The Devil of DiRisio (5 page)

And dance I did. I felt so free. It was the first time since coming to Rome that I actually loved dance again. Alejandro had done that much damage.

“Split,” he said suddenly. I immediately obeyed and slid down into a split. He dragged me across the floor. Then I rolled over into a sitting position as he kneeled behind me just far enough away for me to do a back walk over and land on his shoulder. He stood up and presented me around the dance floor, then flipped me upside down into a helicopter spin above his head.

It was really not that complicated of a move, but very impressive. I was upside down with my back to his back and my legs are in a straddle above his head as he spun around. The effect was breathtaking, especially to people with no experience in dance. The crowd started clapping. And that’s when I noticed Will had returned. And he didn’t look too happy.

I broke free of the stranger and went over to my boyfriend. “Was the car locked?” I asked innocently. I sat down and pretended that I suddenly cared what was on my plate.

“Who was that?” Will asked, staring at where the stranger was now dancing with another girl.

I shrugged. “No idea.” Then I took a swig of the rum and Coke.

“Check it out,” Anna Marie
said excitedly as she tossed me a magazine with a pretty brunette on the cover.

“Who’s this?”

“That’s Veronica
Valerio
, but that’s not what you need to see. Although I do love her hair color. Do you think that would work on me?” She took the magazine back and held it up to her head. The deep rich tan of the girl in the picture contrasted negatively with Anna Marie’s pale milky white complexion. That hair color so would not work on her. I crinkled my nose and shook my head. She would have to find a new person to idolize for the week.

Anna Marie shrugged and said, “Look at page fourteen.” I flipped to the page and immediately gushed with pride when I saw the two page article about my Will or, as they put it, ‘the young American phenomenon who transformed the
Lottomatica
Roma team.’

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me about this. They’ve actually given him a nickname. He’s Will ‘El Matador’ Maddox.”

“Wait, there’s more. He mentions you,” she said as she joined me on my bed.

“He does?” I skimmed through the article until I saw my name and sure enough it was there.

“What does it say?” Apparently, Anna Marie had only looked at it long enough to see my name and hadn’t had a chance to translate it. It would have taken her forever anyway. She had been here for two years and all she could say was ‘Does this have strawberries?’ She was deathly allergic to strawberries. Just the sight of them made her itch.

“It says that he chose to come to Rome because his girlfriend, me, wanted to attend the
DiRisio
Academy of Dance,” I gushed.

“That is so awesome!” she exclaimed. And it was, I guess. I was glad Will had finally gotten recognition. He deserved it. But I also wondered when my time would come.

~ * * * ~

“I knew I knew you from somewhere,” a voice said from behind me as I warmed up at the bar the next day.

I turned around and almost fell over. It was the stranger from The Spanish Fly.

“Who … what … why?”
I stuttered.

“Let me introduce myself properly,” he said with an accent that sounded almost French as he took my hand and kissed it. “I am Damian Karl.”

My eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. “You’re Damian Karl?” He nodded. “But … but … you’re supposed to be a hip hop dancer. You were doing Salsa that night.”

“And you are a ballerina, yet you were doing Salsa as well. And you were extremely good at it might I add.”

I didn’t have a response to that. I was too stunned by the whole situation. What were the chances that a random guy would buy me a drink then turn out to be my perfect match on the dance floor and then that same random guy would show up and be my new dance teacher?
Not very likely.
Something else was going on.

Damian Karl didn’t teach any classes that day. He sat in on a regular day and observed our different styles and techniques. Everyone tried to impress him during breaks by ‘accidentally’ turning on the radio to a pop station and ‘free styling.’ They knew he was working on another music video while in Rome and everyone thought he might cast some of us in it. It amazed me how even the most rigid ballerinas could let loose and imitate this style of dance. I sat back and watched, envious of the rhythm that should have come naturally to me but didn’t.

During one such session, I leaned against the mirror while my classmates put on an impromptu performance for Damian. He came and sat next to me. I didn’t have to turn and make sure; I knew by his scent. He smelled really good. Every time he left the room, a hint of spice lingered, a welcome change from Pierre’s stench.

“Why are you not dancing with your friends?” he asked. Once again, I couldn’t quite put my finger on where his accent came from. Usually, I could determine what country someone was from within a matter of seconds. With him, I couldn’t. His accent sounded like a cross between French and German. It was strangely alluring and, well, sexy.

“I can’t dance like that,” I said as I bent my
pointe
shoes back and forth, trying to break them in. I was determined not to look at him again. I remembered his eyes. Just one glimpse of them gave me a funny feeling. Funny because it was a feeling I had never felt before, not even with Will.

“Oh, come on, I’m sure you can. I know, firsthand, how you dance.” The way he said it made it sound dirty. As if we had done more than dance at The Spanish Fly. Suddenly, I felt like I was cheating on Will just by sitting next to Damian.

I grabbed my shoes and my leg warmers and went to sit next to Anna Marie across the room.

The classroom wasn’t that big so I still heard him when he said, “It is in you. Don’t worry, I’ll find it.” He continued to stare at me and smile during the entire class. I felt like he was melting my clothes off with his fiery eyes. I actually tried to cover myself as if I was suddenly naked. He made me uncomfortable.

Fortunately, Gretchen started
pointe
class, delivering me from his persistent gaze. I thought he would leave, since
pointe
class consisted only of girls, but he didn’t. He stood in the corner, staring at each of us like a fat kid staring at a birthday cake. I thought I actually saw him lick his lips.

~ * * * ~

Rehearsal with Alejandro that night was once again insufferable. We had a performance soon, and the company didn’t have enough professionals to play all the parts, so once again they were exploiting us students. It happened all the time. The company was suffering financially, so whenever there was a chance to cut corners, they took it. Instead of hiring more professionals, they forced us to dance for free. We had no choice in the matter. It was either dance when they told you to dance or lose your spot at the academy.

I held my arabesque perfectly still as Pierre came to lift me. But once again, he missed his cue and wasn’t in position as I bent and jumped for the lift. His hands slipped and, as usual, I fell. Of course, I expected it. I knew it would eventually happen. I caught myself and feigned a bit of decorum, but Alejandro still cut off the music and started screaming at us. Well, really, he screamed at me. How could he be upset with
me
? I was the one getting dropped all the time.

After rattling off everything wrong with me like he was reading some sort of laundry list, Alejandro turned to Pierre, gave him some words of encouragement in French, and then patted him on the back. Pierre grinned like an idiot buffoon and continued to stare off into space as he had been doing during Alejandro’s entire tirade. I wanted to quit right then and there, but then what would I do? Move in with Will and live in his shadow for the rest of my life? I didn’t want that. I needed to prove myself.

Alejandro let everyone go at six except Pierre and me. He kept us working until eight-fifteen doing the lifts over and over again. When we were done, I was so sore I could barely walk. Dancing with Pierre all the time could very possibly end my career. I had to do something. I had to find another partner.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I just wanted to sleep.

I grabbed my stuff and limped out of the studio as Pierre stayed behind and talked to Alejandro. I wondered what they were talking about. They were probably trying to figure out a way to replace me. Honestly, I didn’t care at that point. It was one stupid recital that I could do without. Pierre could go find another partner that he could toss around like a rag doll.

I was so angry with Alejandro and Pierre that I almost didn’t notice Will slouched in a chair in the lobby next to a bouquet of white roses. From his stylish outfit, I could tell he had planned a special evening. His sleek tan trench coat with winter white cashmere scarf tucked neatly behind the lapels covered an expensive navy blue Armani suit. I was pleased to see he had decided to ditch his dirty red Converse All-Stars that he used to wear with everything, but I kind of missed them. They showed how weird and sentimental he was, just like me. He was wearing those shoes the first time he saw me dance back in New Jersey. Since then, he rarely took them off. He thought they brought him luck. He probably regretted not wearing them tonight. It was very unlucky for his selfish girlfriend to keep him waiting while she finished a useless and unproductive rehearsal.

I watched as Will stood and flipped the light switch three times. From the angry look the lobby receptionist gave him, I could tell that wasn’t the first time he had done that. I wondered how long he had been waiting. It had to have been a long time.

“Oh, no, did we have a date tonight?” I asked walking toward him.

“Yeah, I had reservations at seven-oh-two.”

“I’m sorry, Will.” He stood and hugged me as I started crying. I felt the familiar ring box through his jacket as I rested my head on his chest. He was going to propose again. I didn’t have the strength for another proposal. I was just too tired.

“It’s fine. Don’t cry. I know you’re busy. We can do it some other time.” Will wiped the tears from my eyes and said, “Are you hungry? Let’s go find you some dinner.”

“I’m not hungry. I just want to sleep.”

“Are you sure? What have you eaten today?” Will had a concerned look in his eyes. Why was he wondering what I ate all of a sudden?

“I’ve eaten plenty. Now, I just want to sleep,” I said defensively.

“Why don’t you spend the night at my place? I haven’t seen you in three days. I’ll make you dinner. We can lay out by the pool—”

“Will, I just want to sleep.” He relented only after I promised to have lunch with him the next day.

Will walked me back to the dorms where we just said a quick good night. He wanted more, but I was so weak and sore. I needed sleep. When I went upstairs I saw Damian Karl making out with Cynthia outside her door. She had both legs wrapped around him and he was squeezing her butt as he wooed her in French. So, I was right. He was French. But then again, what did I care?

Completely exhausted, I plopped on
my bed without even undressing.
I felt like if I didn’t sleep for the next twelve hours straight I would shrivel up and die. But for some reason, that night, my mind wouldn’t shut off. Every time I closed my eyes I had the same dream. Pierre would lift me high in the air as he grunted and moaned like I was the heaviest thing in the world. Then he would purposely drop me into a toilet, along with my career. The vision was so real that I could almost smell Pierre’s familiar stench. I actually got up and opened a window.

Anna Marie went to Paris for the weekend trying to find true love, so I had the room to myself. I felt lonely. I regretted sending Will home. I decided to watch a little television. I flipped through the channels and somehow ended up on MTV. I hated when Anna Marie watched this station for hours on end. I always thought it had nothing to offer but brain dead, sex-obsessed idiots singing pointless, mind-numbing garbage masquerading as music. But lately, I had been complaining less when she forced me to endure it. I think it may have had something to do with Damian Karl’s visit. I thought about what he said to me the other day. What did he see in me? I couldn’t dance like that. I knew I couldn’t. But then again, I had never tried.

Four half-naked black girls were singing about how they “do it” when I decided to get up and try this mysterious “it.” I watched their movements and copied everything I saw. It wasn’t as hard as I thought. Some of the steps were completely impossible, but maybe that was because I needed practice in the genre.

After a couple of hours, a video choreographed by Damian Karl came on. I only knew that because I saw him in it. His hair was in cornrows and he was shirtless with baggy jeans. My God, he looked sexy. I quickly found my digital camera and videotaped it. For the rest of the night, I replayed the video and danced to it until I had Damian’s style down perfectly. I didn’t know why. I guess, for some reason, it was important for me to prove myself to someone.