by Alexis Daria
Kevin snapped his fingers. “We should do a cast potluck again. Before the next season starts filming.”
“It won’t be the same without Gina,” Lori said. “How’s she doing? Have you heard from her?”
The mention of Gina brought a pang of discomfort. “Yeah, she sent a picture a couple days ago. She and Stone hiked a glacier or something.”
“Whoa, really?” Kevin’s pale eyebrows popped up. “That’s so cool. I wonder if their Alaska house is ready for visitors.”
They crossed the street and asked the hostess for a table for three. She told them it would be a twenty-minute wait, but one of the waiters recognized them and pushed them higher up in the queue. They only waited three minutes, during which time they snapped selfies and signed autographs with the restaurant staff.
“Fame has its advantages,” Kevin muttered as they finally took their seats, but his tone was dark.
Lori kicked him under the table. “Hey, we got a table faster, and you’re the one who’s hungry.”
The waiter arrived quickly. Lori and Kevin ordered margaritas. Since everyone else was drinking, Natasha ordered a mojito, even though it cost four times what her coffee would have.
Besides, she needed to relax. After dancing with Dimitri and watching the footage on her laptop, she was wound up tight.
Once they’d given their orders—and Kevin convinced them to order half a dozen items from the appetizer menu—conversation turned to industry gossip.
“Any idea who they’re going to replace Gina with?” Lori asked.
Natasha shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything. My guess is it will be one of the backup dancers—maybe Sienna? She’s always smiling, and they started giving her more airtime last season. But it wouldn’t surprise me if they make some picks from Everybody Dance Now. It’s been a while since they pulled someone from there. Gina and I were the last.”
Lori sipped her margarita. “And I think I was the last one before that.”
Kevin leaned in. “I heard the executive producers of the two shows had a falling out. They used to be partners, you know. That’s why The Dance Off pulls talent from Everybody. Same network, and the showrunners were connected.”
The first round of dishes arrived—big plates with a tiny amount of food in the center of each one. They waited while a waiter made tableside guacamole. Natasha tasted it. Lori was right; it was good, but not as good as her own.
When they were alone again, Lori nudged Kevin’s elbow. “Tell me more.”
“Muriel, our exec, helped start Everybody Dance Now. Or, if you listen to the gossip, which I do, it was her idea, but Kristoff, her partner, took most of the credit. She didn’t like how he was running things—or that he wouldn’t leave his husband for her—so she left, joined The Dance Off, and took their best line producer with her.”
Natasha groaned. “I bet I know who it is.”
Kevin laughed. “Oh, I bet you do.”
“I’m going to need another mojito if we’re going to talk about her.” Natasha flagged down their waiter, and they ordered another round of drinks. “All right,” she said. “Spill it. It’s Donna Alvarez, right? My producer. Fucking Donna.”
“Guessed it in one.” Kevin piled extra jalapenos on his side of the meager nachos platter and shoved a loaded tortilla chip into his mouth. Natasha eyed the nachos like they’d kicked her dog. For real, who made a small plate of nachos?
“Is Donna really as awful as everyone says she is?” Lori asked.
“Worse,” Kevin said with a growl. “The woman is a soulless demon.”
“I think of her as La Diabla,” Natasha added. “The devil.”
Lori sipped her margarita. “And she used to work on Everybody?”
Natasha chased a bean around the plate with a chip. “She made the shift before I was on either show.”
Kevin nodded. “Muriel took Donna with her, because she has a reputation for being the most manipulative line producer in reality competition shows.”
Lori’s eyes were wide, and she talked through a mouthful of carnitas taquitos. “What does she do?”
Natasha answered, since she had the inside scoop. “Did you see all the stuff that went down with Gina and Stone last season? That was Donna.”
“Like that secret footage of them kissing?”
“Yep. Gina didn’t know they were being filmed. Donna manipulated Stone into keeping it a secret, then aired the footage right before their semi-finals dance.” Donna’s machinations had nearly been the end of Gina and Stone’s budding romance, but the two of them had worked it out.
“What a horrible human being.”
“She was really trying to turn them into the season’s showmance.”
Lori shrugged. “I’m glad I don’t have her. Barry isn’t too bad.”
Kevin returned to the original thread of the conversation. “So, the reason they’re not pulling from Everybody anymore is that Muriel stole away another one of their producers, because Kristoff—who is still married, by the way—started dating someone else. She wanted to be the only sidepiece.”
“Lord, this is complicated.” Lori munched on some chips.
But Kevin wasn’t done. “Muriel is pissed, and after losing Gina, I heard they’re cracking down on behind-the-scenes hookups.”
Natasha froze with her fork stabbed into a grilled pepper popper. “What do you mean?”
“Some of the more conservative execs are concerned it will affect performance and ratings. Muriel is just bitter that true love cost her the winning pro. So, no more backstage hanky-panky for the rest of us.”
“Like what Natasha had going on with Jackson last season?” Lori asked.
When Kevin nodded, Natasha hid a sigh of relief. They didn’t mean Dimitri. But then her defenses snapped into place. “I wasn’t the only one. Joel was screwing Keiko Simon, and that Future Fiancé guy was—”
“Cool it, girl,” Lori said, raising her hands. “I was just citing an example. I know you’re not the only one. Even I made out with one of the backup girls my first season, but then she claimed she was just drunk, not gay. I don’t have time for that shit.”
“Backstage hookups are rampant in show biz.” Kevin shrugged. “It’s part of the game. I don’t think this will amount to anything, except people being sneakier, and a higher incidence of DTD.”
Natasha clarified for Lori. “DTD is Don’t Tell Donna. It’s something all her dancers know.”
Kevin shook his head. “Fucking Donna. I’m so glad she isn’t my producer anymore. After the second time I won, I told them I’d quit if they didn’t assign me a different line producer.”
Natasha rested her chin on her hands. “Maybe after I win a couple times, I’ll be able to request a change. But I’d have to win one time first.”
Lori picked at her napkin. “You probably would have won if you’d been paired with Jackson last year.”
“You made it to the finals and came in third place,” Natasha pointed out. “You two were great partners.”
“Yeah, but you guys were hooking up. The chemistry would have gotten you extra votes.”
Natasha had gotten together a few times with Jackson García, a TV actor with a great body and good personality. Sex with him had been fun, but nothing to write home about. And the last time she was supposed to meet him, she’d gone home with Dimitri instead.
She shrugged. “Gina and Stone were really in love. Jackson and I weren’t. We never would have been a match for that. Besides, this guy snagged second place.” She flicked a finger against Kevin’s forearm. “Still in touch with Lauren?”
Kevin took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “That girl was a piece of work. Being her partner was exhausting.”
Natasha believed him. Kevin and Lauren D’Angelo, an Olympic figure skater, had nearly won last season, but Lauren’s technical perfection couldn’t top Stone and Gina’s emotional connection. In retaliation, Lauren had sought to sabotage the reality show Stone filmed with h
is family in Alaska.
Lori lowered her voice. “I heard Lauren made the rounds through most of the male cast—pros and stars.”
Kevin held up both hands. “Not me.”
Natasha held back her comment. As much time as they spent together, Kevin was secretive about his dating and sex life. She never knew when, or if, he was involved with anyone. Lori, on the other hand, was an open book. She didn’t hide her search for true love.
Lori finished chewing on a chip. “Judges, too, come to think of it.”
Natasha dropped her tiny taquito. “Huh?”
“Lauren. She didn’t just stop with the cast. She went after the judges, too.”
Natasha covered her reaction with a sip of her second drink. It couldn’t be Mariah Valentino or Chad Silver, as neither of them dated women. That meant it had to be Dimitri.
It wasn’t a total surprise. Lauren had flirted with Dimitri—with everyone, really—backstage, when she hadn’t been talking shit. Once, when they were all out at the salsa club where Lori’s ex worked, Lauren had been all over Dimitri. He loved attention, and despite his position as a judge, clearly had no qualms about dipping into the talent pool.
But Lauren? Really? The figure skater was a viper.
If the producers were cracking down on backstage hookups, how much worse would it be if they knew Natasha was shacking up with one of the judges?
Natasha cut into the conversation the others were having about a cute new camera woman. “So, wait, how are Donna and the other producers going to know if we’re hooking up?”
Kevin shrugged. “Nothing stays secret. And Donna will be stalking your social media and any news items that pop up about you. That’s what she used to do to me.”
Great. Now she had to go on social media lockdown, and be extra careful about coming and going from Dimitri’s house. He used to have a gate, but Nik had broken it and Dimitri hadn’t fixed it yet. Anyone could waltz up to the front door, including paparazzi.
Lori held up her phone. “I just got an invite to a concert tomorrow night. We should go!”
“Looks good,” Kevin said, glancing at the screen. “Hey Tash, we can park and pre-game at your place, first. It’s not too far from your apartment.”
Natasha shook her head, with perhaps a tad too much vehemence, because Kevin’s brows drew together. “No. I mean, I have a lot of work tomorrow, and work early the next day. You know, I’ve got a ton of summer jobs, and I’m trying to cover the full rent, plus the new car . . .”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” Kevin tapped his fingers on the table in thought. “What about dinner beforehand? Then Lori and I will go to the concert.”
“My stove isn’t working,” Natasha blurted out.
“Oh, that sucks.” Lori patted her arm. “You love to cook. How long has it been out?”
“A few days.” The lies were getting out of hand. “The building is providing a new one, but things are kind of a mess, and you know . . . it’s just one more thing.” She gave a little laugh, to imply it was a minor inconvenience, nothing they should worry about. “Why don’t we try the new Thai place down the street from me?”
“Awesome, I love Thai food.” Lori seemed pleased, but Kevin’s expression was unreadable. He opened his mouth, but the waiter appeared with the check, saving Natasha from further questions.
“Let’s split three ways,” Kevin suggested, tossing his credit card down on the tray. Lori added hers, and Natasha bit back a grimace as she placed her debit card on top of the pile. Living like this was going to clean her out. Why the hell hadn’t she insisted on coffee? And why had she just agreed to another dinner?
She took a deep breath. It would be okay. Some of her jobs the next day paid cash, and at least one other check should be showing up as direct deposit any day. She’d been in worse spots before. She just had to make it to the new season. When her paychecks from The Dance Off started rolling in again, she’d be back on her feet.
So long as she kept anyone from finding out she was living with Dimitri. If that happened . . . she’d be out of a job, and out of options.
The only one left would be going back to New York as a failure.
9
The next morning, Natasha pulled into the parking lot behind The Dance Off’s rehearsal space. She was scheduled for a quick promo shoot, which would hopefully bring in money from the show sooner than expected. Proximity to the building pushed her financial concerns from her mind and pushed a different worry to the number-one position: she had to keep Donna and the other staff from finding out she was staying with Dimitri.
Not “living with.” It was temporary. And they weren’t sleeping together—literally or figuratively. It should be totally fine.
Somehow she didn’t think the showrunners would see it that way.
The memory of dancing with Dimitri in his private studio, watching the passion flare between them on video, flashed through her mind. She sucked in a breath and knocked the heel of her hand against the steering wheel. God, he was hot. When he put his hands on her, she melted. All good sense flew out the window. Even her fingernails buzzed with need. It was killing her to stay away from him.
But after what Kevin had told her, it was more important than ever that she stick to her rule.
She grabbed her car keys and purse and headed into the building. This line of thinking was only working her up, and she needed to stay cool around Donna. The woman was like a shark, scenting gossip in the water.
Donna Alvarez was in her tiny, cramped office with the door open halfway. Natasha knocked lightly on the jamb. “Hi, Donna. You have something for me to sign?” Better to get to the point.
Donna looked up from her laptop and smiled. “Oh, hey, Tash. Come on in.”
There was a spare chair on the other side of Donna’s desk. Natasha perched on the edge. God willing, this would be a short visit. Then she could get to hair and makeup, get the shoot over with, and go on with her day. She still had classes to teach in the evening.
“Let me just find it.” Donna opened and closed her desk drawers, shuffled a pile of folders. “How’s your summer going? I noticed you haven’t been posting on Twitter much.”
Mira ese comemierda. Kevin was right. Donna was stalking her social media.
“Busy. I took on a bunch of gigs.”
Donna flipped open a folder, shook her head, and set it aside. “Oh, really? What kind?”
The producer’s tone was mild, politely interested, but it would be stupid to let her guard down around Donna. The woman had a mind like a steel trap and never forgot anything she was told—especially if she could use it against someone later.
“Teaching, mostly. Yoga, spin class, ballet—that sort of thing. A few modeling spots.” She could have been booking higher-paying jobs if her agent weren’t on vacation at the moment, hiking in Canada and largely off the grid.
Donna smirked. “You’ll be in great condition when the next season starts. Just don’t hurt yourself. I need you in fighting shape. Hoping to go two for two.”
Ah. She was hoping Natasha would win. Donna had also been line producer for Gina, who’d just won The Dance Off’s trophy. If Natasha won the next season, Donna’s dancers would win twice in a row. And if there was one thing that could be counted on, it was Donna’s ambition.
It was a bad idea to joke around with her, but curiosity won out. “Does that mean you have a clue about who my next partner will be?”
Donna huffed out a laugh. “You know I can’t tell you that stuff, but I’m working on securing someone for you who will strike the right . . . note.”
Note, huh? Maybe he was a musician or some kind of singer. The singers who joined The Dance Off were usually up-and-comers hoping for an increased fanbase, or aging crooners aiming for a comeback and a leg up with the younger generation. Usually they had pretty good rhythm.
“Aha!” Donna held up a folder in triumph. “Here it is.”
Natasha took the papers and scanned them quickly. She a
nd her agent had already viewed the PDF, but she needed to sign the hard copies. “No other clues?” she asked as she signed, using a pen from the “I (Ballet Slipper) Dance” mug on Donna’s desk.
“If I can get him, he’ll be a better fit than Dwayne Alonzo was. You two will burn up the dance floor.” Donna’s expression turned serious as she accepted the papers Natasha handed back. “But I have to warn you, Tash. After Gina and Stone, there’s a crackdown on fraternizing with the celebs. Sexual chemistry is one thing, but nothing obvious.” She raised her eyebrows and sent a meaningful look across the desk. “I’m just saying.”
Heart pounding, it took all Natasha had to nod calmly. “Understood.”
She didn’t point out that Donna had been instrumental in outing Gina and Stone’s relationship. Didn’t mention that Donna’s own machinations and manipulations had resulted in secret footage of them kissing, when they weren’t mic’d and Gina hadn’t even known they were being filmed.
Gina’s response had drawn sympathy from fans, who’d taken to social media to lambaste the producers and editing team.
But Natasha didn’t mention any of that. Because really, how much worse would it be if she were caught fucking one of the judges?
After she left, she sat through hair and makeup, idly scrolling through apartments in neighborhoods like Sherman Oaks and Glendale on her phone. Nothing jumped out at her, and the activity stressed her out, so she was glad when it was time to enter the largest rehearsal room, where the segment would be filmed.
A camera crew swarmed around a makeshift set with a full lighting setup and backdrop. Donna chatted with a woman Natasha recognized as Vita Schwartz, a host from a Los Angeles morning news show. Natasha greeted the camera crew, stepped around a cluster of PAs, and froze.
Motherfucker!
Of course. She should have fucking known. This day had been going too well.
Dimitri looked up from the small craft services table set up on one side of the room. His face lit with a grin when he saw her. He ambled over to her, his outturned dancer’s walk sexy as hell, his sequined suspenders looking anything but silly on him. They only served to highlight the strong lines of his body, bulkier and taller than most male dancers.