Tony leans into me with a hug. “Let’s just get out of here, babe.”
Hell, no! I worked too damn hard for this. I point to the monstrous crystal chandelier hanging above my head. “I picked out this chandelier, and that sofa, and I designed these stained glass windows.” There is a lone Tiffany lamp on a side table. “And this is my lamp. I bought it when I won Dancing under the Stars two seasons ago.” I rip the plug from the outlet and take my lamp.
Tony stands there, dumbfounded.
I wave the lamp at him. “What happened to let’s get out of here? Move!”
He all but salutes as I charge by him waving my lamp like some crazed majorette in a marching band. We head out the front door and wait for Marina.
And wait for Marina.
And wait for Marina some more.
Well, apparently she had to go to fucking Mexico for my things. I seethe in the front seat of Tony’s SUV. He sits in the driver’s seat, as close to his door as possible. You’d think I had a gun pointed at his head. “Where the fuck is Marishka?”
He shrugs, his lips smiling but his eyes blinking way too much.
After twenty minutes, Diana pops her head out the door.
“Diana!” I jump out the Range Rover and run over to the door. She tries to slam it, but I grab the silk belt on her dress and pull her outside. “I can’t believe you are going to do this to me again. Steal two of my partners? One with your daddy’s money and one with your body! How could you? I even tried to take you under my wing and show you finer things in life.”
“It’s not like that, Vika. First time, yeah maybe, but you and Stas didn’t even have enough money to compete. And now that you’re not with Benny, there’s no way Jared would dance with you. You know that.” She opens the door and attempts to escape into the house. I pull her back again. She looks like a doe-eyed Bambi walking into the lion’s den. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Vika. I really look up to you. I hope we can still be friends.”
Friends? Benny must be giving her his signature Australian Ginger Beer. This poor girl is actually still a virgin. At least I’d been around the block a few times. “Listen to me.” I shake her. “It’s not worth it. I didn’t have choice. My baba and I had no money and I was stripper, for God’s sake. When your dad paid Stas to dance with you, I was screwed. I would have never been able to dance again. I’d still be working at O’Farrell Brothers. And I had to take care of my baba because she was too old to work. You’re rich, you’re on Dancing under the Stars, don’t do it. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
Benny pulls aside the sheer curtain and looks outside through the side window. She motions to him that she’s okay and then takes my hand. “My parents will never support my dancing, not now. They just want me to get married and pop out children. Plus, they’re not even speaking to me right now after they saw the pictures of me drinking with you at ONE Sunset.”
Nice. So now it’s my fault? This girl is unreal.
“I want this so bad, Vika. Benny promised me that we can win Rising Star Pro Smooth next year and then we can win the U.S. National Pro Smooth title in three years. And I’ll still be on the show. I’m not stupid. I know I could never get a partner like Jared. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Look at you.” She gives me a kiss on the cheek and walks back inside. Through the sheer curtain, I can see that Benny puts his arm around her and they head upstairs. It’s like watching a canary flutter into a coalmine. Dead girl walking . . .
Marina walks around the side of the house. She’s rolling two luggage cases with one hand and holding my beloved Cha-Cha in the other. “Cha-Cha!” I cry and run over to her.
Marina trips on a bag but I catch the dog before they both hit the cement. Marina straightens up, no worse for wear. I feel bad for a second, but she knows how much I love my pooch. My baby licks me on the nose. “Oh, Cha-Cha, zhuchka . . .”
“I begged Benny to let you keep her,” Marina said.
I start tearing up. I thought I’d never see Cha-Cha again. “Sbacibo, Marinochka.” I hug her, crushing Cha-Cha into my chest. I pull away and see Marina tearing up, too. Then I get an idea. “Antoshka, milay . . .” I lean over and whisper into Tony’s ear.
“Oh, sure, babe.” He puts his arm around Marina, a big, sloppy, cool dude hug. “Marina, m’dear, how would you like to come work for us?”
She gives Tony a suspicious look. “Well, I’m not sure. I’ve been working with Mr. Benny for ten years.” Smart woman. Trying to hustle Tony. She learned from the best.
I nudge Tony’s ribs but he’s already on it. “I’ll pay you more than Benny does.”
She shakes her head.
“Marishka, there’s Starbucks in the house . . .” I say.
Her lips quiver. “Starbucks?”
“Unlimited Grande White Chocolate Mochas . . .” I tempt. “Beats the nasty flat whites that Benny calls coffee.”
“Okay. I do it.”
“Yes!” I pump my free arm then scoop Cha-Cha to my lips for another licky kiss. Life sucks, then you get your dog and your housekeeper . . .
Tony and Marina discuss the details and I carry Cha-Cha into the Range Rover. She looks up at me with her big brown eyes and blinks. I clean her little wrinkles and kiss her whiskers.
Tony climbs in and starts the car. White Zombie blasts from the speakers.
“See,” he says, “I told you everything would be fine. We’re moving your baba into my guesthouse this weekend. She’ll love it there and it will be good for my boys. They’ll go nuts over her just like I have and they can even learn Russian. You and me, we’re going shopping and you can buy whatever fucking thing you want. That place smelled like a morgue, anyway. Hey, wait a minute.”
He slams on the brakes at the end of the driveway, nearly giving me whiplash, then gets out and rips open the back hatch.
“This fucking thing is gone.” He yanks out my lamp and tosses it into Benny’s prize daisies—or maybe they’re tulips, I don’t know.
“I know a guy who can make you a fucking Tiffany lamp,” he shouts in the window, “whatever colors you want. He can put your fucking initials in it.” He climbs back into the car. “Vika, babe, you have to trust me.”
I lean over and give Tony a long kiss. Benny never would let Baba move in with us. I think she made him feel old since they are the same age. “Thank you Tony. You’re amazing.”
He gives me a giddy grin. “Ya tebya lybly,” he says with the worst Russian accent I have ever heard.
I look at him gob smacked “When did you learn . . .?”
“I asked your baba to teach me how to say I love you. I’ve been waiting to tell you in Russian.” He kisses my head, then screeches the Range Rover out of Benny’s driveway into the afternoon traffic. I crank up “Thunder Kiss ’65” and kick my feet up onto the dash. Ooh, Vika needs a new pedicure . . . We meander our way through the purple Jacaranda trees and under the Jasmine vines.
This time, I don’t feel queasy.
Paso Doble
His back arched and his shoulders broadened. Holding her space, she stretched her chest as he stared her down. She waved her long dress at him like a cape and he stormed toward her. She was not afraid of him. He seized her by the waist and they were off—powering down the floor and marching to the beat. The music crescendoed and the intensity built. They reached their climax and he threw her down. Their battle was far from over.
21
Salomé
WE DID IT!
Dolla and I made it to the Dancing under the Stars finale. God, we may actually win this thing!
The other two couples in the finale are Vika and Tony, and Jenny and Tim. We have to perform three dances next week: a freestyle, our favorite dance from the season, and a group Paso Doble. Today we’re all meeting at the studio to practice our group Paso. It’s not going to be easy. Paso is the man’s dance and all the pros left are women.
I arrive at the studio an hour before anyone. No way in hell am I gonna be late li
ke I was for the fitness video. The whole Perez Hilton scandal thing has blown over a tad. Iza still hasn’t spoken to me since our fight. Not a single word. Even last night, when I congratulated her on being named one of People Magazine’s sexiest reality stars. Nada. She just gave me one of her smiles and walked off the set. Genya acted all calm and collected when he was questioned about it during the release party for the Dancing under the Stars video game. He simply said that yes, he and Iza have ended their engagement and that he and I are long friends and former partners who are just exploring the possibility of competing together again. I’m glad the press bought that story. It’s just too bad Genya’s full of it. That’s the only thing we fight about. I’m never ever competing professionally again but Genya won’t let up. And his mom is worse! Sending me flowers and making my favorite food trying to butter me up like hot blini. I just want to know if Genya is in love with me or only wants to win again.
I turn on some Shakira and warm up. It’s kind of nice having this place all to myself. Shakira’s voice vibrates through my body and I just let myself go. This is what I love, being free and just dancing for me.
“Great moves, Sal.”
I spin to the door behind me. Dolla has arrived with his four-person entourage. They’re all just standing in front of me, staring at the sweat glistening on my body.
“You still game for choreographing my tour?” he says. “It’s gonna be slammin’.” His people disperse around the room, like the secret service. They watch Dolla’s every move, just in case he needs anything.
I grab a towel and wipe myself down. “Absolutely. It’s my dream job.” And it’s my nightmare to tell Genya. But I’ll deal with him later.
Jenny and Tim stroll in, holding hands. Two seconds behind them are Tony and Vika, who can’t keep their hands off each other. God, am I the only professional on this entire show not to hook up with her celebrity?
“Let’s get this party started, people,” Tony says.
Vika prances to the center of the floor with him. Jenny and Tim stand next to her. Jenny gives me a cool look. She’s still a little mad that I didn’t tell her how serious it was with Genya.
“So, Salomé, where do you want us to start?” Vika asks.
Is the queen bee asking for my help? “Why do you assume I’m choreographing it? You’re the two time reigning Dancing under the Stars champion.”
She fluffs out her hair. “True. But it’s paso doble. Benny always does my pasos, and unfortunately he’s tied up with your precious Diana right now. And God knows I’m not going to let Jenny here choreograph our paso. We don’t want to get laughed off a stage. This is Dancing under the Stars, not Stumbling around the Stars.”
Normally, I would tell off Vika and defend Jenny. But this time I laugh. Vika has a point.
Tim slaps his hand over his eyes as Jenny goes off. “Listen, Vika, I did make it to the finale. Salomé didn’t help me with every dance.”
“She’s right—just every Latin dance.” Did I just say that out loud?
Jenny gets in my face. “Fine. Just to show you both that I can choreograph Latin, I’m going to make the solo part for the paso doble all by myself.”
Disaster. “Now’s not the time to prove . . .”
She covers my mouth with her hands. “I don’t need your help, Sal. I can do it alone.”
“Okay, fine,” I say. “But I’m going to do the group part. Only because I’m going to win this thing and I don’t want either of you screwing up my victory with your choreography.” I poke Dolla in the abs then wave them all over. “You guys are on your own for the solo. Dolla, Tony, Tim, get behind me. You’ll totally love the Paso. It’s the man’s dance. You’re bullfighters and we are your capes. This is a dance of aggression. Most important thing is to stand up, strong and tall. Chests out, shoulders back. And when you step forward, you are using a heel lead like in the Standard dances. ¿Comprende?”
None of them say a word. They look scared. Oh, boy . . . “Jen, go grab them some sheets in the back room to use as practice capes, will you?” She runs off, without pausing to question me. Hey there, kinda fun being in charge . . .
I go through some basic steps and the men practice walking. The rock star, the rapper, and the NBA b-baller strut across the floor. Sounds like the beginning of a joke. “Why don’t you gentlemen take your shirts off so I can make sure your shoulders are down?” They obediently get undressed. Damn, this is fun. The guys are very masculine and look totally hot doing this dance.
Dolla struts by me for the fourth time, his butt finally tucked tight and firm. He leans over and whispers in my ear. “You’re so great at this, Sal. You have to do the tour.” Yes, I do. This is a total blast. It’s what I was meant to do. Jen can say what she wants about Dancing under the Stars, but I never would have realized how much I love choreographing if I hadn’t done this show.
“Attack it, Jen! Come on!” I harp. She and Tim face off across the floor. “Pretend he’s me this time.” She shoots eyeball daggers at her partner. “Now we’re talking. Good job, you two.” All the tension in this room is working great for this dance.
Two hours later, we’ve finished with all the group stuff. “That’s good for now. Finish up your solos and I’ll put everything together tomorrow.”
Vika and Tony don’t even break, they just launch right into their solo routine. She’s a Latin champ, so her paso will be fine. It’s Jenny I’m worried about. Dolla and I start fine-tuning our paso. He’s great at the flamenco stuff, no worries there, either. But out of the corner of my eye, I spot Jenny sitting at a side table, studying Walter Laird’s encyclopedia of dance steps, Technique of Latin Dancing. Tim’s in the center of the floor trying to copy Dolla’s steps.
“Awesome, Dolla. Do that again and keep your frame. I’ll be right back.” I take a deep breath then head over to Jenny, stopping momentarily to adjust Tim’s back. “You gotta arch it out, Big Boy. There, that’s it.” I slap his butt and move on. Damn, Jen’s got taste, I’ll give her that . . .
I slip into the chair opposite Jenny. “So . . . need help?”
She doesn’t even look up from her book. “No. I was looking up the name of a step. I’m fine.”
“Oh.” I don’t even know the names of half the steps because I learned them in Russian. I sit there a minute, watching as she flips to the next page then flips back again. Tiny creases appear on her forehead, the kind she gets when she’s just about to throw something. I just hope it’s not that book . . . at me. “Alright, Jen. Enough. I’m sorry, okay?” She closes the book and lays it flat, her hands on top, but she still doesn’t look at me. “I never meant to insult you. Really I didn’t. I’m just stressed out about the finale. You know I don’t mind helping you out.” I reach over then hesitate—afraid she’s going to pull away—before resting my hands on hers. She lets them stay. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the whole truth about Genya. I just wanted some time alone with him before it got out and I had to deal with the press, that’s all. It’s not that I thought you’d tell anyone. Hell, you’d rip your own tongue out before you’d do that, I know. I just wanted to keep it private, just for a couple of days. There’s nothing private in the dance world. Ever.”
She finally looks up at me, the creases gone from her forehead. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that you slept with Genya. And calling me out in front of Vika, Dolla, and especially Tim is a bitchy thing to do.”
“It is.” I nod my head.
“Friends don’t do that to friends.”
“They don’t.” I put on my most solemn face and shake my head side to side.
Jenny points her finger at me. “Salomé Maria Sanchez. Are you ever going to lie to me again?”
She’s so dramatic. I didn’t actually lie to her. Not worth the fight, though. “Never. I swear.” I cross my heart and spit in my palm like every good schoolgirl knows to do. “I’ll tell you everything. I’ll even call you next time we’re in bed and give you a play by play.” I stick out
my hand to shake.
She shoves my hand away. “That’s disgusting! Fine. You’re forgiven.” She finally smiles the old Jenny smile and gives me big hug. “And thank God for it already—Diana needs saving and that’s going to take both of us. She’s been trying out with Jared. She swears she’s not dating Benny, but I don’t know what to believe.”
God, this girl lives for drama. “Don’t worry, we’ll deal with Diana after the finale. For now, throw that fucking book away, will you? I’ll get your paso up to par.” I wiggle my ass and strut toward the dance floor. “Salomé is In. Da. House!”
I parade over to Dolla and take his hand. “It’s a deal. You have yourself a tour choreographer.” I prepare to shake on it but Dolla lifts me in the air and spins me around.
“That’s what I’m talking about girl. It’s going to be fierce. You won’t regret it.”
He’s right. For the first time in my life I’m going to live my life how I want to live it. Not what my partner, my boyfriend, my parents, my coach, or my friends want, but just for me.
22
Vika
BACK AT TONY’S house, we’re working in his studio on our paso and our freestyle. We’ve decided to do a sexy montage to a bunch of Tony’s songs.
“Marishka!” I hit the intercom. “Can you get me another Caramel Mach?”
“Sure,” she hollers back. Cha-Cha lets out a whelp when the psychotic whir of an espresso machine rips through the intercom before the connection cuts out.
Cha-Cha is having as much of a blast here as Marina is. Tony’s boys love my dog and she spends most of her day barking at the koi. She’s curled up on the couch right now being licked by Tony’s Rottweiler, Harley. My girl is such a pillow queen.
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