She shoots me an impish look. “You heard what the man said.”
“Yes, Sarge!” I bark, standing at attention.
She giggles. I grin. This woman has a knack for bringing out the frisky pup in me that I thought long gone…
We step into position. The first half of the lesson goes well. Laura picks up the basic steps quickly. She has a good sense of rhythm, which I already knew from our dance at the wedding party. Mario flits around the room like a hummingbird, correcting posture, adjusting hands, and shouting encouragement. I’m focused on improving my technique, when I hear the door open.
Lino steps in, carrying bottles of water. “I thought you might need refreshments.”
“Ah, perfect timing,” Mario says. “Thank you, my friend!”
Lino sets the bottles on a side table but doesn’t leave. He moves to the air conditioner controls, pretending to examine them.
My grip on Laura’s hand tightens.
She looks up at me. “You OK?”
“Yes,” I say.
Lino keeps fumbling with the controls, which earns him a puzzled look from Mario.
“Right foot forward!” Mario calls Laura and me back into position. “And turn!”
I guide Laura through the steps, hoping she doesn’t sense my irritation and misinterpret it. There’s no more doubt left in my mind that Lino is a mole. I need to relay that to Pedro.
Finally, Lino steps away from the AC. He casts one last glance our way and heads to the exit.
Bye, spy—and don’t come back!
Ten minutes later, Mario declares that Laura and I are ready to graduate to the advanced level. Laura panics. As we begin practicing a more complex routine, her earlier ease seeps away. Her movements become sharp and jerky. It’s like she’s trying to memorize the steps instead of feeling the rhythm. Her frustration is palpable, and it’s radiating off her in waves.
“You’re overthinking it,” I murmur.
“You’re doing great, Laura” Mario lies. “Just be sure to follow Antoine’s lead.”
“I am,” she snaps before shifting a frustrated gaze at me. “We lucked out with LeRoc, but this is going to be a disaster. Consider yourself forewarned.”
She halts, and for a moment, I wonder if she’s about to throw in the towel.
On impulse, my hand tightens on her waist. “Let’s try again.”
“Do the basic steps,” Mario says.
She exhales, muttering something I don’t quite catch. We revert to the basic step. This time, her movements are smoother, more in sync with mine, and she finally relaxes.
“Much better,” I praise her.
Her eyes flicker to meet mine.
“Excellent!” Mario cheers. “You two have a great chemistry. We’re going to keep the steps, holds and turns simple, so it can shine through.”
I nod to show my approval of this approach. Which baffles me. Settling on “simple” is against my nature. But, for some reason, my priority for this challenge isn’t to come out on top tomorrow night, but for Laura to have fun.
“You’ll be crowned king and queen of the party tomorrow!” Mario peps us up.
“FYI, I’m already a queen,” Laura says. “Just ask my shrink.”
Her gentle, self-deprecating humor cracks me up.
