Say it with Sequins

by Georgia Hill

  “Not bad,” Lucy stuck her tongue out again but this time to her own reflection. “Not bad at all.” Then she caught sight of the bits that had escaped the fake tan sprayed on so enthusiastically by the make-up girls. Her white buttocks looked comically pale in contrast to her arms and legs. Lucy giggled again and then stilled as a knock sounded on the door.

  “You didn’t need to knock, Dan,” she turned and then gasped. It wasn’t Daniel Cunningham who stood there but Max. Lucy snatched at the skimpy towel and blushed furiously. Just as well he had a thing for Daniel, she thought, and hysteria bubbled up.

  “Oh God, I’m sorry.” Max stared, fixated on the luscious breasts, only just hidden by the towel. He tore his eyes away and looked at his feet. “Dan had to - I’ve just seen him in the corridor. He had to, um, here, he asked me to give you this.” At this, he thrust the dress at her and crashed out of the room.

  The corridor was thick with dancers, cameramen and runners so Max fled to the chill and quiet of the courtyard at the back of Fizz’s TV studios. Apart from a lone refugee smoker, it was deserted. Max sank down onto a low wall and put his burning face into his hands. A vision of Lucy’s naked loveliness swam into his head and sent heat surging to other parts of his body. He’d have made a move long ago, if only he thought it would be welcome. To be fair, Daniel had hinted as much. But, however friendly Lucy was, Max always had the sense that she held back. There was restraint in her brown eyes, almost a sadness, and it made him unsure. It began to snow again, just a little, thin mean little flurries that probably wouldn’t amount to anything. As he stared up into the unforgiving cold, he forced a laugh. She’d done him one favour at least, he wouldn’t have to struggle for inspiration to sex up his rumba.

  “Max?” said a low voice.

  Max looked up, relieved to have a diversion from the images circling his brain. Bob Dandry stood in front of him, a cigarette glowing in his hand.

  “So pleased to bump into you. I need to have a word with you, Max, would that be possible?”

  Step Nine.

  “So Max is out then?” Julia asked on the phone later that night. She always rang, too impatient to wait for the official results show the following day. “What a shame!”

  Lucy collapsed onto a gilded chair at the back of the television studio and frowned into her mobile. She watched as crew, competitors and their guests milled onto the dance floor.

  “I don’t understand it. Max danced much better than Angie in the dance off. She fluffed her steps all over the place and she nearly fell over at the start.” Lucy shook her head. “It’s Kevin, I’m sure it is. He’s had it in for Max ever since the beginning.” She glowered at the three Who Dares Dances judges strolling off the set. Two out of three judges had ousted Max in the vote off.

  “Well, you’ve got to admit that Max isn’t the most natural of dancers.”

  “I know he isn’t Julia, but he’s worked so hard. He’s put in over thirty hours of training this week and he really was the better dancer.”

  “Well, he’s obviously got a fan in you! How’s it going with you two?”

  “There isn’t ‘an us two,’” Lucy said gloomily, “although, come to think of it, we did have an interesting encounter earlier tonight. Perhaps that was what put him off his dancing!” She filled Julia in on what had happened in the dressing room, explaining Max’s embarrassment and sudden departure. “He did seem to be admiring my boobs though,” she added, as she remembered the look on Max’s face as his eyes travelled down her body.

  “Are you sure he’s not straight?”

  “Positive. He and Dan have got it together. I caught them at it in the dance studio the other day.”

  Julia sighed. “Ah, how sweet, they make a lovely couple.”

  “Well, maybe but I’d rather not think about the squelchy things that go on between them, thank you very much.” Lucy said primly.

  Julia roared. “Is that the green-eyed monster I hear? So who have you got the crush on then? Daniel or Max?”

  Lucy ignored the sudden image of Max helping her out of the swimming pool, of how he’d held her to him as she’d slipped on the wet tiles. For one blissful second his long arms had enveloped her and her breasts had pressed against his warm, wet chest. And then he’d dived back in, his long lean body arrowing efficiently into the water.

  “Lucy? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, still here. Look Julia, I’ve got to go. Max and Daniel are calling me over. No doubt for the usual post-mortem in the bar. Catch up tomorrow?”

  Lucy walked towards the two men. Embarrassment flickered as she thought back to her dress disaster earlier that evening. She’d been practically naked in front of them both tonight, not that it mattered, she supposed. They were standing close together, talking earnestly. If they hadn’t beckoned her over, she wouldn’t have joined them; it seemed too much of an intrusion.

  Max looked preoccupied. He must be disappointed to be going out, she thought. Any lingering unease fled. “I’m so sorry,” she said and reached for his hand. “I thought you were the better dancer by far tonight.”

  Max leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks Lucy, that means a lot, especially coming from you.” Glancing at Daniel, he asked him to buy the drinks. “I just need a minute with Lucy, okay?”

  Daniel nodded. “I’ll be in the bar. A pint as usual, Lucy?” He asked it with a smile. It never failed to amuse him that she drank pints of lager.

  Lucy put a hand to her face where Max’s lips had touched. “What do you want, Max?” She followed him as he led them to the chairs at the back of the television studio. Her imagination went into overdrive. Maybe Max was going to tell her that he’d been mistaken, that he and Daniel had split up, it was Lucy he truly loved, after all. Nerves made her gabble as usual. “You know, we’ve still got to organise a writing lesson together, although I don’t know when we’ll fit it in. Next week’s as mad as this one and Daniel said he’d like to come as well. Maybe I’ve got two budding writers on my hands?”

  “Sit down Lucy. Please.”

  She complied and watched as he sat next to her, twisting towards her on a seat too small for him. He laid his arm along the back of her chair and lightly rested a hand on the nape of her neck. His touch made her shiver with anticipation.

  “I’m out, Lucy.”

  Mystified, she was going to reply that it was a bit late to announce his sexual preferences and then she realised what he meant. “I know that, I’ve just been in the show!”

  “No, I mean I’m completely out. No more dancing, no writing lessons, and no more swimming lessons I’m afraid.”

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  Max gave an enormous sigh and took her hand in his.

  Lucy looked at where they lay, entwined in her lap. Max’s hand was almost twice the size of hers and was much browner. She tried not to get distracted by the sight of their fingers twisted together. She’d dreamed so often that they might sit like this, and now they were, she was filled with unease.

  “They’ve bought me out,” he said abruptly. “Remember the row there was about Angie and Lenny being in the dance off together the other week?”

  Lucy looked blank.

  “You must have seen it, in the papers and on the news? Fizz TV was made to feel embarrassed there were two black dancers in the dance off. People were trying to whip up a race row.”

  “I don’t read the papers, or watch the news. I still don’t understand Max.”

  He blew out another breath. “Angie would have gone tonight, should have gone tonight but instead they paid me off so that I would go and a black dancer would stay in.”

  “No!”

  Max couldn’t bear the look on Lucy’s face. He hated that some of her unworldliness had disappeared. He could see her innocence fading as the significance of his news sank in. He hadn’t wanted to tell her the truth but, as Daniel had pointed out, she would have wondered where he’d gone. And besides, Max felt that Lucy deserved the trut
h, however disillusioning.

  Lucy stared at the chair in front of her. Most of its gilt had rubbed off showing the cheap wood underneath. That’s how she felt about the show. It had been stripped of any glamour and charm it once held for her. She’d always thought that it was a proper dance contest, the one reality show that truly tested its celebrities. And now, thanks to Max, it had revealed itself to be -

  “A f-fix! So it’s all fixed then?” She paused, open mouthed. “The competition? They know who’s going to win it, right from the start?”

  “No, Lucy, not completely, but there are ways of getting people out if they want to. It happened with Dan’s partner last year. Casey someone or other.”

  “The model,” she said dully. “And I thought how lucky she was to get that big modelling job in America. I remember thinking it might make up for being voted off. God, I’ve been stupid. I bet that was the reason she wanted out!” She glared at Max; she couldn’t believe that he too would be bought off so easily. Was he really giving it all up just for money? She gave a harsh laugh. “And you Max, why do you need to go? A modelling contract in the States?”

  “Not quite that. I have other reasons.”

  “But you’re not prepared to tell me them?”

  Max took his hand away. “No.”

  “And how much have they paid you?” Lucy’s voice was icy.

  “A hundred thousand.” He said it in an undertone but she might as well know all the sordid details. He felt her withdraw from him.

  “Well, I hope you’re happy.” She got up. She’d been wrong about Max. He wasn’t the gentle honourable man she’d thought; he was just as bent as the rest of them. She bit down the hysterical laugh which threatened. Bent! Yes, he was that as well. Why had she wasted so much time on this man? Daniel was welcome to him; in fact, Daniel was too good for him!

  “Lucy, wait -”

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have to find my, my dancing partner. We have to arrange our training schedule seeing as I’m still in the competition.”

  “But Lucy, you haven’t heard what I need the money for.”

  But Lucy had stalked away, leaving Max crouched on the uncomfortable chair, with his knees up round his elbows.

  Step Ten.

  It took all of her father’s and Whiz’s patient skill to persuade Lucy to go into training the next day. She refused to talk to them, just as she refused to talk to Daniel about anything other than the new dance they were rehearsing.

  “No, let’s just stick to what we need to do,” she’d insisted. “Now how many steps do I need to take at this bit?”

  And she’d worked them both into a sweat pushing even the very fit Daniel to his physical limit. He’d finally called it quits and Lucy had retreated to her hotel room, to stare glassily at the plasma screen playing music videos.

  The week continued in the same pattern. She and Daniel were dancing a tango next. It was another dance she found difficult.

  “Are you going to talk to Max?” he’d ventured during Thursday’s rehearsal.

  “Show me how to do that staccato turn again, please Daniel.”

  So Daniel had sighed and had gone over the move for the umpteenth time that morning. “Do it in front of the mirror,” he instructed. “Without me. I’ll stand over here so I can see where you’re going wrong.”

  Lucy did so, counting the beat through the dance movement.

  “That’s better,” Daniel called. “But try making that sharper, more aggressive. Remember to jerk your head. So are you going to talk to Max? He’d like you to, you know.”

  “One, three, five. Why Daniel? Whatever can he have to say to me?”

  “Well, he might say he loves you for a start.”

  Lucy, in mid twist, jolted round to stare at him. “W-what?” Then, with a shriek heard throughout the dance studios, Lucy clutched at her left side and fell as if a lorry had slammed into her.

  Cursing, Daniel ran to her. “Don’t move, Lucy. I’ll get help.”

  As she tried to stand and screamed in pain at the effort, he swore again and asked urgently: “Where does it hurt?”

  “The b-back, the back of my thigh. Ooh Daniel, it hurts so much.”

  “Oh God, Lucy,” Daniel said, his own face white with shock. “I think you’ve done your hamstring.”

  Step Eleven.

  The Christmas tree, laden with decorations and its angel on the top, had been placed in pride of place next to the French doors. Cards hung on ribbons (arranged in groups of odd numbers, of course) and bundles of fresh holly sat on the mantelpiece. The fire had been stoked recently and was burning merrily and scenting the room with apple logs. The soundtrack was the quiet burble of seasonal songs coming from a CD. Lucy’s favourite ornament, a childhood snow globe, sat on top of the television, as her family tradition dictated. It was a perfect Christmas picture. It was supposed to be the season of goodwill but Lucy wasn’t feeling it. In any way.

  She had everything she needed within range. The TV remote, a notebook, her laptop, her mobile and a glass of juice were all arranged neatly on the table beside the couch on which she lay. Five things she counted without interest. Most had remained untouched; she hadn’t written anything for days. Whiz and her father had moved the sofa so that Lucy had a view of her garden. From where she lay, she could see the expanse of white which thickly covered the lawn. It had snowed most days since she had left hospital and the large raised pond at the bottom of the lawn was simply a white blob, gleaming in the dull light. A robin hopped onto the bird table, had a quick look round, gathered a bacon rind and flew off.

  “Making the most of you being indoors, Basil,” she murmured to the cat who slumbered on a nearby chair. The animal’s ears twitched but it was the only movement in the room. Lucy took a moment to admire the irony of her situation. Once, this would have been her perfect day. Hiding in her house. Sitting. Thinking. Maybe writing. For too long it had been all she ever wanted. And now, when she was unable to walk very far, all she wanted to do was to run halfway round the world to the man she loved.

  Daniel had visited her in hospital. He’d told her that Max was probably in love with her. Had laughed when she’d stammered out that she’d thought Max was gay. And then, had dropped the bombshell that the swimmer had gone to Miami to take part in a Grand Prix.

  “Cars?” Lucy said, confused.

  “No, it’s some sort of swimming event, I think,”

  “How long’s he going to be away?” she asked, appalled.

  Daniel shrugged. “Don’t know, babe. You could ring him. Why don’t you? It’s about time you two got together, you know.”

  Lucy shook her head. She couldn’t have that conversation over the phone. “I c-can’t. Not after what I’ve - I’m too embarrassed.”

  “But you do like him?”

  Lucy nodded and blushed. She looked away.

  Daniel stared at her and then diplomatically decided to change the subject. “How’s the leg?”

  “Bit better,” she said. “In between the massage and stretching exercises, I’ve got to rest it as much as possible. I even have a sports therapist assigned to me. They’re sending me home tomorrow.”

  “Where to darling, the hotel?”

  “No, my house. I live near Woodstock.”

  “That’s the end of Who Dares Dances for you then.”

  “Yes and for you too. I’m so sorry Daniel. I know it meant a lot to you.”

  The dancer smiled and reached out a hand. “It’s okay, as long as you’re alright, that’s the important thing. And who knows,” Daniel gave a tight smile, “maybe one day I’ll get to the final. Maybe next year I’ll have someone to win with?”

  “It was never going to be me, was it?” Lucy smiled apologetically. She knew she’d been technically proficient but had never been of a winning standard.

  “There’s always Julia?” Daniel raised his eyebrows in hope.

  Lucy shook her head again. “She’s filming in Scotland.”

  “Oh well ba
be, you get yourself better and do what the doctors say.” He got up to leave.

  “Daniel, before you go -”

  “Yes lovie?”

  “Max told you about the money he got for agreeing to leave the show early, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he need it for?”

  Daniel looked at her sheepishly. “Didn’t he tell you?”

  “He tried. I wouldn’t let him.” She bit her lip in remorse.

  “He wants to set up a swimming programme at Crystal Palace.”

  Lucy remembered the boy Max was training before their swimming lesson began. “What, to train Olympic hopefuls?”

  “No babe. To give youngsters like his nephew a chance. Disabled kids. You know, a bit like Riding for the Disabled but,” Daniel shrugged, “in the water.”

  “Oh.”

  “You take care of yourself, now. I’ll come and see you soon. Woodstock you say? Jot down the address, there’s a love.”

  And now, lying on her sofa under a fleece and staring out at a snow-blanketed December day, Lucy remembered the shame that had flooded her. She’d misjudged everything about Max. His sexuality, at this her face burned crimson but, more importantly, his motivation for leaving. No wonder he needed the money. But one thing still puzzled her. An athlete like him, competing at the very top of his sport, surely wouldn’t want just to quit like that. There must be something more to it. But whatever it was, Daniel, Julia and anyone else she’d discussed it with, didn’t know.

  Her mobile trilled. Picking it up, the hope ran through her, as always, that it might be Max. It wasn’t.

  “Julia, hello.”

  “Lucy darling! I couldn’t believe it when I heard about your accident. How are you?”