by Cynthia Dane
“Did you really meet Rick?” she asked for the thirtieth time that day. Olivia begrudged being sat across from her sister at the long table, but she could only pretend to chew on fried chicken and mashed potatoes for so long.
“What do you think? You saw me dancing with him in that video.”
Bethany’s bottom lip trembled as she considered this gross betrayal on her sister’s part. “How could you meet him, touch him, and talk to him so much without even thinking of getting an autograph for me?”
Their half of the table stopped eating and talking just to look at them. Olivia could feel the judgmental eyes of three uncles, one aunt, and two older cousins as food fell from their mouths and one belch echoed across the table. “I didn’t know that you are such a big fan,” she said diplomatically.
Before Bethany could throw another fit, one of Olivia’s uncles spoke up. “Seems like I can’t go anywhere these days without hearing that fella’s name. It was on my dancing show the other night. Pretty talented, I guess. I prefer some Jennifer Lopez, myself.”
“Of course you do,” Olivia’s mother said. “Didn’t your last wife leave you because you couldn’t stop staring at other women’s asses?”
Laughter erupted around the table, but Olivia didn’t find anything funny. “He’s pretty popular, yeah. It was a good career move for me because it will look great on my résumé.”
“Career? Are you still calling it that?” More laughter, this time at Olivia’s expense. It was no secret in the Owens family that she intended to make a career out of dance. However, such a family preferred to keep careers in a more traditional line. Most of the men worked as managers for various companies, while the women were respectable teachers, secretaries, or the elusive housewife. Olivia’s own mother worked part-time at a grocery co-op to help her husband the car lot owner make ends meet. Olivia was expected to go to college when she was in high school, and she worked hard enough to get into a local university with a fair reputation. Yet after only two years she dropped out to pursue her artistic ambition. This was the same ambition that kept her living at home and doing the odd job here and there to save some money. Her family never let her forget it.
“Yes, and tomorrow I will add it to my résumé and go apply to some other gigs. I can only go up from here.” Olivia was full of bluster, but she had to be around the Owens. Showing the slightest bit of weakness would only make them want to tear into her. I’m not that much of a masochist.
Each well-meaning elder in her family expressed her least favorite look. The one that said they were deducing whether or not she was full of shit. The first uncle who spoke was, in particular, critical of her ambitions. “What’s going to happen if you can’t get any other gigs, huh?” he asked. “Seems to me that it would be best for you to go back to college and get a degree for a real job. You’ve had your turn in the spotlight, so now would be a good time to get serious about your life.”
I am serious. Olivia kept her thoughts to herself. She had argued with her family multiple times over the years, and she finally learned to keep her mouth shut. Soon enough the topics would turn to something else, and Olivia’s business would be forgotten. That was until her cell phone rang in her front jacket pocket.
“No phones at the table,” her mother reminded her.
Olivia was going to send it to voicemail, but then she looked at who was calling her. Rick’s agency? Without apology, she scooted back in her chair and retreated to the kitchen where she could hear the voice on the other end. “Hello?”
The person calling her wasn’t someone she recognized at first. Then she pinpointed the voice as one of the men who was on set for the video shoot. He rambled on about how great it was to work with her, and then cut straight to the chase. However, the only words to parse in Olivia’s brain were “world tour” and “Rick’s main dance partner.”
Olivia lowered her phone, stunned. She stared out into the dining room where her extended family spat over biscuits and complained about indigestion. How in the world was she going to explain this? I’m going on tour!
5
“Keep your head up when you go into the turn.” José approached Rick to put his hands on his shoulders and forearms, ensuring that the talent did exactly as the choreographer said. I feel like a ballerina. Rick’s left leg was extended behind him. He wasn’t en pointe, which was good because he was pretty sure he would mangle his toes that way, but this position screamed Swan Lake. All Rick needed was a white leotard and a crown of flowers on his head. “If you keep putting your head down, you’ll be more likely to mess up and crash on the stage. Let your nose lead where the rest of your body is going. It’s like riding a bike, man.”
Rick wondered if there were any other situations in which two perfectly heterosexual men could handle each other like this and be totally fine with it. In the past forty-five minutes Rick had his thighs, stomach, and of course his chest, arms, and legs touched at some point by his choreographer. Strictly business, as they went over the moves for the upcoming tour. Still, Rick wouldn’t have minded a female choreographer for these moments. José was the best he knew, and their professional relationship went back to the beginning of his career, but still…
After practicing his turn two more times, Rick dropped his arms to his sides, sighed, and asked for a five minute break. José relented, but only because it had been ninety minutes since their last break and Rick could get grumbly. “Where the hell is that woman?” José asked as Rick wiped his head with a towel and took a drink of water. “She was supposed to be here a half hour ago. I can’t believe you hired her.”
Water dribbled down Rick’s chin. He was always a sloppy drinker. “I didn’t hire her. The agency makes the executive decision on that.” Although Rick had been the one to suggest her. And fight for her. In two meetings. Once against José who demanded someone else. Someone with a better résumé than, “Rick thinks she’s hot.”
“Whatever. She’s not here. What do you have to say about that?”
It was strange. By all accounts, Olivia was more than excited to accept the offer to go on tour as Rick’s leading lady. She got all her paperwork in on time, showed up to have her pass created, and attended both preliminary meetings to go over what was expected of her and the details of the tour. They would be going through the Americas mostly, with three stops in Europe and one in Japan later that year. The bread and butter was in Latin America. Rick’s popularity was still surging in places like Mexico, Brazil, and Chile. His Argentinean background made him a curiosity in his mother’s native land, and the label took a gamble on extra shows there. They would be hitting the entire Western Hemisphere in a few weeks. It would be long. It would be grueling. They wanted to make sure Olivia knew what she was getting into, and today was their first co-ed dance practice session.
So where the hell was she?
“What should I say?’ Rick sat on a bench and contemplated taking off his overshirt. Things would only get hotter once Olivia finally did arrive. “I’m not her keeper.”
“You two sure seemed cozy on the music video set.”
“What are you implying?”
José scoffed. His cynicism could wear on Rick at times, but he was excellent at his job and always got the best results. That’s why people paid him the big money. “Don’t give me that crap. You know what I mean. You and backup dancers is like, I dunno, Hugh Hefner and bunnies. It’s gonna happen.”
“Excuse you,” Rick said. “I don’t look anywhere near as good as that man in a smoking jacket. And he’s not as good of a dancer. Honestly, insult to us both.”
“What I’m saying is that if you’re gonna pick your girls based on how much you want to tap them, then you’re going to be held accountable for them. If everyone knows you want to sleep with Olivia, they’re going to resent not only that but also if she’s unprofessional and holding the whole performance back. Own up to it.”
“What the hell, man!” Rick leaped up. There was friendly banter, and then there were
accusations. “Why do you think everything is about sex with me? The only backup dancer I’ve fooled around with recently is Fiona, and that’s pretty much over.”
“Great! And she’s coming on tour too! That will create a great and totally not toxic environment.”
“It’s not like that. Olivia and I aren’t like that. We had good dance chemistry and she was really good. This last minute, what else do you want? If we can’t have Clara and none of the other backup dancers can step up, it has to be someone we know can pull it off. Olivia may be professionally wet behind the ears, but I think she can do it.”
“If she shows up.”
“Hey! Sorry I’m late!”
Both Rick and José turned toward the door, where a bedraggled, sweaty Olivia looked like she was about to pass out. “Where the hell were you?” José asked, as the woman, weighed down with a duffel bag and about five electronics all loaded with maps and emails, slumped and heaved a few uneasy breaths. “We’ve been waiting almost forty minutes.”
“I’m so sorry!” Olivia dumped her items on an empty bench and took off her jacket. She wore yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt, her feet graced with half worn-out sneakers and her wrists covered in hair-ties ready for action. She would need them, seeing as how her long, curly locks were even puffier with the recent humidity. Rick’s mother always complained about thick hair and humidity. One of the many reasons she settled in California as opposed to Florida. “I was sent the wrong address for this place. I ended up all the way on the other side of town. I came here as soon as I cleared it up with the guy on the phone…” When she realized that neither José nor Rick were impressed, Olivia stopped talking and looked at them as if to say, “Well?”
“If you say you called and it was an honest mistake on the agency’s part, then well, we can’t hold that against you. I’m sure there’s a record of it.”
“Damn right there is.” Olivia put her hands on her hips and dared either of the men to argue with her. I’m sure it’s fine. Yet as Rick stood there, he remembered what José said about taking responsibility for how this woman may or may not upset the harmony of his team. I can feel that man’s eyes boring into my spine. Sure enough, when Rick glanced over his shoulder he saw José muttering about interns at the label.
“Look,” Rick said, making sure he had Olivia’s attention, “I want to make it clear that, even when it’s not your fault, it’s still incredibly important for you to get to these things on time. Even if it means leaving extra early in case you got the wrong address.” He didn’t mean to come off as if he were wagging his finger beneath her nose, but here he was, taking a page out of José’s book. “Fact of the matter is, we don’t have all the time in the world to practice for something as big as this. We need to use all the time we have to make sure we get this choreography down.”
Olivia stood before him, her eyes wide, sad, and on the verge of watering. Well. Had he made her cry? I didn’t mean to. If there was one thing Rick couldn’t deal with, it was a woman of any age crying. He hated it when his mother cried. He hated it when his ex-girlfriends cried. He really hated it when stranger-or-near-stranger women cried and he was powerless to help them. To be the one who made them cry? Lowest of the low.
Then Olivia went from nearly blubbering to furrowing her dark eyebrows and getting ready to jam her finger right into Rick’s chest.
“Are you for real? You gonna give me that macho-man-in-charge bullshit?” Now her finger was pricking his chest. Hard. Rick took a step back but couldn’t shake this irate woman. “Do you even have any idea what I went through today? First, your stupid agency sends me an address clear across town. I take the bus, asshole! After I got to this warehouse out in the middle of nowhere, I had to call the agency and find out what was going on. Uh oh, time to go all the way back across town and hope for the best! While I was on the bus some jerk started breathing down my neck and said he would treat me real pretty if I went to some bar with him. Joy! It didn’t stop there! Oh, no, no no. Next I had to run off across the transit mall and catch a connecting bus. Do you know how hard I ran to make that bus? The next one wasn’t for twenty minutes, so be glad I’m here now and not another twenty minutes behind! I busted my ass to get here as soon as I could, and I will not stand here and listen to your heavy-handed bullshit about being professional and getting here on time or whatever. Now put your hands on me and let’s dance.”
Wait, did she say something? Rick was too distracted by the fire burning in her cheeks, the enthusiasm in her eyes, and that salt in her voice. Whoa. Wasn’t every woman who could put the fear of bedlam into him.
She wanted his hands on her to dance? No problem! This is gonna be fun.
Rehearsals were every weekday for a whole month. Olivia made sure to show up every single day not only on time, but a whole two hours early.
I’ll see if that asshole yells at me again. That handsome, silly asshole who thought he could pop out his chest and throw his weight around in front of Olivia. Ha! She was used to that kind of bullshit at home. Every man in her family – and some women – loved to barrel around as if he were the toughest guy in the room. So when Rick also graciously aired out his concerns to Olivia that first day of practice, she made it a point to never be made an example of again.
There were other benefits to arriving so early anyway. For one, it got her out of the house and away from her nagging family, who largely disapproved of her going off to tour with a bunch of strangers for months at a time. When she told them the news, her mother wept. “What am I going to do if something happens to you? Is it going to protect you? Who is looking out for you? I hope they are giving you free food and travel!”
Why, they were in fact paying for Olivia’s plane tickets. They also gave her a food allowance for every day she worked. On top of this she also got her usual pay. I’m going to be rich. If this did as many wonders for her career as she hoped it would, she would be moving out of her parents’ house by the end of the year.
The greatest benefit to showing up to rehearsals two hours early every day was the extra solo practice time. Not only was Olivia perfecting her solo and group dances that she would perform on the tour, but she was also doing plenty of freestyles that exercised her body and opened up her mind. The practice studios were reserved for the whole day, and yet nobody showed up until 10AM. This meant that if Olivia showed up at eight, she would have the whole berth of the room to herself. She didn’t often get paid to do what she loved on her own time, and in such wonderful facilities. Unlike the rundown studios she usually frequented, these floors were not bowed, the walls clean, and the windows not drafty. It was also nice to see a wall of mirrors that were not in a desperate need of scrubbing.
At first, nobody on the staff noticed how early she was showing up. All they knew was that she was already there when they arrived. The first day it happened, José was the next to arrive, and he quipped about her pulling out all the stops to prove Rick wrong. Olivia smiled, ignored him, and went back to her rehearsals until she was obligated to talk to the choreographer again. Sadly, that happened often.
It wasn’t until the end of the first week that anybody realized she was showing up so early. On Friday, Rick waltzed into the practice studio at 8:30, a mere half hour after Olivia graced it with her presence. He dropped his water bottle in surprise, picked it up, and said, “When I told you that you needed to be serious, this isn’t what I had in mind.” Olivia never did find out what he was doing there so early that day.
The first two weeks of practice were nothing like the day of the music video shoot. Most of the time other dancers were there, and Olivia had to practice her lineups in a cramped studio that may or may not reflect the actual size of the stage. José kept her on her toes, criticizing her every move until she was perfect. I get it, you don’t think I’m qualified to do this. Olivia heard those mumblings from time to time.
In the afternoons, she was usually alone with Rick. Well, not alone. José was there, of course. They had to practice the c
horeography for five different songs in the show. The first four were basic dance moves that would be repeated throughout the night. They had to be easy because Rick would sing at the same time. Olivia’s job was mostly to be stage candy. She wasn’t supposed to upstage Rick and his talents, but she was expected to be good enough that the crowd would never suspect she was any worse than someone like Clara. “Show up, and don’t mess up.” That’s what José told her numerous times throughout their practice sessions.
This isn’t as hot as shooting that music video. The chemistry that day had been palpable, every one of their moves an inspiration from heaven. If Olivia walked off that second day halfway in love with Rick, she now spent every day in the studio with him waiting until she could go home. Sure, he was still hot. How could he not be with that physique and that rock star smile? It’s so mechanical. Even when José wasn’t breathing down their necks, all they focused on was getting the moves right without screwing up. An impossible feat with any choreography.
At the end of the second week, they sat at opposite ends of the bench, sweating, breathing hard, and guzzling water. José was tearing into a backup dancer, someone named Fiona… apparently, she turned the wrong way at the end of her routine. “I’m sorry, I was distracted by something.” When José told her that wasn’t a good enough excuse, Fiona excused herself from the practice room, and the choreographer turned to the star couple. “Anyone else want to get distracted?”
After practice, Olivia hit the showers and returned as refreshed as she was going to get that day. Rick, who was likewise cleaned up, sat by himself in the studio. He was pensive, staring at the practice room floor as if some great answer from the universe lurked there. Olivia wasn’t going to interrupt, but then Rick looked up, and he smiled to see her. Not the celebrity smile. The same stupid smile he flashed at cameras and probably every other woman who crossed his path. “Hey,” he said, when Olivia continued to linger in the doorway. “Good practice this week. I think you might really have the choreography down.”