Marcia Talley - Dead Man Dancing

‘Ready!’ we all screamed, even me.

‘Now, to meet the judges. First, all the way from Melbourne, Australia where he just finished filming Paradise Bay , Neville Grant!’

Neville appeared, gleaming white hair slicked straight back, bowing to acknowledge the thunderous applause. He was dressed entirely in black, including his shoes. The man was painfully thin, desperately in need of emergency ravioli.

Dave pumped Neville’s bony hand. ‘When will Paradise Bay be released in the United States, Nev?’

‘Next year, Dave, and it’s starring two of Australia’s greatest exports, Mel Gibson and Nicole Kidman.’

The audience went insane with joy, while Neville, alternately waving and bowing, loped long-legged across the stage and eased into his chair.

‘Next,’ Dave continued, ‘we have the beautiful and talented Samantha Purdy!’

The crowd went bonkers.

‘Samantha’s a former Miss America who wowed us in Atlantic City with her dazzling clog dancing. Come on out, Sa-man-tha !’

The beautiful and talented Samantha appeared from stage left, grinning hugely, did a quick double-toe-step, rock step, and waved to the audience. She wore a bright red sweater and slim, black jeans. Samantha’s trademark waist-length auburn hair (she’d been a L’Oreal spokesmodel since 2001, and definitely worth it) was tied in a ponytail. She’d drawn the ponytail through the opening at the back of a Chicago Cubs baseball cap that was sitting on her head at a jaunty angle.

Dave grabbed Samantha’s impeccably manicured hand and said, ‘I understand you’ll be joining the US touring company of Riverdance this fall, is that right?’

Samantha giggled. ‘That’s absolutely right, Dave. I’m so excited to be working with Marty Dowds and Maria Buffini and all the other talented individuals on the Riverdance team.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And I’m so excited to be here today, and to have this incredible opportunity to be part of discovering some astonishing new talent!’

Even from where we sat, it looked as if Samantha was capable of rattling on forever in a god-bless-all-the-poor-little-children-of-the-world sort of way, and Dave must have sensed it, too, because he raised Samantha’s arm as if declaring her dah winnah in a boxing match and said, ‘Let’s hear it for Samantha Purdy!’

‘ Cead Mile Failte! ’ cried Samantha. ‘ Slan go foill! ’ And she took her seat.

‘What the heck was that?’ Eva asked.

‘Gaelic?’ I suggested. ‘In honor of Riverdance? They’re Irish.’

‘Shhhh,’ said the sourpuss to my right.

‘And last but certainly not least, Mr Jonathan Job, who with his partner Izabelle Kucharski, won the silver medal for ice dancing at the 2006 Winter Olympic Games. Jonathan, come on out!’

I am a major fan of ice dancing (Torvill and Dean are gods!) so I instantly recognized the handsome man emerging from stage right. Job was tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered – had to be to hoist Izabelle, a sturdy Polish lass, and sling her around the ice rink like he had done to win the silver. Job flowed, rather than walked, on to the stage.

‘Welcome to Shall We Dance? , Jonathan.’

‘My pleasure.’

‘So, what’s next for you?’

‘I’m doing the choreography for Harry Potter on Ice, Dave. We’ll be opening in New York City on November 1st, then touring the United States and Europe. We’ll be in Baltimore next Thanksgiving weekend, in fact.’

‘Did you hear that folks? Harry Potter on Ice is coming to Baltimore!’

The audience was delirious with joy.

‘And how about your partner, the lovely Izabelle. What’s she up to?’

Jonathan combed his fingers through his curly, sandy locks, looking uncharacteristically shy. ‘Izzy’s touring with Potter on Ice, too. And I suppose it’s only a matter of time before Entertainment Tonight spills the beans, so I might as well announce it right now, Izabelle and I were married on New Year’s Eve!’

The audience erupted in a frenzy of congratulatory delight.

‘Well, congratulations, Jonathan. We wish you and Izabelle all the best. Now, if the judges will take their seats. Let’s get on with it. Your job is to decide which of these talented contestants goes on to the finals in New York City this April.’

As Jonathan glided toward his place behind the table, Dave approached the edge of the stage and spoke directly to us, the audience. We were such good friends by now. ‘The auditions will start in just a few minutes, ladies and gentlemen, but first, a special treat! To get everyone into the Shall We Dance? spirit, and to demonstrate how it’s done by the pros, Shall We Dance? has arranged for some amazing dancers to perform for you. First, from right here in Baltimore, Merry-land are Ron and Janet Benrey dancing…the waltz!’

We sat enthralled while Ron and Janet, elaborately costumed as colonial Americans complete with powdered wigs, performed a gorgeous, perfectly coordinated Viennese waltz to the tune of the ‘Love Theme from Romeo and Juliet’.

After their final bow and curtsy, Ruth muttered, ‘Wait a minute. The waltz wasn’t invented until the 1800s, am I right?’

Ruth was, but the woman on my right was glaring at us again, so I simply nodded and tried to ignore them both.

‘So why aren’t George and Martha Washington dancing a minuet, for Christ’s sake?’

‘Ruth!’ I hissed.

Meanwhile, on stage, the auditions had begun. We had no idea what time Hutch and Melanie would perform, only that we had to sit through ten other contestant couples before we got to them. We watched a hip hop routine, a country western line dance for two, a pas-de-deux from Swan Lake – ‘competent’ (according to Jonathan), ‘straight out of high school’ (Neville) but ‘boring, boring, boring’ (Samantha) – and a couple dressed as characters from the Phantom of the Opera who leaped, pranced and stumbled their way though a waltz largely because she kept tripping on the trailing hem of her dress and he couldn’t see very well through the eyehole of his mask.

Ruth frowned. ‘Is that what Dave meant when he said that contestants should stand out?’

Unbelievably, by a two to one margin (Samantha being the lone dissenter), the judges decided to put the Phantom and Christine through to the finals.

‘What a crock,’ Ruth growled from the end of the row.

It was hard for me to believe, too, but I said, ‘They’ve got to have somebody to make fun of, Ruth. Better Christine and her Phantom than Hutch and Melanie.’

I turned away from my sister when Dave reappeared on stage, flapping his arms like a wounded goose. ‘Everybody up! On your feet! Arms in the air! Touch your toes!’

For a large man, Dave was surprisingly graceful as he danced on tiptoe, jiggling his arms to demonstrate how easily one could avoid the risk of deep vein thrombosis. ‘Shake out those kinks!’ he instructed as Steve slotted ‘Rock Around the Clock’ into his CD drive.

My kinks were quickly dispatched, so I sat down and amused myself by watching everyone shake, rattle and roll all around me.

‘And now,’ Dave continued, ‘before we meet our next group of contestants it’s time to bring out some more of our pros. Here they are, all the way from Annapolis, Maryland, dancing the paso doble, let’s hear it for Jay and Kay Giannotti!’

I nudged Paul with my elbow. ‘This is going to be great!’ And all of us clapped like crazy.

Steve cued up the Giannotti’s CD and the music began, a sultry malagueña with Spanish guitar and castanets.

Clothed in iridescent black, his shirt slit to the waist and wearing what looked like an ivory tusk on a chain around his neck, Jay backed out of the wings, heels tapping like a flamenco dancer, his shoulders arched and wide, his chest high, his head thrown slightly back. Next came Kay, following, her eyes locked on his, her white-blonde hair slicked back and held high with a Spanish comb. As she progressed, twirling her ruffled skirt like a matador’s cape, Jay backed away, puffing his lips as if mouthing ‘ olé ’.