“Not really.”
She opened her phone. Showed the lyrics. “See, it’s about finding hope in the darkness, leaving a light on, being a light to someone else. Which is perfect for your story.”
He nodded. “Like you are to me.”
Her heart caught. “Or like God can be for us.”
“Yeah, I like that. But how do we show that in dance?”
“You’ll see.”
They worked all day. She figured spending today learning this until he’d nailed it would give room for working on the far more technical tango tomorrow. And she was asking a lot from him, asking him to dig deep and find the emotions, to be vulnerable. It helped that he was already a little familiar with the music, could see how it could translate to movement that would be fluid and lead to a lift at the end where she pointed her toes—they’d both have bare feet— as he held her high, her gauzy cream skirt flowing down. Thank God her toe had healed so quickly. This routine was probably leaning more towards ballet than contemporary, but she was glad to have this chance to show him what this emotional part of dance involved. With the lighting she’d suggest—dark at the start, with spots, then a gradual lightening of the stage as they reached for the “star” and the heavens—it would look powerful and effective.
“Now, at the end. I think you should see if you can manage that with one arm.”
He flexed. “I’ve got this, babe.”
“We’ll see.”
He smiled, a smile that quickly faded when she told him where to place his hand.
“You want me to put my hand where?”
“It’s a body, Luc. We’ve gone through this before. I’ve had guys lift me there before. Put your hand there, then lift me up. If you can,” she added with sassy tease.
Okay, then. He clasped her high in her inner thigh, and hoisted her in a wobbly move.
“Yeah, not perfect. Try again.”
After a few more attempts they put that with the prior choreography, then, when that flowed, added it into the whole. The end effect in the mirror was strong and powerful, the reach to the heavens something she hoped all those watching would recognize as a stretch to God, the ultimate light and hope. She’d pray so, anyway.
They ran through the routine several more times, each time seeing it become more smooth and polished. By dinnertime that night she was confident he’d have it. Which meant that they could work on their tango tomorrow. She shivered.
“You okay there, Bailey?”
He was always so solicitous. “Yeah, just thinking through the routine. We’ve almost got it.”
“Want to run through it one more time?” Ella and the crew had already left.
“Are you sure your muscles can take it?” She might’ve gone overboard with the lifts with this routine.
“I hear a challenge.”
“I just don’t want you to suffer an injury.”
“Let’s go one more time. Then we get to tango tomorrow, right?”
She swallowed. “One more time.”
She moved to lie on the floor. He was positioned just above her, braced in a plank pose, an inch lower and they’d be touching, and the music was cued. This song, like all the others, was edited to be shorter than normal, although because it was the final the song would go longer than the usual ninety seconds.
She stared up at him, his eyes on hers, sharing breath, even as they both held ruthlessly still. The music began, and they rolled in opposite directions to upright positions, reaching in synchronized movements for the star that was their prop, then she straddled over his back in the first lift, then slid through his legs before he gripped her hands and took her into a spin. As the song’s ooh-aahs began, Luc held her up in a jackknife lift then hoisted her into a straddle press, before they mirrored each other in a series of steps that brought them together then apart. Luc held her in a starfish spin, then a ballet-like attitude as she leaped and stretched in each movement trying to demonstrate the progression from despair to the hope found from reaching for the light. The routine finished with his one-arm lift as she arched above, leg outstretched, one arm behind, the other reaching forward, parallel with his, toward the light above.
By the time they finished, she was puffing, as was he. “What did you think, boss?”
“That was beautiful.”
He drew closer, his hand slipping to her waist, but she couldn’t go there, not even for a simple hug. It was getting late, and the tango she’d prepared, as per the “make it sexy” instructions from the producers, would be enough challenge for her self-control this week.
He pulled away. “Is everything okay?”
She nodded, avoiding his gaze. “I just have a lot to think about.”
“Yeah, two dances. But this one was good, right?”
“You were great. No, there’s no need to worry. I think if we do it once or twice a day until rehearsals, we’ll have it sorted.”
“And we’re going to do the tango the rest of the time?” He smiled. “Call me crazy, but I’ve heard it takes two to tango.”
She slapped his chest lightly, pushing him away. “Don’t go getting ideas. This is a family-friendly show, remember?”
“Can you tell me what the music is? That way I can listen to it.”
“Sure. We had the option of a traditional piece, but knowing how insecure you are,” she smiled teasingly, “I thought maybe we’d go with my ultimate favorite song to choreograph to. ‘Black and Gold’ by Sam Sparro has a great groove, and I love the meaning behind the song. At first it sounds like a piece about evolution, but I read that the guy who wrote it was the son of a church minister, and he grew up as a Christian. So what he’s actually saying is if God isn’t there, then life is all just a bunch of matter, that life is meaningless. So while our theme is James Bond, this music will still point to God.” Even if some of the moves might not. Oh well.
“That sounds great. I can’t wait.”
“You’ll have to. Until tomorrow.”
