Page 37 of Grunt: A Marine Romance

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BENNY’S EYES LITup the minute he caught Selena bouncing through Brooks Ballroom studio modeling the new line of Dancing under the Stars women’s hip-hop dance wear. He twirled her around and they danced a few steps of the quickstep he had choreographed for her and Xavier.

She smiled and broke into some crunking moves. She was so stoked. Today, all the pros were practicing their group hip-hop dance. And Benny had made her the official choreographer. That was the good news. The bad news was that she’d have to spend seven hours listening to Vika’s snide remarks, avoiding Dima’s possessive glances, and trying to keep her relationship with Bret under wraps.

She knew this studio was Vika’s turf, but Selena woke up super early to help the set designers give it a street vibe. She hung up some paper on the walls and got some hip-hop dancer friends of hers to spray paint urban graffiti, swapped out the blue velvet curtains for some black rayon ones, and hired a DJ to set up a real booth. The cameramen and sound guy were milling around the room after they hooked up the LCD flat screen television she’d requested. Benny had brought in the newest designs for everyone to try on and the crew even set up some strobe lights. Selena hoped everyone could feel the vibe.

Selena set about fishing a hip-hop CD out of her workout bag. Bret had arrived ten minutes ago but went straight to the back of the studio. They had discussed that in order to keep their relationship out of the tabloids, no one could know they were together. Selena had already told Jenny, but she didn’t trust anyone else. The other dancers started piling into the studio, two by two as if getting ready for a trip on an ark. As soon as they walked in the studio, the costume girl handed them workout wear to put on. But Eric and Nicole, who usually arrived at the studio arm in arm carting matching Starbucks lattes, headed to opposite corners of the studio. Nicole’s normally perfect doll-shaped face looked pale and her usual shellacked ponytail was askew. Did Nicole just find out about Eric being with another guy? Could Dima have told her?

Okay, enough of this drama already. “Alright, people!” Selena clapped her hands. This ball was hers and she ran with it. “Let’s do this. We’ve got some hip-hopping to do.”

Selena walked over to the music booth and gave her CD to the sound guy who played DJ for them. “Is everyone here?”

“Dima isn’t here, yet,” Vika said, her eyes glued to the door.

“He’s not?” She hadn’t even noticed his absence. Selena looked at the clock. It was nearly nine o’clock. Gee, wouldn’t want him to lose out on beauty sleep or anything. Was he now avoiding Selena? He of all people really needed to be here since he hated hip-hop.

“I texted to him,” Vika mumbled, “but haven’t heard back.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll show up.” Selena gave Vika a reassuring smile but she looked stressed. Time to distract. “I’m so excited about this group hip-hop thing. I love urban dance and I’ve been experimenting with some crunking and breaking so this is gonna be off the hook.” She glanced around the room. The cameramen were setting up. Benny kissed Vika goodbye. Vika gave Selena the evil eye and, on the opposite side of the room, Bret paced around the floor.

“So,” Selena started, “we have to do an eight count as a group in the beginning and then the partners each do a breakout solo. The order for the solos is Bret, Jenny, Jared, Vika, Ricardo, Elizabeth, Eric, Nicole, Dima, and I will close. I’ll work on all your solos later but let’s get started on the group part. We’re dancing to one of my favorite songs, Rob Base and D.J. E-Z Rock’s “Joy and Pain.” But let’s begin with a warm up. It’s old school to get you in the mood.”

Selena signaled the sound guy. He flipped on the strobe lights then started playing Cameo’s “Word Up.” She loved that song. Reminded her of high school jazz class since her instructor had been stuck in the eighties. Selena skipped to the front of the room and led everyone in a dance isolation routine. “Roll your hips to the right, now to the left, now circles.” The lights were kicking on and off, and Bret kept making goofy faces into the mirror as he tried to keep up with her. Hip-hop wasn’t his thing but he was doing a pretty good job. “That’s it, Bret! Bend your knees. Good!” She couldn’t wipe the stupid grin from her face. This was way too much fun. Almost acting delirious over the excitement of teaching this rehearsal. Vika was actually following her steps and not giving her any attitude. And she hated to admit it, but Vika looked super cute in her low-rise pink hip-hop pants and matching bra tank top, which her breasts filled out perfectly.

Two hours into the actual choreography, Dima strolled in, like he was in no rush. The DJ cut the sound. Dima would get away with it, though. None of them were stupid enough to question him.

“Dude, where’ve you been?” Bret asked.

Well, almost none of them.

“None of your business,” Dima barked. “I’m here now.”

“Hell, yeah it’s my business.” Bret got right up in his face, sweating and huffing from the routine. “We’ve all been here for two whole hours and now we’re gonna have to be here even longer to catch your ass up.”

Dima pushed Bret’s shoulder.

Dima must’ve had a death wish. The other dancers froze in position as stocky six feet, two hundred thirty pound Bret looked up at a gangly six feet, two inch and a buck sixty Dima. Selena cringed—this wasn’t gonna be good.

Bret narrowed his eyes and his voice deepened. “Back up, Dima. You don’t want to fight me.”

“Don’t tell to me what to do!” Dima then cursed in Russian and flew at Bret, but Bret threw Dima down and had him in a headlock faster than Selena could say cha-cha. Dima’s scrawny legs were kicking in the air like a psycho Popeye cartoon. It would almost be funny if Selena wasn’t sure Dima was about to die.

“Dimichka!Dimichka!” Vika screamed. “Somebody do something!”

Eric, Ricardo, and Jared were on it. They dove in and yanked Dima and Bret apart, successfully ending the combat. Then, after only a second of peace, Dima sucker punched Bret. Bret round-house kicked him in the face and blood gushed from Dima’s nose. The referees broke it up again. Like two snarling dogs, Dima and Bret had to be pulled to opposite sides of the room.

This was crazy. Selena couldn’t help but think that this was all her fault. “Break time!” she chirped and then ran to the ladies lounge, with Jenny and Elizabeth in pursuit.

When the girls got in there, they found Selena sprawled out on the sofa in the lounge, tears splattered on her face. “If this gets out to the press, Bret’s so gonna get eliminated this week,” Selena cried. Dima had a huge fan base and she was certain the tabloids would blame Bret. They’d probably publish articles and say he had PTSD—the media’s excuse any time a military member got into any type of altercation.

Jenny hugged her. “I wish I could be that lucky. I can’t take another week of Dion.” Elizabeth glared at her. “Sorry, right. This is about Selena.”

Elizabeth turned back to Selena. “Maybe they will send Dima home instead. His new celebrity sucks. I saw them dance yesterday and she can’t do a single rumba walk. Then you guys can just go back to practicing for Blackpool.”

Jenny eyed Selena.

Blotchy Selena looked up at Elizabeth and decided to confess. “That’s the thing. I’m not going to Blackpool this year.”