“You’ll be fine.”
“You were more than fine. You were smokin’ out there.”
She grinned up at him. “I just love to dance, and it was so freeing to do that performance.”
“One down, and one to go, huh?”
She patted his cheek. “You’ve got this. Just remember, it’s a show, and you’re an actor playing a role to tell the story. Fake it ’til you make it, they say.”
“I’ve never been great at pretending,” he mumbled.
“Well, dig deep and try to find something about this to enjoy, okay?”
“Quiet!” an assistant hissed. “Now, you’re going on, so let’s see big smiles, people. Big smiles.”
Luc pasted on a smile, and she grabbed his hand and squeezed. It was almost their turn to be introduced.
The first couple entered past the curtains, and she drew in a breath, caught Luc’s eyes on her, and she glanced up and gave a reassuring smile. Miguel and Kate, his author partner, entered, to more applause. Then it was their turn.
“You got this,” she murmured, and his grip tightened as they went out, the bright lights hot and glaring.
“And now, please welcome a man known more for giving hits on the ice than for his moves on the dance floor, give it up for Winnipeg’s own Luc Blanchard and his partner Bailey Donovan.”
This was it. She pasted on a brighter smile and waved as they went down the steps and found their mark, Luc’s height meaning they’d been placed on the floor to not overshadow the other, shorter couples. She smiled, he waved, his grip clammy. Oh, she hoped he wouldn’t throw up.
The other couples were introduced, and they applauded, then Jenna asked the judges what they were looking for.
Marco pointed to the dance couples. “You know what I want to see? Amazing dancing.”
John nodded. “Give me some technique, please.”
Cynthia smiled. “Remember, we know you’re not pros, and while you might feel nervous, the most important thing you can do is just enjoy it.”
Dear Lord, help us to enjoy this.
Luc had never been so nervous in his life. Even going for a shoot-out goal in the playoffs had never made him feel so tense. And he couldn’t let Bailey down. She’d worked so hard with him, but he knew he wasn’t anywhere near the caliber of some of the other celebrities he’d seen. Seriously, who thought it a level playing field to include singers who were used to dancing on stage or in music videos? He’d seen their performances during rehearsals. How were they considered amateurs? He could only hope a few poor souls would pity-vote him through. Bailey had tried her best, and knowing her routine was classy and elegant, he hoped his performance might be okay, provided he nailed the lift.
The lift. How had she thought him up to doing that? He was still getting used to the stupid shoes, and now he was dressed like James Bond in this suit, while she looked so pretty in her white dress it almost made his eyes hurt.
Bailey wanted them to tell the story, and apparently the story they were supposed to tell was of two lovers, and her white dress was supposed to represent a wedding dress. He sure hoped people didn’t get ideas, although he knew he couldn’t really be responsible for what people might think. Her dress was beautiful, but she was even more so, especially when she did that graceful split thing in the air when he lifted her. He clenched and released his fingers, as nausea swirled inside. Everything would probably go okay as long as he nailed the lift.
They returned out the back, and he was sorely tempted to do the lift one more time. “Hey Bailey, do you think we should practice the lift again?”
“Are you still worried?” she asked.
“I’m not confident.”
She winced, then glanced around. “Look, there’s a space there. We probably have time.”
They moved into position, she counted in then softly sang the words of the section he was nervous about. “It had to be you, wonderful you, it had to be you, two three four, one two three four.”
Here, where the trumpets would come in, was where he’d swing her around, then she’d pause, and he’d crouch, and she put a knee on his hip then go over his back while he clutched the backs of her thighs. It had looked insane the first time she’d shown him, but when it worked, it looked so cool, and made him hungry to perfect it.
“You missed it,” she said.
“Sorry. Try again?”
She nodded. “Okay, let’s go from wonderful you, it had to be you, two three four, one two three four.”
He grasped her underarms and swung her around, her skirts billowing like a parachute. But he had to count, and concentrate, to make sure he hit the moment when the trumpets changed. There!
He bent, she placed her knee in position and moved behind his neck, and then one, two, three, and she was over. Awesome!
“What are you two doing over here?” an assistant hissed.
“Just practicing,” Luc said.
“There’s no time. You’re on next.”
“Feel better now?” Bailey asked.
“Yeah.” He smiled at her. “We’ve got this.”
She nodded. “Just remember, it’s supposed to be fun. So have fun, okay?”
He nodded, rolled his shoulders, popped his neck.
