by Sara Hooper
Louis seemed to soak in the advice and bowed with Mortimer. He wasn’t awash in tears as he smiled at Alice. She was glad that he had emerged semi-victorious.
“Great.” Peter’s voice buzzed in her ear again.
Alice looked away from the sound and saw Marissa Michaels curving discarded marbles into a shape that soon rang familiar. When Mona Lisa herself took center stage, the crowd applauded wildly. Marissa barely bowed as she basked in the compliments. She seemed beyond sure of her chances as she left the spotlight.
Darlene rose to the challenge and scarfed down a party sized tray of mozzarella sticks. The crowd screamed as her stomach tensed in an effort to stop the fat from falling about her thighs. With the victory in hand, Darlene was back at Alice’s side.
“Guess we know who isn’t getting room service tonight,” Darlene said.
Alice started to chuckle at the joke when she heard her name blaring through the speakers.
She did not know what to do at the sound.
Peter pressed his hand into hers and eased Alice forward. “Do your thing. I’ll be watching.”
That didn’t matter, but Alice was off.
She flexed and folded in a sensation that was somewhere between anguish and ecstasy. She accepted the music into her soul and made the audience applaud. There was nothing to worry about. Her talent had seen her through.
The judges’ panel applauded her efforts and spoke of seeing more of her in the days to come. Alice was all smiles when she saw Peter preparing to make his entrance. His eyes passed right through her. Alice stood on the edge of the wings as he started his set.
“Trains,” Peter started.
Oh no. He was switching things up at her expense.
He talked of travelers who had to get somewhere, the fact that everyone thought that their point of destination was the most important thing on the planet. A nuclear physicist could be en route to an atomic bomb set to eradicate an entire civilization, but your Aunt Lucy’s seventieth ranked just as high if not higher. So did a date with a longtime pen pal or tickets to a concert.
“So the world blows up? Who cares? I have seat A12 here, science guy, and I am not about to let anything hold me back.”
Peter was far from original, but he was observant. People did crazy things en route to their goals.
People like Alice.
Peter bowed to the judges and the audience. The Shark reappeared, and he beckoned all of the acts on stage again. Alice had to stick to her assigned place at Peter’s side. She focused on the hot lights hovering overhead and struggled to ignore his sideways glance in her direction.
“Alright, alright, alright! Here’s the deal, Ladies and Gents! We’re not playing. We’re cutting this mother in half next week.”
The crowd gasped. The acts froze.
“That’s right, people. Ten acts go home. They get one more chance, but it better be perfect. Cause your votes will already be in!”
Wow. Well, it was the first season. The show had to do something unexpected to gain its place on an overstuffed map.
“So make those votes count!”
A screen slid down, and the highlights appeared above phone numbers to call to keep their favorites in the running. For them, this was a diversion after a long day’s work. For Alice, for the rest of them, this was the day’s work.
When the lights dimmed and the acts dispersed, Alice made a dash for the crowded dressing room. She just wanted to get back to the hotel and prepare for what could not be her swan song. She was nearly at the door when a hand grabbed her wrist and spun her around. It was an almost graceful move, and she was surprised to find Peter as her dance partner. He was all smiles.
“How’d you like my set?”
She didn’t. Peter took cheap shots to make himself feel better. If she traded in her toe shoes for a microphone, she could do a set or nine about washed up never-weres who grasped at straws that were already bent to the point of uselessness.
“Alice?”
She had no words, and no intention of playing his accidental muse.
Movement was her bag. Alice just turned on her heel and closed the door.
She sat on a free couch and caught her breath. The thing to do now was to keep far away from him. Anything else that she might say or do would only serve as fodder for his act. She would avoid him. It was essential.
But could she?
Dance Under The Stars
Alice spent as much of the next week as possible alone. The network provided a rehearsal studio, but the problem was she was not the only one who needed to practice. Porter Cole rapped about streets where people lived while Marissa Michaels appeared to craft Kandinsky replicas out of Starburst candies. And there was the mime that had made no impression on show night. Now he seemed to be everywhere. He was trapped in imaginary boxes and climbing invisible rope in the space where Alice needed to dance, so she ultimately abandoned the studio for greener pastures.
Her hotel room seemed the safest haven. It was nearly solitary, but it was not conducive to stretching her limbs to impossible lengths worthy of applause. Even if it were, Darlene demanded silence to meditate and find her center.
“Keep it down. Please. I’m working.”
She definitely was. The downward facing dog had to be the key to staying so thin in the face of so much lasagna.
“Sorry, Dar.”
Alice could think of only one other place to go.
The roof.
There was a very real chance that she would find him there. That wasn’t part of her plan, and she slowly peeked over the door.
No Peter.
Good.
Right?
Alice fought the unwelcome emotions that he stirred and took her place under the moonlight. With her music player on and earbuds firmly in place, she swayed until she felt ready to reach a speed that rivaled flight. This time she opted for old school, for Minnie Riperton’s “Loving You,” to accentuate her moves. She was loving him, whoever he might be, as she spun across the air and leapt to what felt like impossible heights as she closed her eyes.
For one moment, she felt suspended in the night before folding her arms to her chest and slipping down to the concrete, her exposed back mingling with the cold air. After the final, impossibly high note, she stayed in darkness and imagined victory.
The slow claps drew her out of her dream.
Alice lifted her lids to see a pair of feet nearing her. She shifted her gaze up and saw Peter applauding her efforts without an ounce of sincerity. How could he appreciate true art? Why didn’t he appreciate her?
Because you abandoned him at Penn Station and hoped he’d meet some awful fate before making his way to the main stage.
Touché.
She was on her feet as Peter continued to clap.
“Not bad,” he said. “Actually impressive.”
Alice knew she shouldn’t trust him, but when his smile seemed kind, she went weak in the knees, and it wasn’t on account of the dancing. “Really? I…thanks.”
She brushed a strand of ebony hair out of her eyes. Her braids were losing their luster. Alice knew that she had to fix them fast or opt for something shorter and sexier to stay in the competition.
Peter drew nearer. “Expected as much.”
What did that mean?
“You…you like the way I dance?”
Peter laughed and cracked his knuckles. “Love the way you steal. This is my spot. Find your own, lady.”
He’d dropped the my. It didn’t go unnoticed.
Peter started to turn away from her when Alice seized his wrist.
“What? Cause you got here first? Same could be said for…”
Alice didn’t stop herself in time. Peter had been on the scene first, he was on the train first, and he had found the roof first. She was out of comebacks and resigned herself to practicing in her bathroom. She sighed and started past him.
Peter grabbed her arm. “You wanna share?”
She looked at him. May
be it was the moonlight, but he looked sweeter. Alice needed the space, but more than that she needed to make things right. “I...that’s okay. Sorry. I’ll go.”
She started to leave, but he kept his hold on her arm. “No rush,” he said. “How about you show me some moves?”
Alice took a deep breath. She placed Peter’s hand on her hip and took the other one in her free fingers. “A waltz?” she asked.
“Sounds good to me.”
To the unsuspecting eye, Peter was the leader. But it was Alice who guided him across the roof as she hummed “The Waltz from Nine.” It was slow and sad and easy enough for him to keep up. He was stiff and awkward, but he did manage to sense a moment when he should twirl her.
“Not bad,” Alice said. “Very nice.”
Alice liked his hands just under her breasts. She felt that she could keep the music and her moves up all night long. Peter clomped about before finally spinning her around again. Then he drew her closer. Alice forgot the stakes of the contest and felt lost in his blue eyes.
“Alice?”
She could only nod.
“I might have to use this. You know?”
Alice forgot the feel of his arms around her and swiftly kicked his shin.
“Come on!” Peter cried out as he reached for his leg.
“Come on? I said I was sorry. How long are you going to make me pay…?”
Peter recovered and grabbed her shoulders. Alice felt as if she would melt where she stood, but he steadied her into his eyes.
“Maybe forever. I haven’t decided yet.”
Someone should really slap him. Hard. But touching him again suddenly seemed the worst option. “Why can’t you just let it go?”
Peter had his hand in hers and pulled her closer.. “Guess I like having a little leverage. Keeps you coming back, right?”
So it was all a con. A tease. Peter liked her guilty because it meant that she kept baring her soul in service of his so-called act.
“No more,” she said as she pushed him away. Alice was almost at the door when she couldn’t fight the urge to turn back and look at him again. “Okay. Okay. So maybe it does. But you’d better find something else. And fast, Peter. Because you’re not funny.”
He moved closer, and she fought back a sigh as his breath poured over her face. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. I don’t think this is funny.”
She looked down and saw his pale finger hovering just above her dark skin. “Me neither.”
Was he being straight? Did he care on some level? Alice didn’t touch him, but she wanted to as he brushed off his slacks and went for the door.
He started down the steps and turned back to her with a curious smile. “But they will.”
Peter was gone before Alice could fire back. She was still feeling the waltz and his breath on her neck. Parts of her could easily follow him back to his room and send Mortimer out for a snack so that she could know him better. But there was still a competition. She had to focus on that. Just that. Nothing else.
For The Applause
When Peter was right he was right.
The live show was an opportunity for more performances. Even if the viewers’ votes were already in, there was still a chance to turn the tide with one perfect routine. Louis had Mortimer do all of the talking to thunderous applause. Darlene pounded down too many crab cakes to count. Ella Miles was still off pitch, but she was pretty. Alice suspected that that would carry her through to the next round.
And then Peter took his turn.
“Ever waltz with a girl?”
Alice was already fuming.
He spoke of the waltz like it was an ancient peace offering meant to pretend that society was still polite when it was just a series of steps in service of getting intel. Princesses were taught to move to the music in an effort to procure the identities of spies. Modern girls had far more important secrets to uncover.
“Does he like me like me?”
Alice resented the insinuation from him. She only kind of liked. Barely liked him liked him.
“And the thing is, you like them like them, too. And then I realized I never learned how to dance.”
Alice smiled slightly at the realization that he was putting both of them down in service of the joke, and she even gave him some credit for fictionalizing the reality. He wasn’t a dancer, but he had his moves.
“Subtle, clever, not bad at all,” Wesley said.
Leticia folded her arms across her chest. “Glad I’m not on your dance card!”
The crowd lapped it up.
“I think it was good,” Arnold said. “Good enough? I just…I don’t know. I mean what is that?”
The audience erupted and begged Arnold to wow them with his act. Alice watched Peter hold his tongue. In spite of everything, she felt sure that she would still prefer Peter’s set.
Peter took it all in like a pro and winked at her as he made his way to the wings.
“Sound familiar?”
Alice quickly stifled a smile. She wasn’t about to give him the credit when she was up on deck.
The Shark called her name, and Alice took the stage to the strains of “Loving You.” As she stretched her arms to the audience then back over her head, she found herself imagining Peter as her partner. The thought of him bracing and complimenting her every move was unrehearsed but sent her to a place where she danced as she never had before.
A part of her hated him. Why was he having this effect on her? He was a travelling hack taking his last shot, and she was on the cusp of something extraordinary. Even if she did want to waltz with him again, it couldn’t lead to anywhere worth staying. Alice turned her head away from the judges with her eyes closed. When the audience started to cheer, she couldn’t help but smile. She wanted to see the accolades, and she opened her eyes to see Peter standing in the wings. He saluted her and made a show of bowing.
Alice finished her dance. Something besides the applause was filling her with every kind of warmth. She shot Peter the briefest of looks before acknowledging the panel.
“Alice,” Leticia started, “you’re a breath of fresh air. You’re poised and polished, and I can think of no scenario where we don’t see you next week.”
Alice shifted her gaze to Peter again. She could. There was always the scenario where a few laughs trumped her artistry.
“Very nice, Alice. Truly,” Wesley said.
Alice fell into a prima donna’s curtsy and thanked the judges for their kind words. Darlene was ready with a high five as Alice left the stage. Louis even had Mortimer applaud her efforts. Peter was obviously done with his congratulations as he awaited the call back to the spotlight. Alice resigned herself to a lonely stay of execution. She was surprised when Peter slipped his hand into hers.
“I think we’re both in,” he whispered.
Alice turned her head from his with a soft smile. She wanted him to be right.
“Let’s get the talent out here!” The Shark called them all to center stage.
Alice held Peter’s hand until the last possible second then let it fall away as the lights hit her eyes. She saw him straighten his tie as he prepared to face the firing squad. Alice looked up at him, but she couldn’t capture his eyes.
“Good luck,” she whispered.
He didn’t look back at her. “Don’t think I need it.”
Alice slid her arms down her legs and tried to repress everything that she was feeling. She shouldn’t like him. Her instinct on the train had been the right one. Peter was dangerous and not to be trusted. All of this would be so much easier if he was eliminated.
“Neither do you,” he whispered into her ear.
Alice felt a tingle rush up her spine. On the other hand, maybe it would be better if he stayed.
“Okay, people!” The Shark said. “Let’s get some results!”
There were no surprises at first. The tiny dancers were eliminated as was Nancy Appel.
“Darlene O’Dea…”
Al
ice tensed at the mention of her roommate’s name.
“Darlene, you are moving on!”
Alice grabbed her sudden friend and offered a congratulatory hug. The Shark glared her back to Peter’s side.
Peter patted her shoulder and spoke through clenched teeth. “Sweet. But play it cool.”
Other acts fell. Porter Cole was still standing. Marissa Michaels, obviously, lived to fight another day. So did Kevin, the mime. What had he done that was of note?
“Lou and Mort?”
Alice was on edge again. Let him make it through... Let them make it through…
“Safe.”
She forgot Peter’s words of advice and hugged her neighbor as one of two animal groups, Randy’s Rovers, and the orchestral act Ten and Out joined the others on the line of possibility.
“Ella Miles?” Safe, baby!”
Naturally. She was all dewy eyes and pouting lips. So what if she couldn’t follow the music? Her legs stretched up to her neck. As a dancer, Alice should have such legs.
Violinists and the bad magician fell.
“Porter Cole?”
The Shark had all of Alice’s attention again.
“See you next week, brother!”
Alice left Louis and hugged Porter. She was caught up in the sensation of salvation, and the high extended to Peter on the chopping block.
“Mr. Brandt?”
Let the jerk survive to fight another day. I’ll regret it, but I don’t want him to go.
“Safe, Peter!”
Peter mockingly wiped his brow and smiled and the audience. He stared Alice down, waiting for his hug. She would have made the move if The Shark hadn’t continued.
“Okay. Jordan and Alice. Let’s do this.”
She was suddenly terrified. Jordan had screwed up. Alice hadn’t. But like Ella, Jordan was dreamy and cute and everything that a fan girl would or could desire. Alice feared that she couldn’t compete with Jordan, and he seemed as certain of his victory as she did of total failure.
“Jordan,” The Shark said. “Little rough last week. A little better tonight. Was it enough?”