Page 103 of Dance with Me
Alex had helped him since the beginning. Lining up ballroom dance competitions, and making sure Dimitri had transportation and costumes. Securing auditions, including the one that led toAliens Don’t Dance.Every step of the way, Alex had been there, pushing him, cursing him, believing in him.
Instead of answering Alex’s question, Dimitri asked one of his own. “Why do you do all this?” He gestured at the laptop, the Idea Book. “Why do you help me?”
Alex gave him his patented unimpressed stare. “Because you’re family, stupid. And you’re more talented than I’ll ever be. Our parents brought us here to make a difference. That’s what my dad used to say, remember? ‘The Kovalenkos in America. People are going to know our name.’ I don’t have the talent to do it, but you do. If I can help, it’s just as good. Besides, I hate the spotlight, and you eat that shit up.”
“You don’t do this for Nik, though.” Dimitri didn’t know why he was harping on this, but suddenly it seemed important to know why Alex was here, why he had always been here whenever Dimitri needed him. “Nik’s a performer, too.”
Alex shrugged and opened the laptop again. “Nik’s not as serious about it. He doesn’t remember what it was like before we moved here. He doesn’t know how good he has it. If he were serious, I’d help him, too. But he doesn’t want help. He doesn’t see how much more we can be and do when we work together. He’s stuck on doing it himself.”
Alex could have been talking about Natasha, and it was only then that Dimitri noticed the similarities between Tasha and Nik. They were even the same age.
And just like that, hegother. She wasn’t ever going to be okay with him trying to fix things for her. But he could help her do it herself.
And then he had a plan.
“The Dance Offthreatened to fire Natasha for living with me.”
Alex’s eyebrows raised. “Huh. That’s messed up.”
“She’s trying to move out. I was thinking, if we can get this show going, we can hire her as choreographer.”
“I thought you were going to choreograph it.”
Dimitri shook her head. “She’s better than I am. She’s amazing. And shegetsthe show.”
Alex smirked. “I think this is the first time I’ve heard you admit someone is better than you are at something. Must be true love.”
“Shut up. But if we can get this going before the next season starts, we can hire her, and she can quitThe Dance Off.”
Eyes narrowed, Alex leaned in. “And then she can live with you and it won’t be a conflict of interest? She’d be dating the boss.”
“But it would be different. We’d be a team.”
“And what about you? You’d stay onThe Dance Off?”
“Yeah. It’ll build publicity forDom Navsegda,and make it a bigger hit, and we’ll both be successful from the new show.”
“Hmm.” Alex pressed his lips together and turned back to the computer.
“What? It’s a good plan, right?” He didn’t want to quit. Well, he did, but not now. One more season, while he gotDom Navsegdaoff the ground. He needed it. WithoutThe Dance Off,everything would be too uncertain. How would they get the financial backing, the publicity, to make it a hit otherwise?
“Sure, man. Good plan.”
Alex’s face had settled back to its impassive lines. Dimitri was sure he was lying. But he couldn’t think of another solution that worked best all around. He got to his feet.
“You good here? I’m going to go get her, tell her she can quit and do this instead. I want her involved in the pitch process.”
Alex didn’t look up. “Yeah, you do that.”
As Dimitri walked away, he was pretty sure he heard Alex mutter “idiot” behind his back. He didn’t turn back to ask why. His attention was set to Natasha, and he couldn’t wait to see her again, to tell her he’d found a solution for their dilemma.
And to make sure she was still there.
42
The first thing Natasha noticed was the smell. Her apartment no longer smelled likehers.The scents ofadobo,coconut oil, and ginger had faded from the air, replaced or overpowered by the impersonal smells of fresh paint, plaster, and the lingering odor of whatever had been used to drive back the infestation.
This apartment had been her home for years. It was the place where she could relax, the place she could navigate in the dark. But now, it looked foreign to her. Plastic covered the floors and all her furniture, none of which were in the right spots. Most of her stuff was still here, but now, instead of looking like her things, her belongings that had once been so important to her, it was all just . . . stuff. She’d lived just fine without it for weeks.
