Page 21 of Flirty Dancing

“What a dick,” Caleb muttered.

Archer gave him a weak smile of agreement, but his heart sank.

“What did you mean about Mateo being unprofessional?” he asked Caleb later at dinner.

“You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you? He got fired from the role of a lifetime for being ‘unprofessional.’”

The other conversations around them quieted, heads turning in their direction.

“Like how?” Archer asked.

“Same old. He started drinking and partying, missing rehearsals, making demands of everyone to treat him like a fucking god. And I guess he was an asshole to Abby. Refused to even talk to her backstage.”

Abby Hodge was perhaps the most famous trans actor in America these days, certainly the most famous to ever make it big on Broadway. She had even been nominated for an Oscar this past year. And Mateo was… here. With Archer, who couldn’t get a job to save his life. Ouch.

“So, why is he working here?”

Dominik shrugged. “No one knows. He hasn’t exactly been making friends.”

There was murmured agreement around the table.

“This is his first season?” Archer asked.

Dominik nodded, purple mohawk bobbing. “Yeah. We were all shocked as hell when Stewart introduced him the first day. One thing’s for sure though,” he added, popping open a can of sparkling water. “That man candance.”

The conversation drifted onto other topics, but Archer’s thoughts stayed on Mateo. How does one go from being the toast of Broadway to toiling in a tiny cabaret show upstate? He finished his stuffed peppers in silence.

“Cabin tonight?” Caleb asked him, feet bumping under the table.

Archer’s stomach quivered. “No way, man. No drinking for me.”

“Come on, Archer,” Dominik interjected. “Cannonball contest!”

“Everyone’s doing it.” Betty poked him and grinned.

Archer groaned. “Okay, fine. I can beat you all sober, anyway.”

Caleb sighed and stood, stretching his arms above his head and revealing a rather impressive six-pack. “You can try.” His voice was low as his gaze dropped to Archer’s. “But you’re going down.”

Archer raised an eyebrow at Caleb. Maybe.

6Moonlight

“Dancers!” Stewart paced along the front of the stage, Judy trotting at his heels. “For those disinclined to observe such things, I would like you to note that it is Saturday.” He stopped and stared at them, gripping his cane, eyes wild. “Saturday! Do you know what this means?”

The dancers shifted, eyeing one another.

Betty raised her hand. “It means that… tomorrow is Sunday?”

“Yes!” Stewart bellowed. “Yes, Betty, very well done. Tomorrow is Sunday. And what happens on Sunday?”

“The guests arrive?” Betty continued, on a roll.

“The guests. Arrive.Tomorrow.” Stewart took a deep breath then threw his head back. “Tomorrow! Tomorrow, people!Retrois merely passable.Latinis middling.Urbanis abysmal.Around the WorldandBroadway?In utter shambles! I need your blood, your sweat, your verytearstoday, my darlings. Today… we dance!” He flung his arms out and froze as if waiting for applause.

“Uh, Stewart?” Mateo pointed behind him. “The costume designers and photographers are here, though.”

Stewart turned to verify that they had indeed interrupted his big finish, then sniffed at them. “Oh, yes. Very well. We dance… later today.”

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