But judging from the way Coco was looking at her, maybe Bailey had tried too hard.
“Has it been too much?”
“Hey, don’t sweat it,” Coco assured. “You’ve had your moments, but your dances and outfits have been more modest than most.”
Like Coco’s own. But somehow, Bailey wasn’t sure this would reassure her father who’d be watching tonight’s performance from the studio audience, along with Luc’s parents and his friends and teammates. The nerves rolling through her stomach trebled.
“Bails.”
She peeked over her shoulder, saw Luc beckon to her. She jumped up and hugged him. Then leaned back. “Oh, I like this.” She stroked his white shirt, opened ready for their introduction.
“I like this.” He eyed her appreciatively, the silver dress the same as from the opening promotions all those weeks ago.
“You’re going to be amazing.”
“So are you.”
He stroked her cheek, and she was tempted to lean into his hand, but already the sounds of movement and noise from the crowd outside suggested she needed to get ready.
“I better go.”
“Praying for you,” he murmured, before pressing a kiss to her palm.
She pressed her hand to her heart, saw his smile widen, then he waved goodbye as an assistant asked what he was doing here.
Okay, refocus. But that moment of seeing him had helped ground her. She just had to get through this number, then the next, and the one after that, and then this would be over.
“Okay everyone. Take your places.”
She was partnered with Tim, who had been Miranda’s pro partner before they had been voted out. “Ready?”
She nodded. This opener was high energy, with everything from cha-cha to salsa and disco, and she knew she had to bring the vivacious personality viewers liked, such as full hair tosses and looking into the camera, winking and pointing at the viewers at home, so that they’d be reminded to vote for Luc and her.
They danced until the music ended, held their pose for three seconds as scripted, then she was released to find Luc who was standing at the top of the stage. She joined him as he was introduced, doing a twirl then leaning into him as the cheers filled the audience. She could see his family, and hers, and a few more of his friends. Her smile broadened. Dad couldn’t complain about any of that. Yet.
She hitched her smile up higher, then she and Luc were released to go change for their first number. They were dancing second for both dances, and tonight’s important final voting would occur while the already-eliminated couples had their chance to strut their favorite dances one more time. The dances were longer, too, around the two to two-and-a-half minutes mark, allowing for more time between each set for costume and makeup and styling.
A short time later, she was dressed in her soft, ethereal-looking ensemble for “Midnight”. Then she found Luc backstage, who had shed his other shirt for this open number that held its own silver-strewn sparkle. “Are you ready?”
He nodded. She moved to join the others, but he stayed her by holding her hand. “But hey, before we go out, I think we need to pray.”
Oh, he was a good man. “Yes, please.”
“Hey Lord,” Luc said aloud, “Thanks that You are with us, help us do our best. For Your sake. Amen.”
“Amen.” She hugged him, and caught Miguel’s sneer from across the room.
Whatever. God was with them. And this next moment was about showing all the viewers that there was light and hope to be found by reaching up to find God.
One dance down. The tango to go.
Luc’s nerves might have made their presence felt this morning, but since his to-camera piece about his mom and finding hope in God—Ella hadn’t left that out—he’d felt peace fall. This dance wasn’t really about him, after all. Then they’d gotten the contemporary done, and received such glowing reports from the judges, and equal top scores—including tens from Cynthia and Marco, with the judges enthusing about everything from his emotional connection to his improvement and Bailey’s ballerina form—that he really settled into the night.
Now he had the tango, which was probably his favorite dance he’d done, the one in which he felt most comfortable, and his last chance to really be the character he’d been persuaded to play by his team’s management all those weeks ago. The man whose slick moves transcended the ice.
He squeezed Bailey’s hand, and she smiled up at him, her gold dress slinky but not too revealing, her hair pulled back in a tight bun in a huge contrast to the previous dance where it had been all loose.
She looked serious, ready for business, and he knew his sharp suit—designed so he could still move with ease—made him look fierce too.
“Are you ready?” the assistant asked, as the cheering suggested Fiona’s performance was now done.
Bailey looked up at him, and he nodded, kissing her hand. “Let’s go slay.”
She laughed, and his heart eased. “James Bond, eat your heart out.”
He grinned, and they moved into position. During this week’s camera blocking rehearsal, they’d tweaked things so they’d start on the platform, giving viewers better access to seeing Bailey’s initial moves. It meant a few adjustments to the stage, including a runway over the steps so they could tango their way down, but they’d managed in rehearsals just fine. Besides, nothing was going to wreck this. He had the same feeling about this as when he entered the zone or state of flow in hockey when he sensed where other players were and just knew his team were about to score. This tango would go well.
“Okay.”
Jenna was talking to the audience, and they smiled and waved at the camera as their week’s rehearsal package was played. He’d already had his little “I can’t believe I’m in the final” promotional video played, and he knew this package would go a little longer, showcasing his ineptness at the beginning and building to some of his better moments on the dance floor. And considering all the interest in them, all the questions about their relationship status, he knew people would be analyzing this for clues about whether this was a “showmance” as he’d heard it called, or something more genuine. Well, he hoped there wouldn’t be any more questions after tonight.
“Ready?”
He nodded, tugging his dinner jacket down, as Bailey moved behind him. Then they were announced again to more cheering, and he waited, his heart thudding at the hush, before the opening electronic beats of their music grew louder through the studio.
He closed his eyes, then the first synthesizer sound saw her hands cover his eyes, before they slid down to his face to his chest in time with the broken chord. He opened his eyes, looked to the right then the left, which was when she slipped around on his right hip and slid through his legs before reappearing on his left. Then she arched away as he reached for her, before he grabbed her hand and spun her up into the tango hold as the words began.
