Marcia Talley - Dead Man Dancing

I was all for enlightenment, but no amount of study or thought had thrown any light on who had attacked Ruth and why. So while I waited for an epiphany, either my own or on the part of the police, I used the day like everyone else to take down the Christmas decorations and burn the tree.

The following day – Tango Monday – was lesson five. After a family dinner chez moi of Hurry-Up Chili and tossed salad, we shoehorned Ruth into the car – front passenger seat slid way back, left leg fully extended – Daddy, Neelie, and I climbed into the back, and Paul drove us to J & K. Hutch had gone ahead to get in some practice time with Melanie. It was only a ten-minute drive, but long enough that sandwiched as I was in the back directly behind Ruth with my knees folded up to my chin like an accordion I feared I wouldn’t be able to walk when I got out, let alone dance.

Feet all pins and needles, I limped in.

Something was out of whack; I sensed it. The studio looked normal enough, I suppose, but it felt as if I’d interrupted something, like ‘OK folks, knock it off, company coming, everyone look natural’.

Chance, looking very bodybuilder slash surfer dude in a Blue Man Group T-shirt tucked into Levi slims, had cued up a waltz – ‘Are You Lonesome Tonight?’ – but nobody was dancing.

I hadn’t laid eyes on Kay for weeks so I was pleasantly surprised to see her there. She was dressed for success in a dark blue business suit, an ivory-colored blouse, dark hose and Ferragamo pumps. Clipboard in hand, she leaned against one of the EV speakers while talking with Hutch and with Melanie, who wasn’t paying attention.

I’d have expected to find Tom and Laurie perfecting their waltz, but they were sprawled on a mat in the corner, doing stretches, acting cool.

And sitting on a bench near the office, bookended by Shirley and Jay, was Tessa looking sulky, her little legs dangling, knocking the heels of her silver Capezios together.

In contrast, the grown-ups on both sides laughed, Jay’s head thrown back in full-blown, open-mouthed guffaw; Shirley, more modest, head down, shoulders quietly shaking.

I handed Paul my coat to hang up along with his, then wandered casually over for a second look at Tessa, which confirmed my first impression. No lumps, no bumps, not tip-tilted, crooked or pug. Tessa’s nose was perfectly aquiline, with the merest hint of a tilt at its tip. Miley Cyrus should be paying a plastic surgeon for a nose half as fine as Tessa’s and not the other way around. Perhaps Chloe had misunderstood.

Whatever I imagined had been going on just minutes before in the studio, our group’s arrival seemed to have broken the spell. Tom and Laurie, wearing their trademark black and white, rolled up the exercise mats and quickly took the floor. Laurie had replaced her red scarf with one in iridescent green, selected to coordinate (I felt certain) with her bright emerald shoes. As they waltzed, the scarf billowed behind her, like an ocean wave.

Daddy and Neelie were waltzing expertly, too, gazing into each other’s eyes. Daddy was singing along to the words, ‘ Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare… ’ and I gulped, trying to swallow the lump that had risen in my throat. It had been several long years since my mother’s death. Daddy’d met Cornelia at my sister’s shop and they’d been dating semi-steadily ever since. He responded to her offbeat sense of humor; my sisters and I liked her, too. Whether marriage was in the future or not, nobody knew. We were simply glad to see him happy.

While I waited for Paul, who had nipped into the restroom, I decided to say hello to Kay. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.’

Kay smiled back. ‘We’re just getting our ducks in a row for the Shall We Dance? casting call.’ She tipped the clipboard in my direction so I could see the sheaf of forms attached to it. ‘Fortunately, both our candidates seem to qualify.’

‘You have to be a US citizen or legal resident,’ Melanie explained. ‘They had some trouble last year with a finalist whose green card had expired.’ She laughed. ‘No problem with that here.’

Hutch frowned. ‘As I was saying, Kay, I’d like to take those forms home and go over them, particularly the release. If I’m reading it correctly, it gives the CNT producers permission to do anything they want with our audition, even if it embarrasses the hell out of us.’

Kay stared. ‘I don’t think that’s negotiable, Hutch. You either sign the release or forget about auditioning.’

‘Once a lawyer, always a lawyer,’ I cut in.

Melanie wrinkled her nose. ‘Last season they videotaped this couple, and the girl was so nervous she threw up all over her partner! You’d think the producers would edit that out of the tape, but no ! They actually showed her throwing up.’ She stuck out her tongue. ‘Then they further humiliated the poor thing by blasting her lack of experience.’ She tapped Kay’s arm. ‘You saw it, Kay. What’d that awful judge say? Something like how it made him sick to his stomach to watch her lousy dancing?’

‘Seems like a cheap way to get a laugh,’ I said.

Hutch agreed. ‘Well, neither Melanie nor I is going to throw up, I assure you. And they’re certainly not going to say we’re lousy dancers. We might not make the cut, but if you have to act like an nincompoop in order to see yourself on television… well, we’ll just say thanks, grab the souvenir T-shirt and get outa’ there.’

Kay squeezed the clip, slid the application forms off her clipboard and handed them to Hutch. ‘Remember, you need to set aside three days for this. If you make it through day one, there may be a call back.’

Hutch fanned through the pages, divided them, and gave half to Melanie. ‘That’s not a problem for me. Melanie?’

Melanie shook her head.

Kay blew a sigh of relief. ‘Well, that’s it then. The only thing left to talk about is your costumes.’

I had hoped that by arriving early, we’d get a sneak preview of Hutch and Melanie’s routine. Hutch had been maddeningly hush-hush about it, forming a cross with his index fingers when I asked, and saying, ‘Jinx, jinx!’ What with maneuvering Ruth and her unresponsive leg into the car, we’d arrived too late for a preview, of course, but if I managed to get Melanie alone, I planned to pump her.

They’d be dancing a tango, that’s all we knew.

In the alcove behind us, Chance flipped a couple of switches and ‘Hello Young Lovers’ came wafting out of the nearby speakers, presumably the last selection of the practice session before Alicia arrived to turn us into tangoing fools. I felt a hand on my shoulder, Paul’s breath warm on my ear. ‘May I have this dance?’

I slid into my husband’s arms and waited, counting along with him – one-two-three, one-two-three – until, whoosh, we were off, whirling in a surprisingly competent way counter-clockwise around the floor. ‘You’ve been practicing,’ I accused Paul as he expertly avoided a collision with Daddy and Neelie who were, quite frankly, paying more attention to one another than to the line of the dance.

‘Not really,’ Paul said a bit breathlessly. ‘It just suddenly clicked. I think I’ve got it.’

I locked my jaw and said, ‘Oy think he’s gaw’tit.’

‘At least until Mizz Alicia shows up to browbeat us into the tango,’ Paul panted, leading me gracefully around the next corner.

‘I feel like Cinderella at the ball!’ I giggled as we spun past Tessa’s mother, circled around Daddy and Neelie again, then took off on a diagonal, following Tom and Laurie. It was exhilarating and, like Cinderella, I didn’t want the ball to end.

I was so preoccupied that I didn’t even wonder what had happened to Tessa, until I saw her, and stumbled.