If Ever(62)

He cracks a grin. "Tom gave it the thumbs up."

"Oh." I try to pull the cleavage closed and tug the thin sheath of fabric lower over my butt. "Couldn't I at least have a little more fringe? It shows way too much ass."

"You look fantastic. It fits the dance, the audience will love it, and as I recall, a certain New Yorker is rather fond of your, ahem, you know. Next costume."

He gives me a nudge back to the changing room. I silently curse him, yet deep down am flattered that Tom chose it.

While Dominic meets with production about the set designs, I'm stuck doing interviews, which I loathe. I should be used to this by now, but as a default finalist, they're spinning their attention onto Dominic and I as the dark horse. Don't they realize I've been the dark horse my whole life?

Now that I'm back at the studio and see the amount of effort being put into the finale, I want to prove we belong here. Every spare moment we sneak off to rehearse.

"Eyes up! Why are you looking at the floor?" Dominic barks.

"Sorry." I lift my chin and focus on the complicated steps. We continue for another hour. I'm sweaty and exhausted when the three guys from the troupe and five of the pro dancers barge in. I turn to Dominic in a panic.

"What? I told you we were working with the backup dancers today. Hey guys, thanks for coming." He welcomes them all.

I push the fallen hair off my sweaty forehead and whisper to Dominic. "Eight! We need eight backup dancers?"

He laughs. "Yes. It's the finale. As the number builds, more guys are added until the final section where we'll rock this number out of the park."

"I guess I thought we only had the two because of the tricks." Sweat trails down my back.

"Don't worry, they're here to make you look good."

"Well, in that case, can we get any more?" At first I'm intimidated by all the pros, but quickly discover it's a lot of fun to dance as part of a big group. I'd been learning the number with Dominic and two stand-ins for the stunts, but now I see how it all comes together and am further psyched. It takes a while to work through all the tricks and lifts, but it's strong hands that lift and toss me like a domino back and forth. I'm corrected every time I lack posture or don't point, kick, or snap a move perfectly.

We run it full speed, and at the end I get sloppy and don't extend quite far enough and land wrong, having the breath knocked right out of me.

The guys set me on my feet, but I lower myself to the floor to catch my breath. Dominic is in my face. "What happened? Are you all right?"

I wave him away and try to draw in air, but am still reeling from the hit.

Pavel says, "She landed wrong and I caught her hard across the back."

Dominic kneels next to me. "Talk to me."

"Go away." I heave in a breath and cover my eyes with my arm, effectively shutting him, the other dancers, and the cameraman out of my sight lines.

"Okay, guys. Thanks. Other than that last stunt, it looks great. We'll see you later at camera blocking."

I focus on slow steady breaths and revel in the comfort of the hard floor. A towel drops on my stomach. I peek at Dominic who sits on the floor next to me with a bottle of water.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I just need a minute."

"That's about all you get because we have to get back to the studio and camera block our Viennese waltz."

I want to cry because my whole body aches and I have no more gas in my tank, but I remind myself there's only forty-eight hours left and I'll be done. During the break I call Tom, but he's on stage at this point. Missing him, I send a text instead.

By the time I get home at 10 p.m. I'm so exhausted, but desperately need a shower. I rest my hands against the shower wall to make sure I don't accidentally fall asleep. Crawling into bed with my phone, I read a couple texts from Tom and smile, then realize it's two in the morning in New York and too late to call.





Sunday morning Dominic calls at seven to make sure I'm up. "Walking out the door," I lie, and decide it's time to get moving. We fit in an hour of rehearsal before heading to the sound stage. Somewhere in the middle of working around the impressive new set pieces, consulting with hair and makeup on styles, and getting my final spray tan, the rest of the cast arrives. Everyone from my very first week meanders the ballroom and trailer area like a college reunion. I get hugs from Vicky & Grant, but my highlight is Hank.

"Lookie who made the finale!" He pulls me into a bear hug.

"I've missed you. How've you been?"

"Happy as a tick at a nudist camp. And what about you? Is that English boy still sniffing around?"

"Hank!"

"What? It's all about pheromones. So?" He eyes me with a knowing glint.

I grin. "Yeah, I saw him in New York last week, but our visit was short."

"No need to fret. I have a feeling he'll be waiting for as long as it takes." He winks.

Once all the staging, blocking and meetings are finished, Dominic and I head back to the rehearsal studio. There's still awkward parts of our freestyle that Dominic's determined to fix. Before we start, I call Tom, but get his voice mail and remember he's performing at some big deal New York Gala. I send him a good luck text and turn my phone back to silent so I can concentrate. Dominic and I rehearse for three hours until we're dog-tired, and he calls it a night.