Page 84 of Wicked Dance
I wonder if my parents know. If they’ll look.
My throat feels thick.
The lights go up onstage and the extras for the ballroom scene exit. There’s several minutes where spots go on and off and the video screens flash random footage, blank out, and come back. Barry moves to various places on the upper and extreme side stages while they play with lights and colors.
Then the crew removes the pedestals and flowers for the waltz and bring out an Eiffel Tower and several pillars of fake stone. A Paris scene. I wonder whose it is.
I don’t have long to wait. Like with my rehearsal, Mariah comes out with the dance coach. She is in a long glittery black gown. Her hair is in a lovely tight chignon covered with black net.
I watch the clips that precede her dance. A few are the same from the first episode, and others are different. Blitz kisses her on the Santa Monica pier, the Ferris wheel behind them, and my stomach twists a little. He has no choice. I know this. But I feel sick just the same.
Their dance has more technical difficulty than mine, with lifts and spins while she’s held suspended by the coach. A twinge of jealousy flutters through me that I’m not as good as her. But she’s probably danced all her life. Her poise and training is evident. Every movement, arch, and position is perfect.
When the lights come up, she gets back in place and waits. Blitz comes out again, still tugging on his cuffs. He wears a black and white tuxedo for this number, and my heart squeezes at how handsome he looks.
They greet each other and wait for the darkness to go down. Barry runs through his part again, then the clips, and the cameras move.
Blitz is different from the coach in subtle ways. His movements are not as precise or technically perfect, but he has a smoldering quality that makes the dance more emotional. He tugs at you, making you wish it were you he was dancing with.
The lifts are good, and the quality is definitely there. But Mariah is not quite as on with Blitz, as if his style doesn’t really lead her to be the best she can be. I wish the voting audience could see this. It’s so clear that they are not perfect partners if you see her with another dancer back to back.
I wonder if I’m allowed to vote.
A door opens from above, creating a rectangle of light from the hall. It’s Jessie. I hurry to the hall to head to makeup, wishing I could see all the numbers. Just watching this one has definitely bolstered my confidence.
