Dancing Shoes and Honky-Tonk Blues (20 page)

“I know that, I guess. He’s just bein’ hardheaded and stubborn.” She leans back against the headboard and takes a sip of wine.

“He thinks—”

“That I don’t think he’s good enough for me,” she interrupts with a shake of her head.

“You already know that?” I ask from the other bed where my tired feet are propped up on two feather pillows.

“Oh, Abby, Danny thought I wanted a frat boy on my arm when he got cut from Eastern Kentucky football. But I really wanted to go to college to cheerlead. Could you imagine cheering in front a huge crowd like that? On national television?” She sighs as if she’s imagining it right now.

“No, I can’t. Of course I couldn’t imagine ballroom dancing in front of a crowd on national television either.”

“Well, I wanted it so danged bad. I even had a partial scholarship to Eastern Kentucky but . . .” Her cheeks turn pink and then she admits, “My grades and my ACT scores weren’t good enough. I always struggled in school, Abby. The whole blond bimbo cheerleader thing wasn’t an act. I really thought I was a dumb blonde.”

“You’re not dumb!”

“No, I’m dyslexic.”

“What? Dyslexic?” I think about this for a moment. “Like, you get letters backward or somethin’?”

“My case is mild compared to others, but yeah. I always had a hard time reading and I would get directions wrong even in cheerleading. My mom thought I was a screwup and my daddy called me lazy.” Her blue eyes cloud over. “In grade school I would have to miss recess or stay after school to finish things and I used to shake when I had to read out loud. I never got the point of reading out loud anyway.”

She pauses and then says hotly, “I wasn’t lazy or a screw-off. In reality I had to work so much harder than the other kids to accomplish the things I did. To compensate I felt the need to be the most popular girl in school and the best cheerleader ever. Pretend that it wasn’t cool to get good grades when I
so
wanted to be on the damned honor roll just once.”

“When did you find out what was wrong?”

“In cosmetology school. My teacher had it and knew immediately what my problem was. I could learn when I watched but had difficulty with the reading comprehension.” Julia shakes her head and chuckles. “Mercy, I thought I was gonna be a beauty school dropout.”

We both break into the song from
Grease
and then burst into laughter.

“Abby, did we just bond?”

“I think so.”

“Good, ’cause I could use a friend.”

I take a sip of wine and ask, “So, are you over the dyslexic thing?”

Julia shakes her head and sighs. “You don’t outgrow it and there isn’t a cure or even a pill. You just have to live with it. Hey, there are plenty of famous people with dyslexia. Thomas Edison, Picasso, Leonardo da Vinci, and even Jay Leno to name a few.”

“Wow, Jay Leno?”

“Yeah, I think sometimes we overcompensate,” she says with a laugh.

“So, what are you going to do about Danny?”

“I dunno. What are
you
going to do about smokin’ hot Rio? You two light it up on the dance floor. You been lightin’ it up between the sheets?”

I almost choke on my wine.

Julia grins. “Yeah, it’s that obvious. Damn, y’all are gonna be hard to beat.”

“Not unless I can master the doggone jive. That dance is hard. I keep falling on my ass,” I tell her, steering her away from her question.

“It’s gotta be better than the boring fox-trot!” Pursing her lips she says, “Danny is doing the very sexy rumba with that
bitch.
”

“Tell me how you really feel, Julia. Don’t hold back, now.”

Julia giggles. “I can’t help it. I always cuss when I drink,” she admits and then suddenly sits up from slouching against the pillows. “Hey, maybe I should make Danny jealous. Two can play that card.”

“With who?”

Tapping her cheek, Julia ponders this for a moment and then brightens. “Ben Sebastian.”

“He’s pretty danged hot,” I have to admit. Not broody-bad-boy hot like Rio but
hot
in a hip surfer-dude way. “Wouldn’t you feel bad using him like that?”

“Are you kiddin’? He’s been flirtin’ with anyone with boobies. He even flirted with Mary Lou Laker
after
the whole spinning-out-of-control thing.”

“Maybe he was just being nice. I think he’s really friendly.”

Julia rolls her eyes. “Abby, he was flirtin’ with ya.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, you’re not gonna tell Danny about my plan, are you? ’Cause the two of you were gettin’ pretty cozy there for a while. I havta say that it was pissin’ me off big time.”

“Danny’s a great guy, Julia. I admit that I had a huge crush on him in high school and I thought I might have had a chance with him here at first, but I know he’s still carryin’ a torch for you.”

“You really think he is, Abby?” Her eyes fill up with tears. “I know I messed up all those years ago, but I was a kid and I didn’t know what I wanted. Why can’t he believe that?”

“Well, you’ll just have to bring him around to your way of thinkin’.”

“Yeah,” she says and sets her glass down with a thump.

“And,” I begin but then think better of what I was going to say.

“What?”

I shake my head. “Nothin’.”

“Spill, Abby. Don’t hold out on me.”

“You promise to keep this under your hat?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” She actually crosses her heart. “Stick a needle in my eye.”

“Ew, I always hated the hope-to-die and needle-in-the-eye part. Take that part back and I’ll tell you.”

“Okay, I take it back.”

“Except for the promise part, right?”

“Except for that,” she says so seriously that I believe her.

“Okay,” I begin, really hoping I’m not making a big mistake by divulging this information.

“The suspense is killin’ me, Abby.”

I swallow and then say in a rush, “Rio and Angelina used to be dance partners.”

“That’s it?” She looks disappointed in my scoop.

“They were a little more than that.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh . . . they were
lovers
. . .”

I can’t bring myself to say it, so I merely nod. “Angelina’s mean, Julia. She dumped Rio when he hurt his knee and couldn’t dance!” I lean toward her bed and whisper, “Remember to keep it under your hat.” Oh, curse the wine for loosening my lips.

Julia shakes her head. “Who would ever dump Rio Martin?”

“That’s what I was thinkin’,” I say but then give her a you’re-not-having-any-designs-on-him look of warning.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go messin’ with your man.”

“I wasn’t thinkin’ that.”

“Were too.”

I giggle. Girl talk is fun.

Nibbling on her bottom lip Julia suddenly raises her eyebrows. “Do you think that Angelina is using Danny to make Rio jealous?”

“Could be,” I answer but I’m not liking the thought of Angelina using Danny or Rio getting jealous.

Julia must see this written all over my face, because she says, “Not that I think Rio is gonna get jealous or anything. I mean, you’ve got so much more going for you than
Angelina
anyway.”

“I do?” I’m hoping for examples but none are forthcoming.

“Sure,” is all Julia can manage but she’s frowning like she’s trying to come up with more. “And do you think that Comedy Corner
knew
about Rio and Angelina’s past and deliberately brought her onto the show to stir things up?”

“Likely, don’t you think?”

“Yeah . . .” she says very slowly. “So what are we gonna do about it?” She cocks one eyebrow like Rio.

“Danged if I know.”

Her eyebrow slides back into place. “Well, we’re gonna havta think of something to thwart their evil plan.”

I don’t think I’ve ever thwarted anything before but I nod like I’m willing to try.

“Thanks for keeping me company, Abby. I hope you get your man, too.”

I shake my head as I set my empty glass down next to hers on the nightstand and scoot to the edge of the bed. “We’re worlds apart,” I tell her, unable to keep the sadness from my voice.

“So what? Are you sayin’ you’re not good enough for him?”

“No . . . but—”

“No buts!”

“Julia, it’s not that easy.”

“Love never is.”

Love? My heart thumps at the word. Do I love Rio Martin? “How do you know if you’re really, truly in love?”

Julia shrugs. “You just do.”

“Well, I’d best be goin’. Morning will come way too soon.” I stretch and start for the door but before I leave I turn and say, “Thanks for the snack and the wine. And, Julia, it was good to get to know you.”

“Still think I’m a bitch?”

“I never thought that.”

“Liar.”

I have to laugh. “Maybe a little.” I hold up my thumb and finger about an inch apart.

“Well, good luck with smokin’ hot Rio. But I won’t say
good luck
with the dance ’cause I want to beat your long-legged butt. You’re like Stacy Keibler in
Dancing with the Stars
and I’m like Tatum O’Neal, who was the underdog.”

“I’m the underdog,” I insist. Why can’t I be the underdog?

“Well, one thing is for sure. We gotta beat the pants off Danny and
Angelina
!” She sort of spits the name out with the emphasis on
lina
and then wrinkles her nose.

I give Julia a thumbs-up and open the door. As I head for my room I’m thinking that life sure takes some weird twists and turns. Oh, but then thinking of twists and turns has me remembering the jive, which I suck at, and that the doggone dress rehearsal for the second live show is tomorrow! If it weren’t for the two glasses of wine making me feel mellow I just might have a panic attack.

After scrubbing my face and brushing my teeth I slip beneath the covers hoping that I’ll fall right asleep because I know that tomorrow is going to be stressful. Not that I’m complaining or anything. While I’m not sure how this will all end up, my life is changing in ways I never thought possible. I’m starting to dream . . . to want things that I should have been going after all along, and I pretty much have Rio Martin to thank . . . or to blame.

Fancy Footwork

“What if I fall?” I ask while Rio and I wait in the wings at the dance hall.

“You’re not going to fall, Abby,” he says with more conviction than needed, which leads me to believe that he thinks I might fall.

“I’ve fallen every day this week. It’s all of those doggone kicks and spins.”

“But you won’t tonight. Muscle memory will take over.”

“Yeah, my muscles will remember to fall!” I tug on his fifties-style bowling shirt and ask, “Can we take that last part out where I slide through your legs?”

“You’ve always performed that part without a problem.”

“Yes, but I think about it all through the dance and it’s harder in this poodle skirt.” I feel the need to stomp my foot like I’m some sort of diva. My Sandra Dee ponytail swings back and forth. “Maybe that’s why I fall.”

Rio pivots to face me and then takes both of my icy cold hands in his hot ones . . . or maybe they just feel hot because mine are freezing.

“Listen, Abby,” he begins in a calm and soothing voice, “if you fall . . . well then,
you fall
, okay?”

“No, it’s definitely not okay!” Have I caused Rio to lose his mind?

“Yes, it is. This is about who the audience likes, remember? And you are very likeable. If you fall the judges will ding you but the audience will eat it up.”

“You’re not telling me to fall, are you?”

He sighs. “No . . . Abby, just try to relax. Turn around and watch Mac Murphy the truck driver perform the paso doble. That should take your mind off falling.”

“Okay,” I say and take a deep breath, something I’ve been doing a lot of lately. My eyes widen as I watch Mac, dressed in a colorful red embroidered jacket . . . the tiny kind that bullfighters wear, tight black pants, and a black cummerbund. His partner is dressed all in red.

“He’s supposed to be a bullfighter and she is the cape. Watch. This is an interesting dance.”

One I hope we don’t have to do, I think to myself. I don’t relish the idea of being a cape. Although Rio would look amazing as a matador. He could cock that one eyebrow and all that.

After Ben announces them, “Pump It,” by the Black Eyed Peas begins blasting over the sound system. I’m a bit surprised by the song selection but it works. At first I think Mac is going to be laughable in the little bullfighter jacket with the fringe on the back but he has this serious look on his face and is surprisingly believable. I’m starting to think that Rio was right. Mac Murphy is the dark horse in this contest. He’s funny enough to please the audience and talented enough to please the judges.

“They’re good,” I whisper loudly in Rio’s ear so as to be heard over the Black Eyed Peas.

“Yes, but you’re still the underdog,” he tells me with a wink and a smile and suddenly I begin to relax . . . a little anyway.

“If I fall,
I fall
,” I whisper to myself.

Mac and his partner end the unusual dance with a twirling flourish and the crowd shows their appreciation with extended applause. Some of them even jump to their feet. Mac is grinning from ear to ear and I can’t help but feel happy for him. This sure is different than being behind the wheel of a big rig . . . or cutting hair, plowing fields, or arranging flowers. All of those professions including mine are ones to be proud of but this . . .
this is a chance of a lifetime.
I look across the dance floor at Mac, who is beaming at the solid eights he and his partner have earned, and I have to smile even though he’s going to be hard to beat.

Rio squeezes my hand as if reading my mind and I think that he’s beginning to know me pretty darned well. Then I glance over at Mama and Jesse and think of my daddy watching over me and I refuse to let nerves ruin my performance. When Ben Sebastian announces our names I surprise Rio by giving him a big, steady smile. “Let’s do this,” I say and he knows by now to give me a double knuckle bump.