Page 4 of Slow Burn

I must have forgotten to lock the door. Had someone let themselves in?

I was usually so careful – being alone in a studio at night wasn’t the safest, even if the crime rate in Castlebury was practically non-existent.

But when my eyes locked onto the gaze of the man standing in the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face, I felt the air leave my lungs.

It was okay. I wasn’t about to be murdered; it was just Carlos Torres.

I cleared my throat, embarrassed that he’d caught me dancing the steps meant for the girls he’d auditioned earlier, not for me, just some woman who ran the studio he’d hired.

He probably thought I had no business performing his steps, even if it was just for myself; that they weren’t mine to execute.

‘Again,’ he said.

I swallowed hard, assuming I’d misheard him. ‘Sorry?’

‘Dance those steps again,’ he repeated.

I shook my head, mortified. ‘I was just messing around. I’m not sure I’d even be able to repeat what I just did.’

‘Try,’ he said, strutting arrogantly into the studio.

He unfolded one of the chairs I’d just put away and took a seat in the corner of the studio.

‘I would like to see you dance those steps again. Please .’

I’d never been so confused in my life, but also had never been less able to articulate the thoughts flying around inside my head.

Why had he come back here? Why did he want me to dance the steps again?

What possible good could come of any of this?

It was an understatement to say I was rusty when it came to performing – I could remember the steps, sure, but I was nowhere near as good as I’d been when I was competing, especially under the pressure I suddenly felt consumed by.

It would be embarrassing to show him what I could – or more likely couldn’t – do.

‘Did you forget something?’ I asked, moving slowly to the stereo, wondering what was even happening here.

Could I really dance in front of Carlos Torres again, like I had in the Junior World Championships all those years ago?

Would he even remember me if I reminded him who I was?

I must look so different now – more curves, the odd wrinkle on my face, my hair relaxed straight instead of worn in the bouncy curls I’d sported back then.

‘Yes, I believe I left my phone in the bathroom. And now I am glad that I did,’ said Carlos, brushing imaginary dirt off his impossibly tight trousers.

‘Glad why?’ I asked, still baffled. Did he want me to go and get it from the bathroom? I hadn’t got around to tidying that part of the studio yet.

‘Because unless my eyes have deceived me, you are the best dancer I have seen all day.’

I scoffed. ‘You saw fifty people. And they were all amazing.’

And yet even as I said it, I knew I wasn’t being entirely truthful. The Argentine tango was my speciality. In my prime, nobody had been able to capture the spirit of the dance as well as I had. Maybe I did have something the other girls didn’t.

‘You really want to see it again?’ I said, my finger hovering over the play button.

‘Yes,’ said Carlos. ‘Quickly, please.’

I started the music and took my place on the dance floor, ready to begin.

Afterwards, Carlos didn’t say a word. He went to find his phone and then he came back to collect his bag.

I busied myself tidying, assuming I’d disappointed him.

He probably wished he’d never asked to see me perform, because now he’d have to let me know I wasn’t up to scratch.

Mind you, I didn’t think Carlos struggled with giving negative feedback – his brutal delivery was well known in the business. So why was he holding back now?

As he walked towards the exit, he stopped, looking at me over his shoulder.

‘This studio – James Jive is the name of it?’

I nodded. ‘It’s a family business.’

There was a moment of recognition on Carlos’s face. ‘You are Amahle James’s daughter.’

‘I am. Mum and Dad own this place.’

‘You used to compete, yes?’

I nodded, reminding myself to be proud of my achievements, even if they were a long time ago. ‘Junior world Latin champion. Twice.’

Carlos looked confused, as though he was struggling to understand why somebody with as much talent as I must have possessed to win those titles was now teaching tango to pensioners in a small market town.

‘Come to Pineapple Studios on Monday, two o’clock. I want to see you dance with our leading man,’ said Carlos.

I swallowed hard. ‘What?’

He couldn’t be serious. If Carlos was choreographing the show, it was going to be an almost guaranteed success. There was no way he’d want a non-pro dancer anywhere near it.

‘We are struggling to find him a partner. I think you could be what we’re looking for.’

‘But I haven’t…’

My voice faltered. I wanted to tell him I hadn’t danced professionally for years; that no leading man was going to want to try out with someone like me.

My reputation might have been impressive once, but that was when I was a teenager.

It counted for nothing now. I’d probably arrive at the studio only to have him point-blank refuse to dance with me, and I wouldn’t blame him.

But by the time I formulated the words of protestation in my head and put them into a coherent sentence, Carlos had left, as silently as he’d arrived.

I sank to the floor in shock as I tried to process what had just happened. He really wanted me ? He really thought I was good enough?

The more negative part of my brain soon kicked in, questioning whether I could face opening myself up to this kind of life all over again.

The dedication it required, the competitiveness, the rejection.

It meant having to tell my parents that this was what I wanted after all, even after all this time, because what would that mean for them and the business I’d helped them build?

But even though my head was saying no, that it was too late, that I was an excellent studio manager, that I couldn’t up and leave just because I fancied being a dancer again, I felt a thrill deep inside of me that I hadn’t experienced for a very long time.

I was probably worrying for nothing, anyway – I wouldn’t get the part. How could I, when my audition skills were rusty at best?

Yet my heart was singing to an entirely different tune: I still had it. I still had it. I still had it.