Chapter 4
Ledger
I’m a team player. I don’t like to rock the boat. If I can do things that help the common good, then great. I’ll do them.
But this situation?
Kaisa Halberg is fire and ice wrapped up in a flaming red bow. She’s bossy and demanding. And I’m partnered with her. I have to ballroom dance with her in front of a television audience, and there’s no way to get out of it.
I should be at football practice with the guys, not ballroom dancing with her.
When it’s clear that it’s just me and Kaisa left, which means we’re partnering up, I paste on a smile and step towards her.
We meet in the middle of the ballroom floor and instead of giving each other a hug in greeting like the other couples did, she lifts her hand in a fist bump while I lift mine to shake.
Our hands smash together in an awkward twist.
“Ouch,” Kaisa says under her breath. “That hurt a strange amount.”
That hurt? If that hurt her, what will dancing with her be like? Maybe she should do some football workouts to toughen up.
“Sorry,” I offer, woodenly. I don’t have the compassion I need to have, which frustrates me because I want to do better. If this past week in football has taught me anything, it’s that I need to do better.
“Okay, everybody,” Kaisa yells and that’s when I notice it again, the trace of an accent.
She’s probably northern European, if I had to guess.
“The rest of our rehearsal tonight is just about getting to know each other. We won’t start structured rehearsals until tomorrow morning, so tonight’s casual.
Each professional dancer has choreographed their own routine for you to learn, and we’ll hold rehearsals both here in the ballroom and in several conference rooms at the resort. ”
An Olympic swimmer bends forward a little and claps rapidly, like this is the most exciting thing ever. “Can’t wait to get started!” It’s like he’s cheering on a teammate in the water or something, and everyone else is eating this up. They seem a little nervous, yeah, but…excited.
Huh.
Kaisa Halberg continues. “The performance on the twenty-third will have a sizzling opener by the professionals. It’s nearly ready to go, so now we’re excited to turn our focus onto you.”
I have to hand it to her, she seems like a natural leader. When she speaks, people listen.
“After the opener with the pros, you each have a turn coming onto the floor and performing your number as a couple. Once you’ve all had a turn, the pros will favor us with a few numbers we performed on Lights, Camera, Dance!
Then, all the pros and athletes come back out onto the floor and do a short, eight bar set to finish it off.
There’s also food, and the guests will dance to the live band. All and all, it’s going to be amazing.”
She smiles and I find myself smiling, too, even though I don’t want to. There’s just something about her that’s interesting, that’s all.
“Any questions?” Kaisa asks, and one of the female athletes raises her hand.
“What are we supposed to wear? I don’t do sequins.”
There’s a snicker, and a brief look of panic crosses Kaisa’s face.
She blinks. “As much as my sequin-loving heart hates to hear that, I get it. And that’s fine.
The costume designers are coming a couple of days before the event to get you measured and to create the costumes.
You will have some say on what you end up wearing. ”
One of the pros laughs a little and Kaisa clarifies with an outstretched hand. “Okay, not much say, to be honest. But it’s not like we’re trying to make you all uncomfortable. We’re just grateful you’re here.”
“It’s gonna be kind of fun,” A starter for a WMBA team says. I don’t miss the slight flash of relief on Kaisa’s face.
“You’re right, it’s going to be a great experience! We’ll all learn new things and make new friends. And because it’s for charity, we’ll be helping out a lot of people. Any other questions?”
“I’m not wearing a leotard, that’s all I’m saying,” A pro golfer says with half a laugh and his arms folded across his chest.
“Oh, no, we’re requiring you to wear a leo,” his partner says with a grin. “A tight one with see-through cut outs.”
He blanches and then she giggles and swipes at his shoulder. “Kidding! But it’s probably going to be something you’ve never worn before.”
“You’re going to feel amazing and so proud of yourself in the end,” Kaisa reassures us all.
I seriously doubt that. I went into sports because not only did I love it, I was good at it. I don’t dance because I’ve never loved it and I’ve never been good at it.
“Time to pair up and get to know each other! Dance pros, let me know if you need anything.” Kaisa surveys the group one last time, like she’s a mother hen watching her baby chicks heading out into the world.
“Let’s go over here,” Kaisa shoots me a quick glance before walking ahead of me, guiding me to an open door in the back of the ballroom. “They said we could use this room.”
It’s a conference room, but even though the small table is pushed up against the wall and the chairs are stacked, there’s not much room to dance.
“It’s…cozy,” I say.
She rewards me with a slight smile before it turns into a frown. She does a slight hop up to sit on the table, her long legs crossed at the knee and almost touching the floor. Even though the door is still ajar, this feels sort of intimate in here.
“So, tell me about yourself,” she says, a touch of her animosity from earlier still on her face. It’s clear she’s trying to hold back—to remain professional.
“Is the fact that I don’t want to do this enough of an introduction?” Even as I’m saying it, I regret it. Ugh. I’m supposed to be learning how to be gracious and polite, not getting worse. This is her thing, her element, her job. It’s not her fault that I can’t be in Texas practicing with my team.
Her jaw tightens. “Noted. But no. Tell me the basics. Like we’re speed dating.” Her legs swing back and forth, highlighting their length. They’re the only part of her that seems easy breezy, though. Her shoulders and neck are cemented in stone, like she’s one wrong move away from a spicy comeback.
I straighten my light blue dri fit t-shirt. “I’m from Indiana,” I explain. “Born and raised in Shelbyville, a small farming community. I went to Purdue and then after I graduated in chemistry, I got drafted for the San Antonio Wolves. That was four years ago.”
She nods. “So you’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Got it.” She challenges me with a snakelike smile.
“Tell me about you.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“I grew up in Finland, and my name is pronounced Ky-suh.” She smirks. “Just getting that out of the way because most don’t know how to say it.”
“Finland? My coach’s wife is from Finland.”
Her face lights up for real. She’s glowing—and it’s a beautiful sight.
“I hardly ever hear of any Finns here in the States!” she says.
“Yeah, her name is Maija Whittaker. She’s awesome. She designs clothes, she wrote a coffee table book on Scandinavian décor. She even brings the entire team homemade Finnish Christmas Stars every Christmas.”
Kaisa clutches my arm, her smooth hand cooling my skin. “Those are my favorite. I haven’t had any in years. My mom offered to mail me some but they’re only good if they’re fresh.” Her laugh is genuine—another first. “I can’t believe it. Now I really want Joulutorttu.”
At my confused expression, she laughs again. “It’s what we call them in my country.” Her head drops back and she smacks her lips. “They’re like a pastry and a cookie in one. My favorite has lingonberry jam filling.”
“I hope you get some soon.” And I really do. The way she lit up at the mention of it was remarkable. “Tell me more about yourself.”
“Well, I started dancing at age three. Switched to ballroom full-time at age nine. And the rest is history.” She lifts a tan shoulder and then slides off the table to a stand.
“Resting time is up.” She glances around the conference room.
“There should be enough room to practice the basics of the rumba.” She gives a definitive nod.
“No. You can’t yada yada over an entire decade or two. Tell me what happened after age nine.”
“Yada yada?” she repeats slowly, her brow wavy.
“Oh, right. You’re Finnish, so you might not know. It’s from an American TV show a long time ago.”
“I probably know more American television than you do. We had a little dropdown screen in our car and my mom would put in discs of shows for me to watch. Dance was a long drive from home and she wanted me to not be bored and to learn English.”
“Ah, I see. Now we’re getting somewhere. American television is why you speak English so well.”
“That and the English classes in school and the tutor when I arrived in the States at fourteen.” She raises her chin. “And just sheer determination. I wasn’t going to fail learning it.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“Good.” Her mouth forms a taut line before continuing. “You should know I’m not the failing type. It’s good you have some understanding of that up front.”
“I’m not the failing type, either,” I insist.
“Good,” she repeats, shaking out each of her legs in turn. “I’m due for a big win, Ledger. I don’t know if you watch the show—”
“I haven’t yet,” I interject.
She shunts out a quick breath. “Well, then I’ll tell you that my first season, three years ago, my partner and I nearly won.
We made it to the semifinals but there were…
some personal issues and…” She chews on her lip.
Hard. “As a result, we scored the fewest votes and were sent home. Then, the last two seasons have been quite unfortunate. My actor partners were…underwhelming. Quirky, character actor types not exactly known for their dance abilities. They were nice guys, but the media kept calling our performances ‘beige.’”
I whistle and shake my head. “That’s the worst kind of insult.” Kaisa Halberg is over-the-top. I can only imagine how she felt about being called “beige.”
“Yep. Bland and boring, according to online chatter.” She gives an irritated shake of her head. “And both of the actors were the first to admit they had two left feet. Both years, I was kicked out right near the beginning.” Her eyes narrow and she stares at the floor.
“That had to have hurt.”
Her gaze flashes to mine and she straightens, swinging her arms in front of her chest to warm up. “So you understand why I have to show Wynn Clark that I’m not beige and I’m not boring.”
I know that name. Wynn Clark has been one of the top TV producers in the country for decades.
“You going to push me until we’re so good, we win the mirror ball trophy?”
Her mouth twists to one side as she appraises me. “That’s a different show. But yes. We’re definitely going to be the best.”
“How do you know that? There are a lot of talented, driven people out there.” I stick a thumb out behind me in the direction of the door.
Frankly, some of them scare me.
“I know it because it’s the truth. We’re going to have the best number in the whole show.”
I admire the drive, I really do. I respect a woman who works hard for the things she wants. “Or die trying?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes and nods. “Or die trying.”