Chapter 3

The next afternoon, Cassidy entered the largest practice room, ready to rehearse the group number that award-winning choreographer Marcella DeBois had designed for opening night. Cassidy’s solo would lead off the show, but this piece was scheduled for the start of the second hour of programming. It featured all of the professional dancers and, judging by the various sizes of boxes scattered about, props.

She flipped on the lights and placed her bag on a shelf. She was the first to arrive, as usual. She hated to be late. Her muscles were already warmed up from dancing with Trey all morning. The man had moves! He was a dream to coach and she was looking forward to teaching him new routines each week, if they survived the cuts. Starting with the second week of competition, two couples would be eliminated at the end of each show until only four remained. Those four would be narrowed down to three and then the next night, one. The last two shows of the season aired on back-to-back days.

Dropping to the hardwood floor, she placed one bent leg over the other and twisted to loosen up her back muscles. She’d been both eager and excited to arrive at the studio this morning, and it wasn’t the prospect of dancing with Trey, though that was thrilling. No, the reaction was from the possibility of running into Mason Rossi again. When she failed to spot him roaming the halls, she tried to come up with an excuse to visit Marcus and Harlow’s practice room. She couldn’t come up with any that didn’t make her feel like the stalker she accused Mason of being. She wasn’t even sure if he was in the building or how long he’d be staying. For all she knew, he could be on his way back to Indiana.

The rest of the crew began to filter in, distracting her from her thoughts. She jumped up to hug her compadres, some she hadn’t seen since the final episode last season. She caught up with what had been going on in their lives the last few months. Irina Dubov entered the room alone, striding in like the Queen of England, chest thrust out, head held high. Irina didn’t lack self-confidence. Or arrogance. She did, however, lack friends, except for her sycophant Lacy Brubeck. Cassidy expected Lacy to come bopping in behind Irina, but the door closed with no sign of the other woman. She couldn’t remember a time when the two didn’t arrive together. Maybe they had a falling-out? But no, that wasn’t right. She’d seen Lacy enter Irina’s trailer earlier today. Unless the fight happened in the last few hours, they were still thick as thieves.

The door creaked open and she assumed it was Lacy. Instead, a young woman entered, looking unsure and anxious. Her long, black hair was fastened into a ponytail and her brown eyes nervously scanned the room. Cassidy recognized her immediately. Emma Eto, the winner of the latest Show Us You Can Dance season. Cassidy had been a guest judge one of the weeks and had been impressed with Emma’s range and movements. She was a ballroom dancer who picked up choreography easily and her sunny personality was contagious.

If she was here, that meant she must be a new pro for the season. Did that mean Russell Ingram had finally gotten rid of Lacy? One could hope. Too bad he didn’t pull the plug on Irina, too, but she had a healthy following. She acted sweet and caring on camera, but that was the image she presented to the public. The bitter, back-stabbing, narcissistic bitch had remained off camera for the most part. A couple of times, her true colors appeared, but it didn’t seem to faze her die-hard fans.

Cassidy headed over to Emma to welcome her. When Emma spotted her, her eyes widened in recognition and a smile broke across her face.

“Hi, Emma.”

“Oh my gosh, you remember my name?”

“Of course. Congratulations on your win.” Cassidy hugged her. “You’re a beautiful dancer.”

Emma’s hands covered her face. “Thank you. That means so much to me. I’m about to go all fan-girl on you and ask if I can take a selfie with you?”

“Of course.” Cassidy stuck her head beside Emma while the girl lifted her phone and snapped the picture.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Are you our new dancer?”

“Yes! I still can’t believe it.”

“They like to keep tight-lipped around here, so I didn’t hear about your hiring. Was it part of your winning SUYCD?”

Emma tossed her head back and forth. “No, I was offered the position two weeks ago. I thought someone was punking me.”

Cassidy chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. Let me introduce you around.”

“Oh wow, thank you.”

Cassidy led her to where Laura Kipling and Crystal Brady were stretching and conversing. She introduced Emma to the two veterans. “Welcome, Emma,” Crystal greeted in her Australian accent.

“We’re happy you’re here,” Laura added.

Four of the men were standing in a circle, talking. Cassidy introduced her to Danny Marconi, Rowan Magnus, Ken Popovich and Stanislov Mayorsky. They all greeted her warmly.

Jamie Dunne was chatting with Marcus Howe and Cassidy sincerely hoped the pretty Irish redhead didn’t fall prey to his charm. He could really turn it on when he locked his sights on a woman. She should know. They welcomed Emma and she didn’t like the leer Marcus gave the young dancer. He was a horn-dog. She’d find a way to discourage Emma if Marcus pursued her.

Last and certainly least were Irina Dubov and Bryan Bergan. They were sitting apart from everyone and their whispering stopped abruptly when Cassidy approached with Emma.

“You have some nerve showing your face here,” Irina spat in her Russian-tinged accent.

Emma came to an abrupt halt and then stepped back. “Excuse me?”

Irina waved a dismissive hand at her. “Not you. Her.” She pointed at Cassidy.

Cassidy was so tired of the other woman’s hostility, especially since she’d done nothing to earn it, except be more successful. “What are you taking about, Irina?”

“It is because of you that Lacy was fired, no? You poisoned Russell against her. Probably when you were rolling around in the sheets. Sucking his—”

“That’s enough, Irina.” Danny Marconi, having overheard, stomped over. “That was totally uncalled for. If you can’t behave and be civil, I’ll talk to Russell myself.”

“Us, too,” the other dancers called out. Even Marcus.

Irina glared at everyone and then turned her hatred at Cassidy again. “I do not care what they say. It is your fault.”

“I had no idea Lacy was no longer a part of the show.” She struggled to keep her voice even, when all she wanted to do was scream at the other woman. A dancer hadn’t been fired since she’d started on the show. There had been a few who hadn’t been asked back. And yes, there was a difference. If Lacy was let go, there was a good reason.

“I do not believe you.”

“That’s not my problem. I came over to introduce you to the newest member of the team, Emma Eto.”

Irina looked Emma up and down, her gaze filled with contempt. “I did not know that they were allowed to dance in China.”

Emma glanced at Cassidy and then at Irina. “Oh, are you talking to me? For your information, I’m American. My heritage is Japanese.”

Irina waved a “what-ever” hand at her. Bryan, the dolt, had remained stubbornly mute. He was a fool. Irina strung him along like a puppy, but she would never date him. Hell, she’d eat him for breakfast if they did go out. Bryan wasn’t the sharpest knife in the utensil drawer.

Cassidy guided Emma away from the duo, not surprised to discover Emma was shaking. She felt their gazes drilling into their backs. She led her to a bench along a wall and then grabbed her hands. “Don’t be upset and don’t let them get to you,” she advised. “Irina is like that to everyone.”

“Oh, I’m upset, alright. I walked away when what I really wanted to do was land a reverse roundhouse kick to her solar plexus. Condescending bitch.”

Cassidy burst out laughing. “I thought she intimidated you. I’m sorry.”

“No, she pissed me off. I never liked her watching the show and now I see why. I didn’t buy into her sweet as honey act.”

“I didn’t either before I came on the show. I wonder how she has so many fans.”

“Probably all men who watch her jiggle her boobs while she prances around in next to nothing.”

Cassidy was still laughing when Crystal came jogging over, a huge smile on her face. She looked first at Emma and then Cassidy. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure.” Cassidy stood and moved a few feet away.

“I didn’t want to tell you this in front of the new girl, but guess what? Richie got all that on film. He’s going to show Russell.”

She glanced over at the smirking cameraman. He pulled his face away from the viewfinder to wag his brows. Irina wasn’t popular with the show personnel, either. She was rude to the makeup artists and costume designers, and she was always late. Frankly, it was a wonder she was still around. Having Richie, an unbiased observer, show Russell the tape was good, and it was bad. If it got Irina booted from the show, that would be good. But she would blame Cassidy. That would be bad. The woman had a vicious mean streak.

She didn’t think Russell would fire Irina now since the show officially started with the partner introductions. It’d be too hard to find a replacement who could devote the next few weeks to the show on no notice. Most likely, he’d just not invite her back next season.

Marcella DeBois breezed into the room, her neon-green jogging suit blinding in its intensity. “Hello, dancers,” she called out. “Limber up those muscles and hydrate. We start in five minutes.”

Cassidy returned to where Emma was sitting. “Could you please hand me the shoes on the shelf behind you?”

“Sure.” Emma reached back to grab them. “Here you go—oh!”

Cassidy jumped to the side as a projectile came flying at her. She glanced at Emma, who was staring at the heel in her hand.

Emma looked up. “I’m so sorry, Cassidy. I didn’t mean to break them.”

Stanislov picked up the errant shoe and examined it before handing it to Cassidy. “You didn’t break it, Emma. It looks like someone tampered with them.”

Cassidy gasped and flipped the shoe over. There were definite marks that looked as if someone had sawed through the heel. They were her go-to shoes. She’d had them for years. She had other pairs, but these were her favorite.

At the sound of chuckling, she turned to see Irina grinning wickedly at her before bending down to slip her own shoes on. If the woman had stooped to tampering with her footwear, she’d take that ridiculous scarf she always wore and strangle her with it.

“Did you do that, Irina?” Rowan asked, his fists planted on his hips. “Did you destroy Cassidy’s shoes?”

Irina widened her eyes in mock innocence and lifted her arms, palms up. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I know nothing about it.” She sniffed. “Perhaps the problem is that they were not properly maintained?”

Rowan took a menacing step forward but Cassidy grabbed his arm. “Don’t, Rowan. She’s not worth it.”

“Oh, but it would feel so damn good,” he muttered.

She smiled at him and patted his back. Spinning around, she grabbed her bag and stuffed the shoes inside, not giving Irina the satisfaction of knowing how upset she was that her favorite shoes were destroyed. She withdrew a linen bag holding her backup pair and carefully examined them before slipping them on.

“Line up, everyone,” Marcella called out. “It’s time to dance like everyone’s watching.”

Richie cleared his throat and pointed to his camera. He got all that on film, too. It would be a miracle if Irina returned next season.