here in the soundstage she could take the longer steps he wanted up and down this pretend street in Buenos Aires.
Pagan began it seemingly all alone. The accordion would start (cue the wizened one at the piano hitting some mournful chords) and Daisy would do a few little dance steps sadly to herself, dreaming of doing them with a partner.
Jared put himself in front of Pagan and had her follow him as he reminded both of them how it went. Slow, slow, step forward, side. Then back, back, quick, quick, slow—and cross. The pace picked up as he did it again, moving into a forward ocho.
Pagan followed him easily. These were the basic steps of the tango, the first thing beginners learned, moving into slightly more complicated flourishes. She mimicked Jared’s sad little slump in the shoulders and the dreamy tilt to his head, so that he clapped once, loudly, in approval. People always thought you were doing it right if you did it exactly like them.
“And that is when you—” he gestured to Tony “—take her hand and begin the dance for real. All right? Now, together at last!”
Tony stepped into Jared’s spot and took Pagan by the waist with one hand, taking her other hand in his. His grip, like his handshake, was a little too firm. But she stepped backward in a surprised back ocho, as she’d rehearsed it, and Tony did a good job of keeping up.
Pagan’s character went through a predictable series of emotions as her solo dance became a duet. Taken aback at first, she then tried to run away from Tony, only to have him interpose and show her a few more beguiling steps. Pulled in for a few seconds, she would reject him again, and again, as he pursued and persuaded, until at last she was swept up in the dance.
The more she thought about it, the more obnoxious Tony’s character became. If a girl doesn’t want to dance with you, leave her alone! The more she thought about the script, the worse it seemed. But she’d said yes to it. She was as much to blame for the darn thing as Jared, Tony and Universal Pictures. Might as well give it her all.
Clearly Tony had been rehearsing in New York with someone, as Pagan had been practicing with Jared here in LA. They promenaded smoothly through the first part of the dance three times.
However, Tony’s eyes kept dipping down to her cleavage. His hands pushed and pulled her roughly. Whenever he could, his hot hands pulled her hips in so close his hip bones poked her waist, which was both nauseating and wrong, tango-wise. Jared had to keep correcting him.
But Tony seemed to think that because Pagan’s character was playing hard to get, Pagan must be doing the same. He dug his thumbs into her waist and stroked her palm with a finger at odd little moments, and when she startled or pulled away, he treated it as part of the dance.
You didn’t have to like your costar to act with them. But the more Tony Perry manhandled Pagan and flashed leering smiles at her neckline, the tenser and more resentful she became. Her shoulders tightened, her arms stiffened to keep him at bay.
Maybe it was good for the dance because the fifth time they did it, Jared clapped twice, nodding. “We are getting there. Your resistance is excellent, Daisy, but you need to melt more when we get to the sentada. Again, but with more feeling, please. Remember, Daisy—” he’d taken to calling them by their character names “—Juan here is the center of gravity, and you circle around him, like a planet around the sun.”
Or like a girl around a black hole, Pagan thought. She really did not want to cross Tony’s event horizon.
Tony grinned, his lips vanishing against his teeth, which gleamed unnaturally against his newly tan skin. “I’ll make sure she stays in my orbit.”
Men. Always the center of everything.
She did her damnedest to set aside her percolating dislike as they ran through it again. Pagan was a better actress than a dancer, but years of lessons and hard work enabled her to keep up with anyone and give it a bit of flair. She tried to make up for anything lacking in her dancing with her acting, lending her reluctance a subtext of longing and desire. Rex Harrison couldn’t sing for beans, but he’d acted up a storm while he sang in My Fair Lady and it turned out wonderfully. Maybe she could do the same for dancing.
It finally started to flow. She was feeling confident, graceful, sexy, until Tony threw her backward into a deep, romantic dip, brought his cheek to hers and whispered, “We’re gonna do it after this, right?”
Pagan’s head reared back, and she shoved at him with her free hand, trying to get her feet back under her. His grip on her right hand tightened painfully, and they struggled, with Pagan still dipped over backward.
“Let me go!” Pagan snapped, and he dropped her. She thumped to the floor, flat on her butt.
“What is this?” Jared spread his arms wide. “It was going so well.”
Pagan got to her feet, roping a leash around her mounting rage to keep herself from striking Tony. “That,” she said to her costar between clenched teeth, “was not appropriate.”
“Oh, come on,” Tony said, pushing greasy hair out of his narrowed eyes. “You put out for Nicky Raven, and I’m better looking than him. No reason you won’t put out for me.”
Pagan’s stomach contracted; her throat closed. For once she had no smart remark. She was shrinking inside, getting smaller and smaller. Soon there’d be nothing of her left.
How had he known? Or was it only a guess?
She was accustomed to the hatred that came her way for killing Daddy and Ava in the car crash. But most of the world didn’t know the intimate details of the ten months she’d dated Nicky. Pagan’s image until the crash had been sweet and spotless. Good girls didn’t sleep with their boyfriends. Good girls waited for marriage, and she’d seemed like a good girl till it all came falling down.
After the crash, few people ever learned she’d started drinking at age twelve. The studio’s publicity team had made sure any previous, smaller incidents were never brought to light.
Fewer still knew that she’d gone further with Nicky than good girls allowed.
Jared took Tony by the shoulder and pulled him aside to speak with him alone on the other side of the room. Tony looked over at her, his nose wrinkled with contempt, and she had to look away.
Pagan had started dating Nicky when she was fifteen and deep into the bottle to numb herself after Mama’s suicide. Having Nicky’s delighted attention, knowing he desired her above all else, had been almost as intoxicating as the martinis. He’d nearly filled the dark hole in her heart. For that reason alone she would’ve done anything he asked, as long as he loved her.
And Nicky had truly loved her. He still might, even though he’d impregnated and married another girl, a girl who looked an awful lot like Pagan.
Whether or not she’d truly loved Nicky, Pagan wasn’t so sure now. The alcohol had clouded her judgment, to say the least. She’d done a lot of things she might not have, if she’d been sober. She regretted so much, but before the accident there had also been good times. That period in her life could be smeared with either a gritty or a rosy haze, depending on the day.
She realized she was leaning against the bare wall, shoulders hunched, so she forced herself to stand up tall. Good posture was the key to faking self-assurance, Mama had said. And once you fooled everyone else into thinking you were confident, somehow you fooled yourself. Right now she needed to fake it, hard.
Jared left Tony and came to stand in front of her, a watchful look in his eye. “How are we doing?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She kept her tone cool, distant. At least she wasn’t trembling.
“I’ve asked Tony to change his attitude, and he has agreed. We need to make this work. How do you feel about that?”
Pagan glanced over at Tony. He was staring fixedly at a chalk mark on the floor.
“I think we should take a break for the rest of the day and try again tomorrow.”
Jared