Ash
THE MEETING WITH Volkov had left us all shaken. It was clear that Marta wasn’t in that room willingly, and she looked terrified. The biker guy had been creepy enough, but those Russians . . . not people you messed with.
I hoped I wouldn’t see any of them again.
Trixie was waiting outside the suite. She didn’t seem surprised when she saw our shocked faces.
“Who are these guys?” I asked quietly as we rode the elevator back to the ground floor.
She gave a grim smile. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”
I had. I just didn’t want to believe it.
“Bratva.”
Russian mafia.
It was Yveta who had spoken. Trixie stared back, but didn’t answer directly.
“It’s not always so bad. Mostly they just want to do business, you know.”
Galina gripped my hand tightly and I gave it an encouraging squeeze although I felt just as worried as her and Yveta.
“Sergei . . .” Trixie shivered and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s a sick bastard. Thank God I’m not his type,” and when she glanced at me, her expression was pitying. “And Oleg . . . he likes them young. Very young.”
She swallowed and looked down.
“They don’t usually come to the theater—that’s a legit business. You should be okay. Just keep your mouths shut and stay out of trouble. That’s the best advice I can give you.” She forced a fake smile. “That’s showbiz!”
I shook my head, and her smile dropped away.
“You do what you gotta do, kid. Which in this case is nothing. You’ll learn.”
“But that’s crazy!”
“Comments like that will get you killed,” Trixie snapped, dropping the ditzy blonde act.
Galina and Yveta were having a silent conversation, although both of them looked scared.
When Trixie left us in the lobby, I turned to them.
“Can you believe this shit?!”
Galina paled even further, swaying slightly.
“Shut up!” Yveta hissed at me.
“But . . .”
“Listen,” she said, grabbing my arm and towing me toward the staff area. “Those are Bratva! You don’t mess with them. You don’t make them angry. Not if you want to live.”
Galina swallowed and nodded her agreement.
“Then what the hell are we supposed to do?”
“What we came here for—we dance.”
And she marched off, dragging Galina with her. I watched them in silence, wondering if she was right.
I decided I’d talk to Gary. But when I opened the door to our room, it was empty. I waited up for him for a while, but then I remembered he had a date with one of the guys in the band.
Frustrated and disgusted with my own cowardice, I finally fell into an uneasy sleep.
My last waking thought was that I hadn’t gotten my cell phone back either.
The next morning, Galina and Yveta avoided me at breakfast. Honey raised an eyebrow.
“Lovers quarrel?”
“What?”
She sat down next to me, a bowl of fruit and yogurt in front of her.
“Why are they giving you the cold shoulder?”
I took a sip of coffee.
“How much do you know about this guy Volkov?”
“Oh,” she said, understanding in her expression. “You heard the rumors.”
She knew. They all knew.
“It’s more than that. We saw . . .”
“Look, Ash, I’ve lived in Vegas for a few years now. You hear stuff. It’s best to ignore it. Asking questions isn’t a good idea.”
“That’s what Trixie said.”
“You should listen to her.”
I rubbed my forehead. “But . . . ?”
She rested her hand on my arm and looked at me seriously.
“Ash, asking questions isn’t a good idea.”
Then she stood up and walked away.
Across the room, Yveta glanced at me briefly, then dropped her gaze back to the table.
Elaine worked us relentlessly all day. She’d decided to add another Latin number to the show, and as there were only three of us who were trained in mambo let alone salsa, it was slow going. We were professional dancers, but still, it’s a tricky rhythm to pick up. Salsa is a street dance with no frame, and doesn’t even break on the right count. A lot of ballroom dancers despise salsa, but I’d always liked it.
When you’re learning, teachers say you only dance three of the four steps, but that’s not strictly true. It’s a fluid, loose dance, and you’re constantly in motion.
The hip action is mostly relaxed, subtle, especially for the men, and your weight is placed onto a slightly bent knee. There are no heel leads, unlike in ballroom, so steps are taken first with the ball of the foot in contact with the floor, and then with the heel lowering when the weight is fully transferred.
Armography has to stay natural or it looks contrived and weird. You have to let your arms react naturally to body movement, and held slightly above waist level.
And there are a lot of lifts you can use in a showdance salsa. Elaine must have been trying to kill me and Gary, because it felt like she was working us through every lift she knew, and then inventing a few on top.
“Again!” she shouted. “Grace—more hip action.”