If Ever

by Angie Stanton

  "Ah, here they are," Larry says when he spots us.

  The stranger turns and I'm stunned to find it's the guy who performed the song on YouTube. He's tall and lean with medium blonde hair, feathery eyebrows, and friendly blue eyes.

  Larry says, "Dominic, Chelsea, I'd like you to meet Thomas Evan Oliver."

  Thomas reaches his hand out to Dominic. "Call me Tom," he says and they shake, and then he extends his hand to me.

  I blurt, "I'm a huge fan!"

  His hand is warm and firm. I'm meeting the actual guy who sang “Stay” on that old TV show, and now he's here.

  "I'm a big fan of your show too," he says with a British accent and an endearing smile.

  Glancing at Dominic, I mouth, oh my God! He grins.

  "Tom's starring in the show Crossing Lines on Broadway and we didn't know we'd be able to get him until the last minute," Larry says. "Lucky for us, he's agreed to sing the track for your dance tonight. Tom, if there's anything you need, just let me or one of the assistants know."

  "Thanks, Larry." Tom turns to us as the producer leaves. "Thanks for inviting me to your show. I was surprised when I got the call."

  I'm fixated by the sound of his accent. The way he pronounces his words is like a gorgeous melody. He's so friendly and at ease, while my heart is ricocheting out of my chest.

  "We're honored to have you," Dominic says, leaning against the piano.

  "I recorded "Stay" for a TV show quite a while back. I had to dig deep in my memory banks and dust it off," Tom laughs.

  I'm officially in love with his voice and he hasn't even sung yet.

  "When I asked Chelsea to select a song that had significance to her, she knew right away that it was "Stay,"" Dominic explains.

  Tom directs his attention to me. "Then I guess all my thanks go to you."

  He smiles and something about the curve of his mouth and the light in his eyes makes my insides all jittery. I'm tongue tied and not sure what to say, but Dominic saves me.

  "We're on a tight schedule, so we should probably get started."

  "Right, then." Tom takes a seat behind the piano, flexes and wiggles his fingers. "Do you have a tempo in mind?"

  Dominic gives him the tempo and turns to me. "Chelsea, we'll just mark it the first time to see where we have tempo issues."

  We move to our spots on the main floor. Tom takes his cue from Dominic and plays the intro. I can't believe the actual, live and in person, Thomas Evan Oliver is only a few feet away and performing the anthem of my life. He begins to sing, and rich, full tones fill the room. I look at Dominic and my mouth drops open. Dominic is equally impressed and has to nudge me to remember what I'm supposed to be doing.

  We mark through the number, including the lifts, and stop right before the final leap from the raised stage, mostly because it takes a lot of energy and it's easier to skip it. Dominic confers with Tom on tempo. "Let's try it again. Chelsea, this time let's go full out."

  I nod.

  Tom plays again. The tempo begins slow, and I focus on the dance. We get to the first lift and I give it my all so Dominic doesn't have to work harder than necessary to hoist me over his head. It's exhilarating to spin up high in the air, and then in one fluid motion, he pushes me away, and I land on my feet.

  The tempo builds and I try to lose myself in the dance, but something isn't right. I can't get into it and misstep, Dominic puts his hand up for Tom to stop. "What's wrong?" Dominic asks.

  "I don't know. I can't get into the feel of it." All eyes are on me, from Tom behind the piano, to the cameras guys observing our rehearsal, to Dominic who has become adept at reading my emotions.

  "You've been fine all week. What's different now?" he asks.

  "I'm sorry. Let's try it again." I take my starting spot and try to brush off the vibe.

  "Is it having Tom here?" Dominic says under his breath with a shit eatin' grin, aware that this stranger affects me.

  I glance up, and Tom is pretending to examine the lighting tresses. "Yeah, actually, it is. He's not singing it the same as the recording we've rehearsed to."

  Dominic stares at me like I'm out of my mind. "Are you saying you'd rather use a taped version instead of it being performed live by the original artist?"

  "No! It's just that he needs to sing it with more emotion."

  Tom laughs. "I'm right here. You can tell me what you need."

  My face burns with embarrassment, but I really want this dance to be right. We join him at the piano. He looks at me expectantly.

  "You're amazing. You really are," I exclaim.

  He's fighting back a smile. "Thank you, but..." he draws out the word and pauses.

  Here I am, Miss Midwest nobody, about to give him singing tips. "But, there's not enough... you know." I use my hands for emphasis.

  His brow furrows. "I'm not sure I do."

  "You're singing like we're at a concert or something. It needs more... more..." I struggle to find the right words, so I swing my arms some more. "Oomph."

  He nods, his expression serious. "More oomph."

  Dominic snickers, but Tom doesn't even twitch. He just waits for my explanation.

  I look to the heavens, wishing I knew how to express myself. "I'm sorry. I don't know the lingo. And I shouldn't be telling you what to do." I wring my hands and my eyes dart from Tom, to the piano, to the dance floor, and back to him. "You're the professional and you obviously know more than me, and here I am telling you what to do when I don't really have a clue anyway."

  I'm babbling, and I can't stop myself, and Thomas Evan Oliver is staring in fascination like I'm a trick dog doing back flips. But instead of shutting my mouth, I speed up.

  "And I'm wasting your time. You dropped everything to fly across the country for this." And then it occurs to me he had to miss work to be here. Is the show paying him? "Oh, God, I hope you're getting paid. Are you getting paid?" I turn to Dominic. "Is he getting paid?"

  Tom laughs. "Yes, I'm getting paid."

  I whip back around. "That's good. I hope it's a lot, cause I'm not getting very much. But I'm nobody, and you're somebody, and you deserve a lot." I turn to Dominic with pleading eyes. "Oh, God, Dominic, please make me shut up."

  Dominic holds back his laughter. "Nope. I think you're doing great."

  I spin back to Tom who is as entertained as Dominic. "It's just that I really want this to be right. It needs," I wave my arms in the air, Tom's eyes follow my flailing hands. "You know, like, passion."

  His eyes widen, as if I've said a dirty word.

  "Not like sexy, smexy passion, but more... you know. Oomphy passion, like from the gut, the deep stuff that rips you apart." My hands are fisted as I make churning motions. "You know?"

  Tom nods to appease me, but it also looks like he's biting his cheek so he won't burst out laughing.

  "Oh God, I'm so sorry." I throw my arms in the air. "Sing it any way you like. I'm fine. Really." I hug myself and fight the urge to curl into the fetal position.

  "No. It's okay," Tom says. "This is your dance, your big night. I'm just a guest here and I want to help you do great."

  Dominic, with his eyes laughing at me, nods in agreement.

  Tom continues. "So let me get this straight. You want passion. Not the sexy, smexy kind. You want the oomphy kind."

  Dominic snorts.

  I glare at him. "I hate you," I mutter under my breath.

  Tom laughs and then catches himself. I realize he has dimples. I never knew dimples in a guy could be so attractive. I try to look away, but then he says, "Let me see what I can do. How about this?"

  Tom loses his grin and takes a deep breath. And in an instant, it's like he's switched channels and gone somewhere else. He begins to play. His demeanor is different. His playing sounds more thoughtful, and his voice takes on an emotional tone. I'm frozen in place listening.

  The song builds into a heart-wrenching anthem. The anguish in his voice rings strong and true. I witness actual sadness in his eyes. He hits the cli
max, the money notes, and the brilliant haunting sound gives me goose bumps. He's transported me back to that devastating day when my life fell apart.

  I cover my mouth in awe of how easily he tapped into such an emotional place. He solemnly plays the final chords and his eyes lock with mine. For a split second it's as if he's peeking into my soul and has seen things no one else should.

  I'm speechless.

  "How was that, love?" he asks softly, holding my gaze.

  But there are no words for the gorgeous performance he just delivered. And I can't break his look.

  "Chelsea has nothing to say," Dominic says. "That's got to be a first. Tom, I felt the passion, and not the sexy, smexy kind."

  Tom breaks into a grin and the moment is gone.

  "Let's hang onto that feel and run this thing. Ready?" Dominic asks.

  I nod and take my place. "How'd he do that?" I whisper, and Dominic shrugs.

  Tom begins again and I'm lost in the mood, throwing myself into the moves, not thinking, just letting muscle memory take over and be in the moment. Then we get to the part where Dominic lifts me onto the stage, I have a few solo steps and then leap into his arms, but it feels wrong and the end of the number goes poorly.

  I'm disappointed at the final lift and look to Dominic for feedback. "Chelsea, other than the end, which we'll fix, that was amazing. All my harping about losing yourself to the intention of the steps has paid off."

  It felt better than we've ever performed it.

  Tom speaks up. "I've been watching the show all season and, wow. There's no way you'll be sent home if you dance like that tomorrow night."

  He likes it, and coming from a guy who can sing like he does, my heart fills to bursting.

  "Thanks, man," Dominic says. "Apparently having you sing it with oomphy passion is all it takes."

  I give Dominic a dirty look. Tom chuckles.

  Dominic ignores me. "We need to fix the end though, with the leap. Something's off."

  "I agree," Tom adds. "I think using the stage takes you out of the frame you've been working in. What if you have Chelsea on the piano instead of the stage, and she does the solo steps here and then takes the leap. It would make a bigger impact."

  Dominic rubs the side of his chin like he always does when he's considering a new idea. "I think you're absolutely right. Let's use the piano as a focal point. What do you think?" He turns to me.

  I look at the grand piano. It's really big until you consider actually trying to dance on the lid. Plus, Tom, a seasoned Broadway veteran, will be right there at the keyboard, which is incredibly intimidating. "What if I fall off?"

  "You're not going to fall off. You're going to leap off," Dominic assures me.

  I chew on my lip. "I guess we can try."

  Dominic hoists me up on the piano so I can get the feel of it.

  I glance down at Tom and he's looking straight up at me. If I were wearing a dress, he could be peeking up my skirt, but I'm in dance shorts, which are way more revealing, and now I wish I'd worn more clothes.

  My feet are leaving footprints on the shiny black surface. "I feel terrible standing on top of this beautiful piano in my bare feet. It seems sacrilegious."

  Tom gives me the eye. "It is. You're going straight to hell."

  I do a double take and realize he's hiding a smirk. "Don't worry. I'm probably going there already anyway," I say.

  He hikes an eyebrow.

  Dominic interrupts. "Try marking your steps. See how you feel about the space. And then for the leap, you've got two beats to step to the edge and dive forward. Ready to give it a try?"

  He takes his place below. So now I'm not leaping a few feet off the raised stage into his arms, I'm a good three feet higher. "Are you sure you can catch me from this high?"

  He gives me a cock-eyed frown. "Have I ever dropped you?"

  "Well, sort of."

  Tom chuckles.

  "Those weren't drops, that was learning." Dominic defends himself. "Now you're a pro."

  "But I'm not a pro," I whisper.

  Dominic stands at the ready. It feels like a suicide fall. Tom's eyes are on me and I don't want to embarrass myself.

  I lick my lips and focus on Dominic. "Are you sure you're ready?" I'm always afraid he won't be paying attention.

  "Chelsea, I will always be here to catch you. Always. You need to learn to trust me. Push off as hard as you can."

  I clench my fists for a second. "Okay, I'm ready."

  Tom softly plays the tune in the background to give me my place, which actually helps. I mark the moves and step to the edge, my toes hit the edge of the piano, and I launch myself toward Dominic.

  But the piano slides backwards from the sudden thrust of my push off. I scream as my leap falls short. Dominic rushes in and awkwardly catches me before I hit the steps.

  "See, I've got you." He grunts and sets me on my feet.

  "Thanks," I say, my heart about to explode out of my chest. I don't mention that his arm punch in the gut nearly brought up my scrambled eggs.

  Tom is climbing off the floor. "That's a new one," he says, his hair mussed and face confused. The piano pushed into him so fast it knocked him and his piano bench over.

  "Sorry," I giggle, but it's fun to see him off kilter.

  "Can someone please secure the brakes on the piano?" Dominic calls out.

  A couple minutes later, with the piano secure and Tom seated again, I'm about to hop back up on the piano.

  "Here, come around and step on the bench. It's easier," Tom scoots over to give me room and holds out his hand. I take his hand for support as I step up and smile. "Thank you."

  We run the leap a couple of times. Each time when I place my foot on the piano bench, Tom's there offering his hand. I notice Dominic snickering at something Tom is doing. I turn as I step onto the piano lid and he's staring at my ass. He quick snaps his guilty eyes up to mine.

  Dominic laughs.

  "Oh my God, have you been doing that every time?”

  He grins.

  “What are you, like twelve years old?" I tug the edge of my shorts down.

  "Sorry, love."

  I don't respond, and I have a feeling he's still looking at my behind, but he called me love again, which makes my pulse race.

  The next day during dress rehearsal I mess up at the beginning of the number and can't pull it together no matter how much coaching Dominic offers. We only get the one shot at dress rehearsal, so I'm left obsessing over my mistakes. Plus it's in front of a guy with a gorgeous smile and delicious accent who flew across the country to sing.

  The confidence I built up yesterday is out the window. I hide in my trailer. Even the idea of drinking bourbon with Hank isn't enough to pull me out. By the time I report to the ballroom for show time, I've got myself so worked up that I want to vomit. I love this dance so much and thought tonight I might be able to stay in the show on my own merit. Enough people have been voted off, and I've been lucky to make it this far, but now I'm on the chopping block and everyone knows it.

  Dominic spots me from across the room and beelines over. "Where the hell have you been?"

  "Sorry, I just needed some space to get my head together." I rub my arms, my gaze darting anywhere and everywhere.

  "Did it work?"

  "Not so much."

  The audience is ready and suddenly it's all lights, camera, action. I give the obligatory smiles through the introductions, and then hang out in the skybox as the other couples perform. Each one is better than the next. Hank and Sonya do another really cute number. This time they are the turtle and the hare, and it's hilarious. Odds of me beating the seventy-three year old country singer aren't looking good.

  Finally Dominic and I are called to the stage for the pre-commercial promo. My nerves are wound tight.

  Tom, who I haven't seen since my abysmal dress rehearsal, joins us decked out in a black dress shirt, slacks, and a jacket that fit him to perfection. Combined with his blond hair and easy smile, it's dif
ficult not to stare. "You look great," I say, happy for the distraction.

  "Thanks. You look lovely," he takes in my willowy white dress and artfully applied stage makeup, and I'm thankful for Mary Kay's skills. He notices my nervous hands. "Are you trembling?"

  "A little." I hold up a hand and it's shaking like I have the palsy. I take quick breaths as my stomach churns. Dominic massages my shoulders but it does nothing to calm me.

  "Is she always this nervous before a performance," Tom asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

  Dominic sighs. "Nope, this is new."

  Just then the director cues a camera on us and the announcer says, "Stay tuned. After the break we have Chelsea and Dominic doing a contemporary dance accompanied by the Tony nominated Thomas Evan Oliver.

  "Do you think anyone would notice if I quick went out for ice cream?" I ask, desperate to escape.

  "I've got a car outside, want a ride?" Tom offers, but I see the teasing in his eyes.

  I hug myself and tuck my hands under my arms. Now I'm making Dominic nervous. He gets up in my face.

  "Come on, Chelsea, look at me. We're going to shake it off. Bounce with me." And he bounces on his toes, shaking his arms loose.

  I give it a shot, but feel stiff as a board. Then Tom joins in, bouncing.

  "What are you doing?" I ask.

  "You aren't the only person who gets nervous."

  He is adorable in his pristine suit, bouncing up and down. I can't help but crack a smile.

  Larry gives us the sign and we take our places. The announcer's voice booms overhead. "Welcome back. Let's take a peek at how Chelsea came up with her song choice for tonight's dance."

  The video package of our prep for the number begins. I expected it to be about all my failed lifts or for sure when my foot brought Dominic to his knees. Instead it shows us sitting on the rehearsal room floor and Dominic asking if I wanted to talk about why this song means so much to me and me saying, "No, I really don't."

  But then for some reason I went ahead and told him, explaining that it reminds me of my parents' divorce when I was six, and my father's permanent move to France. I talk of my mother battling cancer for two years before her devastating death when I was fourteen, and how my own father wouldn't take me in after she died. He'd started a new family in Europe that didn't include me.