Love Waltzes In (Dancing Under The Stars) (13 page)

The lights came back on and the crowd erupted. Did he really just kiss her? No one saw for sure. And if they did, Bret didn’t care. Selena was in Bret’s arms—just like old times.

S
elena and Xavier stood nervously on stage next to Eric and his partner, reality star Aubrey, awaiting their fate. Last night, Bret and Robyn had received an amazing score in the mambo, so they were safe. But someone was about to get the axe.

“And the couple leaving us tonight, Eric and Aubrey,” Matt said. Xavier gave Selena an excited hug. They would live to dance another week.

After the usual onslaught of interviews, Eric and Aubrey hopped into a limo to take them to the airport. They were booked on the red eye to New York for the loser’s round of morning talk shows.

Selena had been avoiding
Dima since his fight with Bret. Though Dima had shown some maturity. He’d cut her a check for some expenses. Even so, they hadn’t had a real conversation since he ended their dance partnership. But he had agreed to a joint statement, that their publicist released last Friday afternoon—after all the tabloids had already gone to press.

“We have been partners on and off the floor for ten years. U
nfortunately, we have come to the conclusion it would be in our best personal and professional interests to end our partnership. We will stay close friends and coworkers. There were no third parties responsible for the split and we ask for your respect and privacy during this difficult time.”             

Selema
was dead. Their agent had tried to convince them to wait until the season was over to announce their split but Selena refused. If Bret wasn’t in the picture, she would’ve agreed to pretend, but she wasn’t going to jeopardize her newfound happiness.

That night,
Dima and Selena had been scheduled to dance a show for their studio. But because they’d broken up, Vika offered to dance in Selena’s place.

Which meant that tonight Selena could spend the entire night with Bret and not have to worry about running into
Dima.

Backstage, Jenny rushed over with Selena’s iPhone and purse in hand. “I can’t believe we made it.
One more week. I thought for sure this time we’d be gone. Let’s go celebrate. Here.”

Selena’s iPhone flashed as Jenny handed it to her.

From Bret (Mobile): Meet me in my hotel room in one hour.

Elizabeth came bounding from behind. She gave Jenny a big hug. “See! I told to you everything would be fine. Where do you guys want to go? I want to have a girl’s night. Let’s go to
Nobu. I’m craving abalone.”

Selena stashed her phone in her purse. Jenny knew about Bret but she didn’t want to tell Elizabeth. Not yet. She barely knew what to tell
herself. “You guys go ahead. I’m not in the sushi mood.” The reporters started exiting so they moved to the side of the stage.

“Fine, no sushi. Let’s go to The Ivy.” Jenny picked up her phone and started dialing. “Not a raw fish in that place.”

Selena winked at Jenny. “Not tonight, Jen. I’m super tired. I have an early drive to San Francisco tomorrow so I’m gonna just go home so I can get some sleep.”

Jenny looked at her kind of funny as if she understood, but Elizabeth was so happy-happy-joy-joy she didn’t give it a second thought.

“Then it’s just Jen and me,” Elizabeth chirped. “Sel, you call us later. I need to par-
tay
!”

“Oh, God,” Jen muttered as Elizabeth pulled her over to the lingering media. “We’ve created a monster,
Sel,” she called over her shoulder.

Selena shrugged and gave her a thumbs-up, watching them di
sappear around the corner with the reporters.
Bingo! Exit, stage right!
Jenny was right though—just last season, Elizabeth had never set foot inside a dance club. Life as a Mormon was wild, wasn’t it? When they hit the clubs in Cabo, Elizabeth ordered sparkling water. Sometimes, when she really cut loose, she’d add a slice of lime. And no Starbucks? Where was the joy in
that
? Jenny and Selena had vowed not to corrupt her; Selena respected Elizabeth’s lifestyle and religion. Elizabeth reminded Selena of herself at eighteen—madly in love with Bret and unaware of a world outside the dance studio. Selena just hoped that Elizabeth was stronger than Selena had been back then.

But Selena wasn’t eighteen anymore—she was a grown woman and she couldn’t wait to be alone with Bret. She ducked out the
back of the studio, called her driver, and told him to meet her in forty-five minutes.

She rushed to her trailer across the back lot and shimmied out of her dress before the door had even closed. Shower! Scrubbing the orange tanning cream off herself under the hot water, she ma
rveled for the millionth time that a Latina had to paint her skin like some kind of coloring book. It was the dumbest thing ever—and God, did she hate the smell of the stuff. She nearly grafted her skin trying to loofa it off, but she still had orangey running streaks all over her body. She swore she looked like a stubby giraffe. She slathered on Palmer’s Cocoa Butter to mask the smell. Sure, she could afford the expensive creams and all now, but she loved her Palmer’s so it stayed. Her mane of hair was all over the place so she scrunched in some spray gel and stuffed it into a big, floppy hat.

Just as she finished up, her iPhone vibrated.

Twenty-three new messages? What the heck? Half of them were from Jenny—in the past twenty minutes. What was her problem? Selena already told her she didn’t want to hang out.

From Jenny (mobile):
Sel – check this out

www.perezhilton.com
/selena-marcil-cheater

She clicked on the link.

Not So Blind Item

Filed under: Not So Blind Item

Which
Dancing under the Stars
hoofer recently dumped her partner for her ex? This
spicy
salsa queen seduced the newest professional dancer on his debut season. Developing . . .

3 Comments:

DUTS addict: it’s that slut Selena Marcil     1

Reina Rumba: Can’t blame her! Bret’s fine.      2

Dima’s lover: Dima’s better off without her                             3

Oh my God! I’m so screwed.

How did Perez know
everything
? She’d only been back together with Bret for two weeks. She hadn’t told anyone other than Jenny. Someone must have seen them. Maybe it was that room service guy—he had looked at them funny yesterday morning when he delivered their breakfast. Or the waitress at Mustards? What would Bret say?

Her life was completely over. What if Bret left her? Or her fans believed she cheated on
Dima even though they hadn’t been dating? They could boycott her studio, she could get kicked off the show. And she’d never find another dance partner.

She didn’t want to tip Bret off just yet that their secret was out.

I wonder if
. . . she leaned toward the window in her trailer and peered outside.
They are
! There were at least thirty paparazzi on the sidewalk. Video cameras and those long extender things. Who tipped them off? Wait, was that one guy pointing the lens at this window?

Flashes went off.

Selena slammed the curtains shut.

She was trapped!

Her driver was due to pick her up now.

Think.
She poked her head out of the room and looked down both sides of the hallway. Coast was clear! The Mission Impossible theme song played in her head as she slinked through the door. Super quickly, she ran through the maze to the garage. No cameras.

But her celebration was short. When she got to the garage, her driver wasn’t in sight. She texted him again, hoping the voices around the side of the building weren’t the
paps. But of course they were.
Driver, where are you?
The cameras started going off as her limo cruised down the parking ramp. She ran to the car while it was still moving and pounded on the door for the driver to unlock it.

“Girl, you trying to get yourself killed?” he asked.

“That would be one solution.” She scrambled into the limo and reached for the Don Julio Blanco bottle. She took a swig of tequila, straight out of the bottle. Who needed the glass? “Sorry about all that. Just take me to the hotel. Fast. And try to lose those guys on our tail.”

The tires busted outta there. “Aye, aye, boss!” he squealed, y
ahooing for good measure. She left the glass in the rack and chugged from the bottle.

Another text appeared. It was from her mom asking if she was back with Bret. Oh Lord. Her mom wanted her to stay with
Dima for the financial security and as she once said, “to not be a broke military wife.”

The driver turned onto the street of the hotel. Dammit. There were more
paps waiting in the lobby. She almost told her driver to take off again, but she didn’t know if she could survive another mile with this Mario Andretti wannabe.
Breathe, Sel. You can do this….
She put on her oversized Chanel sunglasses and opened the limo door before the driver could get there. She hobbled out and covered her face with her hand just in case the front desk attendants recognized her.

Immediately a TMZ reporter shoved a camera in her face. “Selena, are you having an affair with Bret?”

She pushed past him to the steps. A hundred feet more and she would be safe.

A
Star
writer blocked the entrance. “Selena, Selena, is it true that Dima walked in on you and Bret having sex backstage on the show?”

Are you kidding me?

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

Get a life! That’s what I have to say.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Bret and I are just friends and we’ve known each other for over twenty years. Dima and I haven’t been in a romantic relationship for three years. We just ended our dance partnership. There is no scandal. Please leave me alone.”

She headed into the elevator but nearly stepped out again b
efore the doors closed. The ride up took forever. Fifth floor . . . sixth floor… seventh floor.
Ding!
She stepped off.

Breathe, baby.

Room 715 . . . 717 . . . 719… she looked to the next door and spotted Bret, looking sexy as all hell, wearing Calvin Klein pajama bottoms and no shirt, wedged in the doorway, waiting for her.

She nearly bolted back to the elevator.

But before she could do or say anything, he seized her, pulling her into the brightly lit room, and started kissing her neck.

“What took you so long?” He clasped her hands in his. She melted.

“Bret. Wait.” She pulled away from him and moved toward the door.

“What is it?” He ran his hands through his hair, the same old nervous gesture from forever ago. “
Sel, where are you going?”

“
Here.” She stopped short of the door and turned off the light. Now he wouldn’t see the confusion in her eyes. He sighed. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was scared.

She made out his face in the darkness. “Bret . . . can you just hold me?”

“Come here.” The covers rustled as he got into the bed. She lay down and cuddled up on his chest. “No rush,” he whispered, “we’re gonna be together forever. This time, I’m not letting you go.”

That was all she needed to hear. She rolled on top of him. Their bodies were made for each other. He slowly undressed her, taking his time exploring her body. Selena lifted off his shirt. They kissed for what seemed like forever, just like when they were fifteen years old.

“You smell even sweeter than I remember,” he whispered.

Another star for Palmer’s Cocoa Butter.

T
heir eyes locked on the crowded floor. He grabbed her in a predatory embrace. He took control, she resisted his will. Bodies intertwined, they both moved as one. Passions rose as the music pulsed through their bodies. Their legs weaved together and his breath tickled her throat. They aggressively moved, chasing the cadence, playing with love and hate.  She gave herself over to the rhythms of the song, quickly challenging the beats and cherishing the silence when time seemingly stopped.

T
he alarm clock on Bret’s phone went off at four a.m. He and Selena had another long day ahead of them. Bret wanted to get on the road by five to skip the Los Angeles traffic and start their journey up to Marin.

He turned his phone alarm off and noticed a missed call and a voicemail from his buddy Ray. He was probably just calling to tease him again about his outfit—he’d already been fielding insults from his buddies since the show aired.

“Lord, Nia just showed me an article online about your scandalous affair with Selena. By the way, you looked like a fruitcake in that getup. Give me a call when you get a chance.”

What the hell? Bret opened Selena’s laptop and
googled his name, something he never thought he’d do.

Headlines popped up, one after another.
Radar Online, People, Us Weekly
. Bret clicked through the articles. Each carried a version of a heartbroken Dima finding out about Selena and Bret. Some included pictures of Bret and Selena dancing on the show, one even had his boot camp picture. Nothing shocking. But then something caught Bret’s eye.

“A source close to Selena said that Bret and Selena broke up as teens after Selena found out she was pregnant. Selena suffered a miscarriage, dumped Bret, and partnered up with
Dima.”

A miscarriage? Who would make up these cruel lies? That’s not even why they broke up. They were
engaged, he went to boot camp, and when he came back, she had vanished.

Bret slammed the computer shut. Heat rose in his chest and he had difficulty breathing. Now he was just another reality loser that the tabloids thought they could make up lies about to sell adve
rtisements. He looked over at Selena still sound asleep. No point to wake her up and ruin her morning over this bullshit. Bret tried to take his mind off the rumors by reading the morning paper that had been slipped through the door.

An hour later Selena rolled over, her tank top scrunched on her stomach. “Morning. Did I oversleep? I thought we didn’t have to leave until five?”

“Forget that, Selena. I have to show you something.” He clicked on the website.

She sat up, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and focused on the screen.

Bret studied her eyes. She skimmed the page, until she gasped for breath and bit her lip.

It was true.

“Look me in the eye and don’t lie to me. Is there anything you are keeping from me?” Bret could tell her mind was racing, trying to think of what to say to him.

Selena blinked furiously. “Bret, I, my mom, I wanted to tell you so many times . .
. .”

Bret slammed his fist into the bed. “Are you kidding me,
Sel? You
wanted to tell me
? You were pregnant with our child and kept it from me. We were engaged. I would’ve been thrilled. Maybe you wouldn’t have had a miscarriage. You probably had one because you were still dancing and dieting. How could you not tell me?”

“Bret, please. I was so young. And my mom thought it would ruin any hope of me ever having a future in dancing. I told her I didn’t care about my career, but you were in boot camp and I couldn’t get a hold of you. She kept telling me I was
all alone and she wouldn’t help me. She wanted me to have an abortion but I refused. I was just waiting to tell you when you graduated from boot camp. But I had a miscarriage—I was destroyed. I wanted to write you so many times but Dima said . . . .”

“
Dima?! This has nothing to do with that bastard. This was my child. Our child. Not his. Then again maybe you were screwing around on me even back then. How the hell do I know that you had a miscarriage and not an abortion? Or how do I know that it wasn’t Dima’s baby? How convenient. Wouldn’t want a baby to ruin your dancing career. Damn, you are so vain.”

“I would never have an abortion. I was devastated when I mi
scarried.” Selena slumped on the bed. “I planned to come back to you. But you were away for three months and had already quit dancing. After I lost the baby, dancing was all I had. So I chose to dance with Dima. I’m sorry I didn’t come to your graduation but I thought seeing you would bring back all the pain of losing our baby. It was cowardly. Once I gained some perspective, I tried to find you. But you had vanished. Ever since then, I’ve looked for you. Myspace, Facebook. But you were gone. Completely gone. It’s like you existed only in my memories. You don’t know the guilt I’ve felt. I’ve wanted to tell you since we got back together, and I tried to but you didn’t want to talk about the past. I screwed up. I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry. Please forgive me, Bret.”

Bret could forgive many things. He forgave her for leaving him many years ago, but he couldn’t forgive her for lying to him about a pregnancy. About a child that could’ve been his. Could’ve been theirs. Ever.

He pulled on his jeans. “No Selena. I can’t forgive you for this. I can never trust you. I’m supposed to believe you were going to marry me when I got out of boot camp if you hadn’t miscarried? Do you have any idea how tough it was for me to get over you? I joined the Corps to make a good life for you, for us! We agreed that we wanted to be on our own, not dependent on our parents. I had no money or education. The military was the only way—there was no money in ballroom back then for amateurs and it would’ve taken us years and a ton of money to turn pro. Plus you know I never really enjoyed it. I only danced because my parents forced me and then when I got paired with you I just wanted to make you happy. In boot camp, every time I got trashed on the quarterdeck, doing pushups ‘til my fingers bled, I got through it because I knew I was doing it for our future. And then you left me—and you didn’t even have the decency to show up at my graduation and tell me to my face.”

Selena’s chin quivered. “I had no idea how hard it was for you, Bret. I have nothing to say for myself. I was just so devastated and confused.”

“I’m done. Done with you. Done with dancing. Done with this lifestyle. I’ll finish out this season and I pray I never have to see you again.”

Selena broke into sobs. “Please Bret, please.”

Bret didn’t turn around. He put on his shirt and shoes, leashed up Banjo, grabbed his bags, then slammed the door behind him.

After he made his way down the elevator, he found some pap
arazzi in the lobby. He pushed back his sunglasses and plowed right through them.

This was it for Bret. No more women. He’d gone against his better judgment getting involved with Selena again. He had been happier with no complications, just his loyal dog and his buddies.
Buddies that would die for him. His brothers in the Corps were the only people he trusted.

He thought about Robyn’s words to him recently about his path. He didn’t believe her mumbo jumbo for a second, but she was right about one thing: had Bret never done this show, he never would have reunited with Selena nor would he have found out about his child. Bret’s heart ached at the loss, but also he felt strangely at peace. For the first time since Selena left him years ago, he knew that he’d finally found the complete closure he’d always craved.