Author's Note: Suzanne McNamara is a woman of many qualities and mysteries. Her life outside NCIS only fuels Special Agent Jethro Gibbs' intrigue, interests in the graduate student. Will she become the catalyst for Gibbs to finally disregard Rule 12—Never date a coworker-once and for all?
The inspiration for the story comes from the Tina Turner song, Private Dancer and mentions a line-"Tell Me, You wanna see me do the shimmy again?" The music lyrics are from Celia Cruz-Azucar Negra. Gracias, La Reina! Both singers and songwriters are solely for the reader to envision the music to the movement of dance. No intention for infringement. It is purely for artistic and aesthetic purposes.
The community dance troupe comprised of people from late teens to mid and upper 30's, various heights and builds but advanced in the world of dance. After all, the door agenda said "Advanced/Technique III and IV: 5:30-7:00."
He remembered from conversations with Leon Vance and Tobias Fornell their daughters recently auditioned and were selected for the Greater Washington Dance Troupe. It was a stepping stone to the Washington Ballet Company. Same organization but the senior group. The Youngers were in the Advanced I—the Corps. They met twice a week-Monday afternoons and Saturday Mornings.
"We're starting quarter-after, Doctor." A classmate informed him. "The troupe's rehearsing for a show Friday evening."
"No worries." He peeped through the small window, noticed students rehearsing barre work with the director, also an associate with the same national dance company, slowly counting beats for warm ups. Once a dancer, small in statue, still in dance shape, Director Lemmon demonstrated and demanded perfection, especially from IV's.
"Plie, Plie, grande…" He repeated the words verbatim. It was rote instruction. He could repeat the sequence in sleep.
"Open fourth…" The dancers followed orders, with synchronized hand claps, into the dance alignment. The music tempo increased, meaning the director wanted increased movement. The counts were louder, faster.
"5-6-7-8…hold—3-4-5-6-7-8…" The soft melody continued.
The director checked everyone's alignment. Her dance class met before his senior exercise class. They stood by height, and Dr. Donald Mallard, Ducky to his associates, stumbled across Suzanne McNamara's hidden talent by coincidence. As usual, Suzanne was the tallest female but second shortest of the much taller males.
"I didn't know she was in the Dance Troupe…"
She kept pace with the others best as she could, if not better, with the wrapped knee. Her appearance was of a dancer—pulled hair, basic workout leggings with shorts, over-sized t-shirt and half-sole dance shoes. One glaring difference Ducky noticed: her frame was much smaller and very muscular. Her work uniform concealed her curves. Suzanne was about 25 lbs lighter.
"Focus, people!" The director yelled. He continued the walk around, evaluating and reevaluating the overall body of work. He stopped at Suzanne, watched briefly. It was a gentle push. "Fours: you've been dancing your whole lives!"
"Work the muscle…" Suzanne groaned softly as he extended the stretch. "And hold—3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8…" He walked to the front. Ducky continued to watch from the door.
"No pain, no gain: right, McNamara?"
"Yes, Director." She grunted.
There were two simple reasons as to why Suzanne McNamara danced: therapeutic necessity and familiarity. She ran cross-country in both high school and college, sustained injuries to her right knee. The stretching and conditioning from modern dance allowed a full-body workout, regaining enough mobility to eke a 3 mile a week jog. Suzanne's parents pushed their only daughter into dance classes as a confidence builder. She learned early "prima ballerina" was not in the future; the teachers, however, encouraged Suzanne to continue classes, all agreeing in formative years a confident, coordinated, focused and talented modern dance student.
"Let's rehearse the second movement… to the bridge." The director called. Suzanne and several others gathered at the middle. "I'm still deciding who'll dance the solo on Friday from the Primary and Secondary."
"You'll dance the solo." Corrinne whispered. "It's your turn."
"I'm too tall…" Suzanne replied, stretching side to side. "It's your turn, Kid."
The others chatted excitedly, and she merely listened, chuckled at the comments. Corey, her preferred nickname, was 18 years old and attended the local community college. She was new to the area, also a military dependent, and gravitated to Suzanne as did Kayla and Emily when all met for weekly rehearsal. The two often worked together, Suzanne remembering Corey as a junior dancer in the Corps.
The music played. The dancers moved about on the floor, followed their routines to the letter.
"Nice..." The director complimented. He moved to where Suzanne was positioned, adjusted her posture.
"Not too much of a curve...you're tall!" He smiled, pulled her aside.
"Keep in mind with the beat—it's a fast 4 beat afterwards." Suzanne nodded and resumed the dance. He counted back from 8, and his voice grew with intensity. Soon the entire cast joined in harmony. Each section executed their choreography.
"Told you." Corrinne smiled, briefly looked at her partner and winked. Suzanne laughed softly, continued to focus on the routine.
"Faster, Seconds! 5-6-7-8…"
"Let me loosen up your collar…tell me…do you want to me see me do the shimmy again!?—Oh…" Suzanne sang loudly with the movement, body movement with the collapse into her partner's arms perfectly synced.
The director interrupted, turned off the music.
"Come here!" He tapped the yardstick, motioning Suzanne to come front and center. Suzanne removed her classes during technique class, limiting her vision to blurred, strained nearsightedness. She squinted, trying to make out the hand gesture.
"Yes, you, McNamara!"
Others giggled as Suzanne followed his directive. The director walked around her, looked in her eyes.
"It is called Corps de Ballet for a reason!"
Ducky still had several minutes before his class. He walked quietly inside the studio, observing near the exits.
"Don't sing the song! I could hear you singing it in the formation!" Suzanne blushed.
"Yes, sir." She answered softly.
"Also, you exaggerated the last eight beats…" The director pointed to the male dancer, a few inches taller than Suzanne and motioned for him to come join the two. He was 6'6 to Suzanne's even 6 feet.
"Carl…you and Suzanne at my count." He pushed the two close. "I want you two to dance the solo." Others laughed. Suzanne looked uncomfortable. Because of height, the two were usually dance partners—nothing more. They were good friends.
"Shoes?" Suzanne asked.
"Those half-soles are fine." The director suggested. Quickly, she tightened the flat shoes, resumed the stance. "I want to see the coordination first."
The director restarted the music.
"24 bars in…extended…get ready…"
The two began with traditional steps—merely walking around another. Once the guitar screeched distinct tones, the dance broke off into sensuality. She did the prerequisite glissades. The way Carl grasped, twirled Suzanne toward him...that dramatic stare in each other's eyes. It was believable. She followed the choreography to the director's instruction, added an extra step or deleted two for rhythmic purposes. At the solo's height, she perfectly timed the pirouettes. The instrumental ended and chorus resumed with Suzanne's arabesque, sensually draping around Carl.
"Beautiful, Suzanne…" Ducky whispered.
The troupe clapped, whistled at their performance. It was believable. The elements for dance and entertainment were present. Suzanne and Carl remained in position, eventually parting, awaiting the verdict from the director.
"You two are the featured dancers Friday evening." The director announced.
One performer dared to ask why, as she was generally selected for featured solos. Others groaned, while the director, chuckling, provided an answer.
"The scene is more about emotion than technique." The director said.
"If Jasmine wants to perform…" Suzanne's eyes shifted, a sign of confusion and some insecurity.
"Stay right here." The director ordered Suzanne. He continued with the overconfident prima donna.
"Three years, Suzanne has been in the troupe, hasn't complained one time, never asked or auditioned for primary though she's just as talented. But if you really want to know, Jasmine, why I chose her over you, her technique is original, sharp with the right emphasis."
The others whispered, grinned and chortled. Corey flashed a thumbs-up sign.
"Now, we have rehearsal Friday afternoon, 5 o'clock..." The director glanced at the clock, the next group of participants casually walking inside. "For the main performance—black and white, please?"
The group parted in different directions.
"Advance IV…" The director said. "See you Thursday for Technique."
"I have class Thursday evening, Director." Suzanne answered, slipping on sweatpants. "I'll come to practice tomorrow evening with Advance II."
The director sighed. "5:30 tomorrow evening. Be warmed up, McNamara." She looked upward. He grinned, then patted her on the head. "Be sure to ice your knees if you're going to run."
"Suzanne? Full lyrical dress, okay?" The director reminded within earshot.
Other members of the troupe congratulated her as they packed and left from the studio.
"Make sure it has black or white in it...okay?" Suzanne nodded. She understood the dress code—glitter black with heeled shoes . Lemmon knew of her simplistic tastes with wardrobe selections. For the one evening, in her finest hour, the director wanted Suzanne to wear her knee-length black or white asymmetric lyrical dress. It was her choice, though the entire company were aware her preferred color was grey.
"I thought my knee was about to give out!" She laughed with Carl, packing her duffle bag.
"You need to stop running five miles..." Carl playfully tapped her right then left shoulder.
"Private Dancer." Ducky whispered. "How fitting!"
"Dr. Mallard…" Suzanne stuttered. The butterfly soon wrapped in the protective cocoon. Within seconds, the glasses were on and her head tilted towards the floor. Nervously, she laughed.
"I…I didn't know you were here."
"My class is after yours." He answered. "And I didn't know you were such a marvelous dancer!" Ducky chuckled. "So are you, young man!"
"Dr. Mallard: Carl Baker. I work with Dr. Mallard. Carl and I dance together." The men exchanged pleasantries.
"How much did you see?" Suzanne asked.
"You wanna see me do the Shimmy again?!" Ducky sang.
"I'll see you Friday, Suzanne…" Carl waved. "Nice to meet you, Doctor."
"I have a few minutes before my class begins…" Ducky said. He motioned for an open spot. Moments passed by, the two smiled, Ducky patiently waited for a response. Ducky readied for his exercise group.
"I've been dancing in the Troupe about three years." Suzanne said. "I auditioned when I first moved to DC, offered a Corps part. This is my second year in the Principal group. Last year, I did a demi-solo. This is my first time as a Principal in the Production." She continued the cooling down process.
"I practiced either Mondays or Tuesdays with II or III; I made IV this year, so I need to make a few IV technique classes. Anyway…Fornell and Vance's daughters just made Troupe this year as Corps dancers."
"So…you dance in how many numbers Friday evening?" Ducky asked.
"I'm in three numbers as a demi, first, and a principal." Suzanne completed packing her gear. She breathed deeply. "Thankfully, there's a break between the sets!"
"Oh, we'll be here, cheering you on…"
"Dr. Mallard…" Suzanne's voice tensed. "I…no one knows about the dance thing, except the girls. They promised to keep it a secret. I'm not that good of a dancer."
"Tell you what…we'll keep them all in suspense until Friday, shall we?" Ducky had a gleam in his eye.
"I understand you and Jethro have been seeing each other socially?"
Suzanne declined to answer. She smiled slightly, glanced at the dance floor.
"Jethro said you're very shy outside of work, Susie, yet, you are so confident when you dance..."
"I've been taking dance lessons since the age of six." She answered. "Even though we moved a lot, three consistencies in my life: dance, art, and Scouting. My parents always found a dance studio and a Scout troop whenever we lived."
"Good evening, Golden Oldies..." The director returned to the studio.
"God, I hate it when he says that!" Ducky muttered. "Guess that's my cue..."
"Director Lemmon may take it easy on your group this evening..." Suzanne smiled. "Meanwhile, I'm going back home to ice my knee."
"Suzanne?"
"Sir?"
"Do you want two more hours of technique?"
Leon and Tobias were proud of their girls for simply making the dancer troupe and brought them roses to present backstage. When Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs agreed to an evening with the Greater Washington Dance Troupe, it was to support the girls. He, too, bought roses. Ducky suggested to hold onto his dozen for the Prima for it was customary.
Gibbs arrived late. 'Case-related.' Gibbs cited as he slid into the open seat with the gentlemen.
"I thought Suz would be here."
"You're in time for the last number with the Prima, Uncle Gibbs." Emily replied. "I'll be back." She scurried toward the exit, flashed an okay sign to the director.
"Normally, the Troupe performs the last number together, but instead, we have our lead, representing Advanced IV ending our presentation…" The director reminisced about the idea, a free-spirited ensemble piece. He explained the universal message of tonight's message-Gifts from the Soul. The task was to select a very eclectic mix of music and dance. Suzanne was a fan of Celia Cruz, the Queen of Salsa, La Reina-the Queen. Regalo del Alma—A Gift from the Soul. When she approached Lemmon with an idea on Celia Cruz, the director's voice encouraged and green lighted the project.
"Element of surprise, McNamara…go outside your box."
"Finally, we are delighted-I'm tickled to present a Gift from the Soul— our Regalo del Alma."
"Come on, Mackie!" A classmate shouted. "You're up...again."
"Oh, I can't do this!" Suzanne replied.
"You look fine!" The other convinced.
Reluctantly, Suzanne walked onto center stage. The lights were dimmed; only silhouettes were shown behind the curtain. The male classmates whistled. She looked the same, except heavier makeup. The sheer skirt was thigh-length and flowing with many layers. It complemented the animal print leotard, free flowing braided brown hair, black tights and heeled dance shoes.
"Fast 4 Count, Suzanne." The director reminded, hands on her shoulders. "And you can sing your heart out!"
The bright stage light shined; Suzanne, posed, blinking furiously, ignoring the audience, waited for the music to begin.
"Oh, damn!" Gibbs whispered.
Ducky grinned. Tobias' eyes bulged. Leon, backstage with Kayla, smiled with pride. Tobias and Gibbs' mouths were opened in disbelief.
"She's in the Advanced Troupe." Ducky answered, sitting between the two. "I didn't know until Wednesday." Ducky laughed. "I certainly didn't know about this solo!"
Suzanne began alone, a solitary spotlight to showcase her impressive movement to Azucar Negra, Spanish for "Brown Sugar." The beginning elements were floor work, just her with the Caribbean sounds of the steel drum and the vocals.
oy dulce como el melao'
Alegre como el tambor
Llevo el ritmico tumbao'
Llevo el ritmico tumbao'
Que hace que en el corazon
I'm sweet like molasses
Joyful as the drum
I bring the tumbao rhythm
I bring the tumbao rhythm
That makes in the heart
"Expression, Suzanne…" The director reminded from stage left.
Y habia una isla rica
Eclava de una sonrisa
Soy de ayer soy carnaval
Pongo corazon y tierra
Mi sangre es de azucar negra
Es amor y es musica
And there was a rich island
Slave of a smile
I'm from yesterday, I'm carnival
I put heart and earth
My blood is of black sugar
It is love and music
Suzanne adjusted her body posture—noticeable difference. The turns were cleaner, movement in perfect harmony with the instruments. Her skirt spun in time with her body. That long leg kicked, extended out in a languish, playful quickstep. She simply expressed joy. Suzanne's concentration continued. The extensive artistry came into play, tapping each bar with the yardstick. Cubana salsa, the solo cha cha slide—very, very sultry.
In the performance, she smiled at the audience, rolled her eyes in delight and quickly turned. The response was laughter.
"Quick turn! Good…"
*Azucar azucar negra
Hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra
Azucar azucar negra
Hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra
Azucar azucar negra
Hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra
Aucar azucar negra hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra
"Sing it, Suzanne! Azucar!"
The horn intermission allowed further feedback.
"She's a good dancer!" Tobias complimented.
"Yeah…" Gibbs, with curiosity, looked on. The fabric complimented each curve. It naturally flowed. The hips swayed along the cowbell, her hands interlocked across her hair and a sensual smile crossed her face. It was a side of Suzanne she rarely shared. Gibbs couldn't help but to smile with pride.
How can she dance in those shoes? Gibbs thought.
Playfully, she danced around, close, near the male dancers. With every step, they followed.
"Longer spin…side move…there you go…" The director smiled. The audience members clapped in a steady rhythm.
Azucar azucar negra
Hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra
Yo soy la candela candela y mi cadelai' candela
Azucar azucar negra
Hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra
Azucar azucar negra
Como me gusta y como me alegra
(azucar)
Azucar azucar negra
Hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra
"Azucar, Azucar Negra!" Suzanne's last pose—two men holding her feet, one embracing her from behind-flawless.