Page 19 of If Ever

"Oh, God. I'm sorry."

"We're in L.A. Maybe we can hire some actors to play the part," I joke, but maybe it’s an option.

"Don't worry about it." He shrugs it off but clearly feels sorry for me and wonders why I'm alone. But he doesn't ask. "Let's get started."

I nod.

As usual, the beginning of learning any number is the hardest. This week it's the cha cha, a quick-paced Latin dance. Dominic speeds through the steps.

"Dude, please slow down. My brain doesn't move that fast," I complain.

"We have to get this down, so we can start polishing sooner. The only way we have a chance is to deliver a perfect dance."

So I grumble on the inside and do my best to keep up. After a twenty-minute lunch break at two p.m., we're back at it, this time marking it with music. On our third try, I confuse which foot to use, then quick correct. My heel catches, my ankle turns, and slides out from under me.

I crumble to the floor with a painful screech, landing on my hip with an unladylike umph.

"Shit, are you okay?" Dominic's at my side in an instant, and I realize the camera guy is too.

Cringing with pain, between clenched teeth I say, "Not sure yet."

He frowns and stares at my foot. I blow out my breath and the immediate pain seems to wane. "May I?" he asks, his hand poised to touch my injury.

"Sure."

He gently presses different areas of my ankle.

I wince. "Right there. It's tender, but better than a minute ago."

"Let me grab you some ice."

He leaves me alone with the producer and cameraman. I want to lie back, close my eyes, and calm myself down, but the cameraman will record my weakest moment, so I lean back on my hands and watch my ankle swell. What will this mean to our rehearsals? What if I can't compete?

Dominic comes back with Hank and Sonya on his heels.

"What happened?" Hank leans over with his hands on his knees and peers at my ankle. The strap of my shoe is getting tight. I reach forward to loosen it, but Dominic brushes my hands away and deftly unbuckles and removes the torturous shoe.

"You know me, tripping on air."

Hank nods as if that makes total sense.

"Oh my God, girl. What happened to your feet?" Dominic frowns at my bruised feet with the missing toenails. Sonya and Hank lean over the camera guy's shoulder for a closer look.

"I told you my feet hurt."

Dominic rubs his forehead and looks away.

"I've been bitchin' about my bunions," Hank says. "I don't know how you dance with those mangled feet."

Sonya pushes closer. "Oh, honey. You need to tape your feet. I'll show you how."

"First can we deal with her ankle?" Dominic interrupts. "How does it feel now?" He slides an ice pack under my ankle and carefully lays another on top.

"It doesn't hurt like before." I slowly point my foot and then carefully rotate it. "Should I try to walk on it?"

"No!" Dominic glances over my head at the producer then shakes his head. "We better have a doctor take a look."

With a groan I close my eyes. I'm finally having a good time and now I might be out because of a stupid injury.

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