by Tepe, Mandie
Monte walked up to them dressed to partner with Meg for the first routine, the west coast swing. “Anthony, we’ll try to do you proud. This is great choreography!”
“I know you’ll do great. I’m honored to have you perform my stuff. Dress rehearsal looked really good.”
They all turned as Marcy called for everyone’s attention. “As I said earlier, after dress rehearsal, I am so proud of each and every one of you. You all have gone above and beyond to meet some unexpected challenges. You’ve impressed me with your work ethic and your spirit of cooperation. Meg has expressed to me, many times, her admiration of the Institute and all of the participants from the performers down to the stage crew volunteers. The publicity team has outdone themselves. We have almost sold out this show and that is quite a feat for a mid-year program. As the director of SDDI, I couldn’t be more proud of everyone here.” Applause broke out from everyone assembled and she smiled as she looked around at all of the faces. “There is nothing left to do now but have a lot of fun out there. I’m going to go start the show. Good luck, everyone!”
Meg and Monte made their way to the entrance of the stage as everyone shifted around to wait for their turn. Marcy squeezed Meg’s hand as she skirted around her and stepped out on stage. The murmuring from the crowd stopped as Marcy took center stage and the spotlight came on. She began her speech welcoming everyone, thanking them for coming and then launched into a rundown of what they were about to see. She then spoke about Meg’s background, the work she had been doing with the SDDI students, and informing them of her talent and how lucky they all were to be able to see some of that tonight. Meg tuned that part out, because she didn’t want to psyche herself out. She never felt as talented as they made her sound. She and Monte were standing there doing a few stretches and shaking out their muscles as Marcy finished with a short rundown of Monte’s credentials and accomplishments, and the Institute’s appreciation for his willingness to come in and be part of the showcase as well. When they heard the applause they knew it was time and snapped to.
The lights went down and Marcy passed them as they went up stage to take their positions. “Good luck,” she whispered as she passed.
The music started . . . Little Sister by Dwight Yoakam . . . the lights came on and off they went. It was a fast-paced routine and they got lost in it like they always did. The west coast swing was a fun, bouncy dance that was always a crowd-pleaser and a great way to kick off the show. At the end, the crowd went crazy and Meg and Monte left the stage making way for a student group’s jazz number. The show was well underway.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Trace sat out in the audience clapping along with everyone else, but he was stunned. He shouldn’t be, he guessed. He’d heard from his family how talented she was, but he’d never seen it for himself. She was like a different person . . . magical . . . almost a stranger.
He hadn’t seen or talked to her that day. After he got off work and cleaned up he met his parents, and Meg’s, for dinner at their hotel. Claire and Michael decided they wanted to come out and support Meg even if Sean wasn’t performing with her anymore. Tatiana joined them for dinner too, since Monte was busy preparing for the show.
It had been a little nerve-wracking for Trace because he’d never met Sheila and Doug, and he knew they knew he and Meg had become involved. He needn’t have worried, though, because it had gone very smoothly and her folks seemed down to earth and easy going. He did wish Meg could have been there with them, though.
After dinner they had made their way over to the San Diego Dance Institute and ran into his friends in the lobby. Most of them had made an entire evening out of it and hired early babysitters so they could meet for dinner before the show too. They all had made their way into the theatre and found their seats. Meg had arranged really good seats for all of them and the excitement built even more. They all chatted, waiting for show time. Claire and Michael had met some of Trace’s friends on previous trips out to San Diego so they were doing some catching up. Sheila, Doug and Tatiana joined right in and everyone mingled until the lights went down, signaling it was time to start the show.
It was an amazing show. Even the student performances were excellent, but Trace almost held his breath through each of them for Meg to return to the stage. She seemed to change into a new persona for each of her performances. Flirty and sassy during the west coast swing . . . sexy and dramatic during the contemporary lyrical piece he had already seen her rehearsing with Scott . . . and then she and Declan had performed a surprisingly hot, yet soft, emotionally sensitive hip hop routine to a mellow Ne-Yo song. At least twice during the first half of the show, Charley—who was seated behind him—had leaned forward and breathed, “Dude . . .” into Trace’s ear. He knew just how Charley felt—she was something to behold.
During the intermission everyone marveled at all of the performances, but especially Meg’s. She had seemed so down-to-earth when she was hanging out with his friends that they couldn’t recognize this brilliant artist in the same person.
Claire moved over to stand next to Trace so she could speak to him in a low voice. “Well, I’ve never seen her dance more brilliantly. I’m so relieved this thing with Sean hasn’t put her off her game.” She smiled at Trace.
“Really? I’m glad to hear that. Although watching her tonight . . . I can’t imagine anyone dancing better than that. Dancing seems too small a word.” He glanced into his mother’s eyes in embarrassment. “Does that sound stupid?”
She linked her arm through his. “No. It’s very insightful. Meg just lives and breathes it. She’s a hard worker . . . I don’t want to take that away from her . . . but she’s a born dancer too.”
The lights went down again and everyone hurried back to their seats. Trace braced himself for more. By the end of the show everyone felt transported. The final routine was the showstopper . . . Monte and Meg dancing the Argentine tango. It was, maybe, the sexiest thing Trace had ever seen. Probably the sexiest thing anyone in the audience had ever seen.
The lights came halfway up and the stage crew kids hurried out to place several stools out on the stage. Marcy and three other faculty members—Tobi, Anthony, and Estelle, as department heads—came out with microphones and took their seats. Several of the student performers sat on the steps at the back of the stage and students who had been working backstage came out and sat on the floor in front of it.
Marcy spoke into her mic, “We’re just going to take a short amount of time to take questions and talk over some of the high points of the performances we just witnessed. We like to use these occasions as learning opportunities for our audiences and, especially, our students.” She gestured toward the entrance that led backstage. “Meg and Monte will join us as soon as they can catch their breath from that amazing last number.” She looked down at the students sitting in front of the stage. “Does anyone have a question or a comment to start us off?”
A hand shot up and one of the sound crew from the box at the back of the theatre jogged up the aisle with a small microphone. To Trace and his friends—and probably quite a few other members of the audience—it was a long, involved question about the choreographic technique of several of the routines that may as well have been asked in some dead language, like Aramaic. Tobi fielded that question—Trace was surprised she apparently spoke Aramaic too, because he had no idea what she was talking about either. He glanced down the row at Sonny who raised his eyebrows at him. They sat through a couple of other questions and answers before Meg and Monte came out from backstage to take their seats on the stage. Applause broke out again as the audience noticed them.
Trace was relieved to see she was back to looking like “his” Meg again. The glitzy costumes and makeup were gone and she wore a cute gold baby doll dress and heels with her hair brushed smoothly again. She waved away the applause and sat down next to Anthony. On the floor in front of the stage, several students’ hands shot up and she started fi
elding their questions. Monte jumped in when the questions turned into requests for advice on how to begin a successful dance career once a student left school.
Before too much more time passed, Marcy broke in. “We’re going to shut this down now. We are serving appetizers and drinks out in the lobby and invite everyone to stay and mingle. I don’t think Meg and Monte would mind if you approached them with any other questions or comments.” She glanced across the stage to them and they indicated that they’d be happy to speak to anyone. Then she peered out into the semi-dark audience. “I believe Monte’s wife and partner, Tatiana, is here somewhere too. She has a wealth of knowledge and maybe she wouldn’t mind speaking to some of our kids. Tatiana, do you mind coming on up?”
Tatiana glanced at Trace seated next to her as she stood up to join Monte on stage. “If it starts looking dicey, send in the SEALs,” she joked.
About a half hour later they were all standing around the lobby enjoying cocktails and the food. Every once in a while one of the student performers would walk past and Claire, Sheila and some of the other women would stop them to praise them on their performances. The women were having a great time, but the guys looked mostly out of place. They kind of stood off to the side, but were being really good sports. Trace kept watching the archway that led down the hall to the auditorium for Meg, Monte and Tatiana. Who was he kidding? He was watching for Meg. They hadn’t made it out to the lobby yet.
A couple of the guys sidled up to Trace and Charley said it once again, “Dude . . .” and shook his head at Trace.
“What, Charley? You keep saying that and I don’t know what that means,” Trace chuckled.
JoJo tried to help interpret. “Well, Trace . . . I think what Charley’s trying to say here is, ‘Dude . . . what the . . . that’s your girl. How did you land that?’”
All of the guys guffawed as Charley held out his hands and nodded as if to say, “What else could I have meant?”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you ask how I ‘landed that.’” Trace laughed and looked around at all of their faces. He realized they were still waiting to hear his answer. “Look, guys . . . you know Meg. That’s the real Meg. What we just saw was the performer Meg, but she’s a real person.”
Sonny shook his head at him. “I don’t know. What we just saw in there? That’s part of her too. That’s the scary, intimidating part. I don’t know what to say to that part.”
“She’s the same Meg who made us chili and hangs out to watch movies with us. Okay? I don’t think she wants us to treat her any differently.”
Sonny looked him the eye. “Are you saying that for our benefit . . . so we won’t be intimidated? Or for your own benefit . . . so you won’t?”
Trace looked at him sheepishly. “Both, I guess.”
Sonny slapped him on the back as a spattering of applause broke out. Meg, Monte, Tatiana, Tobi, Anthony and Marcy had just come through the doorway. Trace took a deep breath and looked at Meg’s face. He breathed a sigh of relief because he recognized this Meg. He recognized her because she had just leaned up on her toes to whisper something in Anthony’s ear that made him throw his head back and laugh.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Meg’s parents rushed over and gave her big hugs. Her dad had a small bouquet of silk tulips for her—a tradition. Ever since her first dance recital at the age of ten, her father had brought her a bouquet of tulips—her favorite flower—whenever he saw her dance. And it wasn’t always easy. When tulips were out of season and nowhere to be found he had to improvise and bring something else associated with tulips. One time he brought her tulip bulbs, then planted them in his yard at home. If she weren’t able to visit home while they were in bloom, he would email her pictures of “her tulips.”
“Oh, sweetie! I’ve never seen you dance better. You were beautiful up there,” her mother gushed.
“Thanks, Mom. Daddy!” Meg’s eyes teared a little as he handed her the little bouquet. “You remembered the tulips.”
“Of course. I couldn’t find real ones, but Mom said she thought these were pretty.”
“They are! They’re beautiful. And they’re more economical! I know you appreciate that, Daddy,” she laughed.
She introduced Sheila and Doug to Tobi and Anthony and chatted a while before turning around to look for Trace and his group. She spotted them not too far away standing at the edge of the lobby. She caught Trace’s eye and smiled as his parents walked over to her. She hadn’t seen them yet. They had flown in earlier that day, like her parents. As Claire approached her tentatively, Meg walked over and gave her a long hug.
“Claire, thanks so much for coming. It means a lot to me.”
Claire pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Meg, the show was wonderful. You were just brilliant tonight.” Her voice started to break. “I just feel terrible about Sean. To think I may never see you two dance together again just breaks my heart.”
“Claire, I just keep telling myself things happen for a reason. I really have missed him the last few weeks, but it was somewhat empowering—to have to make my way without him. I found I was able to rely on other people . . . and myself.”
“Well, I know you may never want him back as a partner, and I can’t blame you for that. But I’m still trying to reach out to him to find out what’s going on.”
“Good. I can’t make someone want to work with me if they don’t want to, so we just all need to make the best of the situation. If you talk to him please give him my best. I truly mean that. But I don’t think I’ll take his calls for a while. I hope he understands. You too.”
“Of course I do.” Claire glanced up at Michael after he had kissed Meg on the cheek and said, “Well, I think the old folks are going to head on back to the hotel. We’re a little jetlagged.” She grinned at Meg. “I hear there’s a big party out at Trace’s tomorrow. I think we’re going to crash it.”
“That’s great! I think it’ll be a lot of fun.”
Sheila and Doug had just joined them and Sheila said, “Trace invited us too. Do you mind?”
“Not at all!” Meg answered.
Her parents decided to leave the reception with Trace’s folks and go on back to the hotel. As they left Meg could overhear Sheila and Claire talking about getting up in the morning for a shopping trip that would include Trish’s boutique.
Meg started toward Trace and his friends and he met her halfway. “Meg . . . I don’t know what to say. You looked so beautiful up there on that stage.”
Touched, she said, “Thank you, Trace. It means so much that you were here. I know it’s not your thing and everything, but . . .”
He tapped her chin with his index finger and laid his forehead against hers. “You’re my thing.” He kissed her gently. “And watching you dance is quickly becoming my thing too.”
They were suddenly surrounded by Trish, Kelli, Val and all the other SEAL wives and girlfriends who were gushing over the show and spilling over with gratitude for the tickets. Trace got pushed back a few steps, but he thought that was probably just as well. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by getting too mushy in public. He walked toward the bar to find her a glass of wine.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Meg didn’t dare sleep in on Saturday, as much as she wanted to. There was too much to do to get ready for the wrap party out at Trace’s. Everyone who worked on the showcase had agreed to come and she knew some of Trace’s friends were looking forward to it too. She stopped by the grocery store to pick up some things she knew Trace hadn’t gotten around to and pulled into his driveway around nine o’clock. She was exhausted from all the work leading up to the show, but exhilarated after the show had gone off without a hitch. She had to admit to herself she was exhilarated to spend the whole day and evening with Trace too, after not seeing him much during past week. Even though they would be working hard today, she was glad to be with him.
She heard voices out behind the house on the be
ach and walked toward them loaded down with grocery bags. Trace, Sonny and Charley were out there piling wood into a pit they had dug in the sand. There was more wood piled under the edge of the deck.
She called out, “What time did you guys get started this morning?” She was surprised they were already finishing up the hard labor part of the preparations.
Sonny jogged over and took the bags from her. “We had the wood in and stacked under the deck Thursday night. We just had to dig the pit and load it up.” He looked over at Trace. “When did we start?”
Trace dropped his load of wood in the pit and glanced at his watch as he started toward them. “About an hour ago, I guess.” He kissed her and said, “Morning,” with an intimate smile.
Meg smiled back. “I can’t believe you got this done already.”
Charley walked over after dumping his last armload. He struck a comic he-man pose. “We’re some manly men.”
“Don’t I know it,” Meg agreed with a sigh.
Trace had already given Charley and Sonny their next assignments—go find some big logs to use as benches around the fire pit, as well as pick up some folding camp chairs they were borrowing from other friends and acquaintances. Later that afternoon they would be back to drop them off and then were to go by the Hideaway to pick up several buckets of steamed crab.
Trace set about power washing the deck and straightening up the chairs to fit more in. He cleaned the grill and generally worked outside to get things ready. After a while he realized he was running low on charcoal, but decided to pick that up when he went to pick up the beer keg and some ice.
Meg worked around the kitchen to prepare the food. She had huge bowls of coleslaw and potato salad to make, as well as getting the hamburgers mixed and pattied. As women do at times like these, she worried that she might not have enough food, but—also as women do at times like these, she would end up having way too much.
Trace came into the house around noon just as she finished icing a huge Texas sheet cake. The whole house smelled of warm chocolate and his stomach growled. “Meg, are you getting hungry? It’s about lunch time.”