21
Los Angeles
We're in position waiting for our cue. I'm decked out in my sexy Tom-approved sparkling silver costume with a top hat and wearing the dreaded heels that I've finally gotten used to. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. The spotlights find us, the band begins, and our upbeat song pounds through the ballroom.
Dominic gives me a friendly wink. "Ready to rock this place?"
I grin. "Oh, yeah."
We're dancing to the Black-Eyed Peas party anthem, "I’ve Got a Feeling." It's the perfect number to top off our journey together. We start off with just the two of us, and after a few bars toss our top hats and are joined by Pavel and Carlos.
The pace builds and we're joined by two more troupe guys. Then we move into the trick section where I'm guided as I walk over the backs of the troupe, I'm flipped backwards and then forward and onto my feet, Dominic spins me and dips me, my head nearly skims the floor.
I'm exhilarated as they toss me into Dominic's arms. He catches me, we do a few cha cha moves before I spin out. Dominic has snuck in a little jive, a little rumba, and a whole lot of fun. I think of Tom as we amp to the next level and can't stop smiling.
The music builds and the momentum takes off as two more guys join us. In a V formation with me in the front, we move forward in some of my favorite moves of the season including a little hip-hop. I can't help grinning as we whip from one sequence to the next. The lyrics mirror my emotions. Tonight's gonna be a good night!
As we hit the final steps, a spray of pyrotechnics shoot off behind us. I'm launched onto Dominic's shoulder, and the backup guys surround us in a spectacular fan.
The audience leaps to their feet with applause. Dominic sets me down and hugs me as the other guys pound us on the back because we nailed it. The ballroom is loud and chaotic with lights and cheering. I search for the camera with the red light, the one that's shooting us live. When I spot it, I grin and blow a kiss. I know it's cheesy, but I can't help myself. Somewhere, three thousand miles away, Tom is watching.
* * *
"Oh my God, did she just blow you a kiss on national television?" Paige exclaims.
I can't hide my shit-eating grin. "Yeah." Leave it to Chelsea to include me during her big moment. My eyes are glued on her as she and Dominic walk to the judges. I was wringing my hands and sweating during the entire number, but it was wild perfection. The awkward chaos I saw of them rehearsing last Thursday was replaced with a fine-tuned, high-energy masterpiece. She danced her ass off, shaking her booty and flipping her hair with the best of them.
The judges' comments include things like, "everything a freestyle finale should be," "best dance of the night," and "the dark horse takes the lead!" The show goes to commercial break and Paige and the rest of the room cheer.
"Chelsea was phenomenal. How'd they pull that off when they didn't even know they were in the finals until late?" Paige's husband Greg says.
"Dominic is a genius," I say, but deep down I think it's Chelsea's unshakable work ethic. While she liked to mutter her complaints, she never backed down or quit when the going got tough.
"Shit, man. I had no idea she looked like that! What the hell does she see in you?" Max says.
"Hell if I know." I grin, bursting with pride.
Paige brings me another gin and tonic, as if knowing this night has probably been more nerve wracking for me than for Chelsea.
The show comes back from commercial break. The judges' scores come in. Perfect tens across the board. As Dominic and Chelsea jump up and down in L.A., all of us at Paige's do our own hoots of approval, knocking over the bowl of chips and spilling drinks.
I fish my phone off the cluttered coffee table and text her. Thanks for the kiss. Ten seconds later my phone rings. The amused eyes of my friends are on me as I glance at the screen. I smirk like an idiot and take the call in the kitchen. "You were smashing!"
"I can't believe it! I never expected it to be so much fun."
"You looked beautiful. I wish I were there with you."
"Only thirty-six more hours," she says.
I laugh. "You're keeping track?"
"Of course. I've gotta go."
I barely say goodbye and she's gone, but not for long.
* * *
“I’ll be shipping home a couple of boxes. I won’t be needing sandals and shorts in New York,” I say to Anna Tuesday morning as I toss items into a shipping box.
“So you’re going to stay with your Broadway boy?"
“I don’t really know yet. I fly to New York after the finale and then I’ll be seeing Tom. Lord only knows what happens next.” But I have a good feeling and I miss him so much.
“Logically speaking, I’d say a jump in the sack?” she says.
“Anna!”
“He’s going to make his move.”
“I don’t know.” I grab a soda and realize I still need to empty the fridge before I leave.
“Shit,” Anna says. “Is he gay? It makes total sense. Most Broadway performers are.”
I straighten up. “He’s not gay. Why do people keep saying that?”
“He sings and dances. He could be. Half the guys on Celebrity Dance Off are,” she argues.
My thoughts turn to his kisses that leave me a breathless mess. “He’s straight. Okay?”
“You already slept with him!” she says accusingly.
“No! We barely know each other.”
“Um, I disagree. Haven’t you seen him a half dozen different times now and you’ve been talking to him every day for the past four weeks, five weeks, I’ve lost count. I hope you’re taking date underwear.”
I sift through the old mismatched panties and bras I stuffed in my suitcase and cringe. He can’t see me in any of this. “Shit.”
“You better make an emergency run to Vicky’s.”
“I don’t have time. As soon as I’m done here I have hair, makeup and dress rehearsal.” I pace my bedroom. This place has grown on me over the past three months.
“I’m just sayin’. You can’t show up in your discount store bra and undies. It’s way too Midwest.”
“Note taken. I’ll figure something out.” I try to picture the perfect panties to buy and realize the whole point is for him to take them off. “Oh, God. Now I’m going to worry about awkward first sex!”
“Relax. He’ll do all the seducing.”
“It doesn’t matter. First times are always weird.” I plop onto the side of the bed. “Anna, I really like him. He’s not like any of the guys at school.”
“I know.” Her voice is soft and reassuring. She knows more about me than anyone on the planet and wants this to work nearly as much as I do.
“And I always mess things up with guys.” Reading men’s signals has never been a skill of mine. My mind goes to Kirk who I dated for a month in high school and Reggie who cheated on me last spring. I cringe.
“That’s ancient history. You’re going to have a blast, and you better give me a full report afterward. I want to know if he’s as good in bed as he is at singing.”
That afternoon after my traditional shot of bourbon with Hank, Dominic and I step onto the soundstage along with finalists Shane and Cassie, and Eva and Tarik. The crew, production staff and all the pro and celebrity dancers from the first week are there applauding our entrance. I glance at Dominic. Is he as blown away by this experience as I am? Maybe not, as he's taken this walk several times before.
I nod and smile at these people, most of whom never connected with me; but today they all seem supportive. Hank is catcalling and even Candace Capri appears happy, probably because she's singing her latest hit tonight.
Places are called for the opener. Every pair gets their few seconds to shine as the production team pulls out all the stops with special effects, new camera angles, and poppy music.
The show flies along with great fanfare until it's time for our final dance, a mash-up of quick step and rumba. As we wait, Dominic says, "This is our last show together."
"Don't make me cry," I answer softly so the mic won't catch it. "Turns out what you said to me on the first night was true."
"What was that?"
"You said I'd fall in love with you."
He laughs and shakes his head.
"You're like the brother I never had, and I can't imagine taking this journey without you."
Dominic whispers back. "But I was wrong. I also said it would be one sided. And I love you to pieces." He squeezes my shoulder.
The intro plays and we switch to dance mode. Muscle memory takes over and Dominic guides me through the intricate steps I've been doing in my sleep. My dress swishes around me as we turn, glide, and kick. We smile, enjoying this last insane moment of dancing under the spotlights, an experience I never sought out, but am thankful I've had. With a final spin into a low dip, we're done.
Dominic lifts me to my feet and we hug. The judges' comments are all glowing as if they suspected I'd be here from the beginning.
Our scores are all tens, but so were the other teams. It'll come down to a popularity contest, but I don't mind. I'm almost done and the feeling is sweet. During the commercial break we're herded up to the stage along with the other two pairs.
"You guys were awesome and both deserve to win," Eva says. There are hugs all around. I have actually made friends.
Dominic and I are on the left side standing beneath the spotlights. Marcus MacIntyre gives his spiel about sadly having to announce who came in third. Dominic's arm is comfortably at my side in support. This is where we exit. If it hadn't been for Brady's injury we'd never be here at all.
"And the pair in third place is..."
The suspense music plays for an eternity.
I try to keep a straight face, as Dominic whispers, "Are you going to fake cry when we're voted out?"
I elbow him.
The host finally speaks. "Shane and Cassie."
What! I turn to Dominic and burst out laughing. We've made it into the final two.
We're hurried down to the main floor and stand with Eva and Tarik with the trophy and the hosts between us. Could we actually win? Suddenly I want it. I want it bad, and the way Dominic's arm is clenched around me I know he does too.
"And now, after twelve weeks, hundreds of dances and millions of sequins will the winner of Celebrity Dance Off be Chelsea Barnes, America's first chance to dance?" The cameras zoom in on Dominic and I.
"Or will it be Eva Alverez, the Emmy winning soap icon?"
The results music pulses, but not louder than my pounding heart. What if I actually won? It's impossible. Or is it?
"And the winner of Celebrity Dance Off is..."