close friends and coworkers. There were no third parties responsible for the split, and we ask for your respect and privacy during this difficult time.”
Selima was dead. Our agent had tried to convince us to wait until the season was over to announce our split, but I had refused. If Bret wasn’t in the picture, I would’ve agreed to pretend, but I wasn’t going to jeopardize my newfound happiness.
That evening, Dima and I had been scheduled to dance a show for our studio. But because we’d broken up, Vika offered to dance in my place. Which meant that tonight, I could spend the entire night with Bret and not have to worry about dealing with Dima.
Backstage, Jenny rushed over with my phone and purse in hand. “I can’t believe we made it! One more week. I thought for sure this time I’d be gone. Let’s go celebrate. Here.”
My phone flashed as Jenny handed it to me.
Bret: Meet me at my hotel room in one hour.
Elizabeth came bounding up from behind. She gave Jenny a big hug. “See! I told you everything would be fine. Where do you guys want to go? I want to have a girls’ night. Let’s go to Nobu. I’m craving abalone.”
I stashed my phone in my purse. “You guys go ahead. I’m not in the sushi mood.” The reporters started exiting, so we moved to the side of the stage.
“Fine, no sushi. Let’s go to The Ivy.” Jenny picked up her phone and started dialing. “Not a raw fish in that place.”
I winked at Jenny. “Not tonight, Jen. I’m super tired. I have an early drive to San Francisco tomorrow, so I’m gonna just go home so I can get some sleep.”
Jenny knowingly nodded, but Elizabeth was so happy-happy-joy-joy she didn’t give it a second thought.
“Then it’s just Jen and me,” Elizabeth chirped. “Sel, you call us later. I need to par-tay!”
“Oh, God,” Jen muttered as Elizabeth pulled her over to the lingering media. “We’ve created a monster, Sel,” she called over her shoulder.
I shrugged and gave her a thumbs-up, watching them disappear around the corner with the reporters.
Bingo! Exit, stage right!
Jenny was right, though—just last season, Elizabeth had never set foot inside a dance club. Life as a Mormon is wild, isn’t it? When we hit the clubs in Cabo, Elizabeth ordered sparkling water. Sometimes, when she really cut loose, she’d add a slice of lime. And no Starbucks? Where was the joy in that? Jenny and I had vowed not to corrupt her; I respected Elizabeth’s lifestyle and religion. Elizabeth reminded me of myself at eighteen—madly in love with Bret, worshipping Dima, and unaware of a world outside the dance studio. I just hoped that Elizabeth was stronger than I had been back then.
But I wasn’t eighteen anymore—I was a grown woman, and I couldn’t wait to be alone with Bret.
I ducked out the back of the studio, called my driver, and told him to meet me in forty-five minutes.
I rushed to my trailer across the back lot and shimmied out of my dress before the door had even closed. Shower!
Scrubbing the orange tanning cream off myself under the hot water, I marveled for the millionth time that a Latina had to paint her skin like some kind of coloring book. It was the dumbest thing ever—and God, did I hate the smell of the stuff. I nearly grafted my skin trying to loofah it off, but I still had orangey running streaks all over my body. I swore I looked like a stubby giraffe. I slathered on Palmer’s Cocoa Butter to mask the smell. Sure, I could afford the expensive creams and all now, but I loved my Palmer’s, so it stayed. My mane of hair was all over the place, so I scrunched in some spray gel and stuffed it under a big, floppy hat.
Just as I finished up, my phone vibrated.
Twenty-three new messages? What the heck?
Half of them were from Jenny—in the past twenty minutes. What was her problem? I’d already told her I didn’t want to hang out.
Jenny: Sel, check this out
Selena Martinez Cheater
Oh no.
I clicked on the link.
Not So Blind Item
Which Dancing Under the Stars hoofer recently dumped her partner for her ex? This spicy salsa queen seduced the newest professional dancer on his debut season. Developing…
3 COMMENTS:
DUTS addict: it’s that slut Selena Martinez.
Reina Rumba: Can’t blame her! Bret’s fine.
Dima’s lover: Dima’s better off without her.
How did the gossip sites know everything? I’d been back together with Bret for