Dancing Shoes and Honky-Tonk Blues (29 page)

“Myra?” Ben asks.

She waves a hand over her head and smiles. “I haven’t been this entertained in a long time.
Dancing with the Rednecks
might have begun as a big joke but I am totally impressed. Abby, girl, you rock. Those legs were meant for dancing and I hope you never stop! Rio, you have taken this little waitress and turned her into one hot mama. I give y’all a ten!”

The crowd cheers so loudly that Ben has to wait for them to calm down before asking Peter his opinion. “Peter?” he finally shouts in order to be heard. The audience hushes in order to hear him.

Peter shakes his head and my heart pounds because I’m thinking that he’s going to slam us. Of course the audience gets restless when he hesitates for drama. Peter is all about drama.

“Peter,” Ben warns, “this is a live show. We have three more couples to dance.”

“Sorry, but I was speechless there for a moment.” He smiles at Rio and me. “Do you know the last time I was speechless?”

I shake my head.

“Never. I do believe this was a first.”

The audience collectively laughs and cheers.

“Rio.” Peter kisses his fingers up to his mouth. “Excellent! But then again you are a champion and an esteemed instructor. It’s to be expected.”

He turns his attention to me. “Oh, but, Abby . . .” He pauses to put his hands to his cheeks. While shaking his head he says, “To see you blossom and burst forth with such passion! I’m moved! I’m astounded!”

“Peter . . .” Ben warns.

“Let me finish! I know I’m over the top but this dance deserves it. Abby, as Myra reminded us, this reality show is supposed to be a joke . . . something to laugh about and not take seriously. But the joke is on Comedy Corner because
you might be a redneck
. . . Oh, wait a minute, that line is taken.” He taps his cheek while the audience laughs.

He stands up and shouts over the cheers, “You might be a redneck if
you can dance.
I give you a ten!” He whips his paddle from behind his back and I think I’m going to cry.

Rio must sense my oncoming tears because he whisks me off the dance floor, which is no easy feat since I’m still a little dizzy. We’re supposed to go back to the greenroom but Rio breaks the rules and takes me outside where the cool night air clears my dizziness a bit.

He pulls me into his warm embrace in the shadowy parking lot away from cameras and prying eyes. I bury my face in his western-cut shirt. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I bravely tell him but then floodgates open.

“Abby, are these . . . how do you say . . .”

“H-h-h-happy tears?”

“Yes, those. Are they?” He has that panicky what-should-I-do edge to his voice that guys get when women cry.

I nod. Man, he smells good. Feels so warm . . . “N-nobody ever gave me a standing ovation before.”

“Not even for your mama’s meat loaf?”

My laughter comes out gurgled from my tears. “You’re developing quite a sense of humor. Guess you had to in order to put up with me.”

“Ah, Abby,” he says and rubs his hand up and down my back. “I might have taught you to dance but you showed me how to laugh . . . how to feel again.”

I tip my head back to look at him. “We’re quite a pair, you and I.”

“That we are,” he agrees and dips his head down to give me a quick but tender kiss.

This might not be the right moment but I decide that I have to tell him how I feel about him. “You know, after my daddy died everything I knew about my life changed in an instant. You must have felt the same way when your daddy got sick.”

Rio nods. “It made me value my family.”

“And you had to jump in and save your family business. We have much more in common than I originally thought.” I’m about to muster up the courage to tell him that I’m falling in love with him but he interrupts my train of thought.

“Abby, about that. There’s something that I want to—”

“There you two are!” Jackie shouts and raises her hands skyward. She angles her head and talks into her headset. “Found them, Maggie.” She glances at me. “Yes, we need a touch-up.

“Have you forgotten that you need to go back out for the final recap?”

“Sorry,” Rio says, trying to soothe Jackie’s ruffled feathers. “We only meant to step out here for a breath of fresh air. Guess we lost track of time.”

“Well, you about gave me a heart attack! Get your butts back in there!”

When Rio leads the way to open the door for us Jackie leans over and says in my ear, “You
go
, girl.”

Winner Take All

“Who invented this dance, anyway?” I ask while taking one of our few breaks.

Rio pats a small white towel to his forehead. I try not to notice how his sweat-dampened white muscle shirt molds to his chest but of course I do and I disguise my sigh as a yawn. The tender kiss in the parking lot is as close as I’ve gotten to anything intimate and we never did get to finish our conversation, not that we’ve had any free time anyway.

When we’re not dancing, we’ve been doing photo shoots, one for
TV Guide
and one for
People
magazine. Yeah, I know! It’s hard to wrap my brain around this sudden fame. Realistically I know that celebrity status will be fleeting but still . . . Mac, Danny, Julia, and I were all featured with a small bio in both publications and it will be something to tell our grandchildren, that’s for sure. Jesse called yesterday to tell me that
Dancing with the Rednecks
was mentioned on
Entertainment Tonight
and that Jay Leno told a redneck joke about us on
The Tonight Show
and showed a clip of Betty Cook doing her creepy “Time Warp” dance dressed as Magenta the maid and her partner equally scary as Riff Raff the butler.

“You want to know who invented the quickstep?” Rio asks after taking a slug of water.

“Yes, so I can send them hate mail.”

Rio chuckles for the first time that morning. “During the 1920s the big bands were playing the traditional quickstep too fast, making it difficult for couples to keep up. After a while a faster version was invented using some extra elements of ragtime such as the Charleston where we get the up-and-down swinging motion.”

“Oh.”

“More than you wanted to know?”

“Not at all. I think it’s fascinating how these dances have evolved from all over the world . . . Cuba, Africa. It’s pretty interesting stuff. I want ballroom dancing to stay a part of my life even after this competition is over. Jesse told me that there are already people in Misty Creek who want to learn.”

Rio seems pleased by my answer and nods as he screws the cap back onto his water bottle. “I think Mitchell Banks had an inkling all along that this show was going to end up being much more than a spoof on reality television. He’s drawing a much bigger audience than teenagers looking for a laugh on the Comedy Corner Network.”

“He’s a smart man.”

“And I hear that he likes your mother.”

“I know! They are such an unlikely pair and I’m not sure where it’s going since he lives so far away and all, but if it’s meant to be I suppose they will work it out.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“You mean because of my daddy?” I ask softly. “I know Daddy would want Mama to be happy, so yes, I’m okay with it.”

Rio sets the water bottle down. “Are you aware of how wealthy Mitchell Banks is, Abby?” He asks this sort of carefully.

“Oh, I guess I never really thought of that. Should it matter?” I ask, wondering just what he’s getting at. “Are you saying that Mama isn’t good enough for Mitchell?”

“Not at all!” He looks so taken aback that I believe him. “I was just . . . curious.” Something tells me that there’s more to it but he motions for us to get back to work. “Okay, time to learn the trick steps.”

I gasp. “You mean we haven’t done that yet?”

“Nope. And we have to work on our leg tension and the use of our ankles. Remember that it is slow, quick, quick, slow, quick, quick. The majority of the slow is on the heel and the quick on the toe.”

“Right,” I say and I realize with a smile that he makes perfect sense.

“Why the smile?”

“A month ago I would have been shaking my head in wonder but now I—”

“Catch my drift? I’m learning too, Abby. More than you know.”

I wonder what he means by that but he points the remote at the CD player and “Dueling Banjos” starts playing.

“Wait. . . . That’s what we’re dancing to?”

Rio grins. “A bit of a risk, I know, but it fits my choreography and at this point we have to think outside the square.”

“The box.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“I think the crowd will . . . how do you say? . . .
get into it.
”

“But ‘Dueling Banjos’ is so fast and gets even faster!”

“They don’t call it the quickstep for nothing.”

I’m still not sold on the “Dueling Banjos” theme. “What will our costumes be like?”

He clicks the music off. “Jackie and Maggie think we should dress in overalls so we look like . . . what did she say?”

“Rednecks?” I ask dryly.

“No.”

“Hillbillies?”

He snaps his fingers. “Yes, that. She said we would look like Jethro and Ellie May and seemed to think that was clever. Does that make any sense to you?”

I nod. “They are characters from the television show
The Beverly Hillbillies
. It was a classic comedy from back in the early 1960s but can still be seen in reruns. The show was about country folk, or
hillbillies
, if you will, who struck oil on their property and moved to a mansion in Beverly Hills, placing them totally out of their element. It was silly, campy fun and the audience will get the joke. We’ll be sort of spoofing the spoof. You’ll be a character, Rio,” I warn him.

He shrugs. “Sometimes you have to bend, I suppose. The trick will be to make the dancing amazing, to prove a point that rednecks, or hillbillies, as you say, can dance. Think we can pull it off? We can change it and go with something more traditional.”

“I’m flattered that you’re asking my opinion.”

Rio takes a step closer. “I value your opinion.”

“Thank you, Rio,” I tell him with a little hitch in my voice. I’m used to doing what’s asked of me and I’ve been happy to do it for my family. But I have to say that it sure feels nice to have someone interested in what I think.

Rio puts his hands on my shoulders. “Abby, not only are you beautiful but you’re smart as well. You need to speak up. For instance, tell your mother that you wish to go to baking school. Let her know your aspirations and dreams about the coffee and pastries for the diner.”

“You make me feel as if I can do anything,” I tell him softly. “You really do.”

He gives me a slow smile and for a heart-pounding moment I think he’s going to kiss me. But instead he says, “I’m going to hold you to that. This routine is difficult.”

With a lift of my chin I say, “Bring it on, buster.”

Rio points the remote at the boom box and the banjos once again start dueling.

 

“Dueling Banjos” is one of those songs that once it’s in your head you absolutely can’t shake it. When we’re not rehearsing, and granted that’s not often, the song is bouncing around in my brain. I hum it at dinner without even realizing it. It annoys everyone including mild-mannered Mac Murphy, although I think it’s really the pressure that’s getting to the group. With only four couples left we know that this next dance has to be perfect. So instead of the usual banter that we’ve shared over the last few weeks, we all have our game faces on and pretty much eat our dinner in silence.

Finally I can’t stand it any longer. I put down the forkful of sea bass and say, “I hate this.”

“I know,” Mac says, shaking his head. “I want a greasy cheeseburger and onion rings.”

I shake my head. “Not the food, although that cheeseburger sounds heavenly.”

“What, then?” Julia asks.

“I hate that we
all
can’t win. That I’m in competition against y’all.” I feel tears well up, and I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, I’m just a wreck.”

Mac reaches over and pats my hand. “I promise to harbor no hard feelings against you if you kick my butt, Abby.”

Julia gives me a warm smile and then tucks her arm through Danny’s. “What I’ve gotten from this competition is already priceless.”

“Oh . . .” Okay, now I can’t stop the tears from flowing. Julia dabs at her eyes with her linen napkin and the men are looking like they need to do something but don’t know exactly what.

“How ’bout this?” Mac says with a bighearted trucker grin. “No matter who wins I’m gonna have a big ole pig roast out on my grandpappy’s farm. How’s that sound? We’ll invite all the dancers and their families.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I tell him.

“The winner can provide the pig,” Danny says.

“It will all work out one way or another,” Julia assures me and by her expression I know that she is referring to Rio.

I nod, hoping that she’s right.

As the tiring week wears on I begin to wish that the banjo and the quickstep had never been invented. During our Friday afternoon rehearsal at the dance hall the fatigue is getting to me both physically and mentally.

“Abby, you have to remember to smile. This dance is bright and happy. Your delivery has to be twinkling.”

“Sorry, Rio. I’m trying but it’s doggone hard to twinkle when my feet are killing me.”

“I know,” he says gently and draws me in for an unexpected hug. His strong arms and warm embrace are like a comfort zone that for a moment shields me from all of the stress and worry of the semifinals. Rubbing his hands up and down my back, Rio says, “I’m sorry to push you so hard but it’s because I believe in you.”

With my head resting on his shoulder I say, “I’m just so afraid of letting everyone down.”