Page 32 of The Dance Deception
‘But you were getting on like a house on fire at the pub,’ she protested, not yet ready to give up on the idea.
I explained we’re not sexually compatible – and she asked if he’s into something weird. Trust her to jump to that conclusion. She bit her knuckles when I did a quick impression for her, then she reluctantly accepted it wasn’t ever going to be repeated.
I wish I could have told her we’d had the time of our lives and that my steamy studio sessions with Merle were now a distant memory. But in fact, sleeping with Warren has had the opposite effect. My traitorous mind even hasme thinking how easy it would be to pick up where I left off with Merle now I know Sofiya doesn’t want to save their marriage and there’s no need to feel guilty. But I shake the thought away, angry with myself for even contemplating it. I’m better than that. I deserve better than that.
Bloody Merle. It’s like the harder I try to push him out of my head, the more he intrudes on my thoughts. Why did he have to turn out to be such a liar and a cheat? And how the hell am I going to face him for the first time since it all blew up? I shudder at the thought of it. Will we talk about it? Does he blame me? Will there be a gigantic showdown in front of everyone at Channel 6? I hope to God there isn’t.
Thankfully I don’t have any more time to fret about it once I arrive at the studio. For the first time, Aleksis is there before me, keen to get cracking as we’ve only got one more day to practise before the live show. I throw myself into it as best I can, but because I’ve only had five hours’ sleep, I struggle to remember all the things he tells me and a bit of tension creeps back into our rehearsal.
After the pep talk from his sister, he wants us to go out there and show the audience something amazing, but I find it hard to keep my spins consistent and my steps fast enough and he gets frustrated when I can’t get it right. After I lose my balance during yet another spin, he snaps at me, and I hit back at him that if he hadn’t wasted so much time at the beginning of the week, we wouldn’t be in the shape we’re in now. By lunchtime, we’re barely speaking again.
It takes an apology and a peace offering to get us back on track. He offers me a Mars bar and says, ‘I know I’mpushing you hard today; I’m sorry if it feels like too little too late. You have every right to be annoyed that I wasn’t in it from the beginning. But I’m trying to make up for it now. I’m being tough on you because I want us to prove to everyone that we deserve our place in the show, that we don’t need their fake score to get us through. We’re better than that.’
‘But you can’t just click your fingers and expect me to be perfect,’ I point out.
‘I know and I’m sorry.’ He looks me right in the eyes, which makes me feel unsettled, though I don’t know why. ‘We’ll take it slower this afternoon,’ he says, his voice softer, ‘and I’ll change anything that isn’t working. By the time we leave here tonight we’ll have a routine that works for both of us, I promise.’
And we do manage to pull together for the rest of the session, resulting in a routine that’s perhaps not as dazzling as it might have been, but is good enough that I won’t be embarrassed performing it. It’s a huge relief after the way the week began.
I’m absolutely exhausted by the end of the day – physically, mentally and emotionally – and can’t wait to go home and collapse on the sofa. But I’m feeling more positive too. While our dance isn’t likely to blow anyone away, I don’t think it would necessarily knock us out of the competition either, if our score were genuine.
I’ve warmed to Aleksis a tiny bit too, now we’re talking more and he’s stopped being vile to me. While he hasn’t exactly apologised for his initial behaviour, he has more or less admitted he’s to blame for our rocky start. He evenoffers some reassurance when I admit I’m anxious about tomorrow, which makes me see him in a slightly different light – one where dancing with him for another week might not be quite so unpleasant.
Safely buried among the cushions back at the flat, I fire off a message to the Fire Dancers group, to see how everyone’s week has been.
‘Hey, stranger,’ Liam writes back. ‘We were getting worried. We thought Merle might have murdered you or something.’
He adds three laughing faces to show he’s joking.
‘I’m still here,’ I type. ‘Tough week this week. It’s wiped me out.’
‘I hear ya,’ Beth replies. ‘I might as well tell you now, cos you’ll find out tomorrow anyway, but I’ve got the Argentine this week. It’s an absolute NIGHTMARE. I have a lot more respect for Emilia now – she made it look like a piece of cake last Saturday. Mine’s more crumble than gateau.’
‘I’m sure yours will be just as delicious,’ Liam writes. ‘You did really well last week, you’ll surprise yourself again. I can’t wait to see all your dances. You’re going to smash it.’
‘And then we’re going to get smashed,’ Tammy adds. ‘Woohoo!’
‘I’ve managed to reserve a table at a place round the corner from Channel 6,’ Liam writes. ‘The Golden Grape. It’s just a few minutes’ walk away.’
My heart lurches. Of all the places, why did it have to be there? But then I force myself to think about it rationally. The chances of the same people being in a London pub on two consecutive Saturday nights are slim. And if there areone or two who recognise me, I can handle it – especially if I’m surrounded by friends. I got through it last night, and I’ll get through it again.
In fact, I’m grateful to have a night out with the whole gang to look forward to after the show. Before that I’ve got to get through the awkwardness of seeing Merle again and pull off a decent two minutes of salsa in front of the judges. I don’t know which I’m dreading more.
Chapter 19
Tammy and Beth meet me at the Tube station in the morning so we can walk to the Channel 6 building together. Despite all my bravado about rising above photo-gate, they know I’m dreading seeing all the people on the show. It’s way more daunting than facing a bunch of total strangers.
I still haven’t told them I haven’t seen Merle all week, though, and that I’m completely freaking out about it. So they have no idea just how grateful I am for their moral support.
Tammy waves as I come through the ticket barrier. ‘So how are you feeling? Ready to do it all again?’
‘I can’t say I’m necessarily looking forward to the next few hours,’ I admit.
‘Just focus on your performance and try to ignore all the other stuff,’ Beth says. ‘If it’s any consolation we’re both feeling apprehensive too. I thought it would get easier as we went along and got more used to everything, but itdefinitely feels like there’s more pressure this week.’
‘It’s true. I feel like this could be it for me after my lousy merengue score,’ Tammy adds. ‘But I’m not going down without a fight.’
‘I think we’ll all feel better once we’ve got our sequins on,’ Beth says. ‘We just need to get in there and get in the zone.’
