Bret narrowed his eyes and his voice deepened. “Back up, Dima. You don’t want to fight me.”
“Don’t tell to me what to do!” Dima then cursed in Russian and flew at Bret, but Bret threw Dima down and had him in a headlock faster than Selena could say cha-cha. Dima’s scrawny legs were kicking in the air like a psycho Popeye cartoon. It would almost be funny if Selena wasn’t sure Dima was about to die.
“Dimichka! Dimichka!” Vika screamed. “Somebody do something!”
Eric, Ricardo, and Jared were on it. They dove in and yanked Dima and Bret apart, successfully ending the combat. Then, after only a second of peace, Dima sucker punched Bret. Bret round-house kicked him in face and blood gushed from Dima’s nose. The referees broke it up again. Like two snarling dogs, Dima and Bret had to be pulled to opposite sides of the room.
This was crazy. Selena couldn’t help but think that this was all her fault. “Break time!” she chirped and then ran to the ladies lounge, with Jenny and Elizabeth in pursuit.
When the girls got in there, they found Selena sprawled out on the sofa in the lounge, tears splattered on her face. “If this gets out to the press, Bret’s so gonna get eliminated this week,” Selena cried. Dima had a huge fan base and she was certain the tabloids would blame Bret. They’d probably publish articles and say he had PTSD—the media’s excuse any time a military member got into any type of altercation.
Jenny hugged her. “I wish I could be that lucky. I can’t take another week of Dion.” Elizabeth glared at her. “Sorry, right. This is about Selena.”
Elizabeth turned back to Selena. “Maybe they will send Dima home instead. His new celebrity sucks. I saw them dance yesterday and she can’t do a single rumba walk. Then you guys can just go back to practicing for Blackpool.”
Jenny eyed Selena.
Blotchy Selena looked up at Elizabeth and decided to confess. “That’s the thing. I’m not going to Blackpool this year.”
“What?” Elizabeth blurted. She dropped to Selena’s side and looked like she was gonna faint. “You finaled last year? Are you insane?” she asked.
Selena took a big breath. “Dima and I had been fighting, like, every day during practice. He actually flew up to San Francisco and said we should get back together and get married so it would look good to the judges! I told him after Blackpool we could see if we could reconnect as a couple. Maybe take a break after this season.” Elizabeth sucked in her breath. “But he totally flipped out. Dima wants everything his way. He said he never wanted to have children ever. So I told him that I would never get back together with him and the next day he called and ended our partnership.”
Jenny pounded the couch with a wicked fist, even though she already knew that Dima and Selena were broken up. “I told you that he never wanted to settle down. This stress of living under the spotlight is killing our souls.”
Elizabeth grabbed Selena by the shoulders, half hugging her and half shaking her. “Don’t worry, hun. Dima’s just stressed out. Once this season is over, you guys can work this out. Everything will be okay.”
Selena looked at Elizabeth, her eyes clearly questioning. She nodded and hugged her, but inside she felt like crap. She wanted to tell her that she didn’t want Dima back—that she was already planning her life with Bret. But she was afraid it would leak to the press. She felt comfort knowing that Jenny would never tell anyone that she was with Bret.
Sitting up, Selena wiped her eyes and gave her friends a weak smile. She joined in on a group hug, and then walked out of the lounge. Bret waited for her by the door.
“Sorry, Sel,” he said. “Dima’s just such a jerk. He had it coming.” He leaned in to kiss her.
“No.” She leaned away. “Not like this. I want this to be right. We need to wait until the season is over or Dima is kicked off. I don’t want to cause tabloid scandal. Don’t worry, it’ll be worth it.” She kissed his cheek and walked away, leaving Bret standing at the doorway to the woman’s bathroom, alone, Selena’s head spinning.
Jenny was right. Everything had changed. Here she’d spent ten years pushing Bret out of her mind and now she thought about him every second, and Dima had resorted to acting like a self-righteous tyrant. It was crazy. Way crazy.
Eric walked over to Selena and handed her a bottle of FIJI water. “Hey girl, everything alright in there? I just got everyone in the studio to calm down. Dima and Bret aren’t talking but they’re not beating on each other anymore, thank God, so at least we can get moving again.”
Selena swore she could kiss the man. She took a big gulp of water instead. “Thanks, Eric. Seriously. I was just shaken up but it’s all good.”
Eric snapped his fingers and pointed two finger guns at Selena. “Anything for the best choreographer in the world.”
“Aww. You’re so sweet.” Selena couldn’t resist. She had to tell Eric that she saw him in San Francisco. “Hey Eric. I know this is absolutely none of my business and you don’t have to tell me anything, but I saw you in San Francisco. At the airport.” She nodded her head, trying to get a reaction out of him. “With your student?”
Eric didn’t even flinch. “Oh that. It was nothing. We were just goofing around.” He winked and sauntered away. “Eh, yo, Mickey, kick them strobe lights on, will ya? And gimme some Rob Base. We got some dancin’ ta do!”
Maybe Selena had overreacted. Ballroom dancers were overly affectionate with each other. She had probably just been so stressed about Dima that she read something into that kiss that wasn’t there. Well, she hoped so, for Nicole and their baby’s sake.
Selena glanced at Bret across the room. He winked at her, then mouthed, “I love you.” Then the strobes kicked in and the room exploded in old school base.
Everything had changed. But instead of feeling happy, Selena’s gut wrenched. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Dima and Bret’s fight was only a precursor of the drama too come.
Official Press Release
Ten stars light up the dance floor when Dancing under the Stars returns for a spectacular seventeenth season.
Ten celebrities - five men and five women -- attempt to outshine one another on the seventeenth season of the hit series Dancing under the Stars. The Season Seventeen cast includes some of our most lauded stars yet: two Grammy Award winners, an Emmy award winner, a Playmate of the Year, two Olympic Gold medalists, and the NBA's current Man of the Year.
Today, the producers are revealing the names of the first five celebrities on the show. The remaining stars will be disclosed later in the week.
The first five stars making their ballroom dancing debut are:
LAURA BENSON – Laura is the star of the hit reality show, Baby Mama. At only nineteen, she is the mother of three children under the age of two.
DION JACKSON – Dion made history as television’s first African American man on the hit dating show The Suitor. Dion is a financier and has a MBA from Harvard and a BA in Economics from Stanford.
XAVIER QUINTANA – Xavier Quintana is a Grammy award-winning guitarist. He also designs and operates his clothing line, Xavier Tomas.
ROBYN QUINTANA – Robyn Quintana is an Emmy winning actress of television and film. She is currently the star of the daytime soap, Delicious Divas.
ASHER GIBSON – Asher Gibson is a Nascar Racer. He has won the Indy 500, and has founded the charity, Be Strong.
Hosted by Matt Brinkman, Dancing under the Stars will be judged by renowned Ballroom judges Benjamin Brooks, Steve Samson, and Karen Brooks Lopez.
Mambo
She flipped up her skirt. Enticed, he danced up behind her and put his hands on her waist. She shimmied her hips as he turned her toward him and they pounced on the beat. Flicking her heels up, her movement became frenzied. Just when she caught her breath, he dipped her. Her long hair swept the floor and he brought her to his chest. They gazed into each other’s eyes as the music died.
Chapter nineteen
Bret studied himself in the mirror before he took the stage for the show’s
season premiere. He frowned and shook his head.
“I hate this outfit, Sel.”
Selena laughed.
He was dead-on about his costume. An open, lemon-and-lime-colored silk shirt with orange feathers sprouting out of his arms—he looked like the mutant offspring of a parrot and a bottle of Squirt soda. If he started flapping, he’d probably lift right off the ground.
“Yeah, you do kinda look like you might fly away,” Selena admitted as she walked over to the stereo and turned on the music for him and Robyn. “But, no, it’s good. Very traditional mambo. The judges will love it.”
“At least someone will. I’ll never hear the end of this. They’ll be calling me Staff Sergeant Peacock.” He shrugged. “Well, at least my partner looks beautiful, even if she’s also covered in feathers. One more time?” He grabbed Robyn’s hand.
They started to dance their routine on the small black practice floor behind the main set. Xavier and Selena ran through some steps for their routine. A couple of random key grips and assistants roamed around.
Robyn was a perfectionist. She was the one always asking for one more practice round. Bret’s dream celebrity partner. And she could totally dance. She started giving him one hundred percent commitment once she realized how dedicated he was to training her to win.
Robyn’s face lit up. She twisted and shook to the music, in perfect beat.
We just might win. Then this nightmare show will be worth it.
The music abruptly stopped.
“Hey!” Bret snapped.
Dima was at the corner of the practice floor changing the track. “Oh, I’m so sorry, guys. Were you not done? Here, I’ll put it back on for you.” He flashed a dirty look at Selena.
Bret didn’t want to deck him again. He just needed to get through his first night without another confrontation.
“No thanks, Dima, we’re all done.” Bret extended his hand. “Good luck tonight.”
“Okay. See you guys out there.” Dima squinted his eyes, and then suddenly smiled like he was plotting something. He took that hand of his teen celebrity partner, Laura. “Ni pukha, ni pera,” he tossed their way as Bret ushered Robyn toward the red room.
Robyn cast a confused glance toward Dima. “What was all that ‘pookie knee parrot’ stuff? What did he say?”
Selena answered. “It’s like break a leg in Russian. It actually means ‘neither down from a duck, nor feather.’”
“Duck? Who’s he callin’ a duck?” she cried, straightening her back and adjusting her fluffy yellow costume. “I’ll have you know I’m a bona fide canary.”
Bret laughed. “Oh, see and here I was thinking parrot.”
Xavier turned toward Selena. “So you speak Russian, too?”
“No. But I understand a lot. You have to in my line of work.” They all headed back to the red room, the official backstage viewing area. Sparkly gold valances adorned the walls and an opulent crystal chandelier blinded Bret as he entered. Jenny sat on one of the brown velvet couches, hugging a red pillow as if it was her teddy bear. Soothing ballroom music streamed in from the overhead speakers. But the noise was not enough to drown out Selena and Dima, who began ripping into each other. Again.
“I told to you that my lawyer will distribute your money,” Dima snapped.
“Dima, you put a hold on our bank accounts. I can’t believe you did that! I need to pay my bills.”
Dima raised his hand in anger but stepped back from Selena. Dima was a lot of things, but he didn’t abuse women. No way would he be stupid enough to lose his temper with the cameras on and Bret standing there. “Selena, we will handle this later.”
Selena gave Bret a ‘please don’t get involved’ look. But Bret couldn’t resist.
“Hey.” He put his hand on Dima’s shoulder. “Why don’t you just cut her a check for now and let the lawyers deal with it later. No need to be a jerk.”
Dima turned his charm on Bret as a cameraman approached. “Sure, friend. Sounds good. Selenichka, I’ll get to you your check.”
She turned around, grabbed a brush from her bag, and started scaling the suede sole on her shoe.
When her soles were brushed out, Selena put her arm around Bret. “You nervous?”
“No. I just hope none of my Marines are watching this.”
“Ha! Don’t worry. I think you’re safe. They don’t know you’re on the show yet. I doubt a bunch of Marines are crowded around a television set in Fallujah watching Dancing under the Stars. Isn’t Monday Night Football on? Aren’t we still at war?”
A director ran through the door. “Okay, everyone, five minute warning for the opening.”
A makeup girl started brushing Bret’s face with foundation as he winced.
A costume assistant eyed Bret suspiciously. “Do you think he’s stoned enough?” she asked Kendrick, the costume designer.
“Absolutely not. More stones. More stones!” Kendrick attacked Bret from behind with a bedazzler and shot him up with more rhinestones. Bret didn’t know whether to duck or cover.
“Are you nuts, Kendrick?” Bret yelled. “I already have fifteen thousand stones on this outfit.”
“Fifteen thousand and one, fifteen thousand and two…” Kendrick counted as he blinged Bret up. This guy didn’t mess around. Kendrick had already made sure Bret’s shirt was cut open because it was more flattering for “someone with Bret’s manly chest” after Bret had won his battle to keep his chest hair. Thoughtful guy, that Kendrick.
As Kendrick bedazzled him, Bret made sure to breathe.
Selena came over and rubbed his back. “Are you ready?”
“Not sure. This is serious. I don’t think I can go out there and humiliate myself.” His hand shook.
Selena rummaged behind the sofa, found her purse, and handed him a flask.
Bret took a gulp of whiskey, hoping it would calm him down.
She whispered in his ear. “You’ll be fine, babe. You won’t humiliate yourself. And before you know it, this season will be over and we can start our life together—away from the cameras.”
Bret pursed his lips until they turned white. But it wasn’t for himself. He prayed he wouldn’t screw up so he could get enough money for Pierce’s family. After all they had been through, even dancing dressed up like a peacock was worth it.
“Live, from Hollywood. It’s Dancing under the Stars,” the British voiceover said on the other side of the curtain like the Wizard of Oz. The audience screamed and clapped on cue.
“C’mon, solider, suck it up,” Dima hissed.
“I’m a Marine, asshole.”
But Dima was right. This was no time to coddle. Bret was a pro, he could do this.
Dima shoved his partner ahead of Bret. The annoying theme song started playing and the pros marched out one by one with their partners. They all arrived on the floor and the camera panned across their beaming, nervous faces. Selena started bopping along to the music. Vika blew kisses at the audience. Robyn popped on her most beautiful smile. Bret stood up straight like he was in formation. It was show time.
The host, Matt Brinkman, was in all his glory. “This is our best year yet, with Olympic medalists, Grammy award winners, and reality and network television stars. And we also have a new professional dancer. Right now is your first chance to see our competitors. Now for our first dancer, Emmy winning television star Robyn Quintana.”
Bret presented Robyn to the audience to a roar of applause. “Robyn is the star of the long running daytime soap Delicious Divas,” Brinkman said. “She’s won seven daytime Emmys. Robyn is paired with our newest professional dancer, American War Hero Bret Lord.”
American War Hero? Who wrote that? Bret’s cheeks flushed.
The overhead monitor cut to a clip of Bret and Robyn as the rest of the dancers scurried back to the red room to watch their montage and their performance.
“I’m Robyn Quintana and I’m the star of Delicious Divas. I’m also a wife and mother.” Her charm bounced off the TV screen. A montage of
her television shows graced the screen.
“I’m Bret Lord and I’m a former amateur United States National Latin Champion. I’m currently a Staff Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps.” Bret looked at the screen and saw competition footage of him and Selena winning their championship, and then later on the road trip in the truck, talking about Pierce. A short segment played of his Marine unit, with Bret yelling at his men in formation. Bret had told his men that the cameramen were just filming a documentary about the Marines. The audience let out a collective gasp as the montage flashed a picture of Pierce’s funeral, his wife and young children walking behind the casket. A single tear threatened to slip from the corner of Bret’s eye, but the cameras were luckily not on him.
There it was. No more hiding. By morning, every member of his unit would know where he had disappeared to over the last few weeks.
Another clip showed the first time Bret and Robyn met in Tiburon.
The voiceover cut in: “Dancing the mambo, Robyn Quintana and her partner, United States Marine Bret Lord.”
Now live, Bret led Robyn to the floor. “Mambo #5” started playing. Bret twirled her around and she was on fire. It was a fun routine with a lot of basic actions to please the judges. Bret moved his hips and Robyn shimmied around him, sloshing the matching citrus-colored fringe of her two-piece dress. She swiveled in front of him and he shook his chest. Their energy rippled through Bret’s body. Bret and Robyn crashed their hips together and rolled off each other, never losing eye contact. He spun her into him and dipped her to the ground.
The crowd roared. Bret’s heartbeat raced. He hadn’t made a fool out of himself and he was one step closer to providing for Pierce’s family.
“Excellent job. The ballroom is on fire tonight,” Matt said. “That is how it’s done. And Bret, thank you for your service. Let’s see what the judges have to say. Benjamin Brooks?” Matt said.
The camera panned to Benny, who wore a yellow suit, black silk shirt, and his signature Australian bolo tie. He looked like a bumblebee. To Bret, Benny Brooks was the epitome of everything that was wrong in the ballroom industry. He rose to fame in a time when ballroom dancing consisted of stringing together a series of cheesy poses while the men paraded around in ruffled white cat suits that were split in a long V shape to ensure that their excessive mane of chest hair showed.
Love Waltzes In (Dancing Under The Stars) Page 12