Dead on the Dance Floor (32 page)

She accepted his hand, having little other choice.

After all these years, she knew him so well. Knew his lead, every tick of his body. She forgot the audience and was only aware of the music, of how it made her feel, and move.

She was almost startled when it came to an end and she was posed as they had finished their last competition, arched over his knee, her head just above the floor, one leg extended parallel with the length of his body.

The room was alive with applause. She nodded to Ben, rose and went to steal the microphone back from Gordon.

“Let's change pace. Anyone?”

Marnie shouted out, “Samba!”

“Hey, can I be guest teacher?” Gunter called.

“Sure,” Shannon told him.

He went to Jane, whirling her out to the floor. Gordon had found the music, and when it started up, Gunter stepped forward, Jane in his arms.

Shannon started clapping, inviting audience participation. The samba was fast, and the pair were well matched, spinning across the floor with perfect motion and speed. Then the music ended and Gunter spun Jane out so she could take an elegant bow.

Then she straightened, and for a minute, pain tensed her features.

Then she doubled over.

“What…?” someone said.

Jane screamed, clutching her abdomen, doubling over, then literally falling to the floor.

“Oh, God! Oh, God, the pain!” she shrieked.

She wasn't acting.

The entire room went still, frozen.

“Ella, call nine-one-one!” Shannon ordered, springing to life, flying over to land on her knees by Jane's side. “What is it? What hurts?”

Gunter was down on his knees, too. Gordon was there, while Ben made sure that the others didn't rush in too close around her.

Jane let out another screech, tightening her hold around her belly. Her dark blond hair spilling on the floor, she turned her huge dark eyes to Shannon.

“Oh, God, help me. Help me. I don't want to die. I don't want to die! Oh, God, I don't want to die like Lara!”

O
nce he'd ascertained that something was seriously wrong, Quinn was on his feet. Ben Trudeau was doing a good job of holding the others back, but he knew that both Doug and Bobby were behind him, and they were both trained in CPR.

“Let me get to her,” Quinn told Shannon, who looked up at him, eyes dazed, features frozen into a mask of concern.

A hand fell on his shoulder. He turned to see that Mina Long was behind him, and her husband was behind her.

“We're actually physicians,” she reminded him quietly.

He stepped back. Richard was already down on his knees. He might have been a plastic surgeon, but he obviously remembered the medical basics, as well. His voice was firm but reassuring as he spoke to Jane, and his hands moved with amazing expertise over her abdomen. “It's your stomach, right? And the pain just started?”

Jane seemed to choke on her answer at first, but then she managed to speak past the pain. “There were a few twinges…before. Then…it's like a knife. I'm in agony. It's like I've been…poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” The whisper echoed through the crowd like the chorus in an ancient Greek tragedy.

“No, no,” Richard told her, his lips twitching in a smile. He looked at his wife, across Jane's body. “Do you think we agree on the possibility of an acute attack of appendicitis?”

Mina smiled at Jane and touched her gently.

Jane moaned. “Appendicitis?” she said.

“I'd say it looks like surgery for you tonight, but we're just minutes from the hospital. You'll be all right,” Mina said. She looked up, searching the sea of faces around them. “Ella, you called emergency, right?”

“Yes, the second Shannon told me to,” Ella said.

Jane was reaching out, groping. She wanted Shannon. Shannon curled her fingers around Jane's hand.

“You'll come with me? To the hospital, right?” Jane asked breathily.

“Absolutely.”

They could already hear the sirens. Within a minute or two, emergency med techs were coming up the front stairs. Questions were asked; vital statistics were taken. Gabe Lopez opened the doors and led the way so that a stretcher could be brought up, and Jane, still moaning, was lifted and brought down the stairs.

Shannon crawled into the back of the ambulance with Jane.

“I'll follow in the car,” Quinn told her.

The door was shut, and the sirens blared again.

Quinn realized that not only had everyone in the dance party come down, but people had spilled out from the club. The line waiting for admittance to Suede was also out on the sidewalk. People were talking.

“My God, is she dead?” someone asked.

“A woman was found dead on the beach Sunday,” another voice whispered.

Richard Long turned to the crowd. “No, folks, it's all right. Just a case of appendicitis.”

Doug pulled out his badge. “There's no danger, just go about your business. Folks, come on, please, break it up.”

People began to mill away until only the dance crowd was left.

“I guess the party is over for tonight,” Gordon said dryly.

“Ella, you make sure you call us all and tell us how she's doing in the morning,” Mr. Clinton said. “Hell, I'll just stop by and see her. Bring her some flowers. Richard, you're sure it's appendicitis?”

“It certainly appears to be, Mr. Clinton.”

“You're a plastic surgeon,” Clinton reminded him.

“They still made me go to medical school,” Richard replied, rolling his eyes with a wink toward his wife. “Mina gets little ones with appendicitis now and then—not frequently, but enough to spot it when she sees it.” He slipped an arm around his wife's shoulders. “Shall we go up, change our shoes and get on home? Gordon is right—I'd say the party is over.”

“Can someone take me back?” Marnie asked softly.

“Sure, I'll take you,” Doug said. He looked at Quinn. “You are going to the hospital, right?”

“Yes.”

Quinn realized his brother was looking at him with anxiety.

He had been spending time with Jane, because Jane had been so unnerved.

“Hey, Doug, would you follow them to the hospital? I'll get Marnie back, and then I'll join you there.”

Doug gave him a nod of appreciation.

“Come on, Marnie, let's go.”

She followed him around back. Quinn paused, staring at all the cars again. There were more colors in back now. The club attendees who could had snagged spaces in back.

As they drove, Marnie said, “You think it's really appendicitis?”

“That's what the doctors said,” Quinn replied.

“Why did she scream about being poisoned?”

“Probably because she's in pain.”

“Can appendicitis really come on that quickly?”

“I think so, yes. It can be very sudden.”

Marnie was quiet for a minute, staring out the window. “You can die from it, can't you?” She sighed softly, then turned to him. “I love it. I love the studio so much. I love dancing so much…but it's a little scary, isn't it? Strange, it's scarier than sleeping on the street.”

“Scary, how?”

She shook her head. “People around it…things happen to them.”

They reached the shelter where she was staying until Annie could get her squared up with the older woman she was going to assist. Marnie jumped out of the car. “Hey, please don't think I'm a chicken. And please don't stop bringing me to the studio. I want to dance more than anything in the world. And I'm good, honestly, they said so.”

“I won't stop bringing you,” he promised, thinking that he would keep his word, though he wasn't so sure he wanted her there when he wasn't.

She smiled. “Will you call me, and let me know how Jane is doing?”

“Sure. It's late, though.”

“It doesn't matter. The shelter is pretty cool.”

“I'll call,” he promised.

He watched her enter the shelter, then drove away.

Even Marnie knew it. Something was not right at the studio. In fact, something was very, very wrong.

When he arrived at the hospital, he found that Jane had already been seen in emergency and rushed upstairs for surgery.

The Longs had made the right diagnosis. She had been on the verge of a ruptured appendix. Shannon wasn't alone in the waiting room.

Gordon, Ben, Sam, Justin, Rhianna and Ella were all there. Gordon sat in a chair, his hands folded before him. Sam paced, passing Shannon as they walked the length of the room, turned and walked back again. Ben was fighting with a coin-operated coffee machine, Justin was stretched out on one of the sofas, and Rhianna was half-asleep, draped over Justin and using him as a pillow. Gabriel Lopez was there, and Katarina, but not her husband. They were on one of the waiting room sofas, apparently half-asleep but determined to wait on Jane with the others.

Quinn took a seat by Gordon.

“That was fast,” he said.

“She was in a bad way,” Gordon said. “And thankfully, there was only one guy with a broken toe in there when we arrived. Hey, they know when they need to move. The guys from fire rescue were great. Shannon said the hospital was ready to take Jane the minute the ambulance pulled in. They had a surgeon all ready to go. They say we caught it in time. She'll only be out of commission for a little while. A matter of weeks, probably. Not too bad.”

“Where's my brother?” Quinn asked.

“Down the hall, just outside surgery,” Gordon said, staring at him as if he could read something he wanted to know from Quinn's face. Gordon shrugged. Maybe he didn't really want to know. “He seemed really anxious.”

“Yeah, anxious,” Ben muttered, slamming a fist against the coffee machine. “Why the hell don't these things ever work?” He turned, facing the others. “Just her appendix. That's pretty serious, actually. But around here, it's a relief.”

There was a silence in the room then that went beyond exhaustion and worry. Shannon and Sam both went still.

“I think we should cancel the Gator Gala,” Shannon said.

“What?” Rhianna said, bolting to an upright position.

“There's been too much trauma,” Shannon continued. “Lara…gone. And so close to the studio, that poor woman found on the beach.”

“Sadly,” Justin said, “there have always been bodies in Miami. You know how many people have been dumped in the water that we'll probably never even know about? And hell—none of us knew that woman. Shannon, we can't take on grief and concern for the whole world.”

“We knew Lara. And before that, there was Nell,” Shannon said.

“Her husband killed her,” Sam said sharply.

“We can't cancel the Gator Gala. We've sunk too much money in it already,” Gordon said.

Shannon stared at all of them. “I'm afraid. Afraid that something else is going to happen to someone. Let's be honest, for once. We're all afraid.”

Quinn was silent, watching the reactions of the others. Before anyone could speak, the door to the waiting room opened. Richard and Mina Long had arrived.

“Thought you two went home,” Ben said.

“We started for home,” Mina said.

“But then we decided that we wouldn't sleep until we found out how Jane was doing,” Richard explained.

“She's in surgery now,” Gordon said.

“We heard.”

“You both gave an accurate diagnosis.”

“There you go,” Richard said lightly. “See, I really did go to medical school.” He paused, expecting laughter. None came. “Well, she's going to be fine,” he said. “It was actually the best thing in the world that it happened when it did—she was with a crowd, and she got medical attention immediately. If she had been alone, if she had failed to reach a phone and call for help…well, then, it could have been really serious.”

“So what's going on?” Mina asked.

“Shannon wants to cancel the Gator Gala,” Justin said.

“No!” Richard said, sitting down, but staring at Shannon with a frown. “It's still almost three months away. Jane will be up and kicking by then.”

Gabriel Lopez walked over to Shannon, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “
Chiquita,
it will be fine. The way the hospitals do things these days, Jane will be out by tomorrow afternoon.”

“I certainly hope not,” Mina said.

“Okay, so I'm exaggerating,” Gabriel said, winking at Mina.

“Look, Jane carries a lot of the student burden, and she's going to have to be out for a while,” Shannon said. “And wasn't she planning something with you, too, Ben? She had a heavy load. It's going to be too much for her.”

Ben walked over to Shannon. “
You
can dance with me. You know I'm good.”

“Ben, of course you're good. That's not it.”

“Jane is going to be all right, but there's nothing suspicious about what happened. And we can cover for her.”

“Ben, even if I dance with you, we'll be down one instructor.”

“I have an idea,” Sam said suddenly. “Marnie. That girl is the most natural dancer I've ever seen in my life. Shannon, seriously, in a few weeks' time, I could turn her into an instructor.”

“Sam, think about how hard it is to learn all the steps as one sex. To be certified, she has to learn all the steps for both sexes. There's no way she can do that in time,” Shannon said.

Justin shrugged. “When she was a little kid, she said, she took years of ballet, modern and hip-hop. She knows a hell of a lot already.”

“She has the natural talent,” Rhianna said.

“We'll work with her, right, Justin? Please, don't think about canceling the Gator Gala,” Sam said.

Shannon sighed. She stared across the room at Quinn. “What do you think?”

“About the Gator Gala?” he asked, surprised. “I'm the least capable dancer in the room. How would I know what could happen in a few months' time?”

She actually smiled, shaking her head. “Would Marnie want to do it?”

“Are you kidding? That girl would die to come on as a teacher,” Rhianna said.

The room fell silent. The word
die
was not a good one at the moment.

“I promised to call her about Jane's condition,” Quinn said. “I can ask her.”

“Do it,” Gordon said. He was staring at Shannon again. “We can't cancel the Gator Gala. We can't. We're in too deep.”

Doug came into the waiting room looking haggard but relieved. “They won't let me anywhere near her, but she's going into recovery, and they say she's going to be fine.”