Chapter Eight
Nico
“Can I ask you something?” I said as I sat on the floor in the tiny studio Megan and I were using to practise our routines for the Floor on Fire tour we’d be joining in the spring.
It was noticeably not as nice as the one Toby had hired for the two of us to train in, but since it was about a third of the price, it was the one we’d be sticking to.
Besides, Megan and I managed just fine without mirrors, a smooth floor, and heating that worked without having to give the radiator pipes a swift kick.
I swore if the building owner ever got it working properly, I’d die of shock.
“Sure,” Megan said, adjusting her leg warmers over her shoes.
“Am I an asshole?”
Megan raised a sharply shaped eyebrow at me, a smile playing across her lips. “Yes, why?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I thought you knew that. It’s not a bad thing. I mean, if you were being that kind of asshole, I’d tell you.”
I frowned, trying not to let my confusion show. “That makes no fucking sense. Surely an asshole is an asshole?”
She snorted as she began to stretch. “Yes and no. At least, not to me. Maybe it’s because I’ve known you for so long. Anyway, I kinda thought you knew you’re kind of a dickhead? A loveable one, but still a bit of a dickhead.”
I thought for a second while I spread my legs out and began to stretch, grimacing slightly as I flexed my feet. My calves were far too tight for my liking.
If I was being objective, Megan probably had a point. I just hadn’t really considered it before.
“Why’re you asking?” she added as she leant over to one side, tilting her face so she could keep her eyes on me, her long, dark ponytail swinging.
“Just something Toby said.”
“What was it?”
“They came to film some of the training footage yesterday and he was instantly different, like he switched something on,” I said.
I wasn’t sure if I should be talking to Megan about this, but she was about the only option I had.
We’d known each other since we were thirteen and had been paired up together at our dance school.
Since then, she’d become one of my best friends and my second sister, and her opinion was the one that mattered most to me.
We’d won tournaments together, toured, and even done a couple of seasons of Come Dancing With Me together, although she’d left the show at the end of the last tour because she wanted to focus on teaching, workshops, and our studio plans. She knew me better than I knew myself.
Which was irritating as fuck at times, because there was no hiding anything from her.
“Well, yeah, of course he did,” she said as she stood and began to do a few standing stretches. “He’s Toby fucking Darling! He was part of one of the biggest boy bands in the world. Do you know how much scrutiny that comes with?”
“Yeah, obviously.”
She shot me a look that told me she knew I didn’t get it. “Seriously, hun, you’ve known enough celebs over the years. You know they’ve all got personas. Why did you expect him to be different?”
“I don’t know. I think… Okay, this is going to sound weird as fuck and really judgy—”
“Standard for you, but go on.”
I huffed as I pulled my feet in, not really doing anything with them except holding my toes as I continued.
“I didn’t expect him to be anything but his persona?
Like I just kind of assumed he’d be a pretentious, stuck-up, artificial, preening dickhead, and that would be it. And I was ready for that.”
“But? There’s a ‘but’ there. I can feel it.”
“But he’s nothing like that. He’s sweet and self-deprecating and he tries really fucking hard.
Seriously, his work ethic is incredible.
And he cares, like he wants to do a good job.
He’s not doing this for shits and giggles.
He genuinely wanted to be on the show. Apparently, he tried to get his manager to put him forward for the main series, but he wouldn’t, so they settled on the Christmas special. ”
I sighed and smiled as I remembered him dropping that nugget the other day when he’d laughed and said if this was what he went through for one dance, he didn’t think he’d have survived the main show.
“He brings biscuits too,” I added. “Homemade ones. He doesn’t make them, though. His housekeeper, Mrs Nolan, does. Although apparently that’s because she won’t let Toby near the kitchen. He says she doesn’t trust him not to make a mess, and I can believe that.”
Sometimes when he talked about Mrs Nolan, it reminded me of the way I spoke about my mum or my granny.
I didn’t know what sort of relationship he had with his parents, but it didn’t seem like they were close.
He didn’t have any sibling either, although that role seemed to be filled by the other guys from Underground Dreaming.
He’d talked about them a little, but it was a bit more vague, like he was worried about giving too much about their private lives away.
Thinking about it now, that made sense, because I was pretty sure they’d all known unscrupulous bastards over the years who were looking to take advantage of them and get any information they could to plaster all over social media and sell to the press.
“Sounds like a sweet guy,” Megan said, the warm smile on her face making me feel like I was missing something. But I didn’t know what it could be.
“He really is. Which is why it threw me when he went all boy band. Like he was so worried about what he was wearing and that he didn’t have any make-up on. It was weird as fuck. None of my partners have ever done that before. Not to that level anyway.”
“Wow.” Megan shook her head as she straightened up, adjusting the waistband of her leggings. “You are so dense it’s unbelievable.”
“What?” I shrugged and held my hands out because I had no idea what the issue was.
“Of course he was going to be worried, dickhead!” Her exasperation was like a slap in the face, but maybe not unwarranted.
She glared at me as she continued, “He’s spent the past, what, ten, fifteen years of his life living under a microscope.
Of course he’s going to be slightly paranoid about anything his fans will see.
It might not be as bad now they’re not together, but people are still going to pull everything apart.
It’s a defensive mechanism, twat-face! It’s probably not even something he realises he’s doing.
It’ll have been so drilled into his head that it’s second nature.
Like if I said, show me a waltz hold, you’d just do it without thinking. ”
That made a lot of sense and fit with everything Toby had said and done. I cringed as I remembered what I’d said to him.
“What did you do?” Megan asked, folding her arms across her chest and raising her eyebrow, gazing down at me with terrifying ferocity. She might only have been five foot one—four in heels—but when she looked at me like that, I knew I was in the shit.
“I, er, may have told him that he put an act on and that I preferred the other version of him, the one I’ve been starting to see in training,” I said, shuffling slightly in my seat on the floor. “But I wasn’t trying to start shit or be a dick. I was telling him the truth.”
Megan sighed. “And what did he say?”
“That it wasn’t an act. It was media training.
Then he said I have to have a Nico persona too, that I can’t be a snarky, defensive bad boy all the time.
” I shrugged again. “I don’t know. It was weird.
And I dunno, it just got me thinking. Like, I’m passionate and I care about my reputation and my future, but does that make me an asshole?
I want to be memorable, I guess, but still myself.
Because there’s no point being anyone else. That sounds exhausting.”
Megan let out another exasperated sigh and started laughing, rubbing her fingers across her temple as she shook her head.
I didn’t know what I’d said, but it was obviously amusing.
It felt like being laughed at by my sister when I’d said something ridiculous.
If anyone else had reacted like this, I’d have been pissed, but it was Megan, so she got a free pass.
“Honey, I love you, but of course you have a Nico ‘persona’. All performers have one. I can’t believe you think you don’t.”
“I mean… I guess I do?” I said, but it was more of a question than a statement. Maybe it was naive of me, but I’d never really considered it before. I cared about what people thought but not to the extent that I let it dictate my life. At least, I didn’t think I did.
Then again, I had told Toby that I wanted to be memorable, to show people that I was passionate and a good teacher so they’d want to come to our studio and take our classes. I might not consider that a persona, but it was.
It was my public face, the one I wanted people to use to build their impression of me and what I could do. I might be doing it for different reasons than Toby, but I was still doing it.
“Only guess?” Megan asked.
“You’re right, I do,” I said as I finally pulled myself to my feet and shook my legs out. “Do you think I need to apologise?”
“It wouldn’t hurt.” She put her hand on my shoulder and smiled. “But also keep encouraging him to be himself. Let him know you’re a safe person to let his guard down around. Don’t be a dick about the difference between regular Toby and boy band Toby. Be understanding instead.”
“All right. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “You know, it’s a good thing you have me. Otherwise you’d be a fucking disaster.”
“I’m not that bad,” I said.
She wiggled her hand in the air and stuck her tongue out at me. “Eh, you’re acceptable. Could be worse, I suppose.”
“Thanks, you’re so sweet.” I rolled my eyes and took her hand to lead her out into our practice space, stepping around the squishy, unlevel spot on the floor that we’d put money on being from water damage. “Right, what did you want to do today?”
“Honestly? Not much, I’m tired. But we should probably run through the waltz and foxtrot choreo. Also, I want your opinion on something I’m putting together for my senior students.”
“As long as it’s not Christmas themed, then I’ll look at whatever you want.” I’d already heard enough Christmas music to last me for the rest of the year, and we were only halfway through November.
At least it wasn’t Frosty the fucking Snowman. I bloody hated that song.
“It’s not. Don’t worry,” Megan said. “It’s far too late for that. Oh, but you’re coming to the Christmas showcase, right?”
“Yeah, of course.” Megan currently taught at a small dance school in North London, and they did two showcases a year—one in June and one in December. I always put the dates for both in my phone as soon as the school set them because I wouldn’t have missed them for the world.
“Good. And I know it’s short notice, but you wouldn’t fancy doing something for it with me?”
“You’re framing it like a question, but I don’t actually get a choice, do I?”
“Not really,” she said. “I thought we could just do our Viennese waltz from last year? Stick it to something Christmassy? I’m pretty sure we’ve both got costumes that’ll work.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I said. We both knew that routine off by heart—we’d used it for a couple of tours and competitions, and it would be easy to adjust to fit a Christmas song. “We should probably practice that then. Or at least find some music for it.”
“Awesome. I’ve got a couple of ideas already,” Megan said with a smile as she let go of my hand and walked back over to her bag to retrieve her phone and the little Bluetooth speaker she carried with her.
“As long as it’s not—”
“Don’t worry, I know about your hatred for all things snowman based.” She laughed and tapped the screen, sticking her phone in the pocket of her leggings as tinkling bells flooded the speaker. “Let’s try this, and if not, we can try something else.”
She trotted over to me and we picked up hold, the routine coming back to me in the blink of an eye.
“So,” she said as we began to move, and I knew she was going to be asking me questions all evening. “How’s Toby getting on with his hold?”
I smiled, remembering how he’d felt in my arms yesterday. And strangely, I couldn’t wait to see him again tomorrow. “Better. Much better.”