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Chapter Sixteen
“Commandin’ you thru the screen / A virtual dom / Steady blowin’ up your spot / With straight style and aplomb...”
—Duchess, “Who You Gon’ Tell”
Over the next week, Primrose Park shifted from the idyllic, secluded space she and Jameson shared to Operation Duchess Goes Royal. Dani had always planned on relocating to the Baglioni once her team arrived, but she’d been shocked by her reluctance to leave Jameson behind. She wasn’t ready. So when he suggested she stay, even offering to turn an old barn on the estate into an impromptu rehearsal space for her use, she eagerly jumped at the opportunity to delay their eventual separation.
The first morning he’d come up behind her as she stared out the window. Wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest, he followed her gaze to the various cars and passenger vans that had accumulated overnight. Between the workmen, who’d brought in floors and mirrors, and the dancers, who were walking around in various forms of workout gear, it was a hectic sight.
“Nowthisis an entourage,” she said, referring to his accusation when they’d first met.
“You don’t let anything go, do you?”
“Nope. The dancers got in last night and we’re starting our first rehearsal.”
“Will I see you this afternoon?”
“Probably not. I have back-to-back meetings with my team.”
“Dinner?”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
He frowned. “Is this what it’s going to look like for the next week?”
She winced. “Imagine that this is the calm before the storm.”
And she’d been right. Between meeting with the venue manager and the lighting director to finalize their idea on the presentation for the space they had, doing last-minute wardrobe and costume fittings, and practicing the choreography for the performance, Dani’s schedule kept her busy.
And as her work life intruded, so did Jay’s. He was either in his office, meeting with Louisa, or doing press interviews about the upcoming celebration. They met only in the evening, falling into each other with a hunger that showed no sign of diminishing.
“Okay!” The shout from Gabrielle, her choreographer, brought Dani out of her reverie. “Let’s run through this again!”
Six background dancers stood in two staggered lines in front of her, reflecting a beautiful range of skin tones. She wasn’t just putting on a good show; the performance would also serve to showcase the beauty of black women and women of color to highlight the importance of Mela-Skin.
Multitasking, bitches.
The beat boomed through the speakers and Gabrielle yelled, “Five, six, seven, eight...”
In unison, their bodies moved to the music, pelvises thrusting, hips popping, arms twirling. Attitudes on point. Some of the stepswould be familiar to anyone who’d watched the video, but they’d made some changes. Dani wasn’t interested in movements solely to titillate, as had been the intention with the first video, but rather in emphasizing feminine power and sexual enjoyment.
Her head bopped to the song as she ran through the moves under her breath.
“Shoulder, hip, sway and sway, turn, pose... Wait!”
She jumped from the chair she’d been sitting on and strode over to the dancers, who stilled, their chests expanding and contracting as they inhaled and exhaled deeply. She adjusted the waistband of her black leggings and slid into position before the bank of mirrors.
“I know we said shoulder, hip, sway and sway,” she said, executing the move, “but I don’t like the way it looks. You see?” She repeated the steps. “I want to change it.”
Gabrielle crossed her arms over her chest and jutted her hip to the side, considering Dani’s request. “What if we add in the sequence from the Grammy performance two years ago?”
Dani mentally recalled the moves then swiftly did them. Joy bubbled in her chest. “Ooh, yes. That’s it! Do that!”
Gabrielle smiled then lifted her arm in the air and rotated her index finger in a circle. “Let’s take it from the top.”
The women began again and easily inserted the new steps. And it looked better.
“Grab some water and we’ll move on to the next song,” Gabrielle said.
