“Love you, Bails.”
“Love you, too, Mom. I’m glad you’re coming this weekend.”
Luc studied her as she ended the call. “What day do they arrive?”
“I need to figure the tickets out first, then let them know and they’ll arrange it from there. But she wants to meet you.”
“Sounds like a busy weekend,” Coco said, as Bailey gingerly made her way to the living area.
Coco knew their plans as Bailey had deemed it wisest to have her friend privy to the truth about their relationship, especially if she was going to be living in Coco’s apartment until Bailey’s time in the competition was over. Coco thought it sweet, but also wise, given their contracts. And Bailey didn’t mind the fact that Coco could act as a chaperone, not only because it helped aid their story that there was nothing going on—yet—but because having a third party around when they were together was a good reminder to keep this strictly platonic. Which also reminded her…
“Are you ready to watch this movie now?” she asked him.
“So ready.” He glanced at where Coco was settling on the couch nearby. “Um, is she…?” he asked softly.
“Watching it too? Yep. It’s her favorite as well.”
“Oh. Okay. Um, can I hold your hand while we watch this?”
“Would you normally hold hands with a friend of yours while you watched a movie?”
Coco laughed, and got the TV ready.
“Yeah, no.”
“I guess that’s your answer.” She smiled at him, pulled the blanket around herself, and positioned her injured foot on the cushion on top of the coffee table, and slurped her green juice.
“Wow.” Luc exhaled heavily. “Did you know she was such a hard taskmaster?” he asked Coco.
“She looks all sweet and nice, but she’s a real hard horse’s butt, right?”
“I was going to go with Sergeant Bailey, but that’s pretty close.”
Bailey threw a cushion at him, and he snickered. “Now, I need to let you know that you’re not allowed to talk in this movie,” she warned him. “It’s my favorite, and if you watch it, you’ll understand why.”
“Mm-hmm. That Sergeant Bailey thing?” Coco said. “It’ll really come out if you talk, so just follow orders, Corporal.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Coco’s big screen filled with the image of red curtains scrolling open, then the gold lettering appeared, as the well-loved music filled the room.
“No way,” she thought she heard Luc say.
“Quiet in the back,” Coco commanded.
Then the images of dancers appeared, then the exquisite music composed by Strauss continued, and Bailey sighed with happiness. Then smiled as Luc straightened as the beautiful scenes on the screen paused and reverted to mock-documentary style. “Huh?”
Clearly he had never watched a film like this before.
She peeked at Coco, who smiled back. This was a satire, but not everyone understood that in their first viewing, and she loved the fact that the film structure messed with people. She loved so much about this movie, not least the fact that it might be Australian but it resonated with ballroom dancers around the world. And though it had dated a little, so much remained true. Dance culture, ballroom culture, still had relevance beyond the dance world, which was why dance remained a constant on screens, whether in movies or on TV shows like hers.
“I recognize that song,” he murmured.
“Are you talking?” Coco asked, eyes still on the screen.
“Nope,” Luc said.
The on-screen dancing continued, the love story twisting through scenes not too far removed from her own experience. Her heart clenched in the memory of Mark telling her the dance was “pretend” and not real. The ugly duckling’s transformation to beautiful swan was not dissimilar to Luc’s own transformation on the dance floor.
She had read that the director had attended ballroom lessons when he was a kid and knew this world well, which was why it felt so authentic, even though it was set a world away. The nature of dance was that many dancers could be international, and she knew that the US version of Dancing with the Stars had employed numbers of Australian, English, and European dance pros. Dancers had to make a living one way or another, and while there might be some variations in the language, the language of dance tended to remain the same.
She snuck a peek at Luc, who was frowning at the scene where the paso doble was being taught, the strong man’s dance, full of fire and energy.
He peeked at her. “Is this what we’re doing?”
“Only if they give it to us.”
“Shh!” Coco said.
She smiled at Luc, and he reached across and she held his hand. Maybe friends could do so, after all.
“That film was the weirdest,” Luc complained, smiling as Bailey rolled her eyes.
“Just because it didn’t have any flying superheroes in it, or blood and gore,” she scoffed.
“Which film?” Sarah Walton asked.
