SHELLY
If I was under any illusion I’d be brushing shoulders with RTE’s usual hosts and actors, I was badly mistaken. The studio used forSexy Come Dancingis actually a refurbished warehouse, a mile away from the main television buildings. At fifty thousand square feet, the studio boasts an enormous illuminated stage and enough chairs to comfortably hold an audience of four hundred and fifty spectators. It’s impressive to say the least.
The far side of the studio is like a nightclub dance floor, where we are to practice our dances, under the open scrutiny of each other. More seating will fill this area on the nights of the live shows, but for now its shiny polished floors are for our use only.
The female producer stops me in my tracks. At first I assume she’s picking a stray bit of fluff from my top, then I realise she’s actually pinning something to it instead. A microphone. I’d somehow forgotten about that.Big Brothereat your heart out.
I make a beeline for my new friend Aisling. She’s engrossed in conversation with Natalie Moore, the famous TikTok sensation. I googled her last night and was amazed to see she has eight hundred thousand followers. A video of her necking a bottle of Budweiser in five seconds on a Californian beach, only wearing the teeniest thong, as her equally beautiful sister timed her, received over twenty million views.
She is absolutely stunning. Her warm smile extends all the way to her huge lash framed eyes as I approach. The twin lads that were on Eurovision all those years ago haven’t taken their eyes off her since they walked in and I can see why. With a face like hers, Natalie was made for television.
Teddy’s sporting a coral coloured suit. If it was any tighter round his balls, it would cut the circulation to them. I open my mouth to say it to Aisling, then close it just as quickly. I miss my husband. Not everyone shares our lewd sense of humour.
Aaron introduces nine dance teachers, each professionals in different fields in their own right. They stand on the stage assessing us mere unprofessional mortals.
Richard Bravo, one of the male professional dancers, takes charge. ‘Let’s not waste any time here! Show us what you’ve got.’ A Latin beat pumps loudly throughout the vast room and his hips sway almost involuntarily to the rhythm. ‘Show me how you guys move. Show us what we’re working with.’ He beckons us up onto the stage with him, the male contestants distinctly dragging their heels.
No point holding back now, this is what they signed up for.
‘Here goes nothing.’ Aisling nudges me onto the stage next to her and we attempt to copy Slick Rick, as I’ve named Richard in my head. The other dance teachers stand to the side and watch on with Teddy and Aaron.
Following Slick Rick’s lead, I copy the footsteps he introduces, focussing solely on him, not daring to look sideways at my competition in case I fall flat on my face. Within minutes, the beat changes and a different dance teacher steps forward, taking the lead. We follow like proverbial sheep, only far less coordinated, repeating the same seven-minute routine four times.
Puffing and panting pierces the air behind me.
‘I hope we’re not going to have a problem with stamina.’ Aaron circles the group, assessing us like a herd of animals in a coop that’s way too small.
Half an hour later he claps his hands and the music stops. ‘Grab yourselves a bottle of water from the refreshment station at the back of the room and catch your breath. We’ll be back to you in fifteen minutes.’
To my left, Aisling looks flushed in the face but otherwise ok. Donal Dunn is positively purple with exertion. The sporting members of the clique, Kelly, Katie, Michael and even Ben, don’t look too perturbed.
I thought Ben might have made a beeline to say hi, but I was wrong. A hazy memory of that last time I saw him floats just beneath the surface of my consciousness. I can’t quite summon it fully. I can, however, summon the feelings associated with it: guilt, regret and a touch of sadness. I push it away again, the past is in the past. It’s irrelevant now.
‘This is such fun! But is it terrible that I’m out of breath already? ’ Natalie grins, flicking her long, jet-black hair from her face.
The second I finish downing half a bottle of Ballygowan, I turn to my new friends. ‘Such craic! I can’t wait to see the costumes! I’m thinking, sparkles, sequins, tassels and stilettos. It’s like all my childhood dress-up fantasies brought to life!’
‘What do you think they’re doing over there?’ Aisling nods to the dance teachers who are engaged in animated conversation with the producers. Teddy’s hands fly dramatically round the air as he speaks but none of us are close enough to hear what he’s saying.
‘They’re probably discussing who’s got the best rhythm and who should be paired with who.’ Natalie wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing what rhythm Michael Murray can keep up with, if you get my drift.’ Her tongue traces over her lips as a seductive snicker slips out.
‘Easy girl.’ Aisling pats her arm and winks.
‘And they decide that in thirty minutes?’ I can’t keep the surprise from my voice.
‘You know what they say in showbiz,’ Aisling says knowingly, ‘either you have it, or you don’t. I’d say they’ll probably pair the two weakest together and let them get voted out first. I’d put money on Gemma being paired with Sonny because the rumours are flying about the two of them already. The producers will do everything in their power to turn that into front-page news. You ladieshaveheard of the kissing curse?’
‘Seriously?’ It sounds a bit unfair, especially on Gemma’s husband who will be the one that really suffers out of the situation.
There have been rumours about Marcus over the years, and even though I knew they were completely unfounded, it was still horrible to hear. Horrible to imagine. Plus the paparazzi always increase tenfold anytime there’s a sniff of potential scandal, which means we can’t be caught even looking at each other the wrong way in public or it risks fuelling the fire. However hard normal marriages are, celebrity marriages are under extortionate pressure with the constant scrutiny of the media.
‘Scandal sells.’ Natalie nods in agreement.
Leaning closer to my new friends, I pull them into a conspiring huddle. ‘So, who do you think they’ll pair us up with then?’
‘I think they’ll put me with one of those twins. Years ago, I mentioned on my breakfast show that I can’t stand their act.’ Aisling winces as the words come out of her mouth. ‘I wouldn’t put it past them to play a clip of the day I said it or something. Awkward…’
Natalie turns to me. ‘Is there anyone here you have history with?’
