If Ever(16)

Dominic looks up. "This is a powerful song and I think I could do something interesting with the choreography, but I'll have to get it past the producer. He usually wants something more mainstream and recognizable. What's your second choice?"

I grip the laptop and hold my breath. "There is no second choice. I want this song."

He chuckles. "You like the hot singer."

I huff. "I'm serious. Listen, I know I'm low man on the totem pole here. I'm living in a dingy long-term apartment in a questionable neighborhood instead of some fancy hotel like the big celebs. I don't have a car service carting me around, or a dog, or an entourage the producers have to deal with. I've never asked for anything. I think I deserve this."

Dominic considers me. "Why does this song mean so much to you?"

I shift and grab my water bottle, not wanting to discuss it, but his steely gaze is fixed on me. "Chelsea, you have to help me out here. If I'm to go to bat for you, I need a good reason."

My heart squeezes with that old familiar pain. I don't talk about my past. But he's waiting for an answer. I breathe a heavy sigh. "It reminds me of my dad."

"I see." He focuses on the screen of my laptop as if trying to respect my privacy. "What's the title of the song?"

"Stay," I say softly, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice.

He nods with sensitivity in his eyes. "Want to tell me about that?"

"I'd rather not."

But then I do anyway.





7





Monday rolls around and my ankle is still tender but well enough to dance on as long as I have it taped. I'm shocked when I discover Anna and her fiancé, Will, have flown in to surprise me.

"Who needs family when you have us?" Anna gushes, giving me a tight hug.

"You guys are the best."

"Thank Will. It was his idea."

"I take it back. Will, you're the best." I hug him too.

Anna gives me the once over from my fake eyelashes down to my taped feet. "Look at you in that dress. Can you even call that a dress?"

"I know. I hate it." It's a revealing cha cha dress with tight bodice, high cut legs, and generous layers of ruffles on my behind.

"Are you kidding? You look phenomenal, like a Vegas showgirl. You're all legs, and they shimmer," Anna says, stepping back for a better look.

"That's a makeup trick. They apply the shimmer right before the show, otherwise, every time I sit down, I slide off the chair because my legs are so slippery."

"Oh, the problems you have," Will laughs.

We're interrupted by an intern, and Anna and Will are shooed away to take their seats. I walk away grinning. They came for family night.

When it's Dominic’s and my turn to dance, I brace myself for the video package. It shows my sprained ankle injury and ugly feet, but also lots of the two of us laughing. It's the perfect way to relax me before going on.

"Let's go killer," Dominic says as we take our position. Our cha cha goes well with me shaking my ruffles to maximum effect. I have a couple small flubs, but am having such a blast that I don't care. The judges don't seem to mind either.

"It was the night of hot and cold, and you two are definitely hot," says enthusiastic judge Brice Zimmer.

Our scores are solid, middle of the pack. I'm even happier watching Hank and Sonya. She's created a dance where he's in an old folks home and she's a naughty nurse. They dance and slide around with his walker. It's hilarious. But after that, Vicky, the volleyball player, and her partner Carlos take the stage. It's evident right away that something's wrong. Vicky is sluggish with her steps. They're dancing the waltz, so it's not that complicated, but it's like Carlos is trying to push around a box of rocks. He holds her closer and literally carries her through the moves while she laughs. At one point, she pushes away from him for a simple turn, then trips and lands on the dance floor in a pool of chiffon. Carlos glances nervously at the judges' table as Vicky rearranges her dress. By the time he gets her back to her feet, the music has ended. The audience claps politely as the pair makes their way to the judges.

"Oh my God, what's wrong with her?" I ask.

Hank chuckles. "That girl is higher than a kite."

I stare at him. "On pot?"

"I'd bet my belt buckle she's been popping something a whole lot stronger."

"Poor Carlos," Dominic pipes in.

Carlos faces the judges with his jaw clenched and face red with embarrassment. Droopy-eyed Vicky leans on Marcus. She wipes her hand at a stray lock of hair, smearing lipstick across her cheek.

It's like watching a train wreck. I'm guilty of a pre-show shot of bourbon with Hank each week, but nothing more.

The judges glance at each other uncomfortably and rush through their comments saying things like. "Unfortunate fall" and "must not be feeling well."

Marcus takes the show to commercial as Carlos helps a boneless Vicky off stage. When the show comes back, Julie Mason reveals their scores, even though the dancers are nowhere to be seen. They get two fives and a four.

Dominic's eyes lock with mine and we grin like a couple of fools.