The Swan and The Sergeant - Alana Albertson Page 0,12

told another story.

So did mine.

Jenny glued on my mink fur eyelashes with rhinestones on the tips and rubbed on a final coat of Pro-Tan and Sun Shimmer to make my skin gleam. Then she started on my makeup: eyes brushed with rainbow-iridescent shades of a peacock, cheeks stained blood-red, and lips painted the color of cotton candy.

Yakking with the judges had cost me precious preening time. I shoved my hair into a sequined headband. Through the mirror, I stole a glance at Vika in her smoking-hot gown. It was completely nude underneath, with a sheer slip and hand-sewn rhinestones that adorned her body, with pink Swarovski crystals covering her ta-tas and, as Benny would say, her “Map of Tasmania.” From a distance, she would appear to be dancing naked.

“Okay, Selena. You look beautiful as usual.” Jenny gave me a hug. “You’re going to do great.”

“Thanks, Jen.”

“Will the couples in Heat One of the Closed Professional United States Latin Championship please make their way to the on-deck area?” a voice with a British accent beckoned over the intercom.

I fluffed out my extensions and ran out into the hallway.

“Selena!” Dima yelled from inside the ballroom.

I raced into the ballroom and stood by his side. He kissed me on the forehead. I took a second to straighten the number on his back. Facing the audience, my gaze swept the room randomly—until it zeroed in on Bret, standing by the bar with a beer in his hand.

Holy shit.

He wore a sleek black suit and a conservative blue tie that matched his eye color, which I had adored years ago. Looking like a shiny boot in the sea of rhinestone dresses and flashy suits surrounding him, he didn’t seem to care how out of place he was in my world of glitter and glam, a world that used to be part of his daily life.

He stared off somewhere to the left, and my eyes blurred on him. Why was he suddenly everywhere? And why was I always the last to know?

Many years ago, Bret and I won this competition together, our first big win. So far, no other night had been able to rival the elation I’d experienced on that one. The more time passed, the more I reminisced about the happiest night of my life. I had achieved my goal with the boy I loved, and we had a bright future planned together. More importantly, I’d felt safe and secure, a feeling I’d been grasping to get back ever since.

A sharp tug at my hand and an even sharper glare from Dima brought me back to the present. Dima was my partner now, my life, even if we weren’t romantically involved. I needed to push Bret out of my mind so I could win. After all, I had sacrificed my soul and happiness to become a champion.

I took one last look Bret’s way, hoping maybe he had vanished. But our eyes met. Bret winked at me.

I blew a kiss back. I was in costume—I could excuse my flirtation as part of the show.

I had to dance my heart out tonight to show Bret how far I’d come as a dancer. Maybe then he’d realize I made the right decision, many years ago, to leave him and my heart behind.

Maybe I’d be able to convince myself too.

Bret

So far, the competition hadn’t been as painful as I had thought it would be. The producers filmed a segment with me talking about being at my first competition in over ten years. It was better than dodging land mines in the desert, that was for sure.

I clutched my beer bottle and headed into the ballroom for the final round. The bright lights reflected off the rhinestones, blinding me. After regaining sight—my eyes fell on Selena in the on-deck area.

Dima came from behind her and took her hand. The eleven judges strutted around the floor in formation like Marines in boot camp. The female judges displayed no emotion, probably from all that Botox they were always shooting their faces with. The sweat-filled room reeked of fake tanning spray and ripe feet.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said. “We are now going to proceed with the final round of the Closed Professional International Latin Championship. The judges have recalled the following six couples to the final round. From California, Couple 187—Dmitri Volkov and Selena Martinez.”

The crowd erupted in applause. Dima led her to the floor, and Selena’s eyes scanned the audience, landing right on me. It was like she could feel