If Ever

by Angie Stanton

  My phone rings, I startle, then smile and answer. "I hope I didn't wake you?"

  "I left my phone on, hoping you’d call." His voice is low and groggy. I imagine him stretching in bed. "Doesn't look like you're getting out of the city anytime soon."

  The crowd of travelers glaring at the departure board is growing in number. "Too bad I'm stuck at the airport."

  "Don't I know it. If you were here, I'd take you to Central Park to play in the snow."

  "That sounds nice, but I don't really have the clothes for it. In fact, other than my small carry-on, all my stuff is checked and probably buried in a snow drift on the tarmac."

  "The weather channel doesn't seem to think it's going to let up anytime soon. Maybe you'll be back after all."

  "I'd love that. Uh oh, here comes Dominic with one of his determined looks. I better go."

  "Call me later with an update."

  "Promise." I slide my phone into my purse.

  "Well, the weather isn't letting up, but I heard they're trying to keep two runways open."

  "So..."

  "So, we keep waiting. I'm set up to get flight updates and until it's canceled, we keep our fingers crossed."

  "Great. That means I get to find a corner and take a nap?"

  "Ha ha!" He laughs, then snaps, "No. We'll find a corner and start working on our freestyle."

  "Here?" I glance around at the crowds of people.

  "Never underestimate me. I found a dead end corridor away from the gates."

  I frown. A nap sounds much more appealing.

  "Cheer up. It'll be fun!" he says with false bravado.

  Within ten minutes our coats and carry-ons are piled in a corner next to my boots. Dominic is walking me through the first sequence with the turns and hand holds. Apparently he stayed up most of the night working out choreography.

  It doesn't take long before sweat rolls down my back and my hair sticks to my neck and forehead. A small crowd has gathered to watch my torture, snapping pictures and video.

  We smile at them as if this is all great fun. "Can't you ask them to stop?" I beg Dominic.

  "We need all the publicity we can get. Think of these people as voters. Now smile and play nice." He spins me into a dip and grins at the cameras.

  "Have I mentioned lately how much I don't like you?" I mutter through clenched teeth while faking a smile.

  He's sweating profusely too, which improves my mood a little. "Come on. You're living the dream."

  "It might be someone's dream, but it sure isn't mine," I complain, longing for a pillow and a bed.

  "Sure it is. You just refuse to admit it." He grins and we run the opening sequence along with the next one until he's satisfied I've committed it to memory.

  After an hour, I collapse against the wall for a water break. Dominic slides down next to me checking his phone. "Well, there's good news and bad news."

  "Lay it on me." I consider stretching out on the cool tile floor but then rethink it when I see how dirty it is.

  "The good news is you might get to see a certain sweet talking Brit again soon."

  "Really?" I perk up, my exhaustion forgotten for the moment.

  "The bad news is that not only is our flight officially canceled, so is every other flight today. We're going to have a hell of a time getting out of here even tomorrow."

  But all I heard him say was that I'd get to see Tom.

  The line for a cab winds around like a mile-long serpent. After shivering in the blizzard conditions until I no longer feel my fingers, L.A. is sounding pretty good. We finally climb into a warm cab and limp back to the city in snowy traffic.

  Dominic is still in business mode on another phone call, but I'm hoping for a nap. I'm grossly disappointed when we pull up in front of a building in an area I've never seen before.

  "Why aren't we at the hotel?"

  Dominic ends his phone call and pays the driver. "Because we have a show to rehearse for." He gives me a fake cheery smile, but he's got to be dog-tired too.

  "And where exactly are we?"

  Dominic pushes his door open, and a bluster of snow whirls in as we climb out. "At the Gotta Dance Studio. It belongs to Nathan, one of the pros from a couple seasons ago. He's got an extra space where we can rehearse."

  "Lucky us."

  "We take the elevator up a couple floors and enter the studio. Photos of celebrity dancers line the wall and a shelf of awards lines the other. I trail after Dominic like a toddler, nodding and smiling to people as we pass.

  Nathan gives us a rehearsal room with a lovely view of a brick office building. It's cold and bare and I'm hungry again.

  Dominic makes himself at home, cueing up music on his laptop and spreading out his choreography notes on the windowsill. I dig through the lost and found boxes for something a little more suitable to practice in. I score a gray tank top and a pair of yoga pants with the words hot stuff on the rear end.

  With a bracing breath we start on the next sequence of our dance. Dominic pauses a lot to rub his chin and rethink things. I'm on autopilot from hunger and exhaustion, not really taking in the meaning of this dance. At the moment it's just one more obligation before I'm free. His phone rings. It's a production call. I jump on the unexpected break and call Tom.

  "How's it going?"

  " Dominic is holding me hostage at the Gotta Dance Studio, rehearsing a number I don't understand because I'm too tired and hungry to think straight."

  "I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

  "Since when are you so buddy buddy with Dominic? He's a slave driver keeping us apart."

  He laughs. "Only for a few more days."

  "I suppose. What have you been up to?"

  "I worked out earlier and my appointments for today got canceled, so right now I'm laid out on the couch watching a Mad Men marathon."

  "That sounds heavenly."

  "When do I get to see you?"

  "I wish I knew. We haven't even finished the first number. Every few measures, he says, ‘insert cool lift,’ which makes me break out in a cold sweat. We still have a lot of work." I'm exhausted, and the thought of more hours of rehearsal makes me whimper.

  "I'm sorry this is so painful, but it's your last chance to dance. And personally, I love watching you."

  "Well, if you like it..."

  "That a girl. A week from now it will all be over."

  Dominic is finally off the phone. I dig in my bag and find a squished granola bar at the bottom to share with him. He takes that as a sign I'm ready to get back to work.

  An hour later, we've been working on a sequence of lifts where I go from his shoulder, swing down his arm with my head barely missing the floor and land in the splits.

  "Again," Dominic says.

  My muscles are quivering from fatigue. "Why are we doing so many lifts and tricks?"

  "Because once you learn what to do, you're really good at them," he says with a pointed look.

  "I am?"

  He shakes his head as if I already knew that. "Yes, now again."

  18

  When I open the door, Chelsea and Dominic are trying a lift. As she swings down, she can't sustain the hold and smacks her knee and elbow on the floor. She's sprawled out like a limp rag.

  I wince. "I don't think that's going to get you any tens."

  Chelsea lolls her head toward me and sees the large take away bag I'm holding. "Please tell me that's food," she groans.

  "Your wish is my command." I leave my wet boots and coat at the door and set the bag in front of her.

  "How's it going?" I ask Dominic as she tears opens the food. He looks exhausted.

  "It could be better. It's tough not being in L.A., and this storm just adds more stress. At this rate we might have to take a train to make it in time."

  "Trains have sleeper cars. I'm up for that! Oh my God, Tom. You brought stew, mac & cheese, spaghetti. You are the most gorgeous man on the planet."

  "Really? All that for a bag of food." Her face is flush
from exertion. She looks younger with a light dusting of freckles across her cheeks and also beat from lack of sleep.

  She lifts out a salad. "Look Dominic. Rabbit food for you!"

  He joins her. "Oh no. After today, I'll arm wrestle you for the pasta."

  We sit in a circle and dive in to the take-out containers.

  "Seriously, dude. You're a lifesaver." Dominic shovels in a mouthful of spaghetti. "I was afraid if I let her take too much of a break, I'd never get her back."

  "I'm not that bad," Chelsea says.

  Dominic cocks his head.

  "Come on, it's been a long day. I mean, I'm wearing someone else's clothes. Plus, I don't even know where I'm sleeping tonight."

  I flash my eyebrows at her, which Dominic catches and laughs. Chelsea blushes then looks away.

  "We've got a new hotel just down the street. This way we can rehearse late and not have far to go."

  Chelsea groans, and I wish there was more I could do to help. After eating our fill, Dominic is off talking to someone in the main office. Chelsea rolls on the floor next to me. Her body cooled down, she leans into my side, greedy for warmth.

  I lace my fingers through hers and smile, lifting her hand for a quick kiss

  "Is this a new bruise or an old one?" I examine her shapely arm, lightly tracing my finger over the purple mark.

  "That one's old, but the one right here, is brand new."

  My eyes and fingers graze over her soft skin, checking her for further damage, raising goose bumps as I go. I frown and make tsk sounds every time I find another. "It's a good thing this competition is almost over, because you look like you've gone ten rounds with Ali."

  "Dancing with Dominic is a combat sport."

  "I heard that!" Dominic appears. "Time to get back to work. Want to show Tom what we've got?"

  Chelsea climbs to her feet, and I scoot out of the way to watch. "Don't be too critical, I'm still learning, and as you saw, we haven't worked out the lifts yet."

  I lean against the wall, my forearms resting on my knees. Dominic hits play and they begin. Chelsea’s natural ability shows through. Then she's up over his head in a lift, grabs for his other hand and fumbles, then goes down hard on her back.

  I'm next to her in an instant. "Are you okay?" I ask, my hand on her bare shoulder.

  She groans. "Maybe we better change that lift."

  "Or maybe we need to slow down and work on it again when you aren't so tired," Dominic answers. "I'll get you an ice pack."

  Chelsea pushes to a sitting position and I pull her into my arms and lean against the wall. She lies against my chest and rests her head in the crook of my neck, her silky hair tickling my skin. My arms wrap around her slim waist and settle on her stomach. It's as if I've known her all my life. I could hold her this way forever, and if I have my way, I will.

  "Do you always fall this much?"

  "Unfortunately, yes. I'm really not a dancer. I've just gotten good at faking it for a minute and a half."

  I kiss her temple. "I hate to see you get hurt like this." She lays limp in my arms.

  She speaks softly, "I'm used to pain. One way or another it always follows me."

  I frown. Dominic returns and hands me an ice pack, since Chelsea's curled into my body with her eyes closed. He doesn't bat an eye at her closeness, which I appreciate.

  "Where'd you land when you fell?" I ask shaking the ice pack.

  "Here." She rubs her hand over her hip.

  I gently lay it on her. She shivers. "That's cold."

  "Hang on." I shift her, unzip and slip out of my hoodie. "How's this?" I spread it over her from shoulder to thigh like a blanket.

  "Thanks." She snuggles back in like a drowsy pup.

  Dominic sits on my other side with his phone and laptop in tow. He glances at Chelsea and laughs. "We've got a Skype visit with costume design in a few minutes."

  "Can't we just reuse our old costumes? We've got enough of them," Chelsea mumbles.

  "It's the finale, it's got to be spectacular."

  She grunts. "You know what I like."

  "So you're giving me the okay to decide?" He looks at her as if this is a dare.

  "Um hmm." She rumbles and I feel her drifting close to sleep. My heart fills with contentment. I hold her a little closer and she sighs.

  I turn to Dominic, who could easily toss me out at any time. "I hope I'm not messing up your schedule today. I know you have a lot to do."

  "You're fine. It's the weather that's the problem. Look how docile she is with you around." He laughs at my sleeping angel. "And you brought dinner. Thanks for that."

  Dominic logs into his computer and sets his notes on the floor next to him. While he's getting ready, I pull out my phone and snap a picture of Chelsea and I. She doesn't bat an eye. I send the picture to her phone for her to discover later.

  Dominic's phone pings and he reads an email. "Looks like we're booked on a noon flight tomorrow. The snow is supposed to stop at some point tonight, so even if we're delayed, we should be able to get out of here."

  "Considering all the setbacks, you're handling this well."

  "You know what they say..." Dominic starts.

  "The show must go on," I finish.

  Dominic's computer lights up and his Skype goes live. "Hi, Mark, Kelly."

  "Hey guys, sorry to hear you're snowed in, but congratulations on making the finals."

  "Thanks, but I'm afraid Chelsea can't hear you. She's decided to check out of costume design, but do you remember Tom Oliver? He sang for us a couple weeks back and he'll be offering feedback on her behalf." Dominic snickers and turns the laptop so they can see Chelsea sleeping on my chest.

  Mark and Kelly laugh. "Nice to see you again Tom."

  "Hi."

  Dominic turns the laptop back to face him.

  "So what have you got in mind?" Mark asks.

  "We've got the three numbers, the first is a rumba. I'd like something shorter to show off her intricate footwork and some sort of fringe or something that will catch the light when she spins."

  "You're thinking something similar to Sonya's costume from last year's finale?"

  "Yeah, classy, but also with a bare back."

  Mark holds up a couple sketches of past costumes. Each one is skimpy. One features rhinestones, another sparkling fringe, and the last tulle. "Something like these?"

  "The middle one," Dominic says.

  "Chelsea isn't going to like it. You remember how upset she was about the salsa costume showing so much skin," Kelly says.

  I remember that costume. Damn she looked hot.

  Dominic shakes his head. "I know, but this is the finals and she's up for whatever it takes to get votes. What do you think Tom? You've seen an early version of the dance. Will Chelsea approve?"

  I picture her in any of the samples they showed. Her hot little bum will look amazing. My hand moves under my sweatshirt from her waist to cup her behind. Her change in breathing is the only indication she even notices I'm here. I grin. "She'll love it."

  "Hear that? Chelsea votes yes. I was thinking make it silver and put me in a top hat and tails. She'll need a top hat for the opening sequence before tossing it away."

  Dominic and the designers move on to the next two costumes, each with revealing aspects that would show off her long legs, her sexy backside, and more skin than she's flaunted all season. Whenever consulted, I heartily agree that's exactly how I want to see her. With the call concluded, he closes his laptop.

  "How do you think she'll react when she sees her costumes?" I ask, glad I won't be there.

  "I expect there will be quite a fire storm of hysterics, but she's risen to every challenge I've thrown at her so far. If I'm lucky, she won't find out until a last minute fitting on Monday."

  The door opens and two guys enter, one carrying a camera on his shoulder. Dominic puts a finger to his lips for them to be quiet, then gestures with his hand to roll tape. "Think she'll like this surprise?" he whispers. "The producers
have been going crazy with no promo footage of rehearsal, so they hired a local crew."

  I look at my snoozing bundle and cringe on her behalf. She's warm and toasty against me. Somehow I think her waking up to a film crew won't be a welcome development. I whisper in her ear to give her fair warning. "Chelsea, a camera crew's here." Her breathing shifts, but she isn't awake. I run my fingertips over her back and shift my leg to rouse her. "Camera on you. Right now. She comes to, then bolts upright, pushing a mass of hair out of her eyes. "Where?"

  I point across the room where the camera guy is focusing in on her. Dominic is bent over laughing. She pulls my sweatshirt over her head and dives into my chest. I'm definitely included in the frame.

  "Dominic, I hate you," she yells.

  "Aw come on, you're an easy target."

  "On that note, it's time for me to go." I ease her off of me.

  Her eyes are round saucers of innocence. "Please don't."

  "I wish I could stay, but I've got to get to work." I'm desperate to kiss her, but not with the red light of the camera watching.

  We get to our feet and she hands me my sweatshirt, smoothing down her mussed hair. As I put on all my layers to face the snowstorm, Chelsea pleads her case to Dominic.

  "Let me go to his show tonight, please. We've been working all day, plus we have four days until the show."

  "Sorry. Not tonight. We have an entire other number to block."

  "Come on. I never ask you for anything," she pleads.

  He cocks his head in disagreement.

  "Fine, but we're here in the city. We should have some fun too."

  Dominic drops his head, his hands resting on his hips. I can see he's choosing his words carefully. "Chelsea, do you remember when we started this thing all those weeks ago?"

  She crosses her arms and snorts.

  "You were afraid no one would take you seriously—that you'd never get a chance to get past week one or two because the audience didn't know you. Well guess what? The viewers have been paying attention. You've made it all the way to the finals. It doesn't matter how you got here, but you did."

  The camera is focused on them, I've moved out of sight because this goes way deeper than Chelsea taking a night off.