Thanks.”
He pulled into the drive-through and ordered a few burgers. When he received his food, he unwrapped a plain hamburger and tossed it to Banjo.
Back on the road, we were both silent. The music coming out of the car speakers grew louder, now that Bret had turned up the volume. Eddie Vedder’s deep voice belted the song “Black.”
Sitting next to Bret was surreal, especially without the buffer of mindless banter to keep my awkwardness from settling over us. He was right there, inches away from me. Years ago, I might’ve placed my hand on his thigh. Now, Bret stared ahead, navigating the road with a determined expression on his face. Maybe that precise focus was something he’d developed overseas, driving a tank through dusty streets bordered by dilapidated homes. Or perhaps that was just some image I’d picked up from a movie somewhere. I knew nothing of what he’d experienced in Iraq. I wanted to ask about his life. But none of my questions seemed the right one to lead with.
Banjo had finished his burger and was rolling around in the backseat, tan hairs shedding everywhere. I picked at my healthy salad. The tiny grains tumbled off the fork, and I pouted, almost wishing my hands were clutched around a foil-wrapped Double Double instead.
There would never be a perfect moment, so I reached over and lowered the music. “So, Benny mentioned to me about your friend. What happened?”
He sighed. “My buddy, Landon Pierce, was killed in Iraq. He had volunteered to go on a patrol, a patrol that I had been scheduled for, and his Humvee was hit with an IED.”
I gasped. “Oh, Bret, that’s awful! I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, it sucks. It should’ve been me.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. He had a wife and two young kids. When Benny wrote, I figured the show would be an easy way to make a bunch of money in a few months. Then I can help Pierce’s family out.”
A few months? I had assumed there was a chance he would become a regular dancer. That he’d be around for the next few years. At least. “Why only one season? It’s a great lifestyle—you only have to work for fifteen weeks twice a year. Dima and I stay on the show so we can afford to compete. We want to win Blackpool within the next two years.” I paused, realizing that Bret probably didn’t want to hear about my competition plans. “You can raise money for other Marines—if you like it. You should stay on the show.”
“No, I can’t. This is a one-shot deal for me. I had to get special permission from the Marine Corps. I’m still under orders for two more years. After that, I’ll have twelve years in—I can retire at twenty, so I’ll just reenlist for eight more.”
I lowered my head. “But I’m sure if you wanted to, they could make an exception.”
Bret shook his head. “That’s not how it works. The military doesn’t make exceptions. And I don’t want to. I’m just doing this for Pierce. Otherwise, there’s no point.”
My voice increased a notch as I tried to hide my anger. “It’s hardly pointless. We do good stuff, too. Charity work, fundraisers, that sort of thing. Dima and I even started this program where we teach underprivileged kids how to dance. It’s awesome. I’ve met with sick children and wounded warriors. It’s not all tanning salons and talk shows.”
Bret laughed. “The whole thing is ridiculous. ‘Stars.’ How is starring in your own sex tape ‘star’ material? Or popping out a hundred kids? My buddy died defending the freedom of these buffoons so they could make assholes out of themselves on camera. These reality stars are pathetic. I’d rather live my life than watch people live theirs.”
This show, my life, was clearly nothing more than a joke to Bret. “We’ve also trained Olympic athletes and Grammy winners. And I’m a reality star—so are you saying I’m pathetic?” My body heated up. “You trash the show but want to use it for money. Where’s your integrity?”
“All the money I make will go back to helping my buddy’s family. So, yeah, I know I’m doing the right thing. What do you spend your money on? How much is that obnoxious ring on your finger?”
I stared at my 3.7-carat pink diamond ring that Dima had given me when we got engaged six years ago. I now wore it on my right hand instead of my left. But then again, Ukrainians wore their engagement rings