Page 38 of The Dance Deception
‘I’ve given a lot of thought to what you said yesterday,’ he tells me, making me panic for a moment that he’s going to suggest we do actually sleep with each other to improve my dancing.
‘And what it’s made me realise is that a love story between us is exactly what we need to elevate our standing on the show. Merle has already worked out that telling everyone he’s got the hots for Emilia will help keep him in the competition. We just need to do the same to get the audience to vote for us – but better.’
My eyebrows shoot so far up my forehead they’re in danger of getting lost in my hairline. I know I insinuated that sleeping with him might improve my dancing, but a love story is something of a leap.
‘It won’t be real,’ he clarifies, seeing my alarmed expression. ‘It’s just about making the audience think it’s real – on the show, through social media. They’ll lap it up if they think we’ve really fallen for each other, just like Merle and Emilia, especially after everything that’s come before it. Don’t you think?’
When I stare at him, speechless, he ploughs on.
‘People are naturally curious about other people’s relationships. Much as I hate to admit it, the majority of them probably don’t care so much about whether we can do a decent bachata. It’s reality TV, not the world championships. That’s not to say we shouldn’t still put on a good show to impress the audience – I’m not about to waste this opportunity to show off my talent now Sofiya has made me see sense. But I think we can both agree it’s a popularity contest as much as a dance competition, right?
‘So the best way to get the viewers really invested in us, and the audience to go crazy with their scores for us, has to be to give them something off the dance floor as well as on. I reckon it could even make us the show favourites if we really throw ourselves into it. So what do you reckon – are you up for it?’
My mind races, wondering if he’s gone crazy. Does he really believe this is a good idea? But he seems so convinced and his arguments are persuasive – plus I can’tpretend the prospect of knocking Merle off his pedestal isn’t seriously tempting.
‘I suppose we could try,’ I reply cautiously.
‘I think it’s the right move,’ he says, more decisively now I’ve semi-agreed to it. ‘I ran it by Sofiya too – I hope you don’t mind that I did that – and she’s on board with it as well. Without wanting to make her sound vindictive, she was quite enthusiastic about us trying to take Merle down a peg or two after everything he’s done.’
Another thing I have in common with his sister.
‘She’d even like to help, if you agree to it. She said we could put our heads together over at her place later, and come up with a game plan. Just say if that’s too much of an imposition, though. I don’t want it to feel like we’re ganging up on you.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ I tell him, too bamboozled to work out how I really feel about it.
And that’s how I find myself pulling up in a taxi outside Merle’s former home in Highgate that evening – the Georgian townhouse I’ve only ever seen in the pictures of him leaving it – in perhaps the most surreal moment sinceFire on the Dance Floorbegan. At least the photographers are no longer camped outside it now Merle’s marriage split is last week’s news.
I wonder if it will still look like it’s his place inside, with dance trophies in display cabinets and pictures of him on the walls, or if Sofiya has already removed all traces of him. But it looks just like anyone else’s home, with coats hanging up in the hallway and the dishes from that morning’s breakfast still sitting beside the kitchen sink.
Sofiya kisses her brother on both cheeks. ‘Cau, Aleksis.’
‘I hope being here doesn’t feel too uncomfortable for you,’ she says to me by way of greeting.
I tell her I’m slowly getting my head round it and she nods, like she understands. But she doesn’t seem at all fazed by the fact that she’s about to plot how to cut her estranged husband down to size with the help of his former fling.
‘Shall we get straight into it?’ she suggests, gesturing for us to take a seat round the dining table and pouring us each a glass of wine.
‘I suppose the first question is how to let people know about it,’ Aleksis says.
‘I hope you don’t mind but I’ve taken the liberty of setting something in motion already,’ Sofiya confesses.
‘You have?’ Aleksis looks at her in surprise.
‘Before you got here I was speaking to one of the reporters who hounded me after the photos of Kate and Merle first went viral. I’ve agreed to do an interview with her. It’s happening tomorrow and they’ll publish it on Saturday,’ she explains.
‘But you hate all that stuff,’ Aleksis frowns, while I’m blushing furiously at the mention of the photos.
‘I know, but I think it will make me feel better to get my side of the story across for once. Everyone sees me as the poor jilted wife, devastated that she’s been replaced by a younger model. One of the neighbours even dropped a sympathy note through the door.’ She looks horrified by this. ‘But it’s not the truth and I want people to know I’m happier than I have been for a long time. I want Merle to know it too.’
‘In that case, good for you,’ Aleksis says.
‘I’ve promised Stella an exclusive – that’s the reporter – and it would be the perfect opportunity to get your story out there too. I could drop into our chat that you’ve developed feelings for each other and that I’ve given you my blessing. It would be guaranteed to get people talking, what with all the connections between us.’
‘It would be good publicity ahead of the next live show,’ Aleksis agrees.
‘Of course it would be better still if you could get the news out even sooner, to give everyone time to warm to the idea before the show. If it hit the headlines tomorrow, then by Saturday … Wait!’
This last word makes me jump and my wine sloshes over the side of my glass.
