After her friends helped make the apartment livable again—with furniture where it was supposed to be and free of plaster dust—Natasha worked out an agreement with the management company. After the two months were up, they would allow her to break the lease and move into a one-bedroom apartment elsewhere in the building, applying her existing security deposit to the new place. In the meantime, since her ankle was still too sore to risk dancing on it, she got a head start on packing and purging.

For the first time in a while, she had free time where she wasn’t worrying about survival. Amazing how much energy stress used up. With Lori and Kevin’s help, Natasha sold off her collection of clothes and shoes. Nice as it was to have cash in her pocket and space in her closet, parting with the items wasn’t easy. She snapped pictures of herself in each item one last time, and caressed the fabrics until Lori snatched them away from her and stuffed them into shipping boxes.

Once, just owning them made her feel successful, even if she had never worn them. Being able to buy them, to select an outfit from a closet full of beautiful pieces, had made her happy.

It seemed so silly now. They were just clothes. Overpriced and totally impractical. She was a dancer. She lived in yoga pants most of the time, and when she performed, costumes were provided. Having a wardrobe like this was just a status thing, so she could feel good about herself when she went out. And since she’d had the nice clothes, she’d gone out a lot. Both fed into each other, a vicious cycle of spending more and more money. And what did she have to show for it? Nothing. A bunch of photos on her phone. No wonder she didn’t have any money left.

And now she was keeping her job on The Dance Off for the financial security. Why? So she could buy more clothes she didn’t need?

And at what cost?

She shut down that line of thinking. The cost was painfully obvious every time she went to bed alone, struggled through her budgeting spreadsheet, or made a single cup of espresso in the morning.

At least she’d be prepared for her mother’s arrival in a few weeks. Esmeralda wasn’t as awful when other people were around. Maybe if the friend she was bringing appeared to be impressed, Esmeralda would find it in her to bestow praise as well.

Yeah, and maybe Donna would turn out to be a decent human being. Not gonna happen.

But for the first time in her life, Natasha was living on her own terms.

And if she wasn’t all that happy about it, well, that was life.

To thank Kevin and Lori for all they’d done, Natasha hosted dinners at her apartment. They brought the groceries, and she cooked up huge meals for them, experimenting with different cuisines and dishes. Sometimes they invited the other pro dancers, too, but most of the time, it was just the three of them.

A week before Natasha was set to meet her new partner for the upcoming season, she invited Lori and Kevin over to try out an array of summer salads.

Kevin arrived first, with five bottles of wine. Natasha gave him a stern look. “Kev, you know I’m cutting back on drinking.”

“I know, I know. Just stocking up for the next time.” He stuck two bottles of rosé in the fridge, and popped the other three into the small wine rack on top. Then he hovered over the large bowls on the counter. “What do we have here?”

Natasha pointed to each one. “Watermelon with feta and mint. Salmon with mango and avocado. Shrimp and nectarine. And a classic orzo with veggies.”

“You’re the best.” Kevin made himself at home, pulling down wine glasses and opening the bottle of white wine she had chilling in the fridge.

Natasha’s phone rang on the counter while she was setting out dishes and utensils. She thought it would be Lori, calling from the car, but her agent’s name flashed on the screen. She answered, and Kevin took over setting out the flatware.

“Hi, Penelope. What’s up?”

Penelope jumped right in, speaking fast. “Hey, Tash. I was approached about a big choreography opportunity for you. They’ve seen your YouTube videos, and they want you to come in for a meeting in two days. It’ll be a few months of work, and go a long way toward billing you as a real choreographer.”

“That sounds amazing. When would it start?”

“Immediately.”

Natasha frowned. “Pen, I already have a job. I’m meeting my next partner next week.”

“I know, but we could use your ankle to get you out of it. This is a really good opportunity.”

The buzzer rang, and Kevin went to let Lori in.

“I don’t know, Pen. I’ll think about it.”

“Think fast. I really think you should at least meet with them. Maybe it could lead to something else. The Dance Off doesn’t have to be forever.”

“I know. Thanks.”

They hung up.

Kevin came back from opening the apartment door for Lori. “What was that about?”

“My agent. Someone reached out to her about a choreography job.”

“Isn’t that what you want to do? I mean, yeah, we choreograph dances every week for the show, but making up short routines for non-dancers is totally different than a job as a choreographer. You should take it.”

Natasha pressed her fingers to her forehead, which suddenly throbbed with pressure. “It’s too much change all at once. Anyway, I said I’ll think about it.”

Lori bustled in. “Oh my god, you guys. You will not believe what I heard today.”

“I’m going to pour the wine. I have the feeling we’ll need it.” Kevin ducked into the kitchen.

Lori kicked off her big turquoise and silver high tops and ran over to Natasha. Her eyes were wide, her mouth pinched in a serious little frown. “Tash, I know who your next partner is.”

“Really?” Natasha perked up. “Donna hinted a while ago that he was a musician.”

Lori shook her head slowly. “Nuh-uh.”

Kevin pushed wine glasses into their hands. “Don’t drag it out, Lor. Spill.”

Lori took a deep breath, then blew it out in a rush, words tumbling out. “Tash, don’t be mad at me. I’m just the messenger. But as soon as I heard, I knew I had to tell—”

“Lori!” Natasha and Kevin both yelled her name in unison.

“Spit it out.” The longer Lori stalled, the more her nerves high-kicked into gear. Natasha took a sip of wine to soothe them.

Lori’s hands flapped by her sides, but she nodded and said, “It’s Rocky. Rocky Lim.”

Natasha froze.

Kevin spoke up. “Rocky Lim, from those martial arts car racing movies? Is he—oh, shit.” He turned to Natasha, a hand covering his mouth. “Didn’t you and he used to . . . ?”

She nodded, then knocked back the glass, chugging the rest of the wine. “Yeah. We used to. And Donna knows it.”

Lori shook her fist in the air. “Fucking Donna! Why would she even do that?”

Kevin glowered into his wine glass. “I know why. She’s a manipulative little punk. She’s keeping Tash in line, showing her how much she can mess with her life, and trying to destroy her connection to Dimitri.”

Lori’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Does Dimitri know about you and Rocky?”

Natasha shut her eyes. “He knows. We once ran into him at a perfume launch party. I was with Rocky, he was with some TV host.”

Lori mouth twisted. “Maybe I’m wrong?”

“How’d you find out?” Kevin asked.

“Not too many Asians in Hollywood. There’s a gossip grapevine.”

Natasha grabbed her phone. “You’re not wrong. Look.”

She pulled up some texts, and showed them the screen.

Kevin scrolled through. A bunch of texts from Rocky, most of them general greetings and variations of “How’s it going?” with photos taken around England and comments on British TV shows.

The last one read: Hey, babe. Give me a call when you’re free. Followed by a winking emoji.

Kevin pointed at the phone. “That’s a booty call right there.”

“It means he’s in town.” Natasha took the phone back. “I didn’t call him. Didn’t even think of it. But that means he’s here. And if he’s here, then there’s a chance you’re right, Lori. I wouldn’t put it past Donna to swap him out as my partner.”

Lori squinted up at Natasha’s head. “Is he even tall enough to be your partner?”

“Barely.” Natasha hit Penelope’s number and put the phone to her ear. “Pen? Yeah, hi. Set up that meeting and email me the details. Thanks.”

When she put the phone down, Kevin and Lori gave her guilty looks. Their hands were in the watermelon, mint, and feta salad. They were eating it with their fingers.

“Sorry,” Lori mumbled around a mouthful of watermelon. “All this drama makes me hungry. You got any popcorn?”

Natasha growled and handed them forks. “Fuck it, just eat out of the bowl. How is it?”

“Delicious,” Kevin said through his own full mouth. Watermelon juice dripped down his chin.

“Great.” Natasha sat at the counter and covered her face with her hands. “I have to quit.”

A full glass of rosé appeared by her elbow.

“Will it really be that bad?” Lori asked, scooping forkfuls of orzo salad out of the bowl and into her mouth. “By the way, this could use a little more lemon, if you have it.”

“In the fridge.” Natasha sat back and lifted the wine glass. The first had gone straight to her head, but she no longer cared about her resolution to stop drinking so much.

Kevin answered for her. “It’ll be bad. Dimitri will lose his shit when he sees her dancing with Rocky, and I bet you anything Donna thinks sticking Rocky and Tash together will cause some fireworks, and maybe even give them cause to fire you next season anyway.”

Someone knocked on the door and Natasha groaned. “Now what?”

Lori gasped. “What if it’s Rocky?”

Natasha shook her head and slid off the high bar stool. “It’s Manny. He was going to come by earlier to scrape one of the bathroom door hinges that got painted over.”

“This is better than HBO.” Lori tasted the shrimp salad and her eyes rolled back in her head. “Oh god. This is to die for.”

“Let me try.” Kevin approached with his fork.

Natasha went to open the door, her thoughts buzzing. If she could film the final piece she’d been working on and get it edited before the meeting, she’d be in good shape. With her mind on her choreography reel, she pulled open the door and froze.

It wasn’t Manny.

Gina threw her arms in the air and yelled, “Surprise!”