Page 12 of Sway

She’s right. We never have any time off. We film the show, go on tour with the celebrities, practice with our professional partners for a few months and compete. Twice a year for the past two years. We’re all exhausted.

I see Stas ogling me across the room. He is standing with his arm around Genya, laughing. He drops his arm when he sees me. I look at Salomé, who’s also staring at them. Just six years ago, we were all inseparable. Amazing we’ve been thrown back together. Fucking small ballroom world..

“All right, everybody,” Gabriel Bains says in his crisp British accent. In addition to being a dancer on Dancing under the Stars, he’s the head choreographer for the show. As much as I’m afraid of him, he’s good at what he does—which is spin the bullshit. “I know we all have history together, on and off the floor. But none of that matters.” With his shaded aviator sunglasses and permanent five o’clock shadow, Gabriel is a dead ringer for a young George Michael. And Gabriel milks the George Michael impersonation act for every last drop. He’s famous for his George Michael fantasy five dance Latin spectacular, where he remastered many of George’s classics and turned them into Latin songs: cha-cha to “Fast Love”, samba to “Freedom”, rumba to “Jesus to a Child”, paso doble to “I Want Your Sex”, and jive to “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go.” “This is entertainment and it’s very important to make the public believe that we are the best of friends.”

“I’m not that great of an actress,” Jenny mumbles next to me.

“Luckily for show, I am,” I quip.

Gabriel ignores us. “To that end, I’m going to organize social events for all of us, which, of course, will be filmed by the show. That means spa parties for the girls.”

“I told you so!” Jenny pinches Salomé’s arm.

“And for us boys,” Gabriel’s eyes dart to Ricardo, Jared, Stas, Genya, and Eric, “a Lakers game.” Jared gives Eric a high five.

“I’d pay to see that,” I whisper to Nicole.

“Another thing, ladies. Please remember that the camera adds ten pounds.” He points at Salomé. Jenny charges toward him but Gabriel intercepts her in a dance hold, spins her around, and sends her back to Diana’s waiting arms. Yes, he definitely spins the bullshit. “You’re on the show to inspire other people to lose weight. You all have responsibilities to the public. It can be very distressing for the audience to see someone dancing their heart out while still being heavy. Therefore, there will be weekly weigh-ins and I have taken the liberty of ordering you all Sunfare food delivery service.”

Salomé’s cheeks turn blotchy. I feel sorry for her. She’s always been big. But she can choose to work out more and cut back on her tequila. No one said it’s easy to get a great body.

“So today we’re working on a foxtrot for the opening night professional showcase and a rumba for the results show. I’m still campaigning for the producers to get George on the show, but as for now we’re stuck with dancing to Jessica Simpson.”

Everyone groans.

Gabriel continues. “We are going to mix up partners for a change.”No, No, NO! “Partners will be: Jared and Diana, Ricardo and Nicole, Eric and Jenny, and Iza will dance with me. And just for old time’s sake,” he pauses and stares at Salomé and me, “we will witness for the first time in six years, the reunions of the infamous partnerships of Stas and Vika and Genya and Salomé.”

I don’t fucking think so. “I—”

“Yeah, I know,” he cuts me off, “some of you may question these pairings, but I assure you that good dancing is based in tension. And I just love me some tension.” He gives a naughty smile. “So please take your partner and warm up with a slow foxtrot.” Gabriel puts on George Michael’s cover of ‘Feeling Good.’

Salomé’s eyes light up and she gets a devilish grin. I put my arm around Iza as Genya tries to calm her down.

I search for my husband. He walks toward me. “Venya,” I whimper and give Benny my best pleading look. He can’t possibly make me dance with Stas.

“Now, Lassie,” he leans and lowers his voice, “you heard Gabriel. He’s just trying to match the partners up by size and look. You just try to get along, now.” He kisses me then walks over and scoops his granddaughter out of Eric’s arms.

Diana is standing in front of Jared and me like she’s expecting an invitation to prom. Jared, cocky as hell, is flinging around his favorite keychain, which bears his motto, “Sorry boys, I eat pussy.” It’s hard to be a straight male ballroom dancer.

“Diana,” Jared caresses her hand, “refresh my memory—have we ever fucked?”

She blushes and looks at her feet.

“For God’s sake, Jared, she’s never fucked anyone, she’s a Mormon virgin.” I shoot a penetrating glare. “Remember, Diana, darling, Jared is only on loan.”

She looks away from me.

Stas slithers over to my side. He’s still wearing the gold Star of David that I gave him years ago. His deep blue eyes ravish me. “Zaychik moy,” he croons in Russian, “we meet again.”

“Lucky me.” I am not your little fuck bunny, anymore. “Jared’s a better lead than you. What a downgrade.”

He cups my hand in his. “Sure, he is, Vikochka. Sure he is.” He pulls me close in a hold. “You still smell like ice cream.”

And you’ve had your last lick.

Stas smoothly glides me across the floor. God, I forgot what a great Standard dancer he is. We weave between the other couples. The music crescendos, and the intensity builds between our bodies as we rise and then fall together. Our old routine rushes back to me like a flood. My body molds to his and we become one again.

Gabriel changes the music to “Jesus To A Child.”

“Rumba, please,” he says.

Stas gives me a strong lead. Damn him for making a liar out of me. There’s no denying it—Stas is all man. Jared leads like a boy in comparison.

“You have improved so much,” he breathes in my ear. “I can feel every inch of your body now through your connection.”

I dance into his body, filling out the space between us with my chest, my hips. I trace the floor with my toes, hypnotizing him. He thrusts me back into his embrace.

“Why did I ever let you go?” he whispers.

“Because you’re an idiot,” I whisper back.

He laughs. “That I am, beautiful.” He dips me hard and fast, locking his eyes on mine. Our four years apart vanish instantly. “That I am.”