TONY’S RANGE ROVER jostles me with the curves of the roads leading to the Hollywood Hills. This curve, that turn, up, round . . . I think I’m going to be sick—but it’s not because of his driving.

“Relax, babe,” Tony says, “we’re just gonna get some of your things and then we’ll split.” He squeezes my thigh.

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“You’re sick?” His eyes brighten. “Maybe you’re pregnant.”

Yeah, right. And ruin this six-pack? Not a chance. This body is the only thing that’s still mine. I point toward the windshield. “Just drive.”

I’ve always loved that all the houses up here are nestled away like in an enchanted forest. Long, winding driveways that lead up to hidden paradises.

We pull up to the wrought-iron gate. That stupid cast-iron “B” Benny commissioned for it last year is nearly as tall as I am. I have Tony enter my code but the damn hunk of steel remains shut. That bastard must have already changed it. Tony presses the intercom button.

“Hello?” Benny’s voice cracks.

“Dammit, Benny, open a fucking gate,” I yell.

“Ah, Vika,” Benny says. “I see your English still hasn’t improved. As eloquent as always.” The intercom cuts to that irritating hang-up noise. Still, the gate draws open. Tony rolls through then steers up the long driveway, finally wedging in between Jared’s black Porsche Carrera and a salsa red Volkswagen Eos, license plate RMBAGRL.

“What is Diana doing here?” I slam the door of the Range Rover and charge up the stone-laid entry path. There’s a new potted planter box on either side of the door with twisted palm trees looking perky and fresh. I ring the doorbell and then swat at a branch that keeps poking me in the ear. Finally, I rip the fucking thing off.

Benny answers the door. “Hello, Vika. So great to see you again.” He’s got the schmaltziest smile on his saggy old face. So that’s how he’s going to play this.

As I’m racking my brain for the perfect comeback, Tony steps forward, lifts Benny’s left hand up, then gives him a high five. “Nice pad you got here, dude.” Then he sarcastically waltzes into the foyer.

It’s almost funny, seeing Benny caught off guard—he’s normally the King of Control. But then the distant thump of tango music comes from the ballroom and laughing is the farthest thing from my mind. I shove past Benny, leaving Tony stranded with him in the grand foyer, where the commissioned portrait of me is conspicuously absent.

The music gets louder as I close in. I can hear the tap-tapping of dance shoes. Oh, no, she didn’t . . . I sprint the last feet to the ballroom. She did! Jared and Diana are locked in a tango embrace, with the little bitch dressed in my favorite Cynthia Rowley frock.

“What in the hell is going on in here?” I scream.

They pop apart like a cork from a bottle. Tony and Benny arrive in time to referee.

“Oh, hey, there, Vika. Nothing, really.” Diana looks down at hard maple floor, which I personally picked out. “Jared and I are just practicing.”

“Practicing? This looks like a try-out!” I get in her face and yank on the sleeve of my dress. “Great dress, Diana. What did he make you do to get that? Having fun pretending you’re me?”

“Enough, Vika.” Benny squeezes his beer belly in between Diana and me. “This is my house and you will not earbash my Diana like that. I’ve had Marina pack up some of your things. She’s bringing them to the front and then you can shoot through here.”

I turn my rage to Jared. “So, you’re going to dance with her? She sucks, Jared. Sucks. You’re just going to throw away the four year winning partnership because you can’t stand up to your ol’ man?”

His thin upper lip turns up. He looks more like his dad every day. “Four years of Latin, for Christ’s sake. That’s on top of fifteen before you. I’m sick of it, Vika. Diana and I are going to try Smooth.”

“Well, that actually makes sense, since Diana’s too damn slow to ever win in Latin.”

“Vika,” Diana starts, “I—”

“Uh-uh, nyet. You don’t get to talk.” I nearly flip when Benny waves me off like some kind of gnat and signals Jared and Diana to follow him out of the ballroom. “You don’t just walk out on me!”

Tony leans into me with a hug. “Let’s just get out of here, babe.”

Hell, no! I worked too damn hard for this. I point to the monstrous crystal chandelier hanging above my head. “I picked out this chandelier, and that sofa, and I designed these stained glass windows.” There is a lone Tiffany lamp on a side table. “And this is my lamp. I bought it when I won Dancing under the Stars two seasons ago.” I rip the plug from the outlet and take my lamp.

Tony stands there, dumbfounded.

I wave the lamp at him. “What happened to let’s get out of here? Move!”

He all but salutes as I charge by him waving my lamp like some crazed majorette in a marching band. We head out the front door and wait for Marina.

And wait for Marina.

And wait for Marina some more.

Well, apparently she had to go to fucking Mexico for my things. I seethe in the front seat of Tony’s SUV. He sits in the driver’s seat, as close to his door as possible. You’d think I had a gun pointed at his head. “Where the fuck is Marishka?”

He shrugs, his lips smiling but his eyes blinking way too much.

* * *

After twenty minutes, Diana pops her head out the door.

“Diana!” I jump out the Range Rover and run over to the door. She tries to slam it, but I grab the silk belt on her dress and pull her outside. “I can’t believe you are going to do this to me again. Steal two of my partners? One with your daddy’s money and one with your body! How could you? I even tried to take you under my wing and show you finer things in life.”

“It’s not like that, Vika. First time, yeah maybe, but you and Stas didn’t even have enough money to compete. And now that you’re not with Benny, there’s no way Jared would dance with you. You know that.” She opens the door and attempts to escape into the house. I pull her back again. She looks like a doe-eyed Bambi walking into the lion’s den. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Vika. I really look up to you. I hope we can still be friends.”

Friends? Benny must be giving her his signature Australian Ginger Beer. This poor girl is actually still a virgin. At least I’d been around the block a few times. “Listen to me.” I shake her. “It’s not worth it. I didn’t have choice. My baba and I had no money and I was stripper, for God’s sake. When your dad paid Stas to dance with you, I was screwed. I would have never been able to dance again. I’d still be working at O’Farrell Brothers. And I had to take care of my baba because she was too old to work. You’re rich, you’re on Dancing under the Stars, don’t do it. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

Benny pulls aside the sheer curtain and looks outside through the side window. She motions to him that she’s okay and then takes my hand. “My parents will never support my dancing, not now. They just want me to get married and pop out children. Plus, they’re not even speaking to me right now after they saw the pictures of me drinking with you at ONE Sunset.”

Nice. So now it’s my fault? This girl is unreal.

“I want this so bad, Vika. Benny promised me that we can win Rising Star Pro Smooth next year and then we can win the U.S. National Pro Smooth title in three years. And I’ll still be on the show. I’m not stupid. I know I could never get a partner like Jared. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Look at you.” She gives me a kiss on the cheek and walks back inside. Through the sheer curtain, I can see that Benny puts his arm around her and they head upstairs. It’s like watching a canary flutter into a coalmine. Dead girl walking . . .

Marina walks around the side of the house. She’s rolling two luggage cases with one hand and holding my beloved Cha-Cha in the other. “Cha-Cha!” I cry and run over to her.

Marina trips on a bag but I catch the dog before they both hit the cement. Marina straightens up, no worse for wear. I feel bad for a second, but she knows how much I love my pooch. My baby licks me on the nose. “Oh, Cha-Cha, zhuchka . . .”

“I begged Benny to let you keep her,” Marina said.

I start tearing up. I thought I’d never see Cha-Cha again. “Sbacibo, Marinochka.” I hug her, crushing Cha-Cha into my chest. I pull away and see Marina tearing up, too. Then I get an idea. “Antoshka, milay . . .” I lean over and whisper into Tony’s ear.

“Oh, sure, babe.” He puts his arm around Marina, a big, sloppy, cool dude hug. “Marina, m’dear, how would you like to come work for us?”

She gives Tony a suspicious look. “Well, I’m not sure. I’ve been working with Mr. Benny for ten years.” Smart woman. Trying to hustle Tony. She learned from the best.

I nudge Tony’s ribs but he’s already on it. “I’ll pay you more than Benny does.”

She shakes her head.

“Marishka, there’s Starbucks in the house . . .” I say.

Her lips quiver. “Starbucks?”

“Unlimited Grande White Chocolate Mochas . . .” I tempt. “Beats the nasty flat whites that Benny calls coffee.”

“Okay. I do it.”

“Yes!” I pump my free arm then scoop Cha-Cha to my lips for another licky kiss. Life sucks, then you get your dog and your housekeeper . . .

Tony and Marina discuss the details and I carry Cha-Cha into the Range Rover. She looks up at me with her big brown eyes and blinks. I clean her little wrinkles and kiss her whiskers.

Tony climbs in and starts the car. White Zombie blasts from the speakers.

“See,” he says, “I told you everything would be fine. We’re moving your baba into my guesthouse this weekend. She’ll love it there and it will be good for my boys. They’ll go nuts over her just like I have and they can even learn Russian. You and me, we’re going shopping and you can buy whatever fucking thing you want. That place smelled like a morgue, anyway. Hey, wait a minute.”

He slams on the brakes at the end of the driveway, nearly giving me whiplash, then gets out and rips open the back hatch.

“This fucking thing is gone.” He yanks out my lamp and tosses it into Benny’s prize daisies—or maybe they’re tulips, I don’t know.

“I know a guy who can make you a fucking Tiffany lamp,” he shouts in the window, “whatever colors you want. He can put your fucking initials in it.” He climbs back into the car. “Vika, babe, you have to trust me.”

I lean over and give Tony a long kiss. Benny never would let Baba move in with us. I think she made him feel old since they are the same age. “Thank you Tony. You’re amazing.”

He gives me a giddy grin. “Ya tebya lybly,” he says with the worst Russian accent I have ever heard.

I look at him gob smacked “When did you learn . . .?”

“I asked your baba to teach me how to say I love you. I’ve been waiting to tell you in Russian.” He kisses my head, then screeches the Range Rover out of Benny’s driveway into the afternoon traffic. I crank up “Thunder Kiss ’65” and kick my feet up onto the dash. Ooh, Vika needs a new pedicure . . . We meander our way through the purple Jacaranda trees and under the Jasmine vines.

This time, I don’t feel queasy.