If Ever(9)

During dress rehearsal I’m a little disappointed that this is likely my last day on set, but watching Dominic laugh with his friends while I wait on the sidelines for our cue is depressing. I'm back in high school with all its cliques and social positioning.

We run our tango and it goes pretty well. I try to hold frame like Dominic drilled into me hour after hour for the past week.

"That wasn't bad," he says. "But you didn’t look at me once. This is an aggressive dance of passion. We need to sell the emotion."

Is he really going to keep up the false pretenses? "You know. I can learn those steps and wear the costume, but I can't show an emotion with someone who's just counting the hours until he's free."

He has the nerve to act surprised. "What?"

I shake my head and walk away. "Never mind."

"What the hell! You want to explain yourself?" He follows me.

I really don't, but I'm done pretending. "I know you don't want to be here. It was a colossal mistake to have me on this show."

"What are you talking about?"

"How about you stop pretending? You wanted to partner with someone else and when that fell through you were saddled with me."

He has the decency to look away, guilty as charged.

"That's fine, but don't expect me to buy this whole, we're buddies, we're friends game you play to the cameras and then switch off when they're gone. I know I'm an embarrassment."

He rubs his forehead. "You're not."

"Let's not play games. I'll try not to embarrass you, and you can stop pretending this is something it's not. I'm sure it will be over soon."

"If that's what you think, then I'm sure it will be, but you aren't an embarrassment, and I'm offended you'd say that."

"Whatever."





I hide out in my trailer with a bag of chocolate chips and a jar of Skippy, paging through entertainment magazines. One features a full spread on the show and runs odds on who might win. No surprise, Dominic and I are at the bottom, a long shot at best.

We avoid each other until show time and don't speak until we're in the wings waiting for our cue. But while Dominic and I don't see eye to eye on much, we are united in not wanting to embarrass ourselves on national TV. I rub my sweaty palms on my skirt, but the satiny fabric isn't conducive to absorbing my nerves.

"Just remember your frame. You know the dance inside and out, so relax and enjoy it. You're gonna nail this."

I huff. "Seriously? After all your criticism and bullying, now you believe in me?"

Host Marcus MacIntyre introduces our video package. We take our places on the dance floor as the video shows several of our arguments from the week before. I watch the screen and cringe as Dominic chastises me for not trying hard enough, and me acting flippant and bitchy. I look haggard wearing minimal makeup and with my not-totally-clean blond hair shoved in a knot on my head, but Dominic looks professional and camera ready, other than the constant glare of contempt on his face. I glance at him and he seems just as irritated that the producers chose to show our low points.

I stare at the floor and try to drown out the noise. I hear Anna's voice in my head. One thing at a time. All I need to do is get through this dance.

Dominic gives me the cue and we take our position. The intro sounds and we perform the rhythmic steps around the dance floor. I focus on each move, completing it with as much precision as I can muster with my feet in agony beneath broken blisters.

We glide through the intricate steps, all while I avoid Dominic's eyes. When the performance ends we're heaving to catch our breath. I sneak a guarded look. Dominic gives me a curt nod and we take our place before the judges, hands at our sides. The few inches between us might as well be miles.

"Well," Nikki LaFlash says. "That was one of the most unemotional dances I've ever seen. It's as if you were both on robotic auto control. Where was the partner interaction? You two might as well been on different planets."

But I got all the steps right. I'm sure of it.

Judge Stephen Harris says, "After seeing your package, it's no surprise you delivered such a lackluster performance. The tango is supposed to be about passion and chemistry. Instead you were side by side performing rote."

We take the beating like guilty children.

Brice Zimmer says, "It's clear Chelsea has natural talent, but her heart isn't in it. You two are so busy butting heads that you're missing out. If you make it through, which is unlikely after that performance, the only way you'll continue on is if you start working together."

Dismissed, we trudge our way across the dance floor to receive our scores. When I pass Hank, he says under his breath. "Screw 'em, hon." Which coaxes a smile out of me.

Julie Mason, the other announcer, on towering heels with overdrawn lips, pokes her microphone in my face. "Why aren't you and Dominic getting along?"

I stare at the microphone and then at the camera with its nasty little red light. "That's an excellent question, Julie," I say in my best faux media voice. When I refuse to say more, she moves on.

"Dominic, do you think bringing in a non celebrity is a mistake?"

My mouth drops open at her gall. Of course it was a mistake, but does she have to point it out to the world? I came into this with such high hopes that it would be a blast.