Nina Berry - City Of Spies

Until Tony started pointing out how Pagan’s turnout could be wider, how her extension was limited, how, when he’d danced with Gwen Verdon, she hadn’t done it that way. He did it with long, lingering touches on her knee and thigh and in a patronizing “I’m here to help” tone low enough that Jared didn’t overhear him as he paced in front of them, declaiming over the chords from the piano.

Pagan stopped herself from swatting Tony’s hand and edged away from him. It was tempting to wonder out loud whether his bony arms were strong enough to lift her when required, but at this early stage of rehearsal, creating more conflict would only backfire. She was the one with the bad reputation. She was the drunk, the killer. So she had to continually earn everyone’s trust and respect. She found a halfhearted smile somewhere and produced it.

“And now, the tango,” Jared said. “A labyrinth of emotion, as it is a labyrinth for your feet. To truly dance the tango, you must have experienced great sorrow, yet still be open to joy. You must surrender to the music, yet remain alert. The tango is relationship as movement. It is the most demanding of dances, the most intricate. Yet at bottom it is very basic—listen to the music, pay attention to your partner, and love. That’s what the tango is—love. And we will use it to show how our characters may—or may not—be falling in love.”

He finished with his hands clasped in front of him, his head bent over them, as if in prayer.

Oh, the drama. Jared never failed to milk it for all it was worth, but that was part of a choreographer’s job. She didn’t mind it in small doses, but she couldn’t help hoping the director would be a little more no-nonsense during the shoot.

The scene they were rehearsing involved Tony’s seductive gaucho character, Juan, following Pagan’s lonely character, Daisy, as she walks down a deserted street in Buenos Aires after she’s left a party where no one would dance with her.

Pagan had been followed down empty streets before, but by men who wanted to kill her, so the idea struck her as the opposite of romantic. Nonetheless it was in the street that Juan would lure the reluctant Daisy into a passionate tango after a convenient accordion player shows up.

Jared used chalk on the floor to map out the lines of the “street” Pagan and Tony would walk and tango down, with the back wall of the studio serving as the line of buildings. Pagan had done this a hundred times with Jared in his cramped studio, but here in the soundstage she could take the longer steps he wanted up and down this pretend street in Buenos Aires.

Pagan began it seemingly all alone. The accordion would start (cue the wizened one at the piano hitting some mournful chords) and Daisy would do a few little dance steps sadly to herself, dreaming of doing them with a partner.

Jared put himself in front of Pagan and had her follow him as he reminded both of them how it went. Slow, slow, step forward, side. Then back, back, quick, quick, slow—and cross. The pace picked up as he did it again, moving into a forward ocho.

Pagan followed him easily. These were the basic steps of the tango, the first thing beginners learned, moving into slightly more complicated flourishes. She mimicked Jared’s sad little slump in the shoulders and the dreamy tilt to his head, so that he clapped once, loudly, in approval. People always thought you were doing it right if you did it exactly like them.

“And that is when you—” he gestured to Tony “—take her hand and begin the dance for real. All right? Now, together at last!”

Tony stepped into Jared’s spot and took Pagan by the waist with one hand, taking her other hand in his. His grip, like his handshake, was a little too firm. But she stepped backward in a surprised back ocho, as she’d rehearsed it, and Tony did a good job of keeping up.

Pagan’s character went through a predictable series of emotions as her solo dance became a duet. Taken aback at first, she then tried to run away from Tony, only to have him interpose and show her a few more beguiling steps. Pulled in for a few seconds, she would reject him again, and again, as he pursued and persuaded, until at last she was swept up in the dance.

The more she thought about it, the more obnoxious Tony’s character became. If a girl doesn’t want to dance with you, leave her alone! The more she thought about the script, the worse it seemed. But she’d said yes to it. She was as much to blame for the darn thing as Jared, Tony and Universal Pictures. Might as well give it her all.

Clearly Tony had been rehearsing in New York with someone, as Pagan had been practicing with Jared here in LA. They promenaded smoothly through the first part of the dance three times.

However, Tony’s eyes kept dipping down to her cleavage. His hands pushed and pulled her roughly. Whenever he could, his hot hands pulled her hips in so close his hip bones poked her waist, which was both nauseating and wrong, tango-wise. Jared had to keep correcting him.

But Tony seemed to think that because Pagan’s character was playing hard to get, Pagan must be doing the same. He dug his thumbs into her waist and stroked her palm with a finger at odd little moments, and when she startled or pulled away, he treated it as part of the dance.

You didn’t have to like your costar to act with them. But the more Tony Perry manhandled Pagan and flashed leering smiles at her neckline, the tenser and more resentful she became. Her shoulders tightened, her arms stiffened to keep him at bay.

Maybe it was good for the dance because the fifth time they did it, Jared clapped twice, nodding. “We are getting there. Your resistance is excellent, Daisy, but you need to melt more when we get to the sentada. Again, but with more feeling, please. Remember, Daisy—” he’d taken to calling them by their character names “—Juan here is the center of gravity, and you circle around him, like a planet around the sun.”

Or like a girl around a black hole, Pagan thought. She really did not want to cross Tony’s event horizon.

Tony grinned, his lips vanishing against his teeth, which gleamed unnaturally against his newly tan skin. “I’ll make sure she stays in my orbit.”

Men. Always the center of everything.

She did her damnedest to set aside her percolating dislike as they ran through it again. Pagan was a better actress than a dancer, but years of lessons and hard work enabled her to keep up with anyone and give it a bit of flair. She tried to make up for anything lacking in her dancing with her acting, lending her reluctance a subtext of longing and desire. Rex Harrison couldn’t sing for beans, but he’d acted up a storm while he sang in My Fair Lady and it turned out wonderfully. Maybe she could do the same for dancing.

It finally started to flow. She was feeling confident, graceful, sexy, until Tony threw her backward into a deep, romantic dip, brought his cheek to hers and whispered, “We’re gonna do it after this, right?”

Pagan’s head reared back, and she shoved at him with her free hand, trying to get her feet back under her. His grip on her right hand tightened painfully, and they struggled, with Pagan still dipped over backward.

“Let me go!” Pagan snapped, and he dropped her. She thumped to the floor, flat on her butt.

“What is this?” Jared spread his arms wide. “It was going so well.”

Pagan got to her feet, roping a leash around her mounting rage to keep herself from striking Tony. “That,” she said to her costar between clenched teeth, “was not appropriate.”

“Oh, come on,” Tony said, pushing greasy hair out of his narrowed eyes. “You put out for Nicky Raven, and I’m better looking than him. No reason you won’t put out for me.”

Pagan’s stomach contracted; her throat closed. For once she had no smart remark. She was shrinking inside, getting smaller and smaller. Soon there’d be nothing of her left.