by Cynthia Dane
Any stage fright Olivia showed was now gone. She jumped right into her moves with the grace and skill of any professional dancer Rick worked with before. Of course she did! She was a pro. Yet every time he caught that cheeky grin on her lips he thought of the day she auditioned to be his #1 partner. That shoe in the face… priceless! There were no shoes flying off her feet tonight. Olivia was on top of her game, hitting every beat and acting like it was nothing when she performed acrobatics that would make most people’s heads spin to even consider.
Just like when Rick spun her in his arms, her body heat passing onto his skin, making him warm up beneath that hot leather jacket and sweat from more than exertion.
The music stopped. His heart stopped. Rick dipped Olivia over his knee at the end of “Midnight Tango” and looked into that glistening, beautiful face, a smile as wide as her heart blossoming on Olivia’s visage. Her chest heaved with every labored breath at the end of such an intense dance. Lights shined in her hair, on her makeup, and most definitely on that bare midriff that became barer the lower he dipped her. The crowd lost themselves to this imaginary romance growing before them.
Except it wasn’t imaginary.
Was it?
Damnit, man, you’re supposed to be performing! He waited so long for this night. Since he was a kid putting his feet on the floor for the first time, Rick fantasized about being a big shot star entertaining anyone who would give him the time of day. Now here he was… fantasizing about a woman!
When they weren’t dancing together, Rick focused on his performance. He could drink up the adoration coming in his direction like it was the fountain of youth. Every time someone screamed his name and waved a sign in his direction, Rick instantly became a day younger.
And then when Olivia came back to perform their next dance, it was like none of that even mattered anymore. Damn her. Rick couldn’t help but wonder if things would be this way had they never done it all those weeks ago. Would Olivia still make him crazy? Part of what killed him was knowing what it was like to make love to that woman. The only woman he ever met who genuinely had more passion for their art than women like Clara and Fiona combined.
The final number gave Rick some time to cool his jets and remember what he was there for. His fans. Those adoring fans who had screamed themselves hoarse and were now throwing things at the stage, much to the chagrin of the security personnel patrolling down front. Rick went to center stage and thanked everyone for coming out that night. He introduced the live band members and each dancer one by one, until finally he reached Olivia, who bowed graciously and received some unique cheers of her own. Even if people didn’t know who she was, they knew that she was special enough to dance with Rick.
There was a quick encore, and then the show was over. When Rick went backstage the final time that night he heaved a large sigh of relief, his body letting fatigue overcome it as he shuffled toward the dressing room where he could change into clean, dry clothes and wait for his ride to the hotel room.
“Great job!” Thomas was in the unlocked doorway, giving his charge the thumbs up before going on his way. José also stopped by to tell Rick he did, “Fine, but we’ll go over what needs to change tomorrow.”
That should have been enough for Rick, who was happy to sink into the couch in the corner of the dressing room and take a quick nap – assuming he could wake up from it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted.
Someone knocked on the door. Before he could get up and ask them to go away, Fiona was in the dressing room, stopping a foot short of Rick’s couch. “That was fun! What now?”
She draped herself over the back of the couch and patted Rick on the shoulder. “I was gonna take a nap, that’s what,” he mumbled, his body definitely feeling that fatigue now. “Great job out there, by the way.”
“You’re telling me that? Hey, you were the guy singing for over two hours. While dancing. And looking so good doing it.”
Rick sat up, his back now sore enough to send him to a chiropractor. “You do know that half of those songs were prerecorded, right?” It wasn’t Rick’s favorite thing in the world to pull, but everyone on his staff insisted he prerecord the songs he had to dance the most through. The vocals still sounded live, but they let Rick pull off the illusion that he could sing while twirling someone like Olivia without losing a breath. Yeah, right. “Well, thanks anyway.”
“I’m serious.” Fiona shoved her hand between Rick’s body and the couch. What are you up to? Woman, I’m tired. “I’m jealous of that girl you’re dancing with. What is it… Olivia? Yeah, she’s a sweet girl. Talented, too. She’s making me jealous. Getting to spend all that quality time with you. Maybe I should have sprung to be your partner after all.”
“Maybe you should’ve.”
“You know what they say about dance partners who have done it, right?” Fiona’s fingers walked across the width of Rick’s chest. “They say they’re really comfortable with each other and can do almost anything. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“I have in fact heard that.”
Fiona pulled her hand back and stood up, her long brown hair obscuring her face as gravity took its toll on her tired body. “You and that Olivia certainly seem comfortable on stage. You screwin’ her?”
Now Rick sat up, his head turning toward Fiona’s judgmental countenance. “Ain’t that a personal question?”
“Thought I’d ask. I know how you get it hard for your dancers. I mean, I would know.”
“You sound jealous.” Rick flopped back down onto the couch, hands behind his head.
“Hardly. Though I would be lying if I said I hadn’t missed you lately. You know, missed you.”
‘It’s been a while, yup.” Not for a lack of trying on Fiona’s part. “Why? You offering now?” He would be tempted, if he weren’t so tired and looking forward to a hot shower and sleep back in his hotel room. They had to be on the road by seven the next morning, and it was nearing midnight already.
Fiona stood back, her body pivoting toward the door. “Nope. I feel like death right now. Was nauseas this morning and then I had to go out and do all that dancing. I’ll be lucky if I make it home without puking like your friend Clara.”
“Just don’t do it on me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Night, Rick.”
“See ya.”
Rick peeled himself off the couch five minutes later, his bones aching and his muscles about to scream bloody murder. Yeah, he would be feeling that in the morning. Hopefully, though, his body would be ready for Latin America.
He staggered out of the dressing room and fished for his phone so he could text Thomas and tell him to get the van ready. Most of the traveling staff, including the dancers, would be hitching a ride in another company van and act as a decoy for the groupies and reporters hanging out way too late. While they shat themselves over the van they perceived to be containing Rick, he would be making his escape via another route, Thomas behind the wheel and looking like someone’s father as opposed to a body guard.
“Heading out?”
Olivia stood at the end of the hallway, dressed in a different T-shirt but the same pants from the show. Her hair, wet with sweat, was let loose over her chest and grazed that bare midriff in a way that tantalized the last of Rick’s awakened senses. Great. What I need. “Was about to call Thomas to tell him I’m ready to head back. You… want a ride?”
Rick barely knew what he said before it came out of his mouth. He rarely offered rides to his dancers, simply because it could cause a conflict of interest with the rest of his staff. Imagine if Fiona found out I was taking Olivia back. They had separate rooms, but anything could happen in the van. “A ride would be nice,” Olivia said, leaning against the wall. “Would beat cramming myself in the dancer’s van. I have no idea why they think it’s a good idea to put five athletes in a van like that.”
Did she say something? Rick was a bit distracted by that midriff. And that fluffy hair. And that sharp nose and round jaw. I�
�ve kissed that. I’ve made love to her. Oh, Rick. Ricky boy. What made him think slamming Olivia against a studio wall counted as lovemaking? He shook out his head before his eyes glazed over and he was back in that room, thrusting into her in the past and getting hard between the legs right now. “Uh, yeah…”
“What’s up with you? Too high on the live?”
Rick snapped back to reality, where Olivia had no further interest in him beyond being cordial and good work partners. Okay, but she really had a good time too. Damnit, this was screwing with his head! “Yeah. I’m tired. If you want a ride, you better be ready to go now.”
“Yes, sir.” Olivia picked up her purse and gave Rick a small salute. “Where we off to next? Austin?”
“Yup. Hope you like Tex-Mex.” Thomas arrived just as Rick stopped talking. He took a look at both man and woman and said, “Thomas hates Tex-Mex. So let’s eat a ton on the way back from shows.”
“Am I giving her a lift after every live?” Thomas shook his head. “What am I, the main couple’s chauffeur?”
Rick held out his arm for Olivia to take a hold of. “Indeed you are, good sir! To Austin!”
When Olivia put her hand around Rick’s elbow, he nearly choked, his feet tripping over each other. I want you, Olivia Owens. He had no idea why. Because she rejected him? Because he was genuinely fond of her? Why, when a man didn’t know his own feelings and motives, then what was there?
That’s why God gave us the dance. Him and his sore muscles sashayed out of the arena with Olivia trailing behind, her laughter at his antics almost enough to make him forget he was on the brink of giving anything to have her – and that laugh.
3
One would think that performing the same routines twice or thrice a week would get old quickly. Or at least, that’s what Olivia thought whenever she imagined going on tour as a dancer. Of course she wanted to try it. How could she not, when that was one of the biggest tickets for a dancer like herself? But the boredom! What if it killed her?
As it turned out, nothing about touring as Rick’s leading lady was boring. Far from it! When Olivia wasn’t showing off what she could do with her body to thousands of screaming concert-goers Fridays through Sundays, she was enjoying the sights and sounds of new, unfamiliar cities she never had the chance to visit before. Chicago! Seattle! Atlanta! New York! No two cities were alike in the people or the landmarks available to enjoy. Although her body ached the morning after a show, Olivia would crawl out of her hotel room and go play tourist for a few hours. Sometimes the other dancers came with her. They laughed and took pictures in Times Square. They strolled through the Smithsonian. On a particularly hot Georgian night they went to an outdoor club in downtown Atlanta, where the dancing was hot and the men were hotter. Olivia didn’t go home with anyone that night, but she did get drunk enough to be yelled at by Thomas when they piled into a bus to drive down to Miami.
“You’re lucky we don’t have a show for three days,” he chastised her. “I’d get you fired if you showed up to a show hungover like this.”
No, the performances weren’t boring. Even after cell phone clips of Rick’s concert went up on the internet, people still stormed into arenas to watch him and Olivia do the tango for fifteen minutes. Halfway across the country José suggested that they change parts of the routine here and there. Bend her over the other leg, Rick. Pick her up and flip her backward, Rick. Sneak up behind her when she’s doing a handstand, Rick. Rick, Rick, Rick. He may be “singing” most of the songs, but it was Olivia doing most of the physical work – him lifting her not included.
In fact Olivia had the opposite problem. The routine was too exciting. There was something about the rush of dancing with this man beneath the blinding lights while thousands of people cheered and cried over how skillful they were. Olivia had never before realized how popular Rick Rodriguez was. Well, she knew he was famous and about to come into quite a fortune due to his record-breaking sales. However, until she first saw those screaming fans crying in his presence, Olivia had no idea what kind of catch she had on her hands.
All the more reason to not pursue something with him. To say she wasn’t still attracted to him was a lie. Of course she was! It didn’t help that he flirted with her all the time. Granted, Rick flirted with all the female dancers, particularly a young and talented woman named Fiona Fairweather. I wonder if there’s something going on between them. A part of Olivia wished there was. It would take the pressure off her, and she wouldn’t be so distracted whenever they were on stage and Rick touched her in the way she liked.
***
Miami was the last leg of the domestic tour. Like most of the other cities, Olivia had never been there before, and fully intended on playing tourist when she could. What she wasn’t prepared for was the oppressive Miami summer heat, which made her feel like she was drowning in the air. From the moment she stepped off the bus, Olivia began to choke on the sheer amount of humidity closing in on her. Many of the other dancers had similar problems, including the one who used to live in Florida. “There’s a reason I left this state,” she said while sweat dripped down her sunglasses. “Can we please get in the hotel where I can dry off?”
They were only spending two days in Miami anyway. As soon as they could, they were boarding a plane and flying to Mexico City for the first leg of their international tour. Thomas encouraged everyone, including Olivia, to start brushing up on their Spanish. So I guess I’ll stay in my room looking at dictionaries. Sounded like a fun night.
The crowd in Miami was particularly rowdy. People screamed so loudly that Olivia could barely hear the stage instructions in her ear piece. This was a problem, since José was the one who barked in her ear when her leg wasn’t high enough or when she was falling behind the tempo of the music. He barked at Rick too, and Olivia got to hear this as well. “Both of you are behind two paces. Pick it up during the bridge when you can drop the first two steps.” They were expected to obey with alacrity, smiling at the audience who were none the wiser.
At least Olivia wasn’t feeling so sore and tired at the end of the shows. After a month of touring, her body had acclimated to the rigorous workout she was putting herself through every other night. So when the show in Miami ended, she disappeared into the female dancers’ dressing room and merely sat down. She had rolled her ankle during one of the numbers, but it seemed fine. Nevertheless, she was going to have the tour physician take a quick look at it if she could track him down.
“Hey, I was looking for you.” Fiona appeared beside her. “I’m going to be out late tonight, so don’t wait up for me at the hotel.”
Fiona and Olivia had been sharing a hotel room since Atlanta. She wasn’t a bad roommate, but Fiona was a party girl and had more than once brought some of the party back with her. After a few conversations, Olivia finally got it across that she preferred if her roommate would keep the partying outside.
“Thanks for letting me know.” Olivia brushed her hair in front of the mirror, glancing at Fiona’s fair face in the reflection. “I’ll probably head to bed early. Have fun.”
Fiona took two other dancers with her, and Olivia assumed that they were going to go clubbing for the evening. She thought she heard something about, “Boys and toys,” and could only smile wanly. Who has the energy for that after all this touring? Olivia preferred to save hers for the international trips. Better to expend energy checking out places like Peru and Argentina than getting smashed in Miami.
Since Olivia wasn’t famous in any way, she was able to take the short walk from the arena to the hotel by herself. She appreciated having some time alone as she breathed the humid air. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than recycled air. She was not looking forward to the upcoming plane trip. The destination, sure, but not the flight itself.
The five-star hotel wasn’t that busy that time of night. Olivia stood in the lobby, fishing for her room key in her purse. Good thing she decided to look for it before getting in the elevator, too, because she sure as hell could
n’t find it even after she began pulling out her wallet, makeup, coin purse, and other smaller tidbits that could obscure the key.
“Where the hell is it?” She had half the contents of her purse emptied on a leather chair by the time she realized she no longer had the key she was given that morning.
Well, this was embarrassing. More embarrassing than anything José threatened her with at the concert that night. This was personal. People watching her on stage wouldn’t know who she was the next day. What she was about to have to do, however? That would remain ingrained in someone’s memory for at least a week.
“Excuse me,” she said to the young man behind the front counter. “I think I lost my key.”
What commenced was exactly what she expected. The attendant interrogated her about her identity, what room she was staying in, and what could have possibly happened to her key. Mercy! Of course, no one was in a huge hurry to get her a new key. That would cost money. Not to mention they may have to change the lock. If Fiona had not gone out late that night, Olivia would have waited for her to come back and apologize in the morning. But Fiona was out until who knew when, and if Olivia didn’t want to be spending the night loitering in the lobby...
“Can I see your identification card again?” This man, with his shiny hair, big nose, and droopy ears, was really starting to get on Olivia’s nerves. Three times now he had asked for her card. If Olivia weren’t careful, she may find herself talking to security. For some reason no one wanted to believe that she actually belonged to the hotel. What, did five-star hotels in Miami get a lot of scammers? Oh, no, what if they thought she was a prostitute? What kind of woman do I look like? Olivia wanted to pull her hair out, but she remembered what her mama always told her. “Be nice to the person behind the counter, and they will be nice back to you.” Yeah, right.