“Thanks, Jen.”
“Will the couples in Heat One of the Closed Professional United States Latin Championship please make their way to the on-deck area?” a voice with a British accent beckoned over the intercom.
Selena fluffed out her extensions and ran out into the hallway.
“Selena!” Dima yelled from inside the ballroom.
Selena raced into the ballroom and stood by his side. He kissed her on the forehead. She took a second to straighten the number on his back. Facing the audience, her gaze swept the room randomly—until it zeroed-in on Bret, standing by the bar with a beer in his hand. He wore a beautiful black suit and a conservative blue tie that matched his eye color. Looking like a shiny boot in the sea of rhinestones dresses and flashy suits surrounding him, he didn’t seem to care how out of place he was in her world of glitter and glam, a world that used to be part of his daily life.
He stared off somewhere to the left, and her eyes blurred on him. Why was he suddenly everywhere? And why was she always the last to know?
Many years ago, she and Bret had won this competition together, her first big win. So far, no other night had been able to rival the elation she experienced on that one. The more time passed, the more she reminisced about that night and wondered if that had been the happiest night of her life. She had achieved her goal with the man she loved and they had a bright future planned together. More importantly, she had felt safe and secure, a feeling she was grasping at to get back.
A sharp tug at her hand and an even sharper glare from Dima brought Selena back to the present. Dima was her partner now, her life, even if they weren’t romantically involved. She needed to push Bret out of her mind so she could win. After all, she had sacrificed her soul and happiness to become a champion.
She took one last look Bret’s way, hoping maybe he had vanished. But their eyes met. Bret winked at her. Selena grinned back. She knew she had to dance her heart out tonight to show Bret how far she’d come as a dancer. Maybe then he’d realize she had made the right decision, many years ago, to leave him and her heart behind.
Hustle
The couple walked on the floor, hand in hand. For once, they were equals. He smoothly guided her through the steps, his lead gentle, never pulling, nor pushing. She loved it. Perfectly in balance, she spun around him. Their steps flowed together, continuously moving across the floor. She anchored him and he twirled under her arms. They swapped hands and he lifted her over his head, showing his beautiful partner off to the audience. With him supporting her, she was able to fly.
Chapter Five
So far, the competition hadn’t been as painful as Bret had thought it would be. He’d run into some of his mom’s students, and the producers filmed a segment with him talking about being at his first competition in over ten years. It wasn’t dodging land mines in the desert, that was for sure.
Bret clutched his beer bottle and headed into the ballroom for the final round. The bright lights reflected off the rhinestones, blinding him. After he regained his sight—his eyes fell on Selena in the on-deck area.
Dima came from behind her and took her hand. The eleven judges strutted around the floor in formation like Marines in boot camp. The lady judges displayed no emotion, probably from all that Botox they were always shooting their faces up with. The sweat-filled room reeked of fake tanning spray and ripe feet.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said. “We are now going to proceed with the final round of the Open Professional International Latin Championship. The judges have recalled the following six couples to the final round. From California, Couple 187—Dmitri Volkov and Selena Marcil.”
The crowd erupted in applause. Dima led her to the floor and Selena’s eyes scanned the audience, landing on Bret. It was like she could feel his intense stare always landing back on her. She wore a yellow-fringed dress that was open on the side, revealing her perfectly toned body. A far cry from the conservative black dresses she used to compete in when they were teens.
Bret sat down at a round table, and surveyed the crowd. Never did he think he’d be back at a dancing competition, sitting amongst the spectators, pretending that he hadn’t once been part of the show. How could he never have seen how gaudy this whole scene was? Both female and male dancers committed immigration fraud and married dancers they didn’t love just to stay in America. Older women paid tens of thousands of dollars on costumes and lessons to compete with younger professional male dancers. Think of how much good that money could do for injured Marines and their struggling families. The whole dance world made him sick.
This time it would be different. Instead of heartache and broken toes, Bret planned to leave the season with enough money to change the life of his friend’s family. After another swig of his beer, he relaxed in his seat. It was show time.
“From California, Couple 201—Jared Brooks and Viktoria Volkova Brooks.”
Bret spat out his beer. Benny and Karen’s son was Benny’s latest wife’s partner? Vika was Jared’s step-mom, for God’s sake. It was worse than any daytime soap opera Bret’s ex-girlfriend had forced him to watch. This type of incestuous couplings was one of the many reasons that Bret left this world without looking back many years ago. Not even his love of Selena had made him want to stay.
“From New York, Couple 216—Ricardo Mancini and Elizabeth Young,” the announcer said and then called three more couples to the floor.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s put those hands together for our Open Professional International Latin Championship Finalists. Congratulations, competitors. And places for your first dance. The Cha-Cha-Cha. Music, please.”
The beat of a cha-cha song filled the room and Selena brightened. She swirled her hips, flashing her thighs. Dima’s jaw went firm; his back straightened like a pole. He gave her a fierce animalistic look, grabbed her hand, and they glided into their routine.
Selena started with a simple cha-cha lock, into fan, as she flirted with the audience. She embraced Dima and draped her arms around his neck, then ran her hands slowly up and down his chest as she did lightning-fast swivels. Dima threw her down into a deep split while caressing her legs. Bret had been away from ballroom for so many years, but he could still appreciate how sharp and connected Dima and Selena were. Every inch of their bodies, every step of their feet, every flick of their toes and every arm movement were perfectly in synch.
Dima pushed Selena into another deep split and then lifted her up to his lips. Bret’s breathing got shallow, quick. She was so alive, on fire, in her element. Maybe she had been right many years ago, choosing dancing over him. Watching her out there, seducing the judges, dancing as if on air—it was clear she belonged on the dance floor. Bret was glad he’d left the lights behind. Joining the Marines was the best choice he had ever made. He didn’t want this life, the lifestyle of the famous. And, she’d made it clear that she didn’t want his.
Bret studied Selena’s face, looking for where the performance stopped and the real feelings for Dima began. When the song was over, she pushed Dima’s face away. But maybe that was just part of the choreography. Bret clenched his fist—why did he even care whether Selena and Dima were in a relationship or if their affection was just an act for the cameras?
Seeing Selena compete took Bret’s thoughts back to his childhood. His parents were ballroom champions, and Bret had grown up on the competition circuit. They had forced him to dance, but Bret had never really enjoyed it. As a kid, it was exciting, traveling around the world like gypsies. But deep down he’d always wanted something stable. The kind of life he had imagined the other kids had. Boring, predictable. Normal. Play little league, join Boy Scouts, try out for the football team. When the kids at school discovered that instead of spending his free time playing video games and throwing eggs at houses, he was dancing, that's when he learned what it was to be a target. Fag. Sissy. Girl. The taunts never had let up. But he’d been willing to endure the teasing, for Selena.
After she’d left him, he
had turned all his focus to the Corps. He became a different man. And that man had vowed never to step on the dance floor again. On the other hand, that man now had a plan. One season of this show and he'd get the money he needed to fulfill a promise to his best friend—a man who had saved Bret’s life. It seemed like a small sacrifice.
“The Cha-Cha-Cha. Thank you, competitors.”
Dima presented Selena to the audience and judges. The crowd exploded.
“Who’s your favorite couple out there, Ladies and Gentlemen?”
“Couple 187!” someone yelled.
“And places for your next dance. Ladies and Gentlemen, samba, please.”
It had only begun, but Selena was on fire.
……………………….
An hour later, all the competitors were lined up in the on-deck area. They’d run through the samba, rumba, paso doble, and jive. During the applause, Bret had left the table and went to the back of the ballroom to get another beer.
“And the results of the Professional International Latin Dancesport Championships are as follows: Ladies and Gentlemen, our runners-up. Placing second in cha-cha, third in samba, second in rumba, second in paso doble, and second in jive: From California, couple 201, Jared Brooks and Viktoria Volkova Brooks.”
Jared kissed his stepmother on the cheek and she giggled. Bret was grateful that when his own father had remarried, his new wife wasn’t as young and sexy as Vika was.
“And Ladies and Gentlemen, placing first in all dances, your Open Professional United States International Latin Champions: From California, couple 187, Dmitri Volkov and Selena Marcil.” Selena jumped up and down, and kissed Dima on the lips. An ache twisted in Bret’s stomach.
Spinning four times, the couple bowed and thanked the crowd. Selena took her place for the event photo. The competition organizer handed her a dozen red roses and their check for the prize.
The night winded down quickly as the spectators milled around the ballroom, saying their goodbyes. The judges had vacated their posts. Reporters wandered the room, searching for any available dancers.
Bret made his way over to the floor.
Wrapping herself in a robe, Selena withdrew from the crowd, Benny following her.
Bret gazed at Selena and finished his beer. Dima posed for pictures, which was fine by Bret. He didn’t know what he would say to Dima when they would finally meet again.
“Congrats, Sel. I’m glad I came to watch.”
Selena beamed, still short of breath. “Thanks, Bret.” She leaned forward, planting a light kiss on his cheek.
She was sweaty and her hair was wild. Bret grinned, looking down, not wanting her to see his face. He’d always liked her like this.
“Well, I hate to cut this rip snorter of a party short,” Benny said, “but we’ve just confirmed your assignments. Your celebrity partners want to meet tomorrow. Sorry for the short notice, but this show business thing is highly unpredictable, isn’t it?” He opened his jacket and handed paperwork to Selena and Bret.
“San Francisco?” Selena asked, looking up at Bret.
“Marin, actually. You and Bret are paired with a bloke and his Sheila. I can’t tell you their names, but they’re icons.”
Marin, of course. Benny was sending Bret and Selena to their hometown, where they’d fallen in love so many years ago.
Selena shook her head. “We start tomorrow? I only packed for the competition.”
“Sorry, luv. We just got word that they have to start training early because they both have a charity commitment and need to take the following week off when you were supposed to start. They’re expecting you both tomorrow evening.”
Selena stood there, blotting her head with a towel, the self-tanner staining the fabric. “But there’s no flight assignments, just an address. What time is our flight?”
Benny gave a big grin, his grey eyebrow inching up like a worm. Bret knew that look from years ago.
“Well, Selena. That’s a great question. You’ll be gobsmacked. Bret, Selena, please step outside.”
Bret took a deep breath. He was used to Benny’s games but didn’t have a clue what he was planning.
Benny signaled to the film crew and led everyone outside of the hotel.
The etched glass doors spread. A lifted, shiny, silver Ford truck stood there in all its glory. It had all the bells and whistles, a huge grill, custom rims, and bright, shiny headlights.
Benny handed Bret the keys. “Bret, m’boy. This is your new truck! Courtesy of Ford. They’ve donated it to you as a welcome gift for our American Hero!”
Bret’s jaw dropped. “Are you messing with me?” He stood there in awe of the truck. He didn’t deserve this, and definitely didn’t want to owe anyone anything. The only reason he had agreed to go on this show was to raise money for Pierce’s family—not to be showered with gifts that he hadn’t earned.
“Too right!” Benny opened the truck’s door.
This was unreal. Bret wondered what price he would have to pay for this gift. This Ford Raptor was Bret’s dream truck. It had to be worth at least sixty thousand dollars. His stomach ached. How could they just throw money at him? He wouldn’t, couldn’t accept this “gift” when his men were struggling to make ends meet while risking their lives.
“It’s very generous, Benny, but I can’t accept this. It’s too expensive. My truck is perfectly fine,” he said, the video camera just inches from his face. His ten-year-old basic model GMC Sierra, needed new brake pads and a fresh coat of paint but it was paid off and still ran.
Benny signaled the cameras to shut off. “Okay, so the deal is, Ford is sponsoring the show, and giving you the truck. In exchange, we are giving them free advertising.”
“Out of the question. I won’t take it.”
Selena butted in. “Bret, take the truck. You don’t really have a choice. Ford is one of our sponsors.”
Bret’s face warmed. He wouldn’t be backed into a corner. “I refuse.”
Benny put his arm around Bret. “Mate, you can always sell the ‘ute. We can even do an auction after the season for charity. But you have to ride in it.”
“If I have no choice. . .” his voice trailed off, wondering how they would manipulate him next.
“Attaboy. There’s one more thing. They want to film you both traveling in the truck.”
“Us both? What does this have to do with Selena?” Bret’s voice dropped.
“Well, mate, no one knows you yet. Selena’s our star! It’s just one road trip. For your dead mate.” Benny winked at Selena.
So now they were going to throw Pierce in his face every time he didn’t do what they asked?
“Road trip? Tonight? I have to stop in Los Angeles to get my clothes.” Selena bit her lip.
“You two can work out the details. There’s a camera in the back of the truck that will record your trip. Have a great night.” Benny gave them both a final handshake and sauntered back inside the hotel.
It was too late to go back. Bret had signed the contract earlier knowing full well what Benny was capable of. “Well, I guess we’re leaving tonight.”
“I can’t believe we have to drive there,” she said. Her brow was furrowed like it was the craziest thing ever.
His own forehead crinkled with amusement. “Why?”
“Well…because.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I mean, no one drives. They arrange first-class seats, and then a limo picks us up. No one drives.”
“Well, maybe a nice, peaceful drive isn’t your thing, but it’s mine. Especially in this truck. I don’t need a plane ticket, and I sure as hell don’t need first class.”
A thinly painted eyebrow rose while her eyes narrowed. “You’re saying I’m high-maintenance?”
Bret snorted a laugh, holding his hands up in protest. “Hey, I never said that, did I? I haven’t seen you in ten years. But from what I read in the magazines—yeah—I’d say you seem like a diva.”
Her mouth pouted but her eyes twinkled. “Okay, fi
ne. I can handle a peaceful drive. As long as we can stop tonight at my place so I can get my stuff.”
“We can. But only if you don’t try filling up the back of my truck with all your fancy luggage.”
Selena’s gaze hovered to the left, and Bret saw Dima walk by the lobby with a group of girls. Her eyes darkened and she whipped her head back with a shrug and a tiny smile. “I’ll have the bellman bring it all down, and you’ll see for yourself.”
“Never mind the bellman. Just give me your room number, and I’ll go get it.”
Selena’s mouth opened but she didn’t answer him.
“What, Selena? Are you on some secret celebrity floor? Do I need a special key?”
“No. It’s not that. Are you sure you don’t want me to call the bellman?”
He frowned. “Why do I need some other guy to grab stuff I can carry myself?”
Selena lit up and smiled. “I know. It's just . . . never mind. It’s room 1014.”
Bret fondled his new keys. “I need to run home and pack. I’ll meet you at your hotel room in two hours.”
Selena turned toward the elevator. Bret climbed into his truck and turned the stereo on. Caressing the leather steering wheel, Bret flicked on the headlights. He roared the engine. He would enjoy this gift for the season and could sell it for his buddy’s family if Bret didn’t last long on the show. He just had no desire to spend eight hours holed up in a steel box with the woman who broke his heart.
Chapter Six
Bret would be knocking on her door any second. Selena tossed her clothes into her suitcase. The drive from San Diego to Marin would be eight hours, at least. Would he want to drive all night? Stay at her house in L.A? It was already dark out.
Dima was still downstairs, probably flirting with his fans. She debated texting him that she had to leave but decided to write a note instead.
Dima,
Benny said I have to take off to San Francisco tonight to meet my celebrity. I’ll call you tomorrow.
Love Waltzes In (Dancing Under The Stars) Page 4