Hazards on the Hardwood (Hazards and Hijinks) (2 page)

2

Nicholas Kincaid, at night “a dancing machine” and by day, a preacher at a local Brooklyn church.
Left the retail industry when he was thirty-five, he found solace and satisfaction of sorts in theology. He loved shepherding his “flock.” They loved him and hung on his every word. For the last few years, he preached at the Good Haven Community Church and somehow, realizing his God-given gift of “dancing before the Lord”, he decided to take ballroom dancing lessons. It worked out nicely for him and he was now a regular at Miss Margaret’s School of Dance on Fourth Street.

Dancing gave him a renewed confidence that carried over into his preaching. He had always loved people and cared about their lives and circumstances, to a fault, really. He was always mixed up in some kind of charitable event or other. At the forefront of his causes was an organization that helped out single parents. He had never married and at forty-five years old, the only way he could relate to the human race was to get right into the thick of it. He volunteered at the single parent ministries at a mega-church down the street and helped those parents with their children’s problems. Though he would never be a “Dr. Phil,” he definitely had stellar people skills! He never lacked for those in need of his excellent expertise and counseling abilities.

Ballroom dancing came to him naturally. He floated across the hardwood as if on ice skates. People stood and gazed at him admirably; staring at him as if hypnotized by his fluid movements. His dapper appearance and smooth mannerisms made him the envy of all those ladies partnered with gentlemen with two left feet. Dancing wasn’t just a pastime for Nicholas, it defined him. God had bestowed on him a skill that would last a lifetime and could pay off with some prize money, as well.

Receiving the newsletter notifying him of the Lakeside Dance Competition, his heart started beating rapidly. This was what he had been waiting for. The thoughts rushed into his brain about who would become his partner for this contest. And then, as if a bolt of lightning hit him, he knew…Caroline Smathers!

Oh yes, she would do nicely; socialite, elegant demeanor, she would be a great fit for this competition. She was definitely a bit of a snob, growing up in the Hamptons, old Wall Street money. Caroline was an heiress extraordinaire! Real estate holdings, property on both the East coast and West coast filled her parents’ portfolio. There were stocks and bearer bonds and it was rumored that there was some of the family’s funds were held in foreign oil companies. In other words, this family was extremely wealthy. She owned one of Central Park West’s lavish apartments.

One thing he did know about her character was that she was never without a circle of followers wanting to dress like her and wishing they had even a tenth of her wealth. This woman didn’t know the meaning of fake anything! Her jewels were authentic, designer clothing was all she wore and her hair and makeup were impeccable. She walked with a certain grace and elegance that shouted, “GOOD BREEDING!”

The dark side of Caroline, if there was one, was that she had trouble with relationships. She wasn’t able to reciprocate people’s affections or good deeds. She was a late riser and loathed people greeting her early in the morning before she had her morning coffee and massage! You could definitely say she was spoiled rotten.

Nicholas congratulated himself as he recalled how he could get Caroline to do just about anything if he sweet-talked and complemented her just right. She was putty in his hands if he said the right words and she was in her agreeable mood. If he wanted to step out for the evening with her on his arm, he would simply smile gallantly, tell her how beautiful she was and let the magic happen. The other side of the coin; it always had a “what’s in it for Caroline” slant.

So with all the thoughts pushed aside, Nicholas picked up his phone and called Caroline. He fidgeted nervously, as he waited for her to answer. Then he laughed when he recalled that whenever she called him, he’d set up her ringtone with the song,
‘If I Ruled the World.’
How very fitting and appropriate for her!

“Hello?” She sounded as though she hadn’t quite wiped the sleep from her eyes yet, voice still a little gravelly. “Caroline, I hope I’m not disturbing you, it’s me, Nicholas. Got a minute?”

“Yes, Nicholas, what is it? I’ve got a hair appointment at ten.” She said as if wanting to leave this conversation quickly and get on with more important matters. Inwardly yawning, she spoke, “I really am pressed for time, and so if you could kindly speed it up I would appreciate it. Sorry, I just woke up and I don’t mean to be so rude. I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

“Caroline, I’ll make this brief, I was wondering if you might like to be my dance partner for the upcoming Lakeside Dance Competition. The prize money probably wouldn’t interest you; however it would be a wonderful addition to my lowly bank account. The award is twenty-five thousand dollars to the winning couple. I’ll let you chew on it for a while and you can call me back later with your answer. Hope to hear from you soon. Bye.” And without even waiting for her response, he ended the call.

The lovely Caroline processed Nicholas’ request for a bit, not wanting to sound too eager with her response, then reluctantly returned his call. When Nicholas answered her call, she spoke in a nonchalant way, “Oh okay, I guess I’ll do it. You better make sure there’s not a wrinkle or crease in that tuxedo of yours and that you don’t spill more gravy on those patent leather shoes! Please email me with all the details; now on to my hair appointment. Bye.”

Both phone conversations had been very brief, to the point. There was more information to share; the fact that last year’s winners were Raul Griffith and his hot-headed partner, Sasha O’Neill, two dance veterans that would prove to be their toughest competition this time. He would share all the information in an email; he was less likely to experience Caroline’s wrath!

One thing he heard was a rumor that Sasha had gone through some kind of counseling or group therapy because of her addiction to reality television. It was further rumored that she thought she deserved to be in the cast of the “Real Housewives of New Jersey.” He was curious to see if there was any truth to the rumor. He doubted it.

Later on, as he had suspected, the rumors were proven to be false, the source being none other than Caroline herself. She had an intense hatred for Sasha and that had fueled the rumors; her goal was to get back at Sasha for winning that competition.

With the phone calls finished and her brief answer received, Nicholas breathed a sigh of relief. At least he had a partner; now he had to send in the entry fee and get his tuxedo cleaned and pressed. He would get to that soon. He then went to his office to prepare his sermon for next Sunday’s service.

* * * *

Caroline put her phone back in her handbag and turned on her television to finish watching her favorite show before heading out for her hair appointment. Her thoughts turned to what gown she would wear to the competition. Maybe she could call Henri and see if he could whip up something devastatingly gorgeous; something with feathers, yes, definitely feathers or sequins. She thought the style and color; a long, flowing chiffon possibly, the color of turquoise or aqua that would appear as if she was floating through the air, she loved the dramatic effect. Her blonde hair always looked better when she wore turquoise. She took a moment and gazed at the full-length mirror to the right of her television. Thinking that she needed to hire a makeup artist to consult on her look for the competition; she would call the salon and see who was available. So many things to do!

After a cup of her favorite coffee, two short television shows later, she buzzed her chauffer and off she went to “Hair Today” Salon. Stepping out of the limo, she made her way into the salon. Rene was there and he was smiling excitedly at her!

“Mon Ami,” he said in a thick French accent. “Welcome darling! It eez so good to see you. What can I do for you today? He oozed with charm and enthusiasm; after all, Caroline was one of his best paying clients and he was always looking for a pleasing comment from her as well as a huge tip.

“Oh Rene, I would love for you to do just a trim this morning and a touchup would be wonderful, darling.” And with that, Rene was prepared to work wonders with Caroline’s hair. She had a look of sheer satisfaction on her face. The competition would be a success this year. She’d see to that…

3

Raul Griffith eagerly opened the email attachment with great anticipation. He had been looking forward to this e-vite all year. As he sat at the computer, the bowl of Cheetos and hot sauce, he had been eating, spilled out on the desk and would have poured out onto the keyboard but his lightning fast fingers caught it before the damage was done. “Well, that’s just great, red and orange all over my white T-shirt! Kind of looks like it’s tie-dyed!” He went back to reading about the dance competition. Thinking about his partner, Sasha O’Neill, he snickered quietly. “I sure hope Ms. Sasha can get a grip on her reality show addiction and maybe we have another chance at winning a competition. It was almost impossible last year because of her crazy antics. But we did get our victory!”

Others that knew Sasha, knew she got a bum deal last year because of the hateful rumors started by one Ms. Caroline Smathers. She had done her best to sabotage Sasha for some unknown reason. People that knew Sasha, realized it was all a huge fabrication and that Caroline just suffered from a large case of “Sasha envy.” Caroline had everything but the trophy. She was bent on winning it at all cost, this was obvious to Raul, Sasha and even to Nicholas, Caroline’s partner.

As Raul finished reading the email about the competition, he thought it was time for some serious searching online for “the future Mrs. Griffith.”

He typed in the address for his favorite website, “gotamatch.com,” he loved these online dating sites and was signed up as a member on three or four now.
He entered his user name, “hot sauce 39” and his password. As the page loaded there were fifteen new matches. His heart raced as he looked at the photos of the available entries. Ladies, ladies and more ladies! His profile had stated that he was a ballroom dancer, loved hunting and fishing and was a member of the Birdwatchers United; figuring the more diverse his interests the more ladies would become available as dating choices.

But sadly, numerous gals had declined his offers to meet and he figured maybe it was because of the whole nature thing. But he kept it on his profile to “weed” out the losers. One name popped up and he could feel his face start to pale. “Dublin Sasha” displayed before his eyes and as he took a deep breath, he realized that he had just been a possible match for his dance partner, Sasha. “How could this happen?” He thought. He quickly logged out and poured another cup of coffee. He would have to consider the implications of this. Was Sasha posing as a possible match to keep tabs on Raul? He couldn’t recall telling her about his fondness for online dating services. How could she have possibly figured it out?

Just then, his phone rang, “Hello.” It was Sasha. She must have seen him online. Had he forgotten to make himself invisible on the site while browsing through the lovely ladies?

“Oh boy! I’m stuck now,”
He thought. “Sasha, what’s going on? Did you get the email about the upcoming dance competition? Believe it or not, I was just getting ready to call.” His voice sounded a little apprehensive.

“Stifle it, Raul. You and I both know that you were just on that dating website. I saw you on there. Can you deny that fact?” Her voice sounded agitated.

He was in for it now. She’d found him out! Things weren’t looking good for Raul.

Deciding to try to smooth things over, reluctantly, Raul tried to distract Sasha, “So my lovely pet, would you consider partnering with me at the Lakeside Dance Competition? We would look smashing together!” He laid it on thick but would she fall for it?

“Raul, you snake! You think you can just sweet-talk your way into my arms and I’m here to tell you…well, yes, Raul, I will dance with you. But don’t you think it’s anything more than just dancing together. I’m wise to your ways, Raul. You are a womanizing philandering weasel! You cannot fool me! We are going to win that competition and then it’s over! You can find another partner for next year’s competition!”

“Well see here, Ms. Dublin Sasha, I believe your profile name is…I get the point and you can just dance your way back to Ireland for all I care after this competition is finished!” He was steaming now.

Raul had a way of looking out for “number one,” and he had an entire plethora of potential partners for his future; and hopefully he’d find a possible dancer in that search. Sasha may think she’s won this round but he’d find his match elsewhere!” He calmed down and went back to the online site to see who might be available.

4

After leaving the spandex plant, Francois visited his favorite tanning booth place, “Terrific Tanning,” the result; brown as a berry, just the way he liked it. When he returned home he immediately gave his teeth a good whitening. He looked in his bathroom mirror and smiled with teeth as white as a
polar bear in Alaska.

He smiled at the thought of participating in the upcoming competition, and Taffy would be his partner. In his mind, he knew just the right words to “tantalize Taffy!” She was a hot head but he had a way of cooling her off; just a little flattery got him the results he wanted. She would melt like an ice cube on the hot New York pavement. They danced divine together. That was one thing he could count on, Taffy’s talent. Unfortunately for Francois…Taffy had her own slant on the relationship; there wasn’t a relationship, “Only in his dreams,” Taffy thought.

Taffy had other things on her mind, presently. After remembering her first motorcycle photo shoot with Cedric she was a little hesitant to plan anything.

Motorcycles were not her forte and on that horrendous shoot she had to, not only sit on the bike, she had to go on a ride. Her helmet was too big and slipped over her face, hiding an otherwise lovely photo opportunity. She got her sock caught in the exhaust pipe and burned a perfectly shaped circle on her ankle to remember for all time.

After a quick jaunt to the ER to dress her burned ankle, she wondered why she let Cedric talk her into this craziness. Oh yes, she recalled. Money! Wasn’t that the way it always was? Money made the world go around. But she could only hope that this photo shoot didn’t involve burns and a hurried trip to the ER.

She arrived on the location for this motorcycle shoot and her face froze in a shocked expression. The motorcyclist on the photo shoot was a burly, bearded guy, tattooed and pierced from heel to helmet. He smiled a toothless grin, (probably from some beer bar brawl); he was definitely the real thing! The tattoos on his arms ranged from “Love My Mama” to “Don’t Mess With Me” – a real cream puff of a guy! His hair was hidden under the skull-covered helmet. Grizzly, gruesome and over all scary kind of man; he helped Taffy on the bike with his spiked leather glove. Taffy wondered if she would make it back to civilization after this ride.

At the end of the day she thanked God for keeping her safe from that scary biker guy. Cedric would pay, oh yes, he would pay! After reflecting on the day, she realized she’d conquered another one of her fears…riding a bike with a big scary motorcycle guy!