Page 70 of Liar
I glance sideways at Eduardo and notice the hand tucked behind his back. Five fingers. Four. Three. Two.
I’ve got this.
We open with a burst of movement that catches the audience’s attention. Then, we slow things down. Unveiling our story and inviting the viewer into our world.
The music pauses, we fold toward each other, and the audience begins to cheer.
I relax then let the choreography take over. As we perform, I can feel everything: the warmth of the stage lights as I spin and curl into his arms, the arch of my spine as he lifts me overhead, the shouts of the judges while I come spiraling down in a beautifully controlled horizontal release.
And Eduardo is breathtaking.
The challenge salsa cabaret presents is that fifty percent of the performance must be dance, but one foot must be grounded to the floor at all times. It’s easy to forget with all the jumps, kicks, and extensions. Eduardo’s mastery of this is what made me agree to be his partner.
He spins me once more then we separate.
Now it’s time to shine.
We face each other in a mirror sequence. His footwork marries my own. Subtle and reluctant at first, before growing wild and demanding in nature. In truth, it’s never been Eduardo guiding my steps in this moment. The man in the mirror of my mind is just a mirage, a figment of my overeager imagination.
He frustrates me.
His absence infuriates me.
Yet the heart can’t help what the heart wants.I wish he were here to see me perform.
My eyes connect with Eduardo’s and everything seems to stop around me.
Tears roll down his face.
He’s crying?
I take a quick, assessing glance at the judges.
All four are leaning forward in their seats. Eating up my partner’s tears and the horrified expression on my face.
Immediate relief mixes with excitement.
The next series of fast-paced steps that follow earns us applause. Now it’s on to our first segment of tricks, flares, and dips that includes our second nine-point lift.
I advance toward Eduardo, the capable seductress, an indominable woman with sights on her man. I leap and am hauled up overhead, arms stretched out and head held high.
That’s when I see him watching us from the far end of the auditorium.
Hayden.
He’s back.
He’s here.
My heart begins to race. I’m so happy I could burst.
I’m released, and I lose sight of him as Eduardo leads me into a deep dip, my head inches from the floorboards.
I blink as a teardrop rolls down my face.
Is he’s still crying? What in the name of Madre de Dios is going on with him?
I pray he holds his emotional breakdown in check. I hope his tears haven’t disrupted the makeup covering my bruises. Costume, makeup, and all the little nuances in a performance is normally an easy ten points.
