Fever

by Tonya Plank

  I reached over as far as I could and touched the back corner of Lilly’s headrest. “I’m sorry if I didn’t seem supportive at first. I’ve been having problems with my boss. A lot of them. So let’s make a pact to forget them—your husband and my boss—and have a boatload of fun tonight dancing our assess off. We’re better than their petty b.s. We’re going to nail this comp!” I said.

  “Deal!” she shouted, finally smiling and raising her fist in the air.

  ***

  After we checked into our rooms we met downstairs in the ballroom where the comp would be held to practice a few more times, so we’d be prepared for the floor and the direction of the audience and wouldn’t have any mishaps like we did at the studio. My knee was definitely much better but I didn’t want to tempt fate so I didn’t practice the pot stirs full-out.

  Rajiv and Kendra showed up early to cheer us on, even in our practice. Kendra even brought Josie. I was so happy to see her.

  “I really miss you. I hope you come back now that you-know-who’s gone,” I said.

  She and Kendra both frowned at me. “What do you mean? Who’s gone?” she asked.

  They hadn’t heard. How could Kendra not have heard something this big, I wondered. “Word has it that Cheryl, Luna and Svetlana have transferred to some other studio.”

  “Why in the world would they do that?” Kendra snickered. “Infectious Rhythm kisses their obnoxiously pompous little asses.”

  Sasha hadn’t told me he didn’t want anyone to know about his fight with the studio over Cheryl, but I didn’t want to start anything. I figured I should keep that part mum.

  “Where’d you hear that from? An official source?” Josie asked.

  “No,” I lied. I didn’t like lying. I should have kept quiet to begin with. “I can’t really remember. It’s just that I haven’t seen them in a while and then I heard someone say they transferred.” My voice was shaky. I was a bad liar.

  “You mean, after the biatch tripped you, Sasha told the studio he wouldn’t dance with her anymore so she threatened to leave and take her biatchy little friends with her?” Kendra said, figuring it out. A wide smile lit up her face. “Good for him. Go Sasha!”

  “I know!” I laughed, unable to hold back now. “But do me a favor and don’t spread it around, okay? You never know what she’s capable of.”

  “But when was this? Because I’m pretty sure I saw Luna coming out of one of Bronislava’s classes just the other day,” Rajiv said.

  “Yeah, I knew it. I knew it was too good to be true. It was just an empty threat, Rory,” Kendra said, smile gone in a second. “They’re going to be around to cause problems forever.”

  Ugh. I knew there was something up Cheryl’s sleeve. Now what was it?

  ***

  We decided to throw ourselves a mini party in the afternoon after our final practice, to try one last time to get rid of nerves. Roxy, Lilly, Judy and I all stayed in a room together for camaraderie. I thought it would be cramped, but the rooms were enormous and the beds were all king-plus-sized. Once we got settled, it seemed like it was going to be fun, like a slumber party. Judy, it turns out, was a flower arranger and she decorated our room accordingly. It looked like a veritable hothouse. It was beautiful and smelled heavenly.

  And Roxy, it turns out, was a cake decorator. I hadn’t realized how much I didn’t know about my teammates. I guess traveling together helped you get to know each other pretty well!

  Around four, Roxy invited the guys to our room, telling everyone she had a surprise. The room had an L-shaped sofa set, three armchairs, and a kitchenette—such luxury!—so there was plenty of space. After we were all seated, she popped open one of her suitcases, which contained nothing by a big cherry-colored box.

  “Voila,” she said, pulling off the lid and lifting up an absolutely gorgeous, absolutely huge rectangular cake. The top icing bore a picture of the team. It was amazing! I recognized it as a replica of a picture Enrique, a photographer by trade, had taken of us in the studio the night of our performance two weeks ago. I was floored by how well Roxy had replicated the details of the photo with the icing.

  Of course we all whipped out our cell phones and took photographs before she cut into it. It was so beautiful, but so rich that tasting one smidgeon of frosting immediately made me nauseous. Roxy had cut way too big a piece for me. I tried to fork off a bit of cake underneath the frosting to taste, then quietly slipped out of the room, took the cake down the hall and dumped it in the bin. As much as I appreciated Roxy’s insane talents, I certainly didn’t need all those calories before Blackpool.

  ***

  Primping for our performance was a blast. After very briefly knocking at the door, Pepe came bursting in. We were all in various states of changing. I don’t think any of us were completely costumed. Roxy screamed.

  “Relax, ladies, relax. I’m gay!” he announced, speed-walking through the room, holding a hand out in front of his eyes as a kind of visor. Like that was going to cover us from his gaze. “I’m just here to do Lilly’s hair and makeup, and anyone else who wants it?”

  I couldn’t believe it when he revealed he doubled as a makeup artist. Everyone had such interesting lives. We were an eclectic bunch. He did our makeup and Mitsi our hair. She wasn’t a professional hairstylist—she was actually a full-time dancer—but she had, she said, so much experience doing her own hair over the years, a cosmetology school should really give her an honorary degree.

  “Fabulous, fabulous job!” Roxy cooed upon seeing herself in the mirror. The complete opposite of my thoughts upon seeing my own reflection. I had so much makeup on—mainly blush and bright blue eye shadow—I really thought I looked like a hooker. This was Pepe’s ideal woman, I wondered. Help!

  “No, no, no,” Mitsi said when I protested my prostitute look. “Yeah, if you’re going out on the street you’d look ridiculous. Being up on that stage with all the lights shining down on you—unless you have this much on you’ll look like a ghost.”

  “Hey girl, when you see the videos you’ll totally appreciate my mad skills,” Pepe said.

  ***

  Before we knew it, it was performance time. We were the second team to go. Pepe watched the first team from the back of the judges’ area but the rest of us were too nervous. If they were perfect it would make me too insecure, and I needed all the confidence I could muster. It surprised me how jittery I was. It had been far too long since I’d performed in front of an audience. Argh, what was I going to be like at Blackpool if I was so nervous here? While we were waiting in the back, my phone vibrated. I reached into my purse. It was a text from Sasha.

  Merde, my love. Don’t worry about complete perfection. You can’t help but be spectacular and that’s far better. I love you.

  Oooh, my insides turned to lava. He’d told me ballroom dancers didn’t say merde; it was only a ballet thing. Now it was our ballroom thing. The perfection comment was very funny, coming from him. I would have to remind him of his words whenever he insisted something wasn’t perfect. I went to text him that but decided I would save it for later. It was too close to being our time to go on. I put my phone back into my bag and threw it in our pile of stuff.

  “Wow, you’ve lost some weight,” Pepe said to me, wiggling his index finger in the hip of my pants as soon as I joined him.

  Can people please stop telling me that? Sasha was the only one who didn’t seem totally obsessed with my weight.

  “Maybe lack of working out while your knee recovered resulted in a tiny loss of muscle mass. Didn’t mean to worry you, honey.” Pepe smiled, reading my expression.

  The emcee cued us and we came out couple by couple and took our positions. The lights were bright even though we were on a ballroom floor and not a regular proscenium stage. I was hoping I could see Sasha but I couldn’t see anyone or anything. We’d practiced in this position before, so I knew where I was on the floor this time. I wouldn’t get screwed up. Pepe was behind me, holding me around the waist from behind, in ou
r starting position. It actually felt so much better than in the studio.

  With his hand placed over mine, he gave me a soft squeeze. “We got it, chica. No worries,” he whispered.

  I smiled and squeezed back. “I know!”

  “Just remember to breathe,” he said with a chuckle. “People honestly forget that.”

  The music came on and I froze for a split second. Which was good because Pepe did not similarly freeze, which meant I was actually following him. We began our first series of underarm turns, getting faster all the time, working up to practically the speed of light—both the music and turns. The lights were already so bright but somehow they seemed to be getting brighter. A lot brighter. What was going on?

  “Remember what I said. Breathe,” Pepe said, seeming to sense something was wrong, before I even did.

  I did as he said and continued on with the routine, the steps so solidly in my muscle memory now it didn’t matter that this weird thing was happening with my vision. Then came the series of crazy-fast spins in a line.

  Pepe told me to breathe again. “Through your mouth,” he added. “Open your mouth. Lots of dancers do it.”

  I did as he said. It worked—I got some more air in. But not enough. I could feel myself getting unusually dizzy. I knew how to spot. And I was indeed spotting. Dizziness didn’t happen to me during turns.

  Thankfully, the spins ended and we went into the tricks, beginning with the snake. I slithered down his leg, happy for the slower speed and the closeness to the floor. I tried to take a little breather while down there but couldn’t wait too long. The music was catching up with me. He pushed me between his legs, I ducked and successfully evaded any teabagging issues. But it was when he began to pull me up that I really felt it. I sat on my bent knee and did the pot stir, closing my eyes since I no longer seemed to be able to spot properly. I felt no pain in my knee, thankfully.

  But when Pepe pulled me up again, this time all the way up into the standing spin, I just lost it. I knew the ground was below me and Pepe was holding me, and I knew which way I was spinning. I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t know what happened. But all of a sudden, I felt myself get very, very hot. And not in a good way. The heat spread up from the tips of my toes straight up my pelvis through my torso and into my brain. All I could feel was intense heat and all I could see were bright, bright, blindingly bright lights. Then, my knees—both of them—turned completely to butter, and everything went dark.

  Chapter 3

  I heard several voices. One was speaking Russian, another Spanish, and another English. Of course the Russian one stood out far and above the rest. I opened my eyes and there was Sasha’s beautiful face, his hair without gel, black curls hanging loosely over his eyes, falling below his chin. In back of him was that same bright light. But now it was behind Sasha’s glowing face, framing him like a halo. I could now see because he was blocking that harsh light.

  He said something in Russian that sounded sweet, then said in English, “I love you, my angel,” and kissed my hand.

  I cocked my head and saw Pepe and Rajiv both sitting over me. Sasha held my hand to his mouth and kept kissing, not letting it go.

  “Oh thank God, she’s awake,” Pepe said.

  Rajiv breathed a sigh of relief but the look in his eye said something different. He seemed deeply worried. He actually began to scare me.

  But then there was some pandemonium behind Sasha that I couldn’t make out.

  “Can I please see her? Can I please see her?” It was a familiar voice that I couldn’t immediately place.

  “Step back, sir, please. We need you all to clear away,” someone else said.

  Then I felt myself being lifted. It was all still a haze.

  “I will come with you to hospital,” Sasha said, still trying to hold my hand as someone else tore us apart.

  “Please, sir, you can catch up with her at the hospital,” said someone above me who I couldn’t make out. He was only a shadow. He was strapping my arms onto something that felt cold under my back.

  “He’s her partner. Her significant other,” said Rajiv to the shadow.

  As I felt myself being lifted, I saw many, many more faces. I didn’t know who everyone was. I’d momentarily forgotten I’d been performing and I had no idea what was going on.

  Rajiv was still looking at me with those sorrowful eyes. But he seemed to read the confusion in my mind. “Rory, you passed out during the team performance. You’re in Irvine. Don’t worry, the paramedics are here and we’re all going with you to the hospital.”

  The paramedics? Suddenly, I began coming to. What was going on? I could feel my heart beating very rapidly. I would have grabbed my chest but my hands were now strapped into something. I heard someone yell something about being a lawyer, and Rajiv say he was a doctor.

  There was more pandemonium as the men lifting the portable bed I was attached to started to carry me somewhere.

  They placed me into the back of a long vehicle, then each paramedic sat on either side of me. I couldn’t see Sasha.

  “Sasha,” I tried to say. But my mouth was dry.

  “You passed out, ma’am,” said the man on my right side. “Your blood pressure is extremely low and your heartbeat is irregular. You should save your energy and your breath for now. We’re almost at the hospital and then you’ll be seen by doctors.”

  As I regained full consciousness I started to feel very stupid. I’d forgotten to breathe, like Pepe had told me. That was all. This was crazy. There was nothing wrong and now I was being carted off to the hospital. But why had I forgotten to breathe? I’d been a performer before. What was wrong with me? This anxiousness would have to end by Blackpool. There was no excuse for it.

  After the ambulance stopped, two other guys opened the doors and helped the paramedics carry me out. They wheeled me into a building I assumed was the ER, pushing me around one corner then another. This place was a maze. I’d never find my way out. I looked for Sasha, but couldn’t see anyone I knew from my vantage point.

  We finally ended up in a private room where they hooked me up to an IV and drew blood. A young woman appeared in the doorway, telling me they were taking some blood tests and giving me intravenous fluids. She’d also ordered an EKG for my heart since I had an irregular heartbeat. She said she’d be back to talk to me after all my tests were in. I pointed to my throat.

  “Water?” she asked.

  I nodded. She walked out of the room and a few minutes later a man came in with a glass of water. He handed it to me and I drank it all practically in one gulp. It felt so good going down my throat.

  “Is there anyone here to see me?” I asked, finally able to voice words. But then I realized the man was no longer there. I was alone.

  I waited, and waited. I was getting a bit scared because of the heart issue. And the look on Rajiv’s face. What if something really was wrong, other than my forgetting to breathe? An irregular heartbeat—could that be caused by something simple? I desperately wanted to see Sasha. When a different man finally came in, I asked him if I could see my boyfriend but he simply said not now, he had to wheel me to my EKG.

  ***

  My panic began to grow as the technician covered my chest and abdomen with sticky electrodes, then sat scrutinizing computer readouts of my heartbeat for what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes. Calm down, I kept telling myself. This was just because I’d forgotten to breathe. I’d never ignore my teacher’s advice again.

  Finally, yet another man arrived and wheeled me back to my original room.

  “I think there are several people here to see me,” I said to him, though I wasn’t sure who’d stuck around by this point. “Can I please see my friends?”

  “I don’t know anything—” he began.

  But I cut him off. “At least my boyfriend? Please?” I felt my voice crack and tears well in my eyes.

  “Uh, I think the doctor wants to see you. But let me go ask.”

  Once again, I wai
ted in that room for what seemed to be a very long time. Finally, the same man who’d given me the glass of water walked in. I opened my mouth but before I could say anything, I spied Sasha’s curly black mane behind him. My pulse quickened and I bounced up.

  “Careful,” the man said. “I’ll leave you alone until the doctor comes back.” He closed the door.

  Ignoring the nurse’s advice, I sprung up in the bed as Sasha practically sprinted toward me. He took my hand and squeezed tightly, then raised it and pressed his lips to my knuckles before bending over the bed and finally giving me that kiss I needed so badly.

  “I was so worried,” he said, transferring his lips to my cheek, then forehead. He put both hands on the bed and knelt down until he was face-level with me. “I saw you having difficulty. You looked like you were sweating too much. You looked like you were having trouble breathing. My heart almost fell out of my body when you collapsed, Rory.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “No. Whatever it was, it’s not your fault. I just want you to be okay.”

  “I’m definitely feeling much better now that you’re here.”

  “I’m sorry they wouldn’t let me ride in the ambulance with you. They said I’m not family,” he said, his eyes large and dark.

  The darkness masked hurt, I could tell. “That’s so stupid,” I said. “I heard people saying you were my partner.”

  “I think they would have. But there was another man—I think he was your old boyfriend, from what I remember of him. He also wanted to ride with you. He seemed very upset as well. They only had room for one person to ride and they didn’t know what to do, who to let in the ambulance. They ended up letting no one in.”

  “James? What?”