“Oh my!” said Mom, her mouth dropping open.
And then I saw Luka slink onto the stage, shaggy hair and yellow contact lenses that gave him a feral intensity to match his wolfish prowl. This was Volkov, all his cruelty on display, and when he smiled, his lips pulled back in a sneer, his teeth appeared to be sharp and pointed.
I drew in a deep breath. I knew this was Luka, I knew he was acting, but it was chilling to watch him stalk Ash across the stage from the shadows.
Then the music switched, and I smiled to see Ash channeling his inner Elvis as his hips rolled to Bossa Nova Baby, integrated into a fast-paced jive as the other construction workers joined him then peeled off one by one.
We had a brief glimpse of an airplane against a backdrop of rolling clouds before the scene changed to Las Vegas in all its nighttime glory.
Ash tossed away his hardhat and tools, and dropped the bib from his overalls leaving him bare chested, his prominent abs on display. He had a huge, surprised grin on his face as eight Las Vegas showgirls strutted onto the stage to Hanky Panky, all towering headdresses and wide smiles, led by Yveta, thick makeup hiding her scar, but only as long as she kept smiling. The moment she stopped, the ridged scarring was obvious. How bitterly ironic.
Gary sashayed onto the floor, doing the gayest jive I’d ever seen, and the audience started to laugh. Ash and Gary danced side-by-side, sharp kicks and flicks, moving so rapidly I was out of breath just watching. Then Ash leap-frogged over Gary, achieving the full splits mid-air and landing perfectly in time. Gary did a slide through Ash’s open legs, winking at the audience.
Two of the showgirls danced forward and the jive became increasingly athletic as the girls threw themselves at Ash and Gary in a series of stunning Lindy Hop inspired jumps and lifts. The audience clapped and cheered their appreciation.
I noticed that the wolf character was still in the background, watching silently as he prowled the edges of the stage, an ominous presence, occasionally licking his lips. Creepy.
Mom squeezed my hand and I leaned my head toward her.
“Ash is amazing! This is fantastic!”
I threw her a wide grin.
“Told you so!” I whispered.
The jive continued with increasing craziness as Ash exited the stage for his first costume change.
Moments later, the backdrop became an opulent hotel room with two women dressed in a hooker’s version of Catholic schoolgirls, perched on a couch. I hoped there weren’t any real schoolgirls in the audience.
Then Oliver swept onto the stage. Even though I knew he wasn’t the real Sergei, it gave me chills to see the navy three-piece suit and neatly-combed gray wig. Volkov spun him around and they crossed the stage together in a slow foxtrot to the strains of Sam the Sham’s Little Red Riding Hood.
Yveta and Ash edged onto the stage looking lost and scared, hand in hand. Yveta wore a fifties-style prom dress in soft pink, and Ash had a scarlet silk shirt that clung to his chest and arms, disappearing into tight black pants that showcased his trim waist, narrow hips and beautifully toned butt.
The music was chilling, telling the story of these two innocents, babes in the wood, dancing with wolves.
A tasty treat for a big bad wolf . . .
The sinister music rose and fell as the creepiest American smooth that I’d ever seen flowed across the stage. Ash danced with Yveta and then was whisked away by Sergei. I choked as Oliver stroked Ash’s chest and ass suggestively. I wondered how much this bothered Ash, how many bad memories it brought back. I was shocked when Oliver/Sergei cupped Ash’s genitals and smiled. A horrified gasp undercut the sensual music as the audience grasped the changing tone of the story.
The two Catholic schoolgirls danced together, their movements so sexual that I broke out into a sweat and saw Dad shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Never had ballroom dancing been so beautiful and so disturbing.
I nearly retched when Sergei pulled out a knife and drew it across one of the girls’ throats, filled a wineglass with the ‘blood’ and then drank it as she slumped to the floor, her eyes lifeless.
It was so shocking, so unexpected, and a brilliant metaphor for everything that had happened.
“That’s too much,” Mom muttered, unable to look.
She wasn’t the only one.
“It’s real,” I whispered back.
“Too real,” she said, and I couldn’t disagree as my stomach churned.
The lights dimmed and the music warped and changed again, this time to a nightclub beat. The scenery was familiar . . .
Vanessa tapped me on the shoulder.
“Laney, is that our nightclub?”
She was right. Ash had recreated the club in Las Vegas where we’d met. And he was dancing suggestively with six women, seeming to promise them everything as they tucked dollar bills in the front of his pants.