pet Banjo.
“Peva. Yeah. It’s not the best, but Dimka loves it.”
Dimka? Hearing his old coach referred to like that was . . . . well, creepy. Dima had been a twenty-year-old man when he started teaching them as kids. A twelve year age difference wasn’t a big deal now that Selena was a woman in her late twenties, but Bret couldn’t help be disturbed by the way Dima had groomed her to be his.
Selena took her own bottle and settled in next to Bret, who inched his way over to the other end of the sofa.
He looked around the room. He had been wrong; this place was sick—must be worth at least a million dollars, hidden up in the hills. This could’ve been his home, his life, his sofa, his woman, but the fridge would be stocked with craft beers. At the time Bret gave up his dancing, there was little hope for a career besides running a studio and spending all the revenue on competing. Now Selena and Dima were millionaires. He wasn’t jealous; he hated competing and truly loved being a Marine. But he never thought for a second that he would be struggling to make ends meet, with little hope of ever buying a house in San Diego or Marin, while Selena and Dima wasted their money on needless luxury items.
She took a long sip and then sighed. “So, I know it was ten years ago but I just really want to say how sorry I am about what went down. It was the hardest decision . . .”
“Selena, don’t. It’s fine. It was forever ago. I don’t want to talk about it.”
She pursed her lips. “But I just really want to say how sorry I am. There was so much going on and . . .” her eyes looked up at him.
Bret didn’t want to hear her excuses for walking out on him. Plus for all he knew, she was miked and this pathetic apology would play out on television. “I said it’s cool. Just forget it.”
She put her hand casually on Bret’s leg.
He imagined her hand sliding up his thigh. He moved her hand off him, and stood up.
“Thanks for the beer, Sel. I really need to get some sleep.” He motioned to Banjo, and the dog jumped down.
“Oh, sure. I’ll show you the casita.”
“I’m just gonna grab my bag.” Bret opened the front door and went to his truck. He looked up to the dark blue, starry sky. He hadn’t signed up for this emotional drama. Those producers were trying to make a punch line out of Bret, and he wouldn’t allow it. There was no way he was going to play into this twisted love triangle. He didn’t believe for a second that Selena and Dima weren’t still hooking up. Bret wanted to jump into that truck and head back down to his place, and rip up the dance contract. But Bret was a man of his word, and wouldn’t go back on his promise to Pierce. Bret was now sure of one thing—being this close to Selena for the next fifteen weeks would require some serious self-control.
Chapter Eight
A loud rap at her bedroom door roused Selena from her dreams.
“Sel, we need to get a move on. Are you awake?”
Hearing Bret’s voice first thing in the morning was a welcome surprise. “Yeah, sorry, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
She rolled onto her back, and closed her eyes. Last night, she’d dreamt about Bret. Over the years, he’d been the star of many of her dreams. But this dream was different. They were dancing, together, after all these years. He lacked Dima’s speed and technical skill, but Bret’s dancing had something that Dima’s didn’t—emotion. Real emotion, not the fake, flashy, showy moves Dima and Selena were known for. Bret had always danced from his heart.
She crawled out of bed, and stepped onto the ice-cold marble tile. A quick shower, and they’d embark on the rest of today’s journey.
………..
Selena emerged from her bedroom and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her nostrils tingled, and when she took a sip, the warm liquid soothed her throat.
Once she could focus, her eyes fell on Bret, who sat at her coffee table reading a book. Banjo lay by his feet. The sight of him, relaxed and comfortable in her house, threw her. Had she made a different choice, this could be the setting of her daily life. Bret making her coffee, reading before he headed to work. Maybe getting the kids ready for school. Her gut clenched.
“What are you reading?”
Bret glanced up at her. “Oh, just some war book.” He closed the cover. “You ready? We really need to get going.”
“Yeah. Let me finish my coffee and we can bounce. Where are you staying up there?”
“My dad bought a houseboat in Sausalito. He lives with his new wife up in Washington, so he said I can stay there while I train.”
“How cool! I’ve always wanted to live on a houseboat. To have the ocean rock me to sleep. I used to babysit a family who lived on one.”
Bret stood up and took the keys out of his pocket. “It beats staying in a hotel. Hotels remind me of the barracks. Let’s get a move on.”
Selena made her way to the sink to rinse her coffee cup out. An engine hummed outside the window. That’s weird—the gardeners weren’t supposed to come until Tuesday. She peeked out the kitchen window. A bright yellow taxi stood out front.
The front door opened. “Selenichka!” Banjo barked and scampered out of the kitchen.
Selena dropped her coffee mug. The ceramic shattered on the floor, and Bret and Selena stared at the little shards, stunned.
&
nbsp; Dima walked into the kitchen. His mouth opened when he saw Bret crouched on the floor with Selena, gathering the pieces of the mug.
“What’s going on here? I call and text to you all the night. Benny gave me name of hotel and they said that you did not go to there.”
Uh oh. Selena had seen the texts, and she’d intended to text him back, but she just had been so exhausted. Selena could see Bret staring at the house key in Dima was holding. Another item that made it look like she was still together with Dima. Who could blame Bret for thinking that they were still together? She grabbed the dustpan under the sink. “Dimka, I’m sorry. It was just so late . . .”
Bret reached out his hand to Dima. “Hey, Dima. Sorry about that, it’s my fault. We were supposed to drive all night but I was tired so Selena said I could stay in the guesthouse. You guys danced great last night.”
Selena knew that Dima would never settle for a handshake. Dima probably still saw Bret as his little disciple. He embraced his old student. “Bret, great to see you, my friend! I thought you go to the war?”
Selena breathed a sigh of relief as she swept up the glass shards. Dima stood with his shoulders relaxed and his feet wide apart. She wondered if Dima even felt a pang of jealousy know that Bret spent the night in her house. Even though they weren’t together, deep down Selena always thought that Dima figured she would take him back at anytime. And maybe that had been true—before Bret showed up and made Selena reminisce her first love.
Bret pulled back from the hug. “I did go to war. But I’m back now. Just doing a season to raise money for my friend’s family. He was killed in Iraq.”
Dima seemed impressed by Bret’s selflessness. He sat at the table and poured himself a cup of coffee. “This friend of yours. How much money does his family need? I could give to you now. Selena and me, we would love to help.”
There Dima went again—flaunting his money around. Maybe he thought he could buy Bret off, so he wouldn’t have to worry about Selena getting close to Bret.
Bret shook his head. “Thanks Dima, I really appreciate your offer but I need to do this on my own. I’d love to stay but we really need to get on the road.”
“Sure, it is no problem.” Dima eyed Selena. She sat back at the table next to Dima, who took her hand.
“Sel, I’m gonna take Banjo outside. We have to leave in five minutes. Dima, it was great seeing you again.” Bret headed toward the front door and Selena heard the door shut.
“Sorry, Dima. Bret won this truck and Benny said . . .”
Dima cut her off. “I know. Benny told to me everything. I don’t have to start with my partner until two more weeks. I come with you before I go.”
Why did he want to join her in San Francisco? They never visited each other when they were training their celebrities. “You don’t have to.”
“Of course, I go to there. We need to train for Blackpool. It is in four months. And San Francisco is our home. Where we met, where we fell in love. We were supposed to get married there.”
Dima never brought up their broken engagement. What was he up to?
“Whatever Dimka. You called off the engagement. Anyway, I’d love to have you come with us but Bret’s nervous enough. Having you around might hurt his chances on the show. We owe him that, don’t you think?”
Dima stayed silent. They had an unspoken promise never to talk about what had led Selena to finally make the decision to leave Bret.
“But tell you what, maybe you could come down before you meet your celebrity and we can train the whole weekend together.” Selena touched his face. “I really have to go. I’ll call you when I get there.” She leaned and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Ya tebya loobloo.”
Selena paused. “I love you, too.” They always said those words to each other. And she did love Dima. But she’d long given up any hope that they could have a normal relationship. Watching him over the years dating the starlets on the show had forced her to push her feelings aside. She left the table, went to her bedroom, and grabbed her rolling suitcase. Dima acted strangely, like he could read her mind. Maybe they could work it out—she could find the happiness with Dima that she had craved for all these years. Being near Bret the past few days made Selena yearn to have the pure love again that she’d once shared with him. Over the years, she had convinced herself that what she and Bret had shared was only possible for a young, first time love. Selena hoped she was wrong and that Dima finally wanted to settle down and start a family with her.
She walked out the front door. Bret hopped out of his truck and took her bags. “Everything alright?”
“Yes. I’m great. Let’s go.”
Bret helped Selena into the truck. She settled into the crackly leather of the front seat, looking forward to their journey ahead.
Viennese Waltz
The Princess waited at the ball for her Prince. He presented himself to her; she curtseyed and placed herself in his arms. They began twirling around the floor. She was woozy with delight. He spun her in the opposite direction. Other couples came toward them, attempting to box them in. They were cornered, but her Prince broke through the crush and transported them to the center of the floor. All eyes were on her, the belle of the ball.
Chapter Nine
Once they finally hit the road, Bret couldn’t relax. He hated uncertainty. In the Marine Corps, his life was regulated. He knew what time he had to wake up every morning, what time he was supposed to work out, when each meal would be, and exactly what was planned for work. As he drove up the I-5 freeway, his eyes dulled by the endless views of dirt and cow pastures, Bret had no idea how this day, or any after it, would unfold. And he hated it.
Selena looked out the window. Surprisingly, she had been mostly silent for the past three hours of the trip.
“So, Sel, what normally happens on the first day? We just have to meet them today, right? No dancing?”
Selena turned to him, smiling. “Yeah, pretty much. The cameramen are there when you meet your stars. But sometimes it takes a few shots before they get it right, so you have to keep looking surprised every time they open the door. It isn’t too bad.”
Might not be too bad for Selena—she had always been good at hiding her feelings. Bret was no actor, though, and wasn’t looking forward to faking it for the cameras. “Well, I hope they get my shot on the first try.”
“You’ll be fine. I wonder who our celebrities are? Any ideas?”
Bret couldn’t care less who his partner was. He just wanted to get through this season without embarrassing himself, his friend’s family, and the Corps. “Hell if I know, Sel. I don’t follow all that celebrity stuff. Probably just some washed-up stars like the usual losers that go on this show.”
Selena scowled at him. “I’m excited. Only cool reclusive celebrities live in Marin. I’m sure they’re awesome.”
“I’m sure they are just as spoiled as the Los Angeles celebrities. I’ve met some overseas through the USO. Some turned into jerks the second the cameras weren’t on them.”
“That’s too bad. But by living up here, they are probably more down to earth. Don’t you think?”
Bret decided to stop talking. He had almost forgotten that there was a camera in the back of this truck recording their every word. In five weeks, nineteen million people would be watching he and Selena bicker in his truck.
………………
Three hours later, Bret and Selena finally arrived in Marin. It was two in the afternoon, and they had to meet their celebrities at five. Bret exited on Tiburon Blvd, and headed to the Tiburon Lodge where they were set to meet their hair and makeup staff.
Driving down the winding road, Bret took in the beauty of the San Francisco Bay. He loved it here—the green grass and walking trails of Blackie’s pasture, the view of the towering Golden Gate Bridge. At least he would be spending a few months in this paradise, and since he had used all his vacation time coming on this show, he had better enjoy it. Ray was right—this definitely beat d
odging landmines in Iraq.
They pulled up to the hotel and Bret parked in the lot. He didn’t want a valet to touch his truck.
“Sel, we have two hours before we have to meet production. I’m gonna take Banjo on a walk through Blackie’s Pasture before I have to drop him at my dad’s houseboat.” He looked up, and her eyes seemed hopeful. Bret really wanted to be alone, but he didn’t want to strand Selena. “Do you want to come with us or stay here?”
Her face brightened. “I’d love to take a walk. I’ll just change into my running shoes.”
She walked around to the bed of the truck, and Bret pulled her luggage down. He grabbed a tennis ball, some treats, and doggie bags.
She rummaged through her bag, found her shoes, and tossed her flip-flops back in. Bret placed her bag in the backseat of the truck. “Let’s go.”
They crossed the street and walked toward the path. Bret loved the salty smell of the bay. He really needed this break from the Marine Corps, even if he was still working.
“It’s so nice,” Selena said. “In Los Angeles, there’s so much smog and it’s never clear. I miss it here. Do you ever want to move back?”
“It’s beautiful but I will never be able to afford it. And it’s too liberal for my taste. Anyway, there are more jobs for former military down in San Diego. You?”
Selena sighed. “I’d love to, but Dima and I own a studio in L.A. But I think Marin would be a great place to settle down and raise kids.”
They came across the off-leash dog park. Bret released Banjo, who scampered with a Goldendoodle and a Sheltie.
“When’s that going to happen? Settling down, I mean. Are you dating anyone?”
She turned away from him and looked across the bay. “No. I have no time, with the show and competing.” Her voice dropped. “And I don’t ever meet anyone who understands my lifestyle.”
Bret knew it wasn’t his place to say anything but he couldn’t resist. “It’s your life. Do whatever makes you happy. But a title from Blackpool isn’t going to keep you warm at night or take care of you when you’re sick.”
Love Waltzes In (Dancing Under The Stars) Page 6
