by Tonya Plank
I turned and sauntered toward the door, spying Cheryl in my periphery. I glanced at her, to see her eyes darting back and forth between Rory and me. She had a look of immense anger—hatred, even—in her eye. It was actually frightening. She looked like she might strangle someone. I hadn’t even spoken to Rory. But she seemed to know anyway.
Well, even if she had found out, our having to run around hiding was ridiculous. I was treading some kind of line and there really was no reason for it. Rory was no longer my student. I could train with her for Blackpool on my own, and, yes, I could sleep with her. Let Cheryl run to Alessia. She might have my visa hanging over me, but I was her star teacher, her principal money-maker. She wouldn’t sabotage that. There was nothing anyone could do about us.
I walked back to the lounge area. Several fans—both male and female—smiled at me.
“Sasha, man, you going to find a new partner soon?” asked a student from my advanced classes, Benji.
“I hope,” I said.
Suddenly I heard behind me someone make a very loud “Pfffffft.”
I turned to see Cheryl. She looked like a witch, a Medusa, her face bore such anger. And she’d been pulling at her hair, I could tell, which made it seem like she was threatened by something.
“He already has a partner!” she shrieked.
“Oh, wow,” Benji said, not knowing whether to be happily surprised or scared for me. Or disbelieving.
“He’s a liar!” she screamed. Then she walked right up to me.
My instincts told me to step back but I didn’t. I was going to hold my ground with this woman, whom I was beginning to realize was slightly crazed. Maybe not just slightly. Suddenly I felt a whack across my face. Her fingernails were long and I felt a scratch. I was so shocked, I still didn’t step back. She smacked me again.
“Stop it!” shouted a young woman.
“You can’t do that to him,” Benji yelled.
Cheryl turned her glare on my students. Now I felt protective. I moved to stand in front of them.
“I can do whatever the fuck I want,” she said to them, and promptly turned her glare back on me. “You led me on. You told me you were through with her. You’re a liar. You’re disgusting, the way you treat women.”
She went to smack me again, but this time I was ready. I grabbed her hand and stopped her midair.
“What are you doing? Let go of me, let go of me!” she screamed as if I were attacking her.
“Look. I don’t know what you’re going on about, but my professional life is none of your business. And my personal life most certainly isn’t.”
Her face made a grotesquely strange contortion, and then she started bawling, as if I was really hurting her. I let go of her hand. She bent over, now sobbing uncontrollably. I remained on my guard, in case she was only pretending and was intending to whack me again.
As soon as she caught her breath, she raised her head. She had long lines of black mascara running from her eyes to her mouth. At least she wasn’t faking the tears. But now she started laughing.
“You think you can get away with this, telling outright lies and leading people on? Your best student and your boss?”
I shook my head, in disbelief. She was so deranged. My best student? She was placing herself even above her friend, Luna. Perhaps I should have been more up front, but what the hell did it matter? She had no right to know who I was training with. Who did she think she was?
“I’m going straight to Alessia,” she said, her voice now a whisper. “I’m going to tell her what you did to me, how upset you made me, and that I don’t want you as my teacher anymore.”
“Good,” I said. “The feeling is very mutual.”
She looked at me openmouthed, as if she couldn’t believe I’d actually said that. Did she think I was going to apologize and beg for forgiveness? What was this woman on?
“I am going to convince all of your students to leave you. Luna, Svetlana. You’ll have no top students. The studio will be left without all that money we bring in. Do you think you’re not replaceable? Do you think you won’t be fired? You’re on your way back to Russia. Where you belong." The words initially stung, until I realized who’d uttered them. She began cackling. She really was a witch. I couldn’t believe she’d be so vindictive. I’d had possessive students before but absolutely no one ever anywhere near this level.
I looked around. The students in the room were looking at us, wide-eyed, openmouthed.
“Oh my God.” I heard Luna’s voice. She’d apparently just walked in. “What’s happening? What are you doing?” She looked back and forth between the two of us. It wasn’t clear whom she was talking to.
I felt someone’s arm on my shoulder. I turned to see Sadie. She looked even angrier than Cheryl.
“It is time for you to leave. You’ve assaulted someone and you are acting in a threatening manner. I will call 9-1-1 in fifteen seconds’ time if you are not gone from this room,” Sadie said to Cheryl, enunciating every syllable.
“What are you… This is my studio. I don’t have to leave. This is my…” Cheryl laughed.
“Better do what she says. We all saw everything and heard everything you said, you crazy bitch,” said the female student Cheryl had tried to slap earlier.
Cheryl opened her mouth, but Luna smartly took over. “Come on, sweetie,” she said, pulling her away.
“No, no, I’m not the one… He lied to me,” Cheryl said, her tears returning.
“I know, I know.” Luna wrapped her arms around her, walking her out of the room. “Come on, it’s okay,” she chanted as they went.
Sadie turned to me with a look of sheer shock in her eyes. I looked around. Everyone had the same expression. I imagine I did as well. This was a first for me, and apparently for all of us.
We didn’t have much time to contemplate everything, because just then, the DJ announced the mambo team was taking the stage. I tossed my plate of remaining food in the trash, surprised I was still clutching it.
“Oh, gosh, she got you good,” Benji said.
Sadie came around behind me and handed me a napkin, which she’d dabbed in water. “We’ll take care of it when she’s done,” she said, knowing I didn’t want to miss Rory for anything.
“I owe you big time,” I said.
She nodded. “Go watch her.”
I walked into the main room, Sadie and the students who’d been in the back when everything had gone down trailing behind me. The lights had already dimmed. I walked around to the back, sliding against the back wall so I wouldn’t run into anyone.
“Performing in their very first competition at the University of California at Irvine in only two weeks, I present to you Mambo Caliente, Infectious Rhythm’s very first mambo team!” the DJ boomed.
“Go, go, go,” said a voice from behind the stage, the team captain, presumably.
But I could tell things were wrong from the get-go. It seemed there was a lot of commotion, pandemonium almost. I couldn’t tell if it was onstage or at the edge of the stage. There seemed to be something happening in both places, as whispering was turning into loudly spoken words, like “What are you doing?” and “No, not there.” But I couldn’t see anything because they’d dimmed the lights while the team members took their places.
The lights suddenly flashed on and the music began. Rory and Pepe were front and center. Of course they were. They were the best. Rory looked nervous, but as soon as they began moving, she seemed to ease up, following Pepe perfectly and putting her typical heartfelt, sweet-and-sassy pizazz into the steps right alongside him.
There still seemed to be a lot of whispering and vocal commotion though. I managed to pry my eyes off of my Rory for a split second to look at the others. Nothing was coming from any of their mouths. That meant it was coming from the audience. What the hell? Be quiet, people. It’s only a couple minutes!
“What are you doing?” someone said, rather loudly.
“Don’t you see the tape? You’re not supposed
to go there,” said a woman’s voice.
“Hey, ow, that’s my hand!” said a man.
Rory and Pepe were preparing for their first difficult trick, the one in which she’d hurt her knee. She looked a little worried, especially with all the commotion, which seemed to be happening just steps from where she was dancing. This was just a ballroom floor; the makeshift stage was set off from the audience area only by blocking tape. She could injure someone, or herself, if she spun out into seated audience members, some of whom had supposedly crossed the blocking tape. I wasn’t sure what to do. With the spotlight now on, I could see to make my way around to the stage, but I could also see that there was no way to get there without literally stepping over seated bodies, wrists and hands splayed on the floor. I’d step on someone for sure.
They began their trick. Pepe spun her out and stopped her abruptly in a flash, then lowered her into a split, drawing the expected cheers from the crowd. Rory had gorgeous lines when she did the splits, and she went down into them with such speed it was a thrill.
But there was now even more cacophony from the audience. And not the cheering kind. Something was definitely going on.
I saw Pepe mouth something to her.
Rory began pulling herself up out of the splits, using only her solid, strong thigh muscles. But her back leg suddenly stopped, as if it were stuck. Pepe looked confused, and tried to help by pulling her up. She looked down at her foot. The lights were more on her face and upper body than feet, but I followed her gaze to see her foot was stuck on something. It took me a second to realize that it was someone else’s leg. None of her teammates were anywhere near her. It was someone in the audience who was far too close.
“Wait,” I called out. I looked down into the audience, squinting my eyes and trying to adjust my vision. And then I saw her. The back of her little blonde head. Cheryl. She was actually trying to trip Rory.
I could see Rory mouth the word “wait” to Pepe, to stop pulling her up so she wouldn’t twist her leg. But he couldn’t seem to understand, or hear her over the music.
“Wait! Stop!” My voice boomed throughout the room, even over the music. But it was too late. She kicked her back leg up with all her might to release her ankle and ended up flying forward, falling onto her other leg, straight onto her right knee. Her bad knee.
Pandemonium began. Both ooohs and ohhhhhs and one or two actual screams.
“Ouch, you stepped on me,” someone yelled. “You really, really hurt me.” It took me all of two seconds to realize it was Cheryl’s voice. “Can’t you see where you’re going, you idiot?”
Pepe whispered something to Rory as he quickly pulled her up and, skipping a few steps, caught them up to the rest of the team. It appeared she wasn’t hurt and could go on. But no. When she began doing the basic again, a pained look contorted her face. It was obvious her knee was really hurting. She stepped lightly with her toe only, not pressing down at all on her heel.
I could see Pepe mouth “Are you okay?”
She shook her head but didn’t stop moving.
He continued with the basic footwork instead of doing the more intricate moves, like the others were. There was more whispering between them. I wanted badly to yell out for them to stop; he was really pissing me off right now. But I knew she’d never forgive me if I stepped in. This was her decision to make. And she was a true dancer, wanting to finish it. Every serious dancer, every pro in the world would have done the same, for better or worse. That’s what dancers did: dance through the pain.
“Look at my hand. It’s bleeding,” yelled Cheryl.
And then I could make out a figure simply getting up and pulling her, dragging her on her ass, away from the stage. Thank you, kind sir, or madam. Thank you so much!
“What are you doing?” Cheryl shrieked, as if someone had snatched her firstborn child.
“Shut up,” someone else said.
I wanted more than anything to find Cheryl, throw her on the ground, and really give her hand a good stomp. I wasn’t a violent person. I had to shake the thought from my head.
Pepe pulled Rory toward him, and she wrapped her leg, then body around his, and slithered down into a deliciously perfect snake.
“I can’t believe she did that to me.” Cheryl again. Now off in the opposite corner of the room.
If she didn’t shut up, I would walk over the sea of hands to silence her myself.
But I could tell from watching her that Cheryl’s voice was bringing on Rory’s adrenaline. She completed the snake into the pot stir—the whole move that had originally caused the knee sprain—without any kind of a grimace. She rocked the rest of the routine. And, for one brief moment, I deluded myself into believing that she actually was pain-free, she’d nailed everything so well.
But those delusions were shattered when the routine ended and they were all taking their bows. She went to do her curtsy with the right knee bent and the pain just surged through her. I could see it on her face. The leg actually buckled and she fell.
I was so angry at myself for not having stepped in, I wanted to rip out my hair. How on earth could I have let this happen to her, the woman who was everything to me?
Sasha’s story concludes with Sasha: Book Two
Thank you to Julia Ganis, my eagle-eyed editor, Marisa-rose Shor, my fantastic cover designer who can do absolutely anything, publicist Liz Donatelli, my friend and fellow romance enthusiast, and all the wonderful people in the Los Angeles chapter of Romance Writers of America for their generous advice, encouragement and words of wisdom. Thank you to my parents for their never-ending support.
But mostly, thank you to you, dear reader. To an indie author, reader support is absolutely everything. There are so very many books out there and I am so beyond grateful that you chose to read mine. I would really appreciate it if you would leave a brief review on Goodreads or wherever you purchased this book. And I love to hear from readers. So please do connect with me on Facebook, Goodreads, my blog, or wherever else you find me on the internet!
After working for many years as an attorney in New York, Tonya Plank now lives and writes in Southern California. A former amateur ballroom dancer, she wrote the popular dance blog, “Swan Lake Samba Girl.” She is the author of the Fever: A Ballroom Romance trilogy, and Swallow, a standalone novel that won several awards and was an Amazon bestseller.
Please find her at http://www.tonyaplank.com/ where she tries to blog regularly, or visit her Facebook page, https://www.facebook.com/TonyaPlankAuthor. For information on her upcoming releases, special discounts and giveaways, please sign up for her newsletter, at http://www.tonyaplank.com/newsletter/.
