Chapter 20
Ledger
An abundance of caution.
That’s what the municipal airport called the delay. I’ll just call it a huge problem.
We don’t land in Denver until past nine p.m., and it’s nearly ten-thirty before I arrive at Mynt Peak. I’ve been texting Kaisa since we landed, without a response.
It’s go time. The Showdown is in less than 24 hours, and she has a lot going on.
I know I won’t look at all like the pros. I’m not good, per se. But I’m doing it. And it’s for charity, so in the end, it doesn’t matter if I sickle my feet or can’t swivel my hips correctly.
But for Kaisa, I want it to look right. I want her to feel proud of herself...and me.
When I reach the resort, I head straight to the ballroom. If I’m lucky, I’ll catch her there.
But when I push through the doors, the music’s deafening. There she is, observing a couple dancing, and she doesn’t hear me enter. She’s frowning, analyzing everything with the trained eye of a professional.
And I feel a jolt down to my toes. I care about her so much.
She’s pale, her face drawn. It looks like she’s barely slept.
I take my shoes off and stand to the side of the door until, after a couple of run throughs, she tells the couple they’re finished with the rehearsal. She gives each of them a high five.
Then, when she rotates to me, her smile widens and the pinched look on her face softens. She breathes out a breath and lifts a hand in a wave. A zag of truth zings between us. I want to go to her and pull her close. I want to apologize for my tardiness and for my stubbornness and just…everything.
When the couple change their shoes and leave the ballroom, I undo my bag and pull out my shoes.
She presses out a hand. “There isn’t time to rehearse tonight.” I can hear the weariness in her voice. In her grey sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder and her dark green leggings, she does not look like she’s feeling well.
“I’ve watched the video you sent so many times,” I say.
“Good.” She offers a smile and reaches up to squeeze my shoulder. “The front desk is having room service sent to your room in case you’re hungry.”
I open my mouth to thank her for the kind gesture, but she interrupts. “Hey, Ledger, I’m really glad you came, but I need to be done for the night. We have an early start in the morning.”
“Right. Rehearsal at six, like before.”
She hesitates. “Yes. I might have to duck out for a bit at seven to talk with the set designers, but yeah. Let’s say six.”
“Can I help with anything now? Is there anything I can do?” I reach for her hand. We’re used to physical touch. That’s what being dance partners will do. Yet there’s a wall between us.
“I’m okay. I’ll let you know if something comes up.” She offers a weary smile. “Get some rest.”
I hesitate. I’m not ready to leave her, especially because she doesn’t look like she’s feeling all that great. “I’d love to take something off your plate.”
“How about you go and eat the food off your plate?” She gives up a little chuckle. “I’m fine. Really. And I’m relieved you made it safely.”
Before I can even respond, she looks down at her phone, frowns, and takes a call. “Yes, I’ll hold for Wynn.”
I leave the ballroom, backing out slowly, unsure if I should offer again to stay and help or just get out of her hair.
She flashes a brave smile in my direction before speaking into her phone again. I’ll go and rest…and eat…for now. And then tomorrow, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure the Peppermynt Twist Showdown knocks everybody’s socks off.
I left the ballroom last night, feeling uneasy. I texted her a little later to ask again if there was anything I could do for her. She didn’t respond.
When I walk through the doors of the ballroom bright and early, it’s chaotic, and it looks like it’s been that way for a while. There’s a tech crew and a few people on headsets looking busy. Kaisa is nowhere to be found.
“Oh, Mr. Bishop. I’m glad you’re here,” a woman with a Russian accent says, a bolt of fabric under one arm. She has a measuring tape hanging around her neck and her hair is piled on top of her head in a thick, messy bun.
“Yes,” I say, glancing around the room. “Are you fitting me for my costume?”
“Yes, yes,” she says dismissively. “Come with me.” She tugs on my hand and drags me to the conference room, the place I first started to get to know Kaisa.
Memories of this past week slam into me as we enter.
Racks full of costumes hanging on fabric hangers crowd the room, and several sewing machines sit haphazardly on card tables.
There are fabric pieces, ribbon, glitter, and spools of thread everywhere.
I…really, really like Kaisa. I’ve got it bad for her. I have to do a good job tonight, if for no other reason than to help her succeed. To give her the gift of a good performance. I have a lot of work today to pull this off and make it good.
The costumer has the measuring tape around my waist, and she tuts and hems and haws.
“Thank you for helping with my costume,” I say.
She eyes me closely. “Help? No. I make the whole thing.”
“Oh, well a double thank you is in order then. What’s your name?”
“Olga, Mr. Bishop.” She gives me a fleeting smile and then continues to measure me, this time around my thigh. “Too big,” she mutters.
“My thigh is too big, or…”
She doesn’t respond, lost in her own thoughts and calculations.
Finally, she meets my eye. “You stay. I’ll go get your costume, okay?”
I nod, and then, just because I can’t wait any longer, I blurt, “Have you seen Kaisa?” My gaze goes to the open door. “She was supposed to meet me here this morning.”
“We all wait for her,” the woman says, then presses her lips together. “She was supposed to be here. Five-forty-five.” She shakes her head.
So, no one has seen her yet? It’s ten minutes past six. This isn’t like her. Alarm ripples through me. Is she okay? She wouldn’t be late ever, but especially on a day like today.
While Olga is away gathering my costume pieces, I text Kaisa:
Is everything okay? Excited to rehearse with you this morning!
What if she’s sick? Or hurt somewhere?
I try to call her, but it goes straight to voicemail. I’ve got to go check on her.
But Olga’s in the doorway, with all my things hanging on a hanger, and I must admit, I’m a little shocked at the look of it all.
She shows me each piece, the tight black pants with a racing stripe of pink sequins down each leg, the white button-down shirt which, I notice, is missing several buttons at the top, and an untied bow tie, made from the same material as the pink sequined stripes.
“You try on. Then, I pin.” She presses the things into my hands, rushes from the room, and closes the door behind her.
Okay. I guess I’m getting dressed in here. No time to be shy. It’s like the locker room, right?
Wrong. Because no sooner do I have the pants pulled up to my waist, which is a feat in and of itself because they are tight, Olga bursts back in.
“You decent?” she asks, not waiting for an answer before she approaches me.
“Sometimes the athletes are shy.” She giggles and then appraises me.
I feel self-conscious, but I know it’s her job to figure out how to make these clothes look good.
“Put shirt on!” she commands.
I chuckle. “You didn’t give me a chance.”
I take a step to the rack that holds the rest of my costume pieces, but the action of doing so causes a ripping sound. My pants split open!
The crotch area has split open.
I have a large hole in the crotch of my sparkly pants.
My eyes wide, I turn to Olga. Surprisingly, she’s smiling, shaking her head. “I told them too big.”
Ah. She knew my thighs would be bigger than allowed for.
She rushes to me and surveys the damage. “Knew it. But we fix. Still plenty of time to fix.” She tuts some more. “Try the shirt!” she urges and I do, with a gaping hole in my crotch. There’s a…breeze down there as I button up the shirt. Yep, I was right. The buttons only go up halfway.
“Man chest,” Olga says, her gaze going to my chest and then back up to my eyes. She must see my horror. I’m not shy usually, just when I know thousands of eyes are going to be on me as I dance on stage. A lot more coverage would be nice about now.
“It’s fine,” she reassures. “We use makeup on the white.” She gestures to my chest. I guess it is white. It’s December, so it makes sense. I haven’t been hanging out on the beach.
She puts a bunch of pins in her mouth and then goes to work on the shirt. “We tuck here and here,” she says, mostly to herself. “It work fine. We fix the pants.”
After a moment, she’s satisfied that she has all the information she needs. “You two. Such a pretty, pretty couple!”
“Thanks,” I offer, glancing again to the doorway to see if I can catch a glimpse of Kaisa. “I need to go find her.”
“You go. Maybe she sleep in.”
We both laugh. Kaisa would never sleep in.
And with that Olga heads to the door. “Remove carefully so the pins stay. Leave clothes here.” She pats a metal table near the door. “I fix.”
“Uh, thanks, Olga!” I say as she closes the door. I shimmy and shake to get these clothes off me in a hurry. It’s not easy to peel the pants off, but I manage with only minimal damage to the already wrecked groin area.
Where is Kaisa? I have to make sure she’s okay.