Love Waltzes In (Dancing Under The Stars) (12 page)

Ten stars light up the dance floor when
Dancing under the Stars
returns for a spectacular seventeenth season.

Ten celebrities - five men and five women -- attempt to ou
tshine one another on the seventeenth season of the hit series
Dancing under the Stars
. The Season Seventeen cast includes some of our most lauded stars yet: two Grammy Award winners, an Emmy award winner, a Playmate of the Year, two Olympic Gold medalists, and the NBA's current Man of the Year.

Today, the producers are revealing the names of the first five celebrities on the show. The remaining stars will be disclosed later in the week.

The first five stars making their ballroom dancing debut are:

LAURA BENSON – Laura is the star of the hit reality show,
Baby Mama
. At only nineteen, she is the mother of three children under the age of two.

DION JACKSON – Dion made history as television’s first A
frican American man on the hit dating show
The Suitor
. Dion is a financier and has a MBA from Harvard and a BA in Economics from Stanford.

XAVIER QUINTANA – Xavier Quintana is a Grammy award-winning guitarist. He also designs and operates his clothing line, Xavier Tomas.

ROBYN QUINTANA – Robyn Quintana is an Emmy winning actress of television and film. She is currently the star of the daytime soap,
Delicious Divas
.

ASHER GIBSON – Asher Gibson is a
Nascar Racer. He has won the Indy 500, and has founded the charity, Be Strong.

Hosted by Matt Brinkman,
Dancing under the Stars
will be judged by renowned Ballroom judges Benjamin Brooks, Steve Samson, and Karen Brooks Lopez.     

S
he flipped up her skirt. Enticed, he danced up behind her and put his hands on her waist. She shimmied her hips as he turned her toward him and they pounced on the beat. Flicking her heels up, her movement became frenzied. Just when she caught her breath, he dipped her. Her long hair swept the floor and he brought her to his chest. They gazed into each other’s eyes as the music died.

Bret studied himself in 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. A
n 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 pe
rfect 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 that 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 vie
wing 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. No need to be a jerk.”

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

She turned around, grabbed a brush from her bag, and started scaling the suede sole on her shoe.

When her soles were brushed out, Selena put her arm around Bret. “You nervous?”

“No. I just hope none of my Marines are watching this.”

“Ha! Don’t worry. I think you’re safe. They don’t know you’re on the show yet. I doubt a bunch of Marines are crowded around a television set in Fallujah watching
Dancing under the Stars
. Isn’t Monday Night Football on? Aren’t we still at war?”

A director ran through the door. “Okay, everyone, five minute warning for the opening.”

A makeup girl started brushing Bret’s face with foundation as he winced.

A costume assistant eyed Bret suspiciously. “Do you think he’s stoned enough?” she asked Kendrick, the costume designer.

“Absolutely not. More stones.
More stones
!” Kendrick attacked Bret from behind with a bedazzler and shot him up with more rhinestones. Bret didn’t know whether to duck or cover.

“Are you nuts, Kendrick?” Bret yelled. “I already have fifteen thousand stones on this outfit.”

“Fifteen thousand and
one
, fifteen thousand and
two
…” Kendrick counted as he blinged Bret up. This guy didn’t mess around. Kendrick had already made sure Bret’s shirt was cut open because it was more flattering for “someone with Bret’s manly chest” after Bret had won his battle to keep his chest hair. Thoughtful guy, that Kendrick.

As Kendrick bedazzled him, Bret made sure to breathe.

Selena came over and rubbed his back. “Are you ready?”

“Not sure. This is serious. I don’t think I can go out there and humiliate myself.” His hand shook.

Selena rummaged behind the sofa, found her purse, and handed him a flask.

Bret took a gulp of whiskey, hoping it would calm him down.

She whispered in his ear. “You’ll be fine, babe. You won’t humiliate yourself. And before you know it, this season will be over and we can start our life together—away from the cameras.”

Bret pursed his lips until they turned white. But it wasn’t for himself. He prayed he wouldn’t screw up so he could get enough money for Pierce’s family. After all they had been through, even dancing dressed up like a peacock was worth it.

“Live, from Hollywood. It’s
Dancing under the Stars
,” the British voiceover said on the other side of the curtain like the Wizard of Oz. The audience screamed and clapped on cue.

“C’mon, solider, suck it up,”
Dima hissed.

“I’m a
Marine, asshole.”

But
Dima was right. This was no time to coddle. Bret was a pro, he could do this.

Dima
shoved his partner ahead of Bret. The annoying theme song started playing and the pros marched out one by one with their partners. They all arrived on the floor and the camera panned across their beaming, nervous faces. Selena started bopping along to the music. Vika blew kisses at the audience. Robyn popped on her most beautiful smile. Bret stood up straight like he was in formation. It was show time.

The host, Matt Brinkman, was in all his glory. “This is our best year yet, with Olympic medalists, Grammy award winners, and reality and network television stars. And we also have a new pr
ofessional dancer. Right now is your first chance to see our competitors. Now for our first dancer, Emmy winning television star Robyn Quintana.”

Bret presented Robyn to the audience to a roar of applause. “Robyn is the star of the long running daytime soap
Delicious Divas
,” Brinkman said. “She’s won seven daytime Emmys. Robyn is paired with our newest professional dancer, American War Hero Bret Lord.”

American War Hero?
Who wrote that? Bret’s cheeks flushed.

The overhead monitor cut to a clip of Bret and Robyn as the rest of the dancers scurried back to the red room to watch their montage and their performance.

“I’m Robyn Quintana and I’m the star of
Delicious Divas
. I’m also a wife and mother.” Her charm bounced off the TV screen. A montage of her television shows graced the screen.

“I’m Bret Lord and I’m a former amateur United States N
ational Latin Champion. I’m currently a Staff Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps.” Bret looked at the screen and saw competition footage of him and Selena winning their championship, and then later on the road trip in the truck, talking about Pierce. A short segment played of his Marine unit, with Bret yelling at his men in formation. Bret had told his men that the cameramen were just filming a documentary about the Marines. The audience let out a collective gasp as the montage flashed a picture of Pierce’s funeral, his wife and young children walking behind the casket. A single tear threatened to slip from the corner of Bret’s eye, but the cameras were luckily not on him.

There it was. No more hiding. By morning, every member of his unit would know where he had disappeared to over the last few weeks.

Another clip showed the first time Bret and Robyn met in Tiburon.

The voiceover cut in: “Dancing the mambo, Robyn Quintana and her partner, United States Marine Bret Lord.”

Now live, Bret led Robyn to the floor. “Mambo #5” started playing. Bret twirled her around and she was on fire. It was a fun routine with a lot of basic actions to please the judges. Bret moved his hips and Robyn shimmied around him, sloshing the matching citrus-colored fringe of her two-piece dress. She swiveled in front of him and he shook his chest. Their energy rippled through Bret’s body. Bret and Robyn crashed their hips together and rolled off each other, never losing eye contact. He spun her into him and dipped her to the ground.

The crowd roared. Bret’s heartbeat raced. He hadn’t made a fool out of himself and he was one step closer to providing for Pierce’s family.

“Excellent job. The ballroom is on fire tonight,” Matt said. “That is how it’s done. And Bret, thank you for your service. Let’s see what the judges have to say. Benjamin Brooks?” Matt said.

The camera panned to Benny, who wore a yellow suit, black silk shirt, and his signature Australian bolo tie. He looked like a bumblebee. To Bret, Benny Brooks was the epitome of everything that was wrong in the ballroom industry. He rose to fame in a time when ballroom dancing consisted of stringing together a series of cheesy poses while the men paraded around in ruffled white cat suits that were split in a long V shape to ensure that their excessive mane of chest hair showed.

“Robyn, it was a beaut’. You’re a spunk. You have rhythm, charm, and a bonzer of a body. Well done.”

“Karen Brooks Lopez,” Matt said, “what did you think of Robyn and Bret’s mambo?”

Karen Brooks Lopez, perched elegantly on her judges’ chair, leaned on her ex-husband. “Robyn, you were superb. I’m so impressed with what Bret has taught you. You’re the one to watch.”

“Steve Samson, your thoughts?” Matt asked.

Steve Samson was 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 was grateful to the exposure he has given ballroom dancing. As progressive and flamboyant as could be, Steve provided a great contrast to Benny’s old-school traditional views on ballroom.

“Robyn, what a looker. Your spicy exoticism captivated me.”

The audience simultaneously stood to their feet and clapped wildly.

They rushed backstage and waited for their scores. The judges give them straight nines!
A twenty-seven for their first show. All of Bret’s hard work had paid off. What had only been a dream months ago was finally coming true. He was proud that he had made the sacrifice to go on this show.

A costume assistant came out of nowhere, pulled Bret behind the red room, and started ripping off his clothes. He had almost forgotten he had to dance a demonstration with Selena. The makeup girl powdered his face despite his protests. She smudged some lipstick on his lips and before he could blink, she threw him back on stage.

“Now ladies and gentlemen,” Matt said. “We’re going to start with a rumba demonstration from Season Fourteen winner Selena Marcil and our newest professional, Bret Lord.”

The band started playing a rumba, “I Just Can’t Stop Loving You” by Michael Jackson.

Bret crept up behind Selena and took her arm. They slid into the rumba, with him pulling her to his chest. His white, billowy shirt was only partially unbuttoned. Selena caressed his neck and gave her body over to him. He grasped her waist and she rolled down his body. It felt like they had never stopped dancing years ago. But it was even better than Bret had remembered. The tension between them was electric. Bret craved her. She ran away from him and teased him with fleeting views of her inner thighs. The song started to taper and he took her into his arms. When the lights died down and the stage was completely dark, he gave her a tender kiss on the lips. Bret didn’t care who saw them.