Page 22 of Sway

The audience boos and hisses and Dolla leans in to me. “That’s harsh.”

“That’s true,” I say back. Much as Benny makes me want to puke, he’s right on this one. Jenny keeps that smile on. Like I said, a pro.

“Karen Lopez,” Matt says, “what did you think of Timothy and Jennifer’s mambo?”

Karen Lopez sits elegantly perched on her judge’s chair. Karen was a five-time Blackpool Latin Champion with her first husband, Sean Middleton. She shocked the dance world by leaving Sean when she was thirty-five, at the peak of her career, for her eighteen-year-old student Carlito Lopez. Karen trained Carlito and eventually they won Blackpool, stealing the title from her ex-husband and his new wife. Karen has a reputation for being a diva, demanding limousines and five hundred thread count sheets as if she were J. Lo. She and Carlito spend all of their energy training their own little devil spawn, Gregory Lopez, a brilliant rising star in the amateur Latin world.

“Timothy, the mambo is about a feeling,” Karen says. “You should make eye contact with your stunning partner. Your floor craft was nonexistent and your feet were deplorable. Plus your body was hunched.” Poor Jenny.

“Steve Samson, your thoughts?” Matt asks.

Steve Samson is the biggest competition owner and single-handedly responsible for getting ballroom dancing on television. In the nineties, he ran and was the commentator on the successful television show on PBS, The Turquoise Pendant Ball. The entire dance industry is grateful to the exposure he has given ballroom dancing.

“Tim,” Steve says, “you danced like soggy noodles in my Top Ramen. Where was your frame? You didn’t move your hips. And for God’s sake, why are you wearing those shoes?”

Jenny gives another pained smile. I’m totally shocked that she hasn’t passed out yet.

“Please head backstage and wait for the judges’ scores,” Matt says.

Tim takes Jenny’s hand and leads her off stage. Once safely back in the red room, Jenny drops Tim’s hand and runs over to Diana and me.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Diana asks.

“Sure, just peachy. I can’t believe he messed up that routine.” She looks at me. “You gave him the easiest mambo ever.” Jenny steps into my space, her smile finally gone. She’s probably not about to thank me for choreographing their routine. “This is your fault, Salomé. I can’t believe I’m humiliating myself on national television. I hope we get cut tonight. I can’t take thirteen more weeks of this nightmare. I hate Tim. He’s so—”

“Totally cute.” Diana cuts her off. “Admit it, Jenny, you totally have the hots for him.”

“I do NOT have the hots for Tim Lee.”

“Yes, you do. I saw the look on your face in the clip. You were completely checking him out.”

“I was not.”

Deborah Mares, the backstage host, interrupts us, and the cameraman shoves his lens in Jenny’s face. Tim stops high-fiving the production assistants and rushes over to put his arm around her.

“And now for the judges’ scores. Benjamin Brooks?” Matt asks.

“Four.”

“Karen Lopez?”

“Four.”

“Steve Samson?”

“Four.”

“Tim and Jennifer, your score is twelve.” Out of a possible thirty. Damn. “But remember, the audience can still save you. Tim, what do you think about the judges’ scores?”

“They are unfair, Matt.” Tim gives Jenny a chummy squeeze, making her head shake like a bobble-head toy. “Jennifer is amazing and I just tried my best. I am just happy that I can be a positive role model for my community.” He winks at Deborah. Jenny’s eyes brighten, as if she has seen a glimmer of hope that Tim might actually be the man she wants him to be.

“Next up, hip-hop legend C. Dolla and his partner, Salomé Sanchez,” Matt says.

When the clip of me and Dolla starts, I almost don’t notice. Nothin’ like Jenny to take my mind off myself. But Dolla’s hoot of joy pulls my eyes to the screen. My own hoot has zero joy—turns out they’re not kidding about the camera adding a thousand pounds. Oh, no . . .

“I’m C. Dolla,” he’s saying in the clip, “and I’m a producer, a designer, an entrepreneur, and a Grammy winner.”

My big ass pops up on the screen. Gawd. What am I wearing? I look like a chorizo sausage coming out of its casing. “Hi. I’m Salomé Sanchez and I’m the 2013 World Youth Amateur Latin Champion.” I spin four times on the screen. They show the much-rehearsed clip of Dolla and me meeting. Huh, I managed to actually look surprised. I’m no Vika or anything, but, hell, I can act!