The Swan and The Sergeant - Alana Albertson Page 0,55

It was pretty stupid trying to interview dancers in the seconds after a performance, but that was Dancing Under the Stars, so there we were, two panting dogs dressed to the nines.

“So, Xavier,” host Matt said, “you look quite dapper tonight. Audience, doesn’t he look dapper?”

“Come on, people, show me some love!” Xavier shouted. They did, of course. Loudly. “Oye, ese, I gotta tell ya. This crowd is amazing. Give it up for my guisa Selena! Yeah! Show some love. She is bangin’. Those moves are hot. I mean, this dance is very special to me, very special to me, for real. I’m Chicano, and mi abeulo was a Pachuco. In preparation for this dance, I studied the richness and culture during World War II, back in the 1940s. How Mexican-Americans had an integral part in creating the music and dancing swing. In fact, in honor of what I have learned from this dance, I’m gonna create a special Zoot-Suit-inspired line of clothing for my line, Xavier Tomás Clothing.” Xavier pounded his fist over his heart. “I feel it, Matt. I feel it deep.”

“Xavier, that’s great. It’s wonderful that you’ve taken such an interest in the history of ballroom dance. Selena, what do you think about Xavier’s newfound inspiration?”

“Well, I don’t know much about history,” I mumbled. “But Xavier’s the best. He’s so great and supportive of me, and I love his outfit.” Yeah, that would go down in the archives as the best answer ever. I hated doing interviews; I just wanted to dance.

“Let’s see what the judges had to say. Benjamin Brooks?”

“Xavier, my good bastard, that was a beaut’. Love your duds. You got the style of the dance down,” Benny said.

“Karen Lopez,” Matt said

“Xavier, you are a dream. You gave such an authentic feel to the dance. I can see that you made a strong effort to include some Lindy Hop moves into your swing, but I really appreciate the fact that you still danced with traditional timing,” she said.

“Steve Samson,” Matt asked.

“Xavier, you’re like a rocket. Taking off fast and furious. It was superb,” Steve replied.

“After the break, the judges will reveal their scores,” said Matt.

Xavier and I headed backstage. We awaited our scores surrounded by the other dancers. The judges gave us three tens!

Thank God, we were the last dance of the night. Xavier and I plowed through the after-show press junket as fast as we could. I rushed to my trailer to change. Jenny and Elizabeth were already inside waiting for me so we could go together.

Jenny leaned over my sink, scrubbing off her makeup. Water beads trickled down her forehead. “There you are. Can you please tell Queen Elizabeth over here that what she’s wearing is underwear and not an actual dress?” Jenny grabbed a towel and wiped off her face.

Elizabeth pranced around in a near see-through pink silk slip. “It is too a dress,” she whined. “It’s a Diane von Furstenberg. Vika let me borrow it.” She twirled around like a princess.

Apparently, Jenny and I weren’t as cool as Vika. Elizabeth had ditched us last week to attend store grand openings with Vika and Nicole.

Jenny whipped the towel at Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, please stop taking fashion advice from Vika. She was a stripper.”

Elizabeth pouted. “No, she wasn’t. She was a go-go dancer. It’s not the same thing.”

Just one day of peace is all I ask. “Come on, guys. Jenny, stop giving her such a hard time about everything. What do you want her to wear? Braids and a cotton ankle-length dress?”

Jenny slipped into a navy knee-length skirt.

I backed up to Elizabeth, who unhooked my corset.

Ahh, to breathe again.

“Jen, you did so much better tonight. Dion even stood up straight.”

Jenny zipped up her boots. “Yes, Dion’s improving rapidly. But I think overall, he’s better at the Standard dances.”

I threw on my favorite dress and fastened my five-inch pumps. “This party is gonna be awesome. Come on. Let’s go.”

Xavier’s customized carucha waited outside to take us to the jamboree.

Would Bret show up?

Xavier outdid himself this time. He had hired a celebrity event designer to coordinate his “Zoot Suit Bash.” Xavier rented out the ballroom of the Beverly Hills L’Hermitage hotel and booked the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra for a night of 1940s-era swing jazz music. It would be off the scale, this shindig. Party of the century, if not the millennium.

We entered through an elegant lobby, crowned by a majestic crystal chandelier, then climbed two flights of marble steps. With each step, the sounds of