by Tonya Plank
“It doesn’t seem hard to learn to spot facing another way,” Kendra said, echoing my thoughts.
Arabelle sighed. “It’s just a lot of practice. It’s very advanced. There’s no reason why you can’t spot the direction you’re turning. It’s not even going to be a thing that’s noticeable to the average audience member. It still looks very cool, because the spins are so fast.”
Kendra harrumphed.
I exhaled. “Let’s just…let’s just try it Arabelle’s way and see how it looks.”
“Here, let me demonstrate.” Arabelle held her arm toward me, inviting me to lead her into the spins.
“Let me turn the music on so we know how it looks to the beats,” I said.
“Good idea. Okay, we start slowly,” she said as the music began.
I led her in the turns but with her looking down the line instead of out toward the audience. “One, two, three, and then it speeds up, so, four five six-seven-eight-nine-ten.”
“Whoa, that’s awesome,” Josie said.
“I just wish we could all look like that,” Judy added, a bit forlornly.
I couldn’t have agreed more with Josie and Judy. Arabelle looked gorgeous doing those spins.
“See, I don’t think there’s any reason you shouldn’t do it this way,” Arabelle said. “It’s totally do-able, and with much less practice than turning with your faces toward the audience.”
I saw what Arabelle meant. The students could do this—spin at the speed of light without getting dizzy and risking falling into the audience—but facing another direction would really set them back and make them have to work so much harder.
“I dunno, Ms. A.” Kendra said. “I kind of like working hard.”
“Yes, of course you do. You all do,” Arabelle said. “But it’s not about working hard right here, right now. It’s about having a certain history of dance in your bones, about having a lifetime of training and experience, to be able to take something a hard-core choreographer dreams up. It’s not that you guys can’t ever do that; it’s just that it’s making it all the harder to get that level of expertise down when we only have a limited amount of time. And it’s really not necessary.”
“I agree,” I cut in.
“You do?” Kendra frowned at me.
“You guys are going to rock it this way—Arabelle’s way. I know it. I don’t know how long it’s going to take to look good the other way. It may well not be in time for Vegas. Let’s do it Arabelle’s way. And if we have time later, we can do little things to make the routine harder. For right now, let’s work on looking damn good together.”
“Can you guys do it again?” Paolo asked.
“Of course,” I said, holding my arm out for Arabelle. This time, I spun her a few extra times. Just for effect. I knew she could go fast, so we kept up with the music, adding spins to the already fast beat.
“Whoa!” Kendra enthused.
“Okay, that’s frickin’ gorgeous,” Paolo said.
“Okay, that’s enough. Stop,” Arabelle said. And I detected a slight little laugh. I spun her around a few more times for effect. I could tell she wasn’t getting dizzy and there was no tremor in sight.
“Now we’re just showing off.” She giggled.
She was right. We were. But I wanted to show her off, even if just to let her know she could do it sans tremor. We demoed one more time.
“Absolutely fucking gorgeous,” Kendra screamed again. Applause filled the room. I finally stopped and we looked around. The room was nearly full now of onlookers. “Yes, Mr. J. and Ms. A. are back together again!” Kendra pumped her fist in the air. More cheers. Arabelle rolled her eyes, but I could also see a slight smile. Plain as day.
Toward the end of class, Alessia walked through the door, waving at me and Arabelle to get our attention.
“What’s up?” I said.
“I need to see you two after class,” she said, looking back and forth between Arabelle and me. The way she said it didn’t sound good. Her voice was serious business. Arabelle looked equally confused.
We nervously walked into her office. She motioned for us to sit.
“What’s up?” I said again.
She took a breath. “I just found out that Landon has now gotten the current world cabaret pros. They’re teaching at his studio, and they’re heading his team. They won Blackpool last year, and Nationals, and the World’s.”
“I know them,” Arabelle said flatly. “Duke Gozzoli and Natalia Beloserkovskiy. They’re…not nice. At least she isn’t. Fierce competitors. The last five competitions, we were neck to neck. I mean, the last time I competed. When I danced an homage to Willem at Blackpool last year, I swear I saw her smile. She was happy we were no longer their nemesis. She was glad he died.” Arabelle’s eyes were black, her eyelids heavy. “Then, they won. They were thrilled. But they live in Florida. What are they doing here?”
“I don’t know,” Alessia said.
“But now that you and Drew are officially a no-go, I really need the team. We need to outperform them.”
Arabelle and Drew were a no-go? What?
I reached over and held Arabelle’s hand, lacing my fingers through hers. She wasn’t trembling and she didn’t flinch. “They’re going to be sorry they ever made you feel that way,” I said. “And they are going to lose.”
Arabelle closed her eyes and breathed deeply. And I swear I felt her fingers squeeze back.
Chapter 20
Arabelle
Jett looked so sincere when he told me Duke and Natalia would be sorry for the way they made me feel after Willem died. Not only that, he looked angry on my behalf. Earlier this may have made me mad, wondering why he thought he had the right to be angry for me. But now, I didn’t feel that way. I was no longer defensive and possessive about my pain over Willem. Jett cared about me. And it felt really nice.
We walked out of Arabelle’s office together.
“You okay?” he said under his breath, opening the door for me.
I nodded. I was. I was anxious, but I also felt determined to win over Duke and Natalia. The thought of them brought back memories of Willem, but it also made me mad and made me want to excel and be the best I could be.
Alessia had, of course, been talking about the team—defeating their team at the team comps. But my mind went to the letter from Blackpool, which I hadn’t answered yet. Could Jett be my partner there? Was I ready for that?
I think it was actually Jett’s anger at Natalia and Duke that made me realize I was angry, too. And his determination to beat them was contagious. Was I really going to do this, go back into this world again? I was going to have to dive in deep to win, to defeat them. Was I up for it? Was Willem up for me being up for it? He was still around. I felt his presence. He was. I felt my muscles throughout my body. They were at ease. No tremor. I think Willem wanted this. He did—and I did.
“Whoa, your mind is in serious overtime! A penny for those thoughts? Just one of them?” Jett chuckled.
I laughed back, and shrugged. “Just brings back memories. Beautiful and horrible. About who I was.”
He nodded and looked at his watch. “You want to get some lunch?”
I was hungry. “Sure.”
* * *
We went to a little French place in the mall that I liked. I usually ate at the bar, but the waitress took one look at Jett and led us into a back area that was quiet and secluded and quite cozy. She must have thought we were romantically involved. Jett pulled the table out for me and I scooted into the dimly lit booth side.
“So,” he said after we ordered. “I definitely don’t want to pressure you or anything, but do you want to talk about these memories? I just saw so much going on behind your eyes after we left Alessia’s office. Sometimes it helps to talk—if you want?”
His big brown eyes were so piercing, so soul-searching, and so sexy. A bolt of electricity shot down my spine to my belly. I squirmed, trying to rid myself of the feeling of excitement. I wasn’t ready for that
yet. I was beginning to think I may be soon. But not yet. I smiled and looked off to the side to try to get that sexy, penetrating gaze out of my head. Suddenly, I had no words.
“Like this. What’s this about, Arabelle?” He reached out and took my right hand in his palms, covering it, then caressing it with his fingers. I hadn’t realized it but the tremor had returned. Briefly. I hadn’t even felt it. I guess I wasn’t feeling it all the time; it had become such a part of me, such an extension of me. I’d only felt it when I was trying to do something physical, like dance, or hold a glass of expensive champagne. Damn. But when he released my hand, it was no longer shaking. He’d quashed it.
I took a deep breath, shook my head again and looked off to the side. I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone outside of the shrink and Lucia but I was beginning to feel he was okay. More than okay. He was worth trusting. “I really don’t know. I honestly don’t. I’m trying to get to the bottom of it.”
“I believe you,” he said, making me realize I sounded defensive. “Well, when did it start? I mean, you haven’t always had it, right?”
“Of course not.” Now I heard the defensiveness in my voice. I took another breath. Something about him right now, about the way he was looking at me, the way he’d stood up for me in Alessia’s office... Okay, calm down, Arabelle. Let him in. I opened my mouth and the words just started coming. “It was after Willem passed. Not right after. Months later. I tried dancing showdance with another partner. One of Willem’s old friends. It began then. At first I was worried it was medical, but a bunch of tests ruled that out. The doctor told me it was due to anxiety. After I knew it wasn’t some horrible neurological condition, I didn’t focus on it much. My pain and grief of losing Willem were too raw. I felt nauseas, sick, whenever I tried to dance with this guy. I had to stop. Then, I switched to Latin. I first partnered with Sasha, the Latin star. He was extremely serious, intense. It was too much for me. The tremor came back then. I thought it was just Sasha and his perfectionism. I switched partners. Everything was fine with Drew until I had an accident on the dance floor in Blackpool.”
He nodded.
I frowned. “You knew?”
“I saw it,” he said.
I was confused. “Wait, you were there? You said you weren’t into ballroom?” I knew he’d watched videos of me and Willem, but the ones of me and Drew as well? I was now embarrassed. He’d seen me at my worst.
“No, no. I… ” His face took on a rosy glow. He was blushing. “Okay, I admit, I was kind of taken by you when I met you. So when I went to that ballroom store for the DVDs of you dancing showdance, the clerk told me about the Latin comp at the last Blackpool. So I picked up that one too.” He paused. “I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of crazy stalker. I was just intrigued.” He looked off to the side, his face getting redder by the second.
It was actually kind of funny. I had found him to be such a pompous jerk when I first met him. So into himself, flirting it up with all those girls, so bombastic about his own dancing, and flashing his money around. And yet he was interested enough in me to go out and buy all of my DVDs.
“I scared you, didn’t I?” he said.
I shook my head. “No, it’s…it’s sweet, actually. Just surprising.”
“Why?”
I laughed. “Because I just didn’t think you liked me at all.”
He laughed too. “To be honest, my first impression was that you were haughty.”
“Haughty?”
“Yeah. No. I mean, my first impression was that you were beautiful and you were obviously a dancer because of the way you held yourself, and your overall sophistication and polish and gracefulness. And beauty. My second impression, when you began talking about your ballet background and showdance, was that you were haughty. I didn’t think you thought very highly of my style of dance.”
I opened my mouth to talk but he kept going.
“And my third impression of you was that you must have been a great dancer from the way everyone talked about you and from your accomplishments, but that you were now…stifled by your…”
“You noticed my tremor back then?”
“I did.” He looked down. “I saw you drinking a glass of champagne and your hand began to tremble. I knew with the style of dance you described that would definitely present a problem.”
“And it made you feel sorry for me, made you want to help?” I felt a pit in my stomach. I didn’t need anyone’s pity—certainly not his. And I didn’t need him thinking I was a damsel in distress in need of saving.
“No, not at all. I knew nothing of your past then. I just somehow felt you must have been an excellent dancer and I was intrigued and wanted to see, that’s all.” He spoke softly now. He kept his head down but looked up at me over his eyelids.
“So, what did all of my dance DVDs make you think then?”
“What did I think?” He laughed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Now it was my turn to feel my face redden.
“Seriously, Arabelle. I think you’re a consummate show dancer.” He took my palm between his hands, caressing it gently. “I think you’re a fine Latin dancer. But I think showdance is your passion, your soul.” He was nearly whispering now.
I nodded. He could see through me. “I broke it off with Drew this morning,” I blurted out. I hadn’t meant to talk about that yet. It was painful.
He raised his eyebrows. “I wondered what was going on. I mean, I saw you hugging people and there were tears in your eyes, and...” A slight blush crept across his face again. He certainly noticed a lot!
I tried to focus on Jett’s interest in me and allow myself to be flattered by it. I was still upset about having to break up with Drew and I didn’t want to get teary-eyed anymore. “Yeah. It was hard—so hard. But I finally realized it was for the best. He needs a new partner. He deserves to win. And the big comps are coming up, and he’s going to need time to find and get up to speed with another person.”
He rubbed my hand between his palms again. It was warming, soothing. “It’s always hard to end something. Even if it is for the best.”
I nodded and closed my eyes, letting the warmth of his caress comfort my entire body.
“Maybe that’s what you needed,” he said.
“Needed?”
“To get rid of the tremor?”
Suddenly the warm feeling evaporated. I first had the problem when I tried to do showdance with Willem’s friend. It likely wasn’t gone. I shook my head. “I don’t know if it’s that simple.”
“Yeah, I knew right after I said it that was a dumb thing to say. I mean, nothing’s that simple. But hopefully switching back to the dance you’re so passionate about may…help.”
I nodded. “Hopefully.” But I was worried. If I was going to throw myself into this again, I really needed to keep my jitters at bay.
“I want to make a pact with you.” Jett began massaging my hand. It really felt good.
“What’s that?”
“I want you to let me know when we’re dancing whenever you feel it coming on, whenever you feel nervous or anxious, or ill at ease with something. I want you to be honest. I promise I won’t get annoyed. Ever.”
I smiled. I wasn’t always up front with Drew. I tried to hide it. Jett was asking me to do the exact opposite. But he was right.
“Okay. I’m taking you up on that.”
“You’ll see how good to my word I am, Arabelle.” He shot me that cocky grin again and sent shivers down my back. I tried to ignore my silly hormones.
“One thing, Jett, is that I really want to make the dance beautiful. I want to make it about passion and trust and acceptance and l-l-l-love.” Okay, why was I stuttering? “I-I-I mean, I know how into big tricks you are.”
Now he was the one to squirm. He gave my hand one final squeeze then let go. Our food arrived, and we ate for a while in silence.
“I understand,” he said after a few bites. “We will do that. Definitely. But in order to win —I mean
the team comp—I’ve researched it, and we have to have a certain amount of lifts and other stunts—or tricks, whatever you want to call them.”
Hmm, he’d actually researched the team comps. This guy really wanted to win. And now I did too.
“But the other teams can do the lifts and tricks too,” I said. “Especially Duke and Natalia. They are all about them. What made Willem and I special was that ours were about passion and love. The lifts and tricks were not incidental; they were an elaboration of our passion, the story we told through our dance. I know from reading all the reviews that that’s what the judges loved about us. We didn’t just have athleticism, we had soul.”
He nodded. “I know. We’ll have both too. I promise.” He put down his fork and shot me another wicked grin that made me squirm once again.
After we finished eating, we decided to return to the studio to practice and choreograph the routine. We didn’t have the team meet until tomorrow and it would give us a chance to work things out among ourselves, so we could better direct the students. Neither of us had anything that night. The theater was dark for him, and I had no students.
We began at the beginning and went through until the end of the first lift sequence. I had to admit it felt good to be in his arms. He felt very steady and strong. The overhead lift felt wonderful. It felt beautiful. It was like working with a real pro. But there was something extra wonderful about it, though I couldn’t explain it. Our bodies just fit together. We didn’t even have to work on all the things we usually did to learn each other’s body weight and strengths and flexibility. It’s like he knew my body before we even began. Weird.
“Okay, so I let you down and turn you, and then you can go into a fish. Do you want me to dive you all the way down to the floor, or should we save that for later?” He was so excited. He looked like a wicked cherub.
“Let’s listen to the music so we can see if that jibes.”
I could tell he felt a little let down. It probably seemed to him I didn’t share his enthusiasm for the lifts. I’d been here before. With Willem. He was a lift-happy guy, and I was always trying to rein him in. For a split second, I saw him. I saw Willem’s face in place of Jett’s. Shock pierced my center.