2
Nobody, least of all Olivia, should have been surprised to find the music video set dark, wet, and almost too hot to handle in her costume.
They expect me to dance like this? She was in a tight, leather outfit that had been tailored to her body but hardly felt comfortable. When she showed up a week ago to have her fitting, she thought she would be in street clothes or at least bright, glittery clothing that would look ridiculous on set but come out great on camera. Who am I kidding? Nobody in a music video looks comfortable in what they’re wearing. Olivia wondered if those same backup dancers even had a clue that they would be there at all.
When she received the call two weeks ago that she had been selected to appear in the video, she could hardly believe her ears. Of course, she thought that she had been chosen for the lead role that she originally auditioned for. For the briefest moment, she imagined herself dancing with Rick to the looping tune of his latest single. When she was informed that she was hired as a backup dancer, Olivia was a bit crestfallen, but not beaten. After all, she was the girl who practically kicked the choreographer in the face during her audition! I was absolutely certain that I would never hear from them again. Now here she was, on the set of her first major music video.
Olivia’s role was small, but that didn’t mean she didn’t take it seriously. All roles were important whether they were big or small. Once she mastered her choreography in a single day – this time without losing her shoe in José’s face – she moved on to learning the other roles. When she had some time, Olivia sat in on the practice sessions between Clara and Rick. For a whole day Olivia studied Clara’s movements. Indeed, she was incredibly talented. Beautiful to boot. There was no question as to why they hired her above anyone else… just watching the way her body flowed through the air whenever Rick lifted or dipped her toward the floor made Olivia realize that she still had a long way to go before she became a master dancer. Nevertheless, she committed Clara’s movements to memory and spent some private time in her local studio replicating the movements. By the day of the video shooting she had memorized the whole thing.
Too bad she wasn’t there to play Clara’s role. She was there to spin around and jump in the background with four other women selected from the audition. Most of them grumbled that they weren’t chosen for the lead role, and Olivia understood to a point. Then she realized that the real grievance came from the fact that none of them were getting to dance with Rick. Is that all they care about? Sure, he was a formidable dancer from what Olivia understood, but the point of this gig wasn’t to get to touch a famous guy!
“Places!” the director called, settling in his chair behind the lead camera. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us, so let’s get started!”
The first shots filmed that day were mostly of the backup dancers. Most of what Olivia filmed were extraneous shots that may or may not be used in the final cut. If they needed filler shots between different takes, then she may have a few more seconds’ worth of appearances that she could show off to friends and family. The best way to get more shots was to impress the director with her skills. If she could outshine the other girls, then that would mean not only a nice recommendation for future projects, but the chance to put down on her résumé that she got so many seconds in a high profile music video. Even then, Olivia was calculating the business end of things. If I’m going to make a career in dance, I have to know where I stand.
An hour passed, and Olivia barely had the chance to show off her skills. She didn’t realize that there would be so many cuts and requests to do things differently. It took her twenty minutes to film five seconds of movement to the director’s liking. Naturally she was the most put out from the five girls. The others didn’t seem to care at all how long it took them to film the opening of the music video. They were more concerned with waiting for Rick to come out of the dressing room, which he promptly did at the top of the hour.
Olivia wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Everyone else was dressed as if they were in a futuristic video, but Rick wore nothing more special than a pair of distressed jeans, a thin white T-shirt, and a leather jacket that did more than show off his fine physique. What he lacked in fancy, however, he more than made up for in overall style. That’s a man ready to perform. The stubble was still there from two weeks ago, except now a stylist had taken to it, making sure it was even all around and not so dark that it looked menacing to the viewers at home. Rick’s hair was slicked back, but still retained some volume. Part of his sex appeal included tufts of hair that would move with his dances. Women all over the world swooned over his dark chestnut hair and the light tan of his skin.
He is pretty good looking. Olivia had never really looked at Rick Rodriguez before. Her only motive for auditioning for the music video was to have the chance to dance for such a wide audience and to put it on her résumé. She wasn’t like half the girls there, concerned only with getting close to Rick and maybe having him say something nice to her. What did Olivia know about modern music? She was the girl playing Chilean music from the 1970s on her iPod.
What the other backup dancers were thinking was quickly crushed when Clara walked out of the dressing room. They mumbled that she was too pretty for words, and none of them stood a chance against her when it came to Rick’s affection. Is he single? Even if he wasn’t publicly dating someone, the odds of Rick Rodriguez being totally single were far-fetched. Did these girls seriously think that they stood a chance that day?
Even Olivia didn’t stand a chance when it came to the jealousy bug. Not jealous that Clara got to dance with Rick, but jealous that she was so pretty. Not often did Olivia feel down about her appearance – she was usually too busy dancing to take note of how she looked in the mirror.
Clara was tall, thin, but athletic. Long light brown hair was slicked back into a high ponytail that sashayed with every dramatic movement of her hips. Like Rick, she wore denim and cotton. Yet unlike Rick, she had stilettos five inches high, which made her legs wobble with every step. How was she supposed to dance in those? Olivia could only shake her head as she and the other dancers were asked to sit off to the side for the next part of filming.
“We’re going to do the dance shots before the close-up singing,” the director said from his chair. “That way you’ll be nice and sweaty for those moments.”
Rick laughed, which surprised Olivia since she wasn’t expecting such a jovial guy on set. It was still early enough in the morning that a rock star like him could be hungover or whatever such types did to stay up all night. Yet here Rick was, smiling, alert, and ready to dance. Olivia could appreciate a man like that. Maybe I should check out his music. Maybe sometime after she stopped checking out his body.
“Let’s get started!” After the director’s instructions, Rick took Clara by the hand and pulled her toward him in an extravagant movement that would make most audiences swoon. Yet the look on Clara’s face was not one of mirth or frivolity. Her lips were taut and her eyes unmoving. Botox? Probably. Olivia saw enough among some of the other dancers she knew. Personally, she never saw the point of it. People weren’t going to look at her face. They were there to see her body move.
Both Clara and Rick got into starting position. Their elbows were locked together, knees bent, and Clara’s head bent dramatically to the left. Her somber expression did not do much to inspire Olivia off to the side. Rick was also serious now that they were getting ready to film, and he implored Clara to do a few practice moves with him while they waited for the camera and lighting to be fully set up. As men and women dressed in black climbed up and down the sides of the set with various lights and reflectors, Rick and Clara slowly snapped from one side to the other, Clara’s head looking like a bobble from such little movement. That’s strange. Olivia had to be asked to move since she was so caught up in the spectacle and didn’t see a staff person wanting to climb up the wall next to her.
“All right!” The director clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. Rick held still and Clara went back to their starting position. The set fell quiet, the lights were shining and the camera started rolling. The hush was broken when the director called, “Cue the music!” and the first few bars of “Midnight Tango” thumped in the air.
It was the same tune that had played at the audition, only with his lyrics included. Olivia was surprised to hear that deep, ardent voice fill the room even though its owner did not open his mouth. The director told him to start dancing, and right away the room was swept up in the entanglement of dance.
Holy moly. Olivia sat up to attention as Rick’s body snapped back and forth in the beginning walk of the couple’s dance. His arms were like liquid in the humid air, and his hips easily moved back and forth as he led Clara around the space they were allotted. That poor girl, on the other hand, looked like she would rather be anywhere but in Rick’s arms. Was she directed to look that way? The song’s lyrics were about exploring sexual freedom through movement. Was Clara supposed to represent a prudish woman that Rick was going to open up through the power of his dance? That didn’t seem very sexy right now.
Apparently the director agreed, for he quickly called cut after only twenty seconds. “What was that?” he asked Clara as she detached from Rick. “You look like you’re about to shit yourself.” Behind the camera, José looked up and shook his head with a sigh. Clearly this was not what Clara was supposed to do. Come to think of it, when Olivia learned the moves for that role, she didn’t hear or see anything that implied the dancer was supposed to look like she was on the verge of spitting on someone’s grave.
Sweating, Clara apologized for messing up the first take and offered to do it again. Everyone got back into their places, the director called for action, and Rick and Clara went back to trying to dance to his song.
José counted on his fingers each beat as it passed. His eyes were locked on the footsteps of the couple dancing in front of the camera, and not so much what their faces were doing. That was for the director to scrutinize.
“I would do so much better than this,” one of the girls next to Olivia said. “Why is she considered so great again? She doesn’t even smile.”
The director called cut once more. Clara pushed herself out of Rick’s arms, her stiletto heels uneven on the floor. “I’m sorry!” Her face was pale, although sweat poured from her forehead. Rick took a step back. Although they both danced with the same amount of energy, he hadn’t broken a sweat at all. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Someone get her some water.” José took off his headphones and stood up like he was going to do it himself. When nobody moved, Olivia went to the refreshment table and grabbed a Solo cup to fill with purified water. She brought it over to Clara, but the woman had barely taken it when she made a face so sour that Olivia instinctively knew to move out of the way.
“Whoa,” Rick said, putting one hand on Clara’s back. “You really don’t look so good. Sure you want to continue?”
Clara forced a smile, although Olivia doubted that anyone was falling for it. “I’ll be fine.” She handed a staff person the Solo cup. “Let’s get this over with.” Whatever that meant, Olivia didn’t want to know.
Grumbling, the director had everyone return to their places, including Rick, who begrudgingly put a hand on Clara. She looked even worse now. Completely white in the cheeks and pouring sweat down the side of her face. Rick nodded that he was ready to go. Olivia returned to the sidelines with the other backup dancers and watched with trepidation.
“Music!” The same tune started over again, and the director called for Rick and Clara to begin their journey across the floor.
This time they went a whole thirty seconds. Although Clara did not smile, her footwork was fine and she followed Rick’s lead like the professional she was hired to be. Olivia blew out a sigh of relief. The next thing on the docket was some solo shots of Rick dancing on his own with the backup dancers behind him. Olivia was antsy to get back to moving. Watching everyone else have fun with the music blasting wasn’t her idea of a good time. The sooner she could…
Olivia gasped. When Rick lifted Clara to spin her at the beginning of the chorus, time came to a still. The look on Clara’s face was not one of concentration or even fun. In fact, Olivia was very familiar with that look – the scrunching knows, the turning lips, and that look of sheer panic before vomit came hurling out and landed on the floor.
Rick put her down and jumped away, unscathed. Clara sank to her knees and heaved once more before clutching her stomach and whimpering in pain. The music stopped. People were silent. Poor Clara was left in her designer outfit ankle-deep in her own vomit, and she knew damn well that everyone was staring at her. Although Olivia was properly disgusted, she couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor woman. Especially when the director let out a string of curses that would make anyone blush.
Someone came forward to make sure Clara was okay. She began to cry, and nobody knew if it was because she was embarrassed or because she was about to be sick again.
Rick walked off the set. José chewed on his knuckles and whipped out his cell phone. The director held his face in his hands. Some unlucky staff person in black was volunteered to clean up the vomit. In the midst of this, Clara was gingerly led off set, her blubbering lips conveying how ashamed and upset she was. Once she was in the dressing room, the set fell quiet.
“You don’t see that every day,” Olivia muttered. The other girls were silent.
“Well what the fuck!” Once the vomit was cleaned and the floor disinfected, José leaped out of his seat and put his phone away. “What are we going to do now? It was Clara or nothing. We don’t have time to train a new girl right now.”
Rick was back on the set, hands on hips and face stern. “We’ll think of something.”
The staff fell into a tizzy as they all realized that their jobs for the day may be on the line. With no one to take Clara’s place, the filming could not continue. That was until Olivia remembered what she had been doing for the past two weeks. Once this realization settled in, she stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she prepared to make an ass out of herself.
“I know the routine,” she said, garnering no reaction. Her voice had been too quiet – how could anyone hear her above the rabble now going on between the director, José, and Rick? “I know the routine!” This time Olivia’s voice was louder, echoing in the cavernous studio. The three men, plus anyone else within earshot, stopped talking and looked at her. Way to call attention to yourself. “I said that I know the routine. I can do it.” What am I saying? It would’ve been one thing if she had been hired for this role – it was quite another to suddenly have it thrust upon her! Wait, except she was the one volunteering. What am I doing? Olivia took a step back, looking into the confused faces around her. The director threw up his arms and said he didn’t care who did the role, as long as it got done sometime that morning.
José, on the other hand, shook his head vehemently. “No, not you.” His head kept shaking. “Definitely not you. Not after what happened in your audition.” Finally, he halted his head. José then looked to Rick for backup.
So did Olivia. The star of the show merely smiled as he looked upon the chaos around him. “You sure you can do it?” he asked, looking directly at Olivia for the first time since she auditioned in front of him weeks ago. “It’s not an easy routine.”
“The hell it would be easy!” José crossed his arms in indignation before Olivia had the chance to respond. “I don’t choreograph easy routines. Not only do we have to impress the entire world… but we don’t want poor Ricky over here getting bored.”
“I can do it,” Olivia reiterated. “I’m a professional.”
Rick chuckled, his deep voice crawling up Olivia’s spine. “You may be a professional, but I’m pretty sure you’re the one who kicked José in the face the other day. We just had a woman throw up everywhere. Last thing we need is your shoes going flying and getting us sued.”
Olivia furrowed her brows. I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or that much of an asshole. Celebrity types. “Pretty sure I’ll be wearing strappy shoes this time.” She pointed to the boots on her feet. “You want me to try it or not? Who else are you going to get to do it? Unless you’ve got understudies for music videos.”
“Hey, she’s got a point.” Rick turned to appeal to José. “We’re on a strict deadline and we only have the studio for today. If we don’t get it done soon, we’re looking at some pretty crazy expenses that are sure to piss off the label. What have we got to lose?”
“Sanity. My nose. Either one is pretty important to me.”
“Would you make a blasted decision already?” The director was back in his chair, ready to roll the cameras again. “Ain’t got time for this. You want to get it done today? Get that girl in the dressing room, stat.”
Before anyone could argue with him, a staff member led Olivia into the back dressing room, where a team of stylists were on hand to make her as beautiful as Clara was. This is new. Olivia was used to doing her own hair and makeup. To be unceremoniously shoved into a chair and have her long tresses tugged on with a brush as painful as a toothache was a brand new experience. Add to that the woman jumping in her face and applying makeup judiciously, and it was all Olivia could do to not start crying from being overwhelmed.
A man asked her size. When she gave it to him, he clicked his tongue and wondered if he had anything “that big.” Saying I’m fat? Olivia sent the man a stink eye before he could leave the room. By the time the hairstylist finished muttering beneath his breath about how unruly her hair was, the man who insinuated that Olivia should lose a few pounds returned with some tight jeans and a blouse that would more than likely highlight certain assets.
A female stylist went with Olivia behind a partition and helped her change into her clothes without messing up her hair and makeup. Indeed, the jeans were about one size too small and hugged Olivia’s hips to the point they left dark red indentations behind. She huffed and puffed to get them on, and then had to add a belt on top of that. None of this was as bad as the T-shirt, however. It sucked right to her body, making her breasts stick out… at first Olivia was appalled, and then she realized that the T-shirt sort of acted as a sports bra, containing everything so she could move freely without hurting herself. In the end, a jacket covered the T-shirt.
She was afraid that they would give her five inch stilettos like Clara had. Olivia was a talented dancer, but that was a straight up safety hazard. She had her height on her side, since she was a good three inches taller than Clara. The heels she was given to dance in were wide, sturdy, and a firm brand that wouldn’t let her trip. The tight jeans, on the other hand…
“At least she cleans up nice,” José grumbled as Olivia wandered back onto the set. These pants are gonna kill me. She tried her best to not waddle. By the time she reached the dance space, she would have to be on her best A-game. This would be her only opportunity to prove her real worth to the rest of the crew.
“Sure you can do this?” Rick asked, standing firmly in place. “Now is your chance to back out. I mean, assuming you’re all bluff.”
That made Olivia step back before she even got to him. “Excuse me?” For a man who had gone to bat for her, Rick didn’t seem to believe in her much now. He saw me dance at my audition. Didn’t he know what she was capable of? Sure, she wasn’t hired for the lead role, but her skills got her as far as they had already. Why would he assume that they couldn’t take her farther? And why mess with her mind right now? He must have known he was doing it! “I told you that I memorized the routine, and I’m telling you the truth. Don’t believe me? Test me now.”
There were few ways to insult Olivia. One could make fun of her family, and that would get a rise out of her. One could also imply that she always had things handed to her. I worked too hard to be as good as I am for those kinds of accusations! Other than that, she was hard to insult. Even if someone said that she was ugly, talentless, and not worth one’s time, she would take it graciously and be the bigger person. To imply that she was a liar? Rick had no idea what he unleashed.
“Furthermore,” Olivia continued before Rick could open his mouth, “I will have you know that I am trained in the exact kind of dance you want for this video. You think it took me more than a day to learn the routine? Ha! I had to watch her and José for about an hour before I got it down. I’m not saying she was bad… not that I got to see her do much besides puke her guts out. I’m just saying that you not giving me a chance is more about your character than mine. And furthermore…”
Olivia never had a chance to finish her tangent. As more words spilled from her lips, Rick grabbed her by the forearm and pulled her into the starting position.
She barely had time to register their first touch. Olivia was too busy figuring out what was going on and what she should do about it. Namely, letting her body fall into the oldest trick she ever learned. Beginning a tango was second nature to her. When it’s one of the first things you learn… Olivia bent at the knees, slacked her arms, and looked to the left. All of this happened in fewer than two seconds – enough time for her to prove to Rick that she at least knew how to do this without a second thought.
“Very nice,” he said into her ear. Is it hot in here? His breath was certainly hot as it pushed through her hair and brushed against her ear. Rick’s touch was also firm, yet gentle, the marks of a good dance partner. Olivia had her fair share of crappy ones over the years – men who thought that dancing was about dominating the female partner and throwing her around like a rag doll. Few men understood that dancing was an equal partnership. They often led, but that didn’t mean the more submissive position was pointless. The dominant one was supposed to support the submissive one and bring out her greatness. How could that happen if he was flinging her around and treating her like an afterthought? Dances like a tango can be pleasurable, but like sex, they’re not supposed to be one-sided. A mistake many men made in and outside of the dance studio. “You do realize that there is a bit of improvisation in the routine, right?”
“When is there never improvisation in a dance routine?”
Rick’s hands tightened around her arm and the small of her back. “When you’re a backup dancer who has to do what she’s told in order to stay in line. Do you like staying in line?”
“I can stay in line,” Olivia said, her teeth grazing her bottom lip. The more Rick whispered into her ear, the more she understood what women saw in him. He wasn’t just a pretty, attractive face made for television after all. “Although I have to admit that I vastly prefer going with the flow and doing what feels right.”
“That’s funny.” Rick raised his eyebrows and smiled, the lights from the set making his skin glow. “I like doing what feels right too.”
Something akin to warmth returned to Olivia’s skin, and she didn’t think it was from the tight clothing or the lights shining upon them. She had a feeling that she would be sweating as hard as Clara was by the time this bullshit was over… hopefully minus the sick, however.
“Are you ready to go?” The director was back in his chair. The moment José caught wind that they were about to film, he went into the back rows shaking his head and mumbling that he wasn’t going to be around for another foot in the face. “Cue the music! Hopefully this will be the last time we have to do it.”
Still in their starting position, Rick and Olivia kept their eyes on each other, the beats of the song pounding the floor beneath them. On the count of eight they were supposed to start moving. Nerves battled in Olivia’s heart, but she quickly pushed them down into her stomach where they belonged. Thankfully, Rick gave her a soothing look that kept her relaxed for those first eight beats. “Ready?” His limbs grew taut. “Don’t throw up on me.”
Smiling, Olivia said, “I wouldn’t dream of it.” The eighth beat sounded, and the next thing she knew she was snapped into his embrace, everything coming undone.