Page 39 of Grunt: A Marine Romance

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BRET STUDIED HIMSELFin the mirror before he took the stage for the show’s season premiere. He frowned and shook his head.

“I hate this outfit, Sel.”

Selena laughed.

He was dead-on about his costume. An open, lemon-and-lime-colored silk shirt with orange feathers sprouting out of his arms—he looked like the mutant offspring of a parrot and a bottle of Squirt soda. If he started flapping, he’d probably lift right off the ground.

“Yeah, you do kinda look like you might fly away,” Selena admitted as she walked over to the stereo and turned on the music for him and Robyn. “But, no, it’s good. Very traditional mambo. The judges will love it.”

“At least someone will. I’ll never hear the end of this. They’ll be calling me Staff Sergeant Peacock.” He shrugged. “Well, at least my partner looks beautiful, even if she’s also covered in feathers. One more time?” He grabbed Robyn’s hand.

They started to dance their routine on the small black practice floor behind the main set. Xavier and Selena ran through some steps for their routine. A couple of random key grips and assistants roamed around.

Robyn was a perfectionist. She was the one always asking for one more practice round. Bret’s dream celebrity partner. And she could totally dance. She started giving him one hundred percent commitment once she realized how dedicated he was to training her to win.

Robyn’s face lit up. She twisted and shook to the music, in perfect beat.

We just might win. Then this nightmare show will be worth it.

The music abruptly stopped.

“Hey!” Bret snapped.

Dima was at the corner of the practice floor changing the track. “Oh, I’m so sorry, guys. Were you not done? Here, I’ll put it back on for you.” He flashed a dirty look at Selena.

Bret didn’t want to deck him again. He just needed to get through his first night without another confrontation.

“No thanks, Dima, we’re all done.” Bret extended his hand. “Good luck tonight.”

“Okay. See you guys out there.” Dima squinted his eyes, and then suddenly smiled like he was plotting something. He took the hand of his teen celebrity partner, Laura. “Ni pukha, ni pera,” he tossed their way as Bret ushered Robyn toward the red room.

Robyn cast a confused glance toward Dima. “What was all that ‘pookie knee parrot’ stuff? What did he say?”

Selena answered. “It’s like break a leg in Russian. It actually means ‘neither down from a duck, nor feather.’”

“Duck? Who’s he callin’ a duck?” she cried, straightening her back and adjusting her fluffy yellow costume. “I’ll have you know I’m a bona fide canary.”

Bret laughed. “Oh, see and here I was thinking parrot.”

Xavier turned toward Selena. “So you speak Russian, too?”

“No. But I understand a lot. You have to in my line of work.”

They all headed back to the red room, the official backstage viewing area. Sparkly gold valances adorned the walls and an opulent crystal chandelier blinded Bret as he entered. Jenny sat on one of the brown velvet couches, hugging a red pillow as if it was her teddy bear. Soothing ballroom music streamed in from the overhead speakers. But the noise was not enough to drown out Selena and Dima, who began ripping into each other. Again.

“I told to you that my lawyer will distribute your money,” Dima snapped.

“Dima, you put a hold on our bank accounts. I can’t believe you did that! I need to pay my bills.”

Dima raised his hand in anger but stepped back from Selena. Dima was a lot of things, but he didn’t abuse women. No way would he be stupid enough to lose his temper with the cameras on and Bret standing there. “Selena, we will handle this later.”

Selena gave Bret a ‘please don’t get involved’ look. But Bret couldn’t resist.

“Hey.” He put his hand on Dima’s shoulder. “Why don’t you just cut her a check for now and let the lawyers deal with it later. There’s no need to be a jerk.”

Dima turned his charm on Bret as a cameraman approached. “Sure, friend. Sounds good. Selenichka, I’ll go to get you your check.”