by Emmy Grace
“Wow, that long? Because you’re pretty old.”
He slides a disdainful look over to me. “Since I’m not that much older than you, then we both must be ancient.”
“But only one of us acts that way.”
“And the other acts like a toddler.”
My lip pushes out into a pout, which probably doesn’t help my case. “I do not.”
I fold my arms over my chest, also not helping.
He takes in my stance, amusement flickering briefly in his pale eyes. “No, not at all,” he says pointedly.
“I blame you. You bring out the worst in me.”
“Maybe. But I also bring out the best.” His eye twitches, leaving me to wonder if he was going to wink, but reconsidered.
“How do you figure?”
“Since meeting me, you’ve come a long way in this community. Solving murders, making friends in high places. Technically, you got to meet your childhood idol, all because of me.”
“She’s dead.”
He shrugs. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“You’re impossible. You know that, right?”
“Then we make the perfect pair, because you are, too.”
“Only with you,” I grumble as I open the door and free-fall to the paved parking lot.
I slam the door, which feels really nice at the moment, and stomp off toward the theater entrance. By the time I reach the door, my head is light again. I pause and lean against the jamb for just a second.
“You sure you’re okay?”
I jump like a scared cat when Liam’s deep voice sounds, like, an inch from my ear.
“How many times have I told you to stop sneaking up on me? I’m gonna have to start carrying two sets of clean underwear anytime I leave the house with you.”
Okay, that was probably too much information, but I’m off-kilter, so I give myself a free pass.
“I didn’t sneak. I got out and walked right behind you. Maybe if you hadn’t charged off like a juggernaut you’d have heard me.”
“Excuses, excuses,” I breathe, pushing myself upright in the doorway. “Where is this peg leg guy?”
“One-Legged Jack, and his office is just inside and to the left.”
I go through the door and turn left. There’s only one other door I see, so I head for it. It’s narrower than a standard size door and looks more like a janitor’s closet.
I knock on it and, when it swings open, I see that’s exactly what it was. And sort of still is. It’s a janitor’s closet with a small metal desk shoved into one corner. On the desktop is a single crook-necked lamp, shining down onto an open book.
“Can I help you?” asks a raspy smoker’s voice.
The man standing in the doorway is reed-thin with flyaway gray hair and day-old scruff on his sunken cheeks. His eyes are dark, but they sparkle with more life than I would’ve expected from a guy named One-Legged Jack.
“Yes, sir. My name is Lucky Boucher and I’d like to ask about—”
“Come in, come in,” he says cheerfully, opening the door as wide as it can go so I can squeeze past. I glance back to see if Liam is following, and almost laugh out loud when I see him duck his large body into the tiny room. “Liam, ma boy. How ya been?”
“Doing just fine, sir. How about you?”
“Oh, can’t complain. At least the shark left me my other leg.”
I gasp and glance down at his baggy pant legs. As if he knows what I’m thinking, One-Legged Jack jerks up the material on the right side, revealing a metal, skeletal lower leg. “Is that what happened? A shark bit it off?”
He laughs a wheezy laugh that has me grinning before I even look up to meet his eyes. “As of today, that’s exactly what happened.”
“As of today?”
“Yep. I like to tell a different tale each day. Keeps ma mind sharp.” He taps his temple.
I can’t help smiling. Clearly, this man is a character.
He turns to Liam. “Ah, it’s been, what, ten years or better since I seen ye, Liam. How’s life been treating you since—”
“The farm keeps me busy,” he interrupts before quickly changing the subject. “My friend here needs to speak with you about theater availability. She—”
“I know who she is. Already got a call about it.”
“From whom?”
“You know who.” His eyes crinkle at the corners.
I’m the one who fills in the blank hovering in the room. “Felonious.”
He nods once. “She’s got it all set up for you. Promotion, too, I would guess.”
“Promotion?”
I feel faint.
He nods again. “Flyers were sent to the printers first thing this morning, I’m told.”
“Flyers?”
“Enough to cover every window on Main Street, sounds like.”
Now I really do feel queasy.
“She…she didn’t tell me that.”
“You didn’t think she’d let you pay up in private, now, did you?”
“Silly me, but yeah.”
“You’ll learn her soon enough.”
I would say I hope I don’t have to, but as long as I continue indulging this particular passion of mine, I’ll probably need her help from time to time. And for that, I’ll pay a price.
I do my best to shake off the surge of stage fright that’s locking up my insides like five o’clock traffic in New York City. “I guess I’d better get this practice in while I can then. Is it okay if my…partner and I meet here tonight and run through the routine a couple of times?”
“Sure, sure. I’ll be here. Come any time.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Always good to see new life come to the theater.”
I don’t reply to that, just make my way to the door and dart out where I can take a deep breath without bumping into a wall.
Liam is right on my heels. “Feeling a little anxious?”
I whirl around and smack right into his chest. I don’t let that stop me, though. I just take a step back and jab my finger at it. “If you don’t stop picking on me, I’m liable to…to…”
“Shoot me?” he offers. “Or at least try to shoot me?”
He’s holding in a laugh. I can tell.
“I’m liable to make you dance with me.”
Even in the lower light of the theater vestibule, I see some of the color leech out from underneath his tan. At that, I turn on my heel and continue toward the exit.
And I smile the whole way.
14
Regina tries to talk me into wearing something pretty and flowing and sexy.
“It’s a practice run for one of the most humiliating nights of my life. Wearing a dress isn’t going to make it any better.”
“Not with that attitude, it won’t.”
“You’re not helping.”
“No, but I’m trying. Gotta give me an A for effort.”
“Who came up with that saying? Because it makes no sense. Shouldn’t it be E for effort?”
“No, you get an A in the category of effort for doing a great job. A for effort.”
“Oh. Duh.”
Regina pats my arm sweetly. “It’s okay. Your brain is on Cruz DiSpirito. It’s sort of like being on crack, but prettier.”
“I don’t care about Cruz. I just really don’t want to do this. I’m not feeling great.”
“Then call Felonious. Ask her if you can—”
I hold up my phone to show Regina the text I got right after Liam dropped me back at my house.
“‘Don’t even think about backing out’,” Regina reads aloud. “Oh. I guess you can’t.”
With all the drama befitting of an actress, I throw up my arms and collapse onto the bed. “How do I get myself into these messes?” I mumble into the comforter.
“I have no idea what you just said, but it probably isn’t helpful, so why don’t you just get up and change clothes, and get this over with?”
“You just want to see Cr
uz DiSpirito. You don’t care about me.”
“Still can’t understand you.”
I lift my head. “Why do I have to change clothes? What I’m wearing is fine.”
“You’re not even wearing pants, Lucky.”
I roll over and glance down. Sure enough, I’m still in my boyshorts. I sit up and slump over my thighs. “I think those weight loss pills are messing with me, Regina. Something’s not right.”
“Did you—”
“Yes, I read the insert. Yes, I did as directed. I only took one dose, but…” I swipe at my mouth, which feels heavy and droopy.
“You’re not having an allergic reaction, are you?” She looks mildly alarmed.
“No, not after all this time. I took them before lunch.”
“I don’t know what to tell you then. Push through? Buck up, camper? No pain, no gain?”
“No. Just…no.”
I go through the motions of putting on real pants, albeit yoga pants, and a fresh t-shirt and I let Regina drive me to the theater. Cruz is already there, sitting in the front row, staring at the stage like it holds the answers to every mystery in the universe.
“You ready for this?” I ask when I stop at the end of the row.
He doesn’t even turn toward me. “I am.”
“This is my friend, Regina, by the way.”
“Is she the director you mentioned?”
“No, he isn’t here. He may not be coming.”
“Are you referring to me?”
Liam’s voice comes from about three rows back. I don’t startle as violently as usual, but it’s enough to make my stomach seize a little. “That’s it!” I bark. “Regina, remind me to get a bell for him.”
“A bell?”
“Yes. Just like the one I had to get for Mr. Jingles.”
“Who’s Mr. Jingles?” Cruz asks.
“My French bulldog. He’s a ninja dog who sneaks up on all my other animals and scares them half to death. So I got a bell for him. Just like I’m going to have to do for this big beast,” I explain with a flick of my wrist toward Liam.
“Big beast?” Liam repeats.
“All your animals?” Cruz asks. “How many do you have?”
Simultaneously, Liam and Regina answer before I can. “Don’t ask.”
Ignoring them all, I walk over to the stairs that lead up onto the stage. A single light flicks on, and for a few seconds, I actually feel like I’m in the movie. It’s exactly like it happens to Baby.
I hold a hand up to shield my eyes as I try to look past the light to see who’s controlling it. I see the skinny arm of One-Legged Jack waving at me.
I wave back.
A flush of heat bursts up into my face and I pull my t-shirt away from my chest. “God, that’s hot. Phew!”
“Guess you better get up there,” Regina says to Cruz. A few seconds later, I pick him up in my peripheral vision. A few seconds after that, I hear the music from the scene we’re doing drift up from the front row. No doubt Regina pulled it up on her phone. I totally forgot about having the music.
From my right, Cruz speaks. “Do you know this well enough to do a run-through?”
“I’ve seen it six hundred and seventy thousand times. I’m ready if you’re ready.”
“I was Johnny in my high school drama production of Dirty Dancing. I’m ready.”
Then Cruz is at my side, turning me to face him, gripping my waist with his hands. His face is brightly illuminated by the spotlight.
One-Legged Jack is clearly in cahoots with Felonious.
It only takes me a few seconds to fall into Cruz’s stare. Into this role. It’s like he’s Johnny and I’m Baby.
I’m Baby!
I didn’t bother to tell Felonious that this was one of my favorite movies growing up. If I weren’t feeling so weird, this would probably be like a dream come true for me.
Cruz takes my right hand in his, and then bends me backward to sweep me from right to left in a wide arc. When he pulls me up straight, he pauses, just like in the movie, to kiss the tip of my nose. Then he moves around behind me, tugging my left arm up and around his neck, and trails his fingers down my side.
I can’t help it, but I flinch and giggle.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Ticklish.”
Cruz doesn’t miss a beat. It’s like he didn’t even hear me.
In perfect time with the beat, he spins me out and snaps me back into that strong-armed position for the next part of the dance. I nearly lose my grip on his hand, but Cruz isn’t having any of that. He tightens his fingers around mine and leads me, step by step, through the rest of the routine.
It’s probably very helpful that he’s got excellent rhythm. And that he’s done this before. Otherwise, the whole thing would’ve been a train wreck.
We spin and dance and step and move, and he picks me up and swings me around like a pro. Regina, having seen this part as many times as I have if not more, squeals at the exact right time, making me feel even more like I’m in the movie.
When it’s time in the song, Cruz hops down off the stage and comes dancing back, just like Patrick Swayze did in the movie, only minus the legion of dancers behind him. But in my head, they’re all there. And I’m Baby. And he’s Johnny. And he’s coming for me.
I can only hope it’s all happening in reality like it is in my head. If it is, I might have a new career ahead of me.
My stomach clenches when Cruz stops and nods at me. I know what that nod means.
Since there isn’t a horde of dirty dancers to help me off the stage, I race to the stairs at stage left and race back to where Cruz is. I run and run and run like Forrest Gump, and just when I reach Cruz DiSpirito, I jump, flinging my arms out to the side like I’m on the front of the Titanic.
What I wasn’t expecting is the forward momentum. Like I’m going to keep right on going, and land face-first on the very unforgiving floor of the theater. Reflexively, I scream and all my limbs fold in toward the only stable thing I can find to hold onto.
Cruz DiSpirito’s head.
I’m on him like that spider-legged thing from Alien, and I’m not letting go. All I can see is the ground that I’m trying desperately not to smash my nose into.
For a few seconds, it looms closer like Cruz is tipping over backward, so I monkey crawl around onto his shoulder, digging my feet into his side and clawing at his shoulders with my fingers.
I keep hearing muffled exclamations, but I don’t have the brain space to decipher them. I just want my feet on solid ground.
Finally, some minutes later (or it could be as much as four hours, I can’t tell), hands are extracting me from Cruz DiSpirito’s head and I’m being cradled against a chest until I relax and unfold.
“Are you insane?” Cruz is yelling at me. It takes me a few seconds to figure out why. But then I see a streak of blood seeping through the white material of his Johnny shirt. “You scratched me.”
“Oh. Sorry,” I offer lamely.
My feet are on the ground now, but Liam is still holding me loosely against him. From my right comes Regina’s excited voice. “Do it again! Do it again!”
“No way,” Cruz is quick to say.
“Oh, come on, Cruz,” Regina says with a familiarity that she could only dream of. “Don’t be a wuss.”
“She clawed me!”
“I’m sure you’ve had worse. We’ve all seen some of your girlfriends.” Regina nods knowingly.
At that, Cruz’s lips twist up into an arrogant, misogynistic smile. “In the bedroom, they can’t help themselves.”
“That’s what I thought. So sack up and go again. She’ll be ready this time, won’t you, Lucky?”
Regina widens her eyes at me, nodding. She’d probably cut my throat right now if I didn’t agree.
“Uh, yeah. I’ll be ready.”
I don’t sound convincing at all. In fact, if I were Cruz I’d probably run away and never come back. There’s a fair-to-middlin’ chance that I’ll dig a trench in his face
if it gets in my way again. Not intentionally, of course, but being lifted into the air is much more unnerving than I would’ve expected. No wonder Baby had so much trouble with it.
Dirty Dancing was legit!
“Okay, then. Positions,” she says with a clap of her hands. I’m thinking that Regina might come out of this with a new career, too.
Me, not so much.
Cruz and I lumber back onto stage and get ready to try again. We make it through the whole magical process again, right up until the lift. Now I’m nervous, so when I jump, I jump at a flatter angle, which causes him not to be able to lift me up as high. My low belly slams right into his face. Reflexively, I fold at the hip, sending me headfirst down Cruz’s back. My face cheek hits his butt cheek, and my arms shoot out to wrap around his waist and hold on for dear life. My feet are kicking and flailing for balance, and somehow, as he tries to disentangle himself from me, Cruz ends up turned around. When he stops and barks at me to be still, his face is buried in my crotch as mine is in his.
There is absolute silence around us. Regina must’ve shut off the music. That or it just died, kinda like I want to do right about now. All I can hear is my own heavy breathing and the twitter of my best friend’s ill-concealed laughter.
After a few seconds, I hear a deep command. “Let her go. I’ve got her.”
And then Liam is peeling me off Cruz DiSpirito’s front and turning me right side up. He sets me on my feet and I push the hair out of my eyes in time to see the hottest actor on the planet glaring at me. “You’re impossible. I’m done for tonight.”
He walks off and doesn’t look back.
“But what about tomorrow night?” I call after him.
“I’ll suffer through that one more time. For Serena. Until then, I don’t want to see you.”
Regina, Liam, and I stand around for another few seconds before I break the tense silence. “That went well.”
Another short pause and then Regina bursts out laughing. “Thank God I got the whole thing on video.”
I glance at my friend in astonishment. “You what?”
“Trust me. You’re gonna want proof of that one day.”
I cringe a little. “Was it that bad?”
“Actually, it was great. Until the lift.”