If Ever

by Angie Stanton

  "Would you like a tour of the theater?" He asks, maybe to distract me from the wall of fame.

  "Are we allowed?" I decide to play it cool and not comment about his famous meet and greets.

  "Of course." He grabs his coat and backpack and leads us down to the backstage area. It's incredibly organized and crowded with set pieces pushed back against the walls, small prop items set on shelves, and white tape marking the floor. "I had no idea how crowded it was back here."

  "If you look up you'll see more."

  Sure enough, above us the air is filled with hanging set pieces and backdrops.

  "It can be a real obstacle course just trying to get off and on stage. One wrong move and someone gets hurt, but the setting and acoustics are phenomenal."

  We go another level lower and he points out the wig room, laundry room, several group dressing rooms, and the trap room where he disappeared to after a fight scene. We pepper him with questions, which he patiently answers.

  When we come back up, the stage is empty except for a tall floor lamp with no shade. A single bulb casts the stage in an eerie light.

  "What's that for?"

  "It's a ghost light," Dominic says.

  I glance at Tom. "What’s that mean?"

  "There are lots of myths about how ghost lights are to keep the ghosts company or to ward them off, depending on who you ask; but their real purpose is to prevent anyone from accidentally falling into the pit."

  I peer into the orchestra pit. It would be a nasty fall in the dark. We make our way back to the stage door where a couple of cast members are zipping up their coats.

  A ginger-haired woman smiles at Tom and slides her hand up his arm to his shoulder. "There you are. Some of us are going for a drink. Join us."

  I'm a little taken aback by her familiarity and reminded of how little I know him.

  "Thanks, Tanya, but I'm going to dinner with friends." Tanya pouts, but Tom is unfazed. "Chelsea, Dominic, this is Tanya and Rhonda. They're in the ensemble."

  "I love you guys on Celebrity Dance Off," Rhonda, a short brunette, says. “Sorry you went off after your costume mishap.”

  "Thanks. We had a good run," Dominic says. “You guys were great tonight.”

  It's strange that she watches the show. I guess I should be used to it, but I'm not. They are the real professionals. "I loved the show. All of you were amazing."

  We say our goodbyes and they head outside. A cheer erupts from the waiting fans.

  "Hey, Ed. How's the crowd look?" Tom speaks to the man at the stage door who let me in.

  He checks his monitors. "Still a decent-sized crowd. Tomorrow might be another story. I hear a snow storm’s coming in."

  Tom frowns, pulls out his phone, and texts something. "Let's go through the front of house and avoid the crowd."

  "Is everything okay?" I follow close behind.

  "Oh yeah, but if we go out the stage door, I'll need to stop and talk to fans. Sometimes it takes a half hour or more."

  "Won't they be disappointed when you don't show?"

  "Probably, but I just tweeted an apology that I couldn't stay," he says with a crooked smile. "Tonight is about you guys." He guides us through back hallways and corridors, until he opens a door and suddenly we're at the back of the theater, looking over the seats to the stage with the ghost light.

  "This place is a maze, how did you ever figure it out?" A few steps more and we're in the lobby, cleared of everyone but a couple employees closing up.

  "I've spent a lot of time here." He pulls a gray beanie from his pocket and tugs it on low over his forehead. With his hair covered and his collar up, he's difficult to recognize.

  Placing a hand at the small of my back he leads us into the cold and steers us away from the stage door where there are still stragglers hoping to catch the departing star. But I've got their man tonight.

  The streets are emptying as theatregoers from the various shows have all rushed off for a cab or the subway. I'm flanked by Dominic on one side, and Tom on the other. How unreal is it that I can call both these guys friend? Six months ago I never would have believed this could be my life.

  We walk a couple of blocks and duck down a staircase to a lower-level restaurant. The lights are dim and the warmth is a treat after the chilly night air. We're seated in the back at a corner table with a flickering votive candle.

  “I’m starved,” Dominic says, opening his menu.

  Now that I smell the aromas wafting from the kitchen, I'm ravenous. I haven't eaten anything more since breakfast than a vending machine bag of chips. Staring at the menu, I can't concentrate. I'd rather be focused on Tom than the fine print. "What do you recommend?"

  "Everything is amazing, but my favorite is the cedar plank salmon."

  "Sounds great." I close my menu.

  The waiter arrives with crusty bread and a ball of butter. Tom orders a bottle of wine because it's that kind of place.

  I'm still a little blown away by Tom's immense talent. I should have expected it after his performance on Celebrity Dance Off and the many YouTube videos I watched, but sitting in that theatre and watching him live was beyond epic. "I can't get over the show. I don't know how you did that, all those emotions in the course of two and half hours.”

  “And it was your second show today," Dominic adds.

  "And I do it again tomorrow night, and the next, and two times on Saturday." He says with a weak smile.

  “Now I feel like a total wimp. Two dances a week for a total of about three minutes,” Dominic says.

  "I know. I can't believe what a whiner I was. Dominic, you should have brought me to New York at the beginning and I would have cooperated more."

  "You and me both," Dominic laughs.

  The waiter brings our wine, and pours us each a glass. I savor the rich smooth taste.

  "What happens next, now that you’re off the show?" Tom asks Dominic.

  "Pavel and I are putting together a dance tour for spring, so once the finale is over, I'll be working on that. Occasionally here in New York, but mostly in L.A."

  "It's going to be strange not seeing you everyday. I'm almost going to miss you," I tease.

  "See, I told you that at the beginning and you didn't believe me." Dominic smirks and I shake my head.

  He laughs. “Is it hard not being in the finals?” Tom asks Dominic. “You usually are.”

  I sip my wine, curious to hear his response.

  "Honestly, this season has been a roller coaster." Dominic tilts his head my way. I shrug innocently and Tom smiles at me. "It would have been nice to be in the finals, Chelsea earned it against all odds. But it's nice not to be one of the teams rehearsing twelve hours a day to get ready. The poor schmucks. While they're clawing their eyes out with frustration, we're living large." He holds up his glass, and we all clink.

  "When do you fly back for the finale?" Tom asks.

  "Saturday morning," I say, wishing we had longer. Tom nods, digesting how much time we have together. I'm ready for this long distance thing to be done.

  Our food arrives and Tom was right. The salmon practically melts in my mouth. We're well into our second bottle of wine when Dominic's phone dings. He checks it and goes still.

  He stares at me with a tense expression.

  "What?" I ask.

  "It's Larry. His text says, ‘911. Call me!’"

  My mind immediately thinks tragedy. "What do you think it is?"

  "No idea. Excuse me while I call him back." Dominic leaves the table.

  "I hope it isn't something bad," I say to Tom. "God forbid something happened to Hank."

  He takes my hand. "No use worrying until you know."

  I nod, but I've come to care about those people, even the ones who ignored me.

  Dominic returns a minute later. He drops into his seat, tosses his phone on the table, and shakes his head with a smile of disbelief.

  I give him about two seconds before demanding, "Well?"

  A slow smile curls onto his l
ips. "We're in the finals."

  My mouth drops open. "What!"

  "Are you serious?" Tom laughs.

  Dominic nods. "Brady tore his ACL, there's no way he can dance. We're the runners up, which means we've been bumped into the finals."

  Dumbstruck, I turn to Tom. With amusement in his eyes, he raises the wine bottle and empties the contents into our glasses. "I think you two are going to need this."

  Dominic takes a long drink. I can see his mind already going a million miles a second.

  "But we don't have a dance or costumes. We can't get ready in time," I say.

  He rubs his chin before speaking. "I do have the music and a couple of ideas I'd been working on."

  My heart thumps away. It may be stupid, but my first thought is that all I want is to be with Tom. I glance at him, and it’s as if he’s read my mind. He smiles and shrugs.

  "Larry will call back when our flights are booked. We leave first thing in the morning." Dominic hails the waiter for our check.

  I nod, and fight the urge to throw a temper tantrum. Instead I sip my wine. Tom watches me but remains silent.

  When the waiter arrives, the guys argue over the check, but Dominic wins when he promises it's on the network's dime. "I'm heading back to the hotel. I've got to start figuring out our dance. I'll call you when I know more." He takes off, distracted by all the details he now has to handle.

  Tom and I linger over our drinks and when it's time to go, he holds my coat. My feelings are a jumble. Being in the finale is great, but I don't really deserve it, and I haven't begun to have enough time with him. Outside, the sky is filled with huge snowflakes.

  "Huh, what do you know about that?" He raises an eyebrow.

  "Is it horrible if I pray for a blizzard to keep me here?"

  “It would make two of us. Do you mind if we walk back to your hotel instead of cabbing it?"

  "Not at all," I say, and I'm glad I did when Tom tucks his arm around me. Times Square is still brightly lit, but the crowds are gone with only a handful of tourists unwilling to call it a night, and stray people heading home after work. Normally in a city like New York I'd be nervous around every dark corner or shady character, but with Tom at my side, I've never felt safer.

  By the time we reach my hotel, the snow has filled the crevices in the sidewalk. Inside there's a swanky bar with chrome-edged tables and black leather seating. Tom removes his hat and brushes snow off my shoulders. “I know it’s late, but I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

  We sit in low chairs. Jazz music plays softly and the seductive lighting gives the feel that we're alone. The waitress brings him a gin and tonic and me a cosmo.

  "I wish I didn't have to fly back to L.A. in the morning."

  He squeezes my hand. "You'll be back."

  “I can’t believe we’re in the finals.”

  "You’ll be brilliant, and you're peaking at the perfect time. And you have the secret weapon of Dominic. As much as I hate to say it, you couldn't be in better hands. At least for the show," he says with a sardonic smile.

  "You're too nice. I'm not like you and Dominic. I haven't spent my life performing, but I promise to give it my best shot."

  He swirls his drink, the ice clinks against the side. "And that's what I love about you. You never give up."

  "Like Dominic would let me." But Tom's right. I've got one last chance to prove I'm worthy of being on the show and I won't waste it. Dominic calls with details of our 8:00 a.m. flight with car service pick up a few hours from now at 5:30. It'll be a long day tomorrow. At least I'll be able to sleep on the plane.

  Tom and I talk in quiet tones, our legs brushing together, our eyes lingering on each other. Before we know it, the lounge has emptied, the music turned off, and the bartender is clinking bottles. Reluctantly we return to the lobby. "May I walk you up?"

  I'm not about to say no. We take the elevator to the fifty-fourth floor and step inside my room. I toss my handbag and coat on the bed. When I reach to flip on more lights, Tom takes my hand and pulls me close, slipping his arms around my back.

  "I hate always having to say goodbye to you," he murmurs.

  I lean into his chest, so solid and warm. "We've barely had any time together."

  He brushes a strand of hair from my cheek, and lowers his mouth, capturing mine in a tangy gin and tonic kiss. He weaves his fingers through my hair. This close, my senses are filled with his scent.

  My hands reach inside his jacket and around to his back. His muscles move as his hands roam lower pressing gently at my hips, then cupping my behind and pulling me against him. I let him mold my body to his, reveling in his touch. His mouth ravishes mine in a hunger neither of us can possibly satisfy in one night.

  Eventually he releases me. We’ve lost track of time again. His eyes are dark, intense. "I think I best toss myself out of here."

  Inside my head I scream, no! But outwardly I’m silent.

  He steps away.

  "I'm going to miss you so much," I say breathlessly.

  Tom caresses my cheek and smiles. "Safe travels, love." With one final kiss he turns and leaves me alone. I lean against the door aroused and frustrated. Should I have asked him to stay? Or would that have been too forward? I don't have enough experience to know how to handle these things. Better to follow his lead, which has me bewildered and turned on. And more than ever I want the show to end so I can spend more time with him, but if it weren't for Celebrity Dance Off, we never would have met.

  I get ready for bed. Even scrubbed clean of all makeup, I'm glowing with joy. I pack up everything other than what I'll need in the morning, and set my alarm for only a few hours from now. At the window I open the drapes and the sheers to let in the city lights. Thick snow flies outside the window, blocking my view of the street below. I’m no expert, but it looks like it’s coming fast.

  With my fingers crossed, I climb into bed and stare out the window at the fuzzy glow of lights behind the swirling snow, and desperately pray it’s a blizzard.

  Dominic calls at 5 a.m. to say he and the hired car will be in front of the hotel in a few minutes. The snowfall has been heavy all night. So far our flight is still on time. We just have to get to the airport.

  "Um, okay." It seems only a blink of time since I went to bed.

  I wish I could stay to enjoy the snow, but instead I pull on jeans, a long sweater with a scarf, and my boots. I glance in the bathroom mirror at my groggy face and splash cold water on it, quick brush my teeth, and toss the rest of my toiletries into my suitcase.

  Yawning, I ride the elevator to the lobby. I picture Tom asleep in his bed with the gray and black comforter and butter soft sheets. I drop my key at the front desk and find Dominic waiting in a black sedan curbside.

  "Good morning." Dominic's wide awake but unshaven. He hands me a Starbucks cup.

  "Morning," I mumble trying to hang on to sleep.

  "Looks like someone has a hangover. How late were you and Tom up?”

  I take a drink of coffee. "I'm not hung over. Okay, maybe a little. He threw himself out around 2:30."

  "He did, or you did?" he asks, surprised.

  "He did," I say, savoring those last moments together.

  "I'm impressed."

  The car pulls onto the street. It's a winter wonderland with snow coating the city like thick frosting. One lane has been plowed, but there's already a layer of snow coating it.

  "Why's that?"

  "I was worried he would try to get you in the sack first chance he got."

  "You are so rude. If I weren't so tired I'd smack you." But inside I'm happy. "So it's good that he didn't try?"

  "Very good. Unless, of course, this means he's gay."

  I laugh. "He's not gay."

  "What makes you so sure?"

  A wide smile covers my face. "The way that man kisses me... there's no way in hell he's gay."

  I close my eyes and lean my head back to catch a few more zzz's. Dominic on the other hand is rapidly tapping his foot as
if that will help the driver make better time. After a minute of the staccato rhythm, without opening my eyes I grab his arm. "Please stop, or I'll hurt you."

  It turns out that half of New York had the same idea to arrive at the airport early. The lines are long as hundreds of weary travelers try to get a jump on the storm. Tensions run high as we wait in the security line. But we get through with plenty of time and just as we arrive at our gate, our flight status changes from On time to Delayed. Everyone in the area groans.

  "We might as well grab breakfast." Dominic steers me toward a restaurant with a view of the gate. After we order, Dominic's glued to the blizzard coverage on the tablet at our table.

  "What happens if our flight is canceled?" I skim whipped cream off my hot chocolate and into my mouth.

  "We take the next available flight."

  The snow is blowing sideways, the ground crews are bundled up in Parkas, and snowplows are working on distant runways. "Why do I have a feeling I'll be spending my day in the airport?"

  "Don't jinx us."

  "I'm not. I think it's inevitable." Not to mention that I'd love to be stranded in New York so that I can be with Tom. Just not at the airport.

  "We have to get on a plane today because we have do the world's quickest costume consultation and production meetings. Not to mention we need two new numbers, one being the free-style. If we don't win the free-style, we don't win the show."

  "You think we can win?" I ask skeptically as steaming plates of food are delivered.

  "I always thought we could win," he says.

  "No you didn't. Most of the time you thought we'd be sent home," I say, aiming my piece of bacon at him.

  "Yeah, but not because you weren't good enough."

  "Because I was a nobody."

  "Well, you're not a nobody anymore." He hitches his head to the side where a group of girls with their phones take our picture.

  After breakfast while Dominic updates Larry about our continued delays, I take a picture of the departure board listing more delayed flights than on time ones. I send the picture to Tom. He's probably still sleeping, which is what I wish I was doing, but last night was so worth it.