Tremor

by Tonya Plank

  He lifted me to his waist, then chest, then up over his head. I soared as the music hit a crescendo and the two souls declared their undying love for each other. Jett spun me around and around in the air. I kept my eyes tightly closed so I wouldn’t get dizzy. He suddenly stopped, gazed up at me. He gingerly removed one hand, holding his palm open. I stepped onto it with one leg, slowing extending the other back in arabesque. His palm was so large and so steady and secure that I balanced easily on it as I reached up for the heavens, arching my back even more. I slowly brought my hands together, in a prayer. The audience seemed stunned silent. This was an extremely hard move and if I trembled at all, it would never have worked. I needed all the concentration I could to maintain my balance. They knew that as well. This was an audience mainly of dancers or watchers who knew dance so well, they understood exactly how every lift worked, and what everything required. And they honored that, allowing us our concentration.

  Just as the thought entered my mind that Natalia or her cohorts may try to sabotage us by doing something to ruin my concentration, that same feeling I’d had at the beginning of the dance overtook me. That feeling of light shining down on me and lifting the psychic burdens I’d been carrying without fully realizing it. I looked to the heavens with my hands clasped together, raised high above my head. And I felt it. Willem was not going to let any evil come to us. Nor was Jett. And, most importantly, Willem gave me his blessing to do what I was doing, to dance with Jett. I actually heard a sound in the distance—a rumbling—and some angry words. But it was all in the background. I was protected by the light, by wonder, by those I loved and who loved me, and I was able to completely ignore it.

  Slowly I began to hear cheers as Jett reached back to me with his other hand, holding me two-handed now. As soon as he had me in a secure position the audience erupted with cheers. And I smiled. I knew Jett was in his element, thrilling the crowd, while creating an evocative, memorably beautiful image with me.

  As the music came to its end, Jett let me down, rolling me into a waist-high fish dive.

  As soon as we were steady and ready with my leg wrapped firmly around his back, he let go of me with both hands, my body wrapped around his through the strength of my leg. The music sounded its final beat and we held the pose for several seconds. It was hard as hell to hold myself up for so long but it was worth it to hear the roar of the crowd, who knew how difficult it was. Jett lived for the thrill, for this kind of wowing the audience, and I did it in large part for him. He’d held me up, helped me to get rid of that horrible tremor, and I owed it to him to keep the audience cheering for as long as I could. I owed it to myself as well. It felt good to use my muscles in a way that they hadn’t been used in so long—in too long.

  The emcee announced our names once again, not needing to say “let’s give a round of applause.” Jett put his arms around my waist, and brought me back onto my feet. We took our bows to a deafening chorus of “Belle Arabelle” chants. Jett twirled me around to face a different section of the audience, and we took bows again, as was customary, until we’d completed all four directions. At the end, he twirled me into him. When he stopped me, he wrapped his arms around me and looked deeply into my eyes. His gaze was so intense. I actually had to catch my breath, not from our movement but from his soul-piercing eyes.

  “I love you,” he mouthed, before placing his lips softly on mine. It was a sweet, light kiss, but given the words he’d uttered before it, it was everything. The audience went even wilder with their chants, and I realized that no one was thinking any less of me for having another partner now, least of all Willem. The whole room was filled with a radiance even brighter than when we were dancing. He was giving us his blessing. And I was taking it. I was in love with Jett, and I was going to be with him.

  “Ah, now I know why we were last!” Jett laughed. At first I didn’t know what he meant but then I felt something fall at my feet. I looked down to see a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Soon, bouquets came flying at us from all directions. Jett caught some of them. I laughed too. This had happened the last time Willem and I performed, when we were on last. I laughed so hard I nearly began to cry. Then Jett bent down on one knee, and presented me with one of the bouquets he’d caught, one bearing all red roses. I laughed more, tears now in my eyes. He didn’t say anything but I understood what he was asking—could we go back to being more than just dance partners? And the answer was yes, even if he was going to return to his Vegas job. I loved him and I couldn’t help it. Sometimes you just can’t help who you fall in love with. I nodded tearfully. The crowd screamed.

  The emcee gave us our moment, then announced that the floor needed to be cleared so the judges could present the awards. Jett walked around picking up as many bouquets as he could, and I followed his lead, doing the same. Drew actually skipped onto the ballroom floor and helped us.

  “Oh, it’s you! Thank you!” I said.

  “You did it!” He wrapped his arms around me, full though they were of flowers.

  “So did you!” I squealed.

  He laughed. “I am so proud of you, girl!”

  “Me too! Me too!” And I meant I was proud of both him and myself. I’d performed the whole dance completely sans tremor.

  All couples took the floor and the judges announced the winners in reverse order. Natalia and Duke came in second, and we won. It almost felt unnecessary for the emcee to make the announcement. It was not so much because the crowd’s eruption made it clear we were their favorite, but because I’d already knew I’d won. I’d won because I’d returned to the dance that was my life’s passion, I’d done so with a new man and a man I loved, and I’d overcome my evil tremor.

  I was so secure in knowing I’d won so many things tonight that it didn’t even faze me when the commotion began—commotion I knew in my heart of hearts was coming. Because the ballroom world, wonderful as it was, included people like Natalia.

  Just as the presenter was about to place the gold medal around my neck, there were loud, angry words. And they were hers. I’d realized it was her voice that I’d heard during the most difficult part of our routine. It hadn’t fazed me then, and it wasn’t going to do so now, even as the emcee told the presenter to stop. She mouthed “I’m sorry,” and took the medal from my neck, holding it. There was apparently a contention that needed to be addressed.

  Now Jett had a tremor. Not the same kind as mine, not at all. He was downright shaking—with anger. His hand made a fist, as if he were about to haul off and hit someone. I forced his hand open and squeezed his palm. Whatever ridiculousness was going on, he didn’t need to become a part of it.

  Chapter 39

  Jett

  I really felt like hauling off and hitting Duke. Of course it wasn’t his fault; he wasn’t responsible for his partner. But I’d never physically hurt a woman. But beautiful Belle stopped me with her sweet caress.

  I’d never felt better about any performance in my life as I did now. We more than nailed the steps. We gave the most moving, transcendent performance of our careers—or at least, of mine. We killed the tricks and wowed the audience, but we created a beautiful dance that was full of meaning and poetry and love. And I was so in love with this woman. I was never more proud of anyone in my life than of Arabelle. And myself, actually. She had no tremor whatsoever, and I did everything she wanted, making no demands of my own for once. Because my demands were silly. Her vision and her ideas were everything. They were perfect for me, for us. I needed to be with Arabelle. We were meant to be partners, in dance and in life. She brought out the best in me, and made me full, to make a massively clichéd understatement.

  But now Natalia was trying to take our medal away, shaking her boney finger at me repeatedly and screaming something between Russian and English to all the judges, who’d gathered around.

  From what I could understand of her English anyway, she was saying, “He cheated. He tried to maim me. My foot. He hurt me so I fall.” We hadn’t seen her and Duke perform but I piec
ed together that she must have fallen during her routine and was blaming it on what had happened at the restaurant yesterday when I’d backed up my chair and her foot was there.

  I shook my head. I didn’t really know what to say because I didn’t understand all of what she said. She wasn’t letting me get a word in edgewise, anyway. The judges looked back and forth between us. It nearly killed me when the judge directed the presenter to take Arabelle’s medal. I grew so angry my whole body started shaking. I felt a fist forming in my right palm. I was so angry this woman wanted to take away what we had worked so hard for, and won. And that’s when Arabelle unwrapped my fist, caressing my palm, squeezing it.

  “Don’t give in to her,” she whispered.

  I breathed deeply, trying to calm myself.

  “Let’s go into the back,” the head judge said. “Natalia, Arabelle, Duke, and Jett. Come on.” He motioned for us to follow him. The emcee began explaining to the audience that there was to be a brief hearing before resuming. The ballroom echoed with the loudest boooos I’d ever heard. Damn right it should. I turned around, looked into the audience, and punched the air, letting everyone know I was going to fight this to the nail. They went wild and soon a chorus of “Jett, go!” overtook the boos. Arabelle giggled and wrapped her arm around me.

  We got to the back, to the practice room, and the head judge told everyone to find a seat. All of the judges sat up front, while Arabelle and I sat at one table, with Duke and Natalia at another. Duke’s face was bright red. I didn’t know if it was because of anger or embarrassment, or just the pressure of partnering with this woman.

  There was some commotion at the door. We all turned around to see Luna and Cheryl walking in.

  “No, no, no. This is private,” the head judge said.

  “But we are witnesses,” Luna said, not stopping.

  “I said no. You will have your time when we call you,” the judge insisted. He texted something on his phone and two security guards walked in.

  “Escort them out, please,” he said to them, motioning to the women. “I will let you know when they are needed, if they are needed, and you can escort them back in.”

  Luna and Cheryl looked at each other, their mouths open, aghast. Cheryl harrumphed. Luna began to protest. Apparently they’d never heard the word ‘no’ directed at them before.

  After the door closed behind them, the judge addressed me. “Natalia is saying that you harassed her and wounded her foot yesterday in an attempt to sabotage them.” He seemed to roll his eyes as he spoke, making me wonder if she often made such accusations when she didn’t win. “This despite the fact that she still placed second, after a serious mistake, which she says occurred because of the wounded foot. I would like you to tell me your side of the story, sir.”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.” I told him exactly what had happened, emphasizing how Natalia had tried to get to Arabelle mentally, how Arabelle had begun shaking and how I had backed up to get out of my chair to stand and ask her to leave. I had no control over the fact that her foot was right behind my chair, and I hadn’t know it was, and hadn’t meant to bump into her.

  The judge nodded. “Do you have anything to add?” he asked Arabelle.

  “Judge, my version of the events is the same. We asked her to leave us alone and she would not. I was sitting across from Jett and he merely backed his chair out to get up. I didn’t know Natalia was so close behind him partly because she’d made me upset and I was looking down as he backed out. But before, when I’d looked straight at her, I had noticed she was kind of gutting herself over his chair to stare me down. But I wasn’t thinking of it when I looked down. He had no way of knowing she was on top of him. And he never touched her again. She backed away and he had words with her but he didn’t touch her.”

  The judge nodded again. “We have a few witnesses. Bring them in,” he shouted toward the door. “One at a time.”

  Cheryl testified that she and Luna were watching through the window and saw me back up my chair. Right before I backed up I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that my chair leg would go right over her foot.

  I shook my head, feeling my anger return. Arabelle patted me on the arm.

  Cheryl continued, claiming that after I made sure I hurt Natalia’s foot, I threw the chair aside and began walking over her.

  “He walked over her?” the judge asked, dubious.

  “Yes.” Cheryl nodded.

  “How exactly did he do that?”

  “Well, she was down on the floor since he’d run over her with the chair, and then he walked right on top of her.”

  “On top of her body?”

  “Yes, on top of her body!” Cheryl rolled her eyes, as if the judge was an idiot.

  The judge raised his eyebrows. It was probably not a good idea to ridicule the judge as she seemed to be doing. “Which parts of her body did he walk over?”

  Cheryl harrumphed.

  “Her arms, her legs, her torso, her pelvis?” the judge asked.

  “Yes!” Cheryl shouted.

  “All of them?” The judge frowned.

  “Yes! That’s what I’m telling you!”

  The judge looked dubiously at the other judges before returning his attention to Cheryl. “Well, he didn’t seem to hurt any of her other body parts as he literally stepped his entire weight all over her body.”

  “I don’t know. She was hurting pretty badly,” Cheryl said.

  Luna said the exact same thing, including the walking all over her. They’d clearly rehearsed the ludicrous lie.

  “Did he step on her hands, thighs, stomach?” the judge asked. “Where exactly did he walk?”

  “Just all over her, like I said!” Luna seemed equally annoyed by the specificity of his questions.

  During their testimony, two judges had actually gone to the restaurant and returned with two employees to testify—our waitress and a bartender. At first I was worried Natalia had paid them off or something, because it was weird they were ready to testify. But fortunately, they told the truth. The waitress said she hadn’t noticed anything was going on until Natalia started screaming that I’d hurt her. She couldn’t tell how Natalia had been hurt, since by that time I was standing several inches from her and she was far away from the chair. She hadn’t seen me move the chair and she’d never seen me touch Natalia.

  The bartender saw me back up the chair. He said he was surprised because it looked like Natalia saw me backing up and, though she had plenty of room behind her, made no effort to get out of the way. “I know this is strange, but it actually looked like she wanted to get hurt,” he said.

  Thank you, dude, I thought.

  The head judge told us all to go out to the ballroom while they made their decision. The other couples were still out on the floor. The audience began cheering. Belle and I paced up and down the narrow hallway area separating the dance floor from first row of seats. She stopped me, grabbed my hand, and held it. I looked down into her eyes. There was a shine in her eyes, almost diamond-like, and her eyes lit up her whole face. They lit up the whole friggin’ room.

  “I want to win, Jett. Obviously. For Alessia, for us. But, honestly, whatever happens, I’m so happy. We won in my heart. I didn’t have the tremor, and we worked out this routine together, each of us with equal input. This was our dance—our perfect dance. I don’t care what the judges say. We won.”

  I smiled down at her. I went to cup her chin in my hand but she beat me. Her lips were on mine before I knew it. The kiss was long, serious, and full of intent—full of non-platonic intent, that is. I went to pick her up and kiss her more deeply, but the emcee’s voice interrupted us.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the judges have made a decision. All the competitors out on the floor, please.”

  We all walked out to the floor as the “Belle Arabelle!” and “Go Jett!” chants began.

  “I’m sorry, but I need it quiet please,” the emcee said. Uh-oh, I thought. Given that they were cheering us on, this may be a serious ups
et to the audience. I held Arabelle’s hand, squeezing her palm.

  When the chanting stopped, the emcee continued, “There has been a contesting of the results due to cheating. The new results are as follows.” He went through the results again, but starting at ninth place instead of tenth. Chatter in the ballroom abounded. Belle and I looked at each other, frowning. All the couples looked at each other. What was going on? Why did they start at ninth place? Had someone been disqualified?

  Natalia was the only one whose eyes weren’t darting around. She looked rather smug, in fact. Duke looked down. All the results up to second place were the same, with each couple having advanced one notch. Now he was up to first place. Natalia and Duke and Belle and I were all still standing. One of the couples had clearly been eliminated and didn’t place. Confused chatter overtook the ballroom.

  “The first place winners, ladies and gentlemen... Arabelle Fonseca and Jett Ridley!” The confused chatter turned to cheers. Arabelle simply shrugged and said, “See, they agree with me.” I didn’t have time to bask in the glory of our win because the judge continued.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, there’s been a disqualification.” The room was completely silent. “This committee takes its job very seriously. We absolutely will not condone frivolous allegations. We find that Natalia Beloserkovskiy and Duke Gozzoli have done that with their charges. We find not only that they have no merit, but that they were frivolously raised only to change the results and were based upon untruths. We hereby disqualify the aforementioned couple from this year’s competition. Again, your winners, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, extending his hand to us.

  The audience went wild with applause again, which soon became deafening. Now was the time for basking in our glory. I picked Arabelle up, raised her high above my head, then brought her down to eye level—well, mouth level. And I planted a big, very serious one on her.