Dmitri was right: they won at California Star, both the show dance and the Rising Star group final. The ballroom was full of Shall We Dance students, some of them amateur couples and others pro-am competitors. Patrick looked around at all of the dancers. He saw how happy Dmitri was. He was suddenly fiercely glad for all the late nights, all the lonely nights, all the pain and expense and worry. Without the work, without the sacrifices, this wouldn’t mean as much. It wouldn’t inspire these students so much. Others, too: older dancers from all over were engaging with the studio’s social media, following Dmitri’s story. Chasing a championship at fifty-plus. Dancing like a man half his age, making that groundbreaking show dance, making the name for himself that he’d always deserved. Dmitri would be the first to say it was only happening for him now because of Patrick and Michelle. They were, apparently, the dream team.
Eventually, of course, everyone came down to earth, got their act together, and went home. They all had a few days off before a final rehearsal push started for the Cabaret’s holiday show.
The nightclub home of the Cabaret (now called Chrome following a major renovation and expansion) had booked the show for four nights, which was a first. It played to full houses and got some major media attention. Michelle got a job offer from Cirque. She turned it down. On closing night, Patrick was (of course) present, watching his beloved and Michelle wipe the floor with every other performer and reduce most of the audience to tears.
He and Dmitri left for Buenos Aires the next day. Dmitri managed to sleep for much of the day-long flight. Patrick napped, off and on. They were both awake enough to watch an in-flight movie, the latest James Bond thriller. Dmitri made himself a note about the theme song.
“Skyfall,” Patrick commented. “What would you dance to that?”
“Mmm. Bolero.”
One of the Rhythm dances. Patrick was curious. Dmitri still competed with his student Sheila. She’d been doing the Senior 1 Championship events for the past three years. All five dances, for students over thirty-five. She would be moving up to Senior 2 in the next season. “Do you think Sheila would want to do a show dance? You haven’t done that before, have you?”
Dmitri considered it. Most ballroom events didn’t include a competitive show-dance category for pro-am couples. Instead they allowed entries for ‘solo exhibitions,’ which were not judged. He had never suggested it because it was another entry fee and another floor fee, with no benefit to Sheila in her ranking. But he knew she enjoyed performing. She still talked about doing that rumba at the first Halloween social. It was a good idea. He let himself lean close, shoulder resting against Patrick’s for a moment. “I will offer. As a birthday gift to her.”
“Oh yeah. Tell her it’s free and she’ll be all over it. Will she let you lift her?” He couldn’t imagine that she wouldn’t. Every female student at Shall We Dance looked at what Dmitri was doing with Michelle and sighed.
Dmitri almost laughed. “We will see.”
Chapter 6
The process of travel was so familiar that they really didn’t even think about how different this was until they were checked in, unpacked, and rested. On the morning of their first full day, they looked at each other and nearly laughed because they had no idea what to do. Patrick said, “You would usually be getting dressed to go down to a ballroom, and I would usually be lounging in front of the TV with a fresh cup of coffee and a bad attitude.”
Dmitri did laugh then. They were both still in bed, naked, and with absolutely no reason to get dressed or go anywhere until and unless they wanted to. He did a few things meant to suggest that he was in no hurry to get out of bed. Patrick had no objections. Consequently, it was nearly two hours later before they descended to the hotel café for a breakfast so late it was nearly lunch.
There were, so they’d been told, many reasons to come to Argentina and three reasons to come to Buenos Aires. Those were food, wine, and tango. For the next eighteen days they explored the city, finding their favorite venues for those three things. Patrick was a competent follower by this time. Saying ‘no’ to a dance with Dmitri had always been impossible, even before he knew what he was doing. It was a way to touch in public, to be lovers in public. The tango grapevine guided them to welcoming venues. It was, they agreed, the closest thing to a honeymoon they could have asked for. They danced together almost every day; in the afternoon if they were going to the theater in the evening, or at night if they went to a museum during the day. Dmitri danced with dozens of others, while Patrick watched from the sidelines. He was invited onto the floor once in a while. He explained, in rudimentary Spanish, that he was a lousy leader and wasn’t sure he could follow anyone but Dmitri. That excuse was accepted most of the time. He got the idea the invitations were mostly pro forma. But he was perfectly happy to sit with a coffee or a glass of wine and watch Dmitri. It was like seeing someone who had only ever swum in a pool getting into the ocean for the first time.
Dmitri also practiced his five competition routines, having located a convenient ballroom studio on their second day. Patrick took video of that as well as the occasional tango encounter. It might be a long time before they could take a trip like this again, so he took pictures everywhere too.
Their schedule got completely out of whack. They were out late every night, up late every morning. The last two days, they made an effort to normalize. Otherwise getting back to real life was going to be painful. They discussed the importance of setting aside a day to celebrate their upcoming tenth (and seventh) anniversary. Dmitri was planning to compete at the Emerald Ball at the end of April; there wouldn’t be out-of-state travel to work around. Otherwise, they didn’t talk about how the next two years were likely to be. All Patrick said on that subject was, “I think I’ve gotten a year’s worth of sex out of you.”
They were heading to the gate to board their flight, so Dmitri only dug his hand into his lover’s hair for a second, tugged lightly, and said, “Mon lapin.” Patrick was still giggling about being called a rabbit when they made their way onto the plane.
January 2013
If not for the spectacular success of the previous year, Dmitri might have reacted differently when Elena Hernandez walked into Shall We Dance again.
His students Vicky and Sharon were practicing together in one corner. It was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, and there were no other students present or expected. When Dmitri heard the back door open, he left the office to see who had arrived. It was an effort not to betray surprise at seeing Elena there. She took a visibly deep breath. “Hi, Dmitri. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Hello, Elena. Of course. Come into office.” He nodded to his students, stood aside to let Elena precede him, followed her into the office and closed the door.
She turned to face him. “Thanks. I saw your show dance at California Star Ball.”
“You were there?”
“No, I saw it on YouTube. You looked magical. Your new partner is fantastic, I’ve been following you since you started. I was happy for you, when you won the Rising Star event.” He inclined his head; he knew that was hard to say. But he said nothing, and after a moment she went on. “I came to ask you for a favor. But first I wanted to apologize.”
The mere fact that she had come constituted an apology. He’d never expected or required one. “Is no need.”
“Yes, there is. I was a total brat, and I wasted your time, and I’m sorry. You were right about everything.”
Another surprise. “You have grown up.”
“I’ve spent the last few years studying. I went back to school and finished my degree. Studied yoga and Pilates. Taught Zumba for a while, and went through the DVIDA program.”
“You are looking for new partner?”
“Not exactly. My hometown, it’s a small town. I’m from Visalia. It’s where you turn off Highway 99 to go to Sequoia and Kings Canyon. I don’t know if you’ve ever been there.”
“No.” Dmitri allowed himself to evince puzzlement a
t this line of conversation. He perched on the edge of his desk, indicating that Elena should sit.
She did, somewhat cautiously, and told him what she wanted: to establish her own studio, a social studio, in her hometown. To recruit instructors to join her, when she was at the Emerald Ball at the end of April. And for that, to use his name. “I’m not the same person I was five years ago. I’m asking if you’ll be a reference for me.”
Dmitri studied her for a long moment. “I must dance with you again first.”
“Any time.”
“Now?”
“Sure.” She had a tote bag, which almost certainly contained dance shoes.
Without another word, Dmitri stood up and left the office. Elena followed him out in a minute, having changed her shoes. He went to the control center and cued a practice round in the American Rhythm style. He spoke to his students, who had stopped dancing and were watching with evident interest. “Vicky, Sharon, I require the floor for short time. You excuse?”
Vicky said, “For God’s sake, Dmitri, you own the place.” She took Sharon’s hand and they went to seats near the kitchenette, ceding the floor without further comment. Instead of packing up to go, they watched as Dmitri offered his hand, took Elena into dance hold, and began.
Dmitri was still coasting on his three weeks with Patrick in Argentina. Michelle was still coasting on her Las Vegas elopement with Kenji. The routines for their new season were in maintenance mode, requiring regular practice but not for hours at a stretch. On this night, she joined him at the studio after the group class, they danced three rounds of their four Smooth routines, once through the show dance, and then parted. Dmitri was home by eight-thirty, in time to help Patrick tidy up the kitchen from his dinner. He’d sent a text to say he’d have his own before the group classes, not mentioning the day’s surprise. He thought that was best left for a quiet hour like this. “Is interesting day,” he said, when they were relaxing in the den.
“Oh yeah? What happened.”
“Elena came.”
Patrick was literally speechless for a second. He stared at Dmitri with his mouth open, waiting for words to come. “Why?”
Dmitri couldn’t suppress a laugh at that expression. He didn’t even want to. Patrick’s reaction when he laughed was always so satisfying. “Mon cheri, ton visage.”
“Whatever. What the fuck.”
“She wishes to open her own studio. In the town where her family is. To recruit, she asks for a reference.”
“And are you going to give her one?”
Dmitri performed a gesture that meant ‘yes.’ He didn’t need to tell Patrick that the young woman was now acceptably proficient in all nineteen of the competitive dances, plus the nightclub dances. It was everything she would need to know to be a respectable social instructor, and to introduce casual students to the concept of competition dancing. She was still very young, not even thirty. But she was ambitious. He knew she was a hard worker. If she found the right venue, and with her family’s support, she might very well make a success of it. “I will see how she does at the Emerald Ball with her pro-am students.” He told Patrick which studio Elena was teaching at now. Patrick made a face that nearly made Dmitri laugh again. “But yes. I told her she may use my name.”
“You’re awfully good at this forgiveness thing.” Patrick went back to his book for a few minutes, but he couldn’t concentrate. He looked over his reading glasses at Dmitri again. God, you’re gorgeous. “How was Michelle tonight?”
“Excellent. The perfect partner. Like you.”
Patrick hadn’t been fishing for a compliment, but he’d take it. He set his book down, took off his glasses, and leaned over for a kiss.
May 2013
The Open Professional Smooth championship at the Emerald Ball was a hard-fought event, with seventeen couples. Dmitri and Michelle, on their fourth outing in the division, placed third. He was aware, throughout the evening, that Elena was there. He’d seen her earlier in the day, during the pro-am events, and was positive she was doing the low-key recruitment she’d intended. After the awards, Dmitri brought his partner over to meet her. “Elena, this is Michelle Matsumoto.”
Michelle offered her hand and they shook. “Hi Elena, nice to meet you.”
“Michelle, you are such a beautiful dancer. You and Dmitri are perfect together.”
“Thank you!”
Elena introduced her companion. “This is Tony Benedetti. He’s here working with Vanessa Harrison and her husband Stefano Benedetti.”
“Oh, we met them yesterday. That’s an interesting project, isn’t it?” The Italians and Vanessa were doing interviews for a documentary series they planned to pitch while they were in L.A.
Tony said, “I hope it works out for everybody. Are you competing in the show dance tonight?”
“Yes, we must get changed,” said Dmitri. “We will talk again soon.” The men shook hands.
Michelle smiled at Elena before they started moving toward the changing room. “She was your last partner?” Quietly, so as not to be overheard.
“Yes.” He felt slightly guilty now, that he’d used the word ‘terrible.’ He had let his need to reassure Michelle rule his tongue. “We were not right for each other.”
“A little short for you.” She heard Dmitri’s snort. “A little young, too. How do you feel about her now?”
Dmitri gave his partner a sharp look. The subtext was, when you’re done with someone are you done for good. “We are on good terms.” He changed the subject. “Kenji waits to help you change?”
“Yes. Meet you at the on-deck.” They veered off from each other.
A week later, Dmitri and Michelle saw Elena again. This time it was at dinner with the Benedettis, at a condo they were renting while in town shopping their project. The conversation took an interesting turn when Elena confessed that word had gotten back to her employers that she was recruiting. They weren’t very happy with her. At this stage of the evening Michelle had a very positive impression of Elena. She also thought it was time to nudge Dmitri toward dealing with the state of Shall We Dance. “Weren’t you just saying that you were thinking about finding a manager for your place?”
Dmitri looked thoughtful. “I was.”
“Now that he’s on the road so much, it’s hard to keep a handle on things,” Michelle explained to the others. That got agreement from Vanessa; Stefano’s studio in Italy was apparently completely chaotic without him. Michelle didn’t try to bring the conversation back to their own situation until they were leaving. Dmitri drove them to West Hollywood, where she’d left her car. “She’s coming over on Sunday, when they come to do those interviews. You might want to talk to Patrick. Julia’s great, but you really need someone else now.”
Dmitri let the thought sit until they arrived. Hiring Elena wasn’t a thought he would have had, even though he knew he needed someone. He was so used to making do with little, doing for himself, trying to minimize expenses. But every hour he spent on the website or on the telephone, doing bookkeeping or scheduling, was an hour he couldn’t teach. Their campaign had raised his profile to the point that he had more inquiries than he could handle. “I will talk to Patrick.”
He left it till the next morning, because Patrick had been to a family dinner and was tired. Mornings weren’t the best time for lengthy discussions, so all he said was, “Will you think about something for me.”
“Sure, honey.” Patrick was assembling his coffee and thinking about breakfast. After the previous night’s dinner he ought to keep it light. When Dmitri didn’t immediately go on, he looked over. “What is it?”
“We met Elena again last night.”
“At dinner with the Benedettis? That’s interesting.”
“Mmm. She is involved with the younger one. Her studio, they know she was recruiting. She will lose her students there. Michelle said, on the way back, why not consider her to manage Shall We Dance.”
Patrick set down the yogurt he’d just taken out of the ref
rigerator. “Jesus. Every time I turn around you surprise me. You want me to think about whether that’s a good idea?” Dmitri nodded. “Does she know anything about running a studio?”
He couldn’t truly answer that. He’d had to learn on the job himself. “She has a degree, and is well trained. Her students were happy, and placed well.”
That, Patrick knew, was big. If pro-am students were having a good time and doing well at a huge competition like Emerald, their instructor was doing something right. “Do you want me to run some numbers for you?”
“If you have time. If it is no trouble.” Dmitri almost wished he hadn’t said that, because Patrick gave him the halfway-irritated look that stood in for a verbal reminder: this is our business, we are partners, I’m here to help. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
On Sunday, Dmitri was finishing up a session with Vince and Kelli when Elena came in. She went to stretch with Michelle until he was done. He went to a chair beside them. “Two of my best students, Elena,” he said. “They are L.A. Salsa Challenge champions. Also San Francisco, Chicago, and Austin.”
“Good-looking couple. They’re amateurs?”
“They do some teaching now, social classes only at a club called Chrome.”
“That’s where you do your show,” Elena said to Michelle. “My roommate and I went to see it in March. It was great.”
“Thanks.” Michelle smiled. “We had a lot of fun with the safari theme.”
“Elena, before Vanessa arrives let us talk for a moment.” Dmitri stood and offered his hand, helping her to her feet. She followed him into the office. “How is situation at the studio?” He sat down, and she followed suit.
Change Partners (The L.A. Stories) Page 10