Love Tango

by J. M. Jeffries

  Tristan said, “My sister is going to be working with you on Celebrity Dance. She’s a bit of a klutz, so I hope she doesn’t embarrass you too much.”

  Nick was almost too surprised to answer. “I have no complaints.” He had no intention of telling this man, even though he acted as though he were still in high school, about anything that happened between him and Roxanne.

  Tristan gave him a slight smile. “I hear you and your business partner are planning a revival of Timbuktu. I was hoping we could talk.”

  “I make it a policy to not talk business in my parents’ restaurant. This is family time.” He considered calling security and having them eject Tristan, but the man was Roxanne’s brother. Her family was already a huge mess—he didn’t want to add more to the chaos. He said, “Make an appointment with my assistant.”

  “I can do that.” Tristan touched an eyebrow in a mock salute. He turned and left, the pudgy man following close behind.

  Nick took out his phone and called Mike. “Prepare yourself. Tristan Deveraux is planning to make an appointment to talk to us.”

  Mike sighed. “What the hell did you agree to that for?”

  “Roxanne. Not that she asked me to.”

  The explanation seemed to appease Mike. “That doesn’t sound like fun. Any idea what the man wants?”

  “He wants to talk about Timbuktu.”

  “That’s still in the planning stages. If he wants a part, we’re a long way from casting.”

  “I can’t say. We’ll just have to wait and find out.”

  “I’ve been doing some digging into the Deveraux family. They are a hot mess, especially with the IRS breathing down their backs.”

  And gossip like that got around. Image was everything in the industry. And his sister Nina was an expert at publicity and could certainly handle any bad press that came his way.

  He didn’t want to need her for that, though. Roxanne deserved to be in the spotlight for her own right—not because of her parents’ bad business decisions.

  “I’ll let you know when Tristan calls,” Mike said and then disconnected.

  Manny Torres made his way through the restaurant toward Nick. He stopped at a few tables to chat briefly with the occupants. Luna el Sol had been a hangout for the Hollywood crowd for decades.

  Manny finally reached his son and sat down. “Is that yahoo giving you trouble? He and his parents are loud, obnoxious and lousy tippers.”

  “How do you know they’re lousy tippers?” Nick asked.

  “I had two waitresses out sick with the flu. I pitched in and waited on his table. He stiffed me on a tip, and I’m a better waiter than a chef and I’m a great chef. And I own the restaurant. I found out from everybody, he and his parents tip lousy anyway, and complain about the service and the food.” Manny pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “You don’t need tip money,” Nick said.

  “I don’t keep my tips—I put them in the emergency slush fund for the staff. Terry Logan, one of the A-listers, was so happy with my service, he tipped me five large. Told me to buy your mother something pretty. I handed the money back to him and said, ‘Sold.’ Called your mother over and said, ‘Hey, Grace, look what I bought for you.’”

  Nick burst out laughing. “Was he amused?”

  “Vastly,” Manny said and slapped a hand on the table while he laughed loud enough that people at adjoining tables turned to look. Those who recognized him turned away smiling.

  “Dad, when I grow up I want to be you.”

  “You already are.” Manny rested his arms on the table. “So tell why you’re here.”

  “Maybe I’m here for a good meal. I forgot my Scooby-Doo lunchbox at the house.”

  Manny glowered at Nick. “It’s Tuesday night. You never come during the week while you’re in rehearsal.”

  “Got me there,” Nick said. “Roxanne Deveraux is a contestant on Celebrity Dance. And I think her brother wants a part in a play Mike and I are planning to revive. He has a reputation for being difficult to work with and I’m not sure I need the headache he’d generate.”

  “Maybe, but he’s pretty talented. I’ve heard him sing and he has a great voice. What are you going to do?”

  Nick didn’t know. He didn’t want to be a jerk about it, but he needed to protect his show and his reputation. “Roxanne doesn’t want her family around. They ambushed her in the parking lot of the rehearsal studio and she was less than thrilled. They’re pushing her to do a movie and she’s not interested.”

  “I don’t know about her siblings, but she seems to have a decent head on her shoulders. She could have gone off the deep end after she emancipated herself, but she went to school instead. She’s a smart, talented, beautiful woman.” Manny shook his head. “She appeals to everybody. She is going to be a great addition to Celebrity Dance.”

  Nick laughed. He couldn’t argue with that assessment. “She’s also funny and the biggest klutz in the world. My toes are never going to be the same.” Roxanne had mangled a dance as simple as a waltz. He didn’t think twenty hours a week of rehearsal was going to be enough for her.

  “I’m sure you’ll find a way to keep Roxanne’s family drama out of the media and make this season work for all of the contestants,” Manny said.

  “I was sort of hoping you might have some ideas.” Nick had always come to his father for advice.

  “Not a one,” Manny said. “You’ll find a way.” Manny clapped Nick on the shoulder. “You always do. You’ll think of something.”

  * * *

  “Keep your shoulders straight and your elbows up,” Nick said. “Relax.”

  “I’m trying.” Roxanne found it difficult to relax. She stumbled, but Nick caught her and eased her back into the flow of the dance. She tried hard not to step on his feet and at times she thought she was doing well, but then she’d lose her step.

  “Step and glide,” Nick said.

  She did and managed a graceful turn. The eye of the camera followed her and she smiled for it. She’d grown up in front of thirty million viewers and seldom gave the camera a thought.

  She managed to follow him for several more beats of the music.

  “Keep your chin up,” Nick said. “The waltz is considered the king of dances.”

  “Why not the queen of dances?” she stumbled but quickly righted herself.

  “Because I didn’t write the history of the waltz.” He twirled her and smiled when she managed to avoid stepping on his foot.

  She grinned at him, enjoying having this sexy, strong man’s arms around her. “What else do you know about the waltz?”

  “During the Regency period it was considered quite risqué.”

  “Wow. Who knew one dance could turn a whole period on its ear.”

  “Matrons from the period were known to swoon from the implied sexual innuendo of the waltz.”

  “Really?” she said. “There’s a football field between us. I don’t find anything sexy and risqué about the waltz.”

  “In Regency England, a man only danced a waltz with a woman he was serious about, sort of an announcement to society he was considering this woman for marriage.”

  “Are you considering me for marriage?”

  “As a Regency gentleman looking at your prospects, you do have a healthy dowry. But for the most part, a Regency gentleman didn’t consider a woman with brains a good catch.”

  She frowned. “Read a lot of Jane Austen?”

  He laughed. “I didn’t say Regency men were smart, but they were always looking to move up the ladder.”

  “Aren’t we all.”

  “You knew what I was talking about all along, didn’t you?” Nick grinned at her.

  “Yes, but it was nice to know you paid attention in history class.”

  “The
history of dance was a required class.” Nick spun her and she followed his lead almost flawlessly.

  She smiled happily. He spun her away and twirled her and she felt as though she were dancing on air.

  Nick stepped back and clapped. “When you are focused on something other than your feet, you do great.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “Really.”

  “I would never lie to you about dancing.”

  Which made her wonder what he would lie about. “I appreciate that.”

  “We need to find a way to make you stop thinking about your feet.”

  When she’d been on Family Time, there would be moments when people would go off script and the whole routine would work brilliantly. Her costars had all been about fun and enjoying the moment. She needed to find a way to put herself in the moment so she stopped thinking about what her feet were supposed to do next.

  “Let’s do this again,” Nick said, holding out his hand. “Trust me.”

  She took his hand and smiled at him. She almost felt graceful. The music restarted and she closed her eyes to avoid thinking about her feet. Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think. The mantra went round and round in her head. She took a step and landed wrong, sitting down hard on her butt. That hurt.

  Nick grinned. “You fall very gracefully.”

  “I fall like a rock.”

  “A graceful rock.” Nick held out his hand and helped her up.

  Four hours later, she sat on a bench massaging her feet.

  “You have an appointment with Wardrobe tomorrow at 2:00 p.m.”

  “I already put it in my phone. I didn’t forget.”

  He grinned while he wiped his face with a towel. “Get a shower. I’m taking you to lunch.”

  “Someplace with pizza.”

  “Pizza sounds good.”

  She headed toward the locker room, relieved to be done with rehearsal for the day. Even though she was anxious to go home and get some work done for a client whose genealogy was already done. She just needed to put the finishing touches on the report and make it look pretty. She couldn’t resist lunch with Nick.

  * * *

  Hollywood Boulevard was always busy. Nick parked in a lot behind the El Capitan Theater and he and Roxanne walked to the most famous street in Hollywood. Traffic on the street moved slowly while tourists snapped photos through the open windows of their cars. People on the sidewalks looked down at the row of stars beneath their feet, snapping photos and looking awed.

  The day was pleasantly cool with a bright, sunny sky and no clouds overhead. Nick led her to the corner and they started walking down the Hollywood Walk of Fame. The bronze stars beneath her feet read like a who’s who of old Hollywood.

  “Look down,” Nick ordered.

  Roxanne did and found herself standing in front of Ginger Roger’s star. She knelt down and rubbed Ginger’s name. She was awed to find Ginger sharing space with Marilyn Monroe and Ozzy Osbourne with Judy Garland a few stars away in one direction and Bob Hope in the other.

  “Where’s Fred?” she asked.

  “Down the block, a bit farther on.” He pointed. “And later we can cross the street and visit Charlie Chaplin if you want.”

  He led her to Fred Astaire’s star embedded in the sidewalk. She saw Ella Fitzgerald and Tim Conway’s stars along with Gloria Swanson, Al Jolson and George M. Cohan—Hollywood royalty. Some of the names she didn’t recognize, but they had small icons beneath their names letting her know they were involved in radio, movies, music or television.

  “Did you bring me here deliberately?” Roxanne knelt down and patted Fred’s star praying to the dance god that she would inherit his moves.

  “I want you to get the dance vibe from the two greatest dancers in Hollywood history, as far as I’m concerned, and feed you pizza at the same time.”

  “Because I’m hungry?”

  He pointed at the star. “Because you can dance. We’re going to eat pizza at Combo’s and stroll over Fred and Ginger’s stars again and let you feel their moves.” He swiveled his hips slightly and did a tiny jig. A passerby stopped to watch Nick, grinning. He snapped a quick photo and continued on.

  Roxanne grabbed his hand. “Stop that. I’m hungry. We’ll dance later.”

  Combo’s New York Pizzeria was flanked by the Guinness World Records Museum and a storefront selling tickets to tours of the superstars’ homes on one side and an empty retail place with a for-lease sign in the window on the other. At the end of the block, the Church of Scientology rose high into the sky.

  They took their slices of pizza and sodas to a round sidewalk table with two aluminum chairs. Roxanne loved watching tourists. No one knew who she was, but a couple people seemed to recognize Nick.

  “Your brother, Tristan, paid me a visit last night.” Nick took a bite of his pizza and watched her.

  “I apologize,” she said, angry that Tristan had ambushed Nick. Tristan had been twelve when Roxanne made her break for freedom and sometimes she wondered if she should have found a way to save her siblings, too. Even though she’d only been sixteen at the time and could barely fend for herself, guilt still haunted her.

  “What do you need to apologize for?” he asked.

  She sighed. “The fact that he used our mutual DNA as an excuse to bother you.”

  Nick shrugged. “No need. You had nothing to do with his actions.”

  “How did he want to exploit you?”

  “I didn’t give him a chance to try.”

  No surprise, there. “What did you do?”

  “I told him to make an appointment?” he asked, one eyebrow rising. He paused for a long drink from his soda and studied her intently. “I know in one respect this is none of my business, but can you tell me what happened between you and your parents? Assuming you aren’t violating any confidentiality agreements. I know it was in the industry publications, but not the real story about why you emancipated yourself.”

  Talking about her parents was painful. More than painful, excruciating. “You are my dance partner and I need to trust you.” She paused, ordering her thoughts. “You can find out easily enough with a Google search. I started on Family Time when I was five. It ran for eleven years and the producers decided to end while still on top, especially with the children getting older and wanting their own space to grow.”

  Hollywood didn’t have a good track record when it came to children in the business. Too many of them ended up dead because the industry put such a premium on things other than talent. “I made a good salary, especially as I got older. I wanted to get out of the business and go to college, but my parents had other plans for me.” Plans that made her uncomfortable. Plans that made her worry their goals didn’t coincide with hers. She wanted an education and they wanted their breadwinner back under their control.

  “Parents are like that.” Nick’s tone was mild, nonconfrontational.

  Roxanne sighed. She knew he meant well and she already knew that his experience with his parents was vastly different from hers. “My parents didn’t want what was best for me, but what was best for them. The idea to emancipate myself was actually theirs. They wanted me to do this movie, but the studio was hesitating because I was still legally a child. To get around child labor laws, my parents talked to me about emancipation. The funny thing was, I was already thinking about it myself. I knew they wanted me to make this ‘artistic’ movie and thought they would still control me, but the movie had so many graphic sex scenes and nudity that I didn’t want to be a part of it. Number one, just reading the screenplay made me uncomfortable. Number two, I enjoy making people laugh even though comedy is not my specialty. Unfortunately part of the emancipation also meant looking at my finances and my ability to support myself. My parents weren’t expecting that.”

  “The government is like that,” Nick s
aid with a half smile as though he knew what was coming next.

  Reliving a period that was one of the most painful times in her life, Roxanne took a deep breath, her pizza forgotten. “When I started on Family Time, I made $25,000 an episode over twenty-five episodes. A half million a year. By the time the show ended, I made $180,000 an episode and I was in every episode. Even with my parents acting as my agents and taking 15 percent, I should have had around $20 million in the bank. But when all the dust settled and the forensic accountants had a chance to look at my account, they found less than $2 million, and then the IRS got into the act, as well. And when the accountants really started looking at my money, they discovered a lot of irregularities.”

  “What kind of irregularities?” he asked, watching her intently as she spoke.

  She drummed her fingers on the table. Talking about the situation made her nervous and vaguely disloyal to her family. “I understood I was the breadwinner for my family, but even when I was twelve I knew the gig would end.” Few sitcoms lasted as long as hers did. “I planned for my education, but my parents squandered my money on questionable investments, bad business decisions and the high life. When the IRS got in the act, my parents tried to make it seem that I owed the back taxes. Fortunately for me, the government could see exactly what happened and went after my father.” She remembered how her grandmother stepped in and told her she wasn’t responsible for her parents’ problems. They brought everything on themselves and she didn’t have to bail them out.

  “It must have been hard to see your parents in such a harsh light.”

  “What was harder was leaving Tristan and Portia behind. I still feel guilty I couldn’t find a way to help them.” Tristan was already in commercials and Portia was just starting out. Her parents would still have income. “I took what little money was left and ran. I had no intention of making that ‘artistic’ film no matter what they said trying to convince me. Their own greed gave me the way out. My grandmother...” Her grandmother was the best thing that ever happened to her. “...hired a financial advisor and he advised me on what to do. Grams and I moved to Berkeley and I went to school.” That was the best decision she’d ever made.