He looked at her street clothes, high heels and teased hair in moderate disgust and exasperation. "How do you expect to practice in those? You're not on camera you know. What you wear really doesn't matter and if you're constantly worried about your hair and whether your make-up is melting or your stockings have run there's really no point in extra rehearsal."
He himself was wearing a ratty old varsity t-shirt and loose trousers.
"Amber if you're really serious about improving yourself, you have to realise. It's not about what you're wearing or how you look on camera. You've already got those things. We're here to work on your dancing and you are going to get dirty, sweaty, tired and messy". He noticed that at every word she flinched a little, as if the thought of not being her immaculately presented self was as horrifying as watching a small animal being killed in front of her. Well tough luck.
"I'm not your mother who insists that everyone is attired for rehearsal like they are going to a cocktail party. Clearly you weren't learning very much under her and there's a reason for that. Real dancing isn't about appearance and formality but understanding the music and your body. And there's no way that THOSE CLOTHES" a point which he emphatically emphasised with a pointing finger, "are going to cut it in MY rehearsal."
He looked in satisfaction at her slightly open mouth and taken back expression. Now that should have put the little Miss Priss back in her place a little-
"Then why is your hair still glued into place with about half a can of hairspray? If you really didn't care about appearances when you rehearse you wouldn't bother would you?"
-bit. DRAT the sly minx.
He stifled his involuntary cry of exasperation, determined not to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had rattled him, and settled instead for an internal retort. HA internal yeah right. When had he and amber ever tried to swallow their provoking comments? Their biting sarcastic exchanges on and off camera were well known. While he did try to stay silent, to take the high road so to speak, her entitled and spoilt princess routine only fuelled his resentment of her mother's influence and persistent pushing of her daughter, who honestly would never have been the brightest star on the show but for her mother's constant intervention. And his hair was NOT glued into place. A little hairspray never hurt anyone, especially when you got a free supply of ultra-clutch which was enough to last you an entire lifetime.
Internally engaged as he was in his calm and intelligent reverie - okay fine exasperated rant, it took him a while to realise she had begun speaking again.
"But corny, I understand the point of what you're trying to tell me. It's just that I've just always well….been expected to dress this way. Sometimes I feel like if I'm not this perfectly attired person I don't know who I am anymore. Especially when everything else has changed so much. Besides, It's not like you gave me any instructions. Just told me to meet you at the studio. How was I to know that you were going to fly into a fit of rage at something as trivial as my dressing. That being said, I understand and will try to dress a little more….practically at next rehearsal, if you'll continue teaching me that is. Is that good enough?"
Her expression as she said this changed from her earlier smug smirk at pointing out the flaw in his argument to a more subdued and reproachful look. As he studied her face and mulled over her words, her hesitant last sentences became more revealing. She was afraid he wouldn't even give her a chance, and this was probably as close to an apology as she could muster. While her stance was as straight and proud as ever, her eyes betrayed her inner apprehension and anxiety. It was enough to wake the inconvenient do-gooder he called his conscience, which proceeded to prod him with a vengeance. Sighing, he reached up to run his hand through his hair, before stopping himself short in case he mussed his 'do. Hmmmm perhaps she had a point about the whole hair thing.
"Fine how about I make you a deal? I know this is uncomfortable for you. I know that your prissy clothes reflect the image you want to reflect , but I'm willing to forgo my hairspray if you will stop dressing like you're ready to walk to red carpet at the Oscars. Deal?"
This time she was wearing what must have passed as rehearsal clothes to her. A simple cotton shift dress over dance tights and low shoes. Her blonde hair was simply pulled back into a low knot at the back of her head. He stifled a laugh that she had been unable to forgo her lashes and lipstick though. All in all, she looked much fresher. Less like a younger image of Velma Von Tussel and more like a pretty, softer version of herself.
He looked different, was her first thought as she caught sight of him in the deserted studio that weekend. With his dark hair falling naturally onto his forehead, he looked much more relaxed. Fresher. Younger. How old was he? She would normally have guessed over 25, but with his tousled hair and casual clothes he looked much nearer her age. Had Velma ever mentioned it? She remembered her mother yelling at him a few months ago, calling him an upstart who had barely graduated years ago. So that would probably place him about 22 or 23 as opposed to her 17 years. Not such a big difference as she would have thought seeing him on set in his suit and (in her opinion) overly-styled hair.
Smiling, he said, "Much better Miss Von Tussle. Care to dance?"
It wasn't easy though. Amber was sadly not the most natural mover. "No! you have to really feel the music, the beat. Count 5, 6, 7, 8 and then launch yourself into the steps and STICK to it. Make sure you balance your body weight with your alternate hand as you switch feet or you WILL keep falling over." He usually restricted himself to directing from the sidelines and demonstrating occasionally. Somehow, the sight of her prancing around on the empty sound stage had been hilarious at the beginning. If you counted being fiendishly amused that the daughter of your enemy stumbling around off-beat, balefully glaring at you half the time as hilarious. However, as they continued their weekly secret practice, or closed rehearsal as Amber would have preferred it called, he gradually developed a grudging respect for her dogged persistence. A lesser man, or woman he corrected himself, would have quit ages ago. The snide looks and cutting remarks the others cast her way would surely not have been lost on her. However she was, to his honest surprise, gracefully stepping out of the spotlight to give way to Inez and ignoring what others were clearly muttering about her. Whilst a few months ago he might have viewed this as a natural pride and arrogance which seemed to come to her so easily, he was being unwillingly convinced that this change was genuine.
In addition, she was genuinely starting to show improvement. He wasn't sure if it was due to the additional practice, for surely Velma would have drilled her mercilessly at home in the past, or the fact that she seemed to be developing a better musical awareness due to his insistent emphasis on musical feeling. Dance muscle memory could be learnt, but it required an understanding of the choreography and the roots of it's musical accompaniment for a dancer to make it look effortless and natural, rather than forced. He had a nagging feeling that while the old Amber Von Tussle had clearly been a pretty face for viewers to notice, this new Amber was someone he could finally begin to respect.
As their private rehearsals intensified she had long given up wearing make-up or carefully arranging her hair. Her current rehearsal clothes, which Velma would have promptly deemed "unsuitable" and dispatched to the rag-bag, were nonetheless, incredibly comfortable and freeing. A feeling she had grown increasingly addicted to, though she would never admit it to anyone else. Her daily application of make-up, blister-inducing high heels and uncomfortably tight dresses which had seemed a necessity to her before now seemed overly fussy and time-consuming. Though she still did care somewhat about her appearance as she proudly surveyed the lovely flaring of her deep blue and purple wrap skirt as she spun -Abruptly, Corny's shout brought her sharply back to the present.
"Twist, Turn, Spin, Grapevine. Come on Amber keep your mind on it! Never mind, take a fiver."
She collapsed next to him on the edge of the stage, cheeks pink with exertion, blonde curls falling around her face despite her strategically placed pencil to anchor her hair at the back of her head. Lying back on the stage with her legs dangling off the side she tried to regain her breath. Beside her, Corny mirrored her pose, similarly winded and breathless. After a few moments of silence while they both regained their breath, Amber ventured a question she'd been wondering about for some time.
"Corny, is that actually your real name? It just seems somewhat odd to have your parents christen you corny. Isn't that a little…well cheesy?"
"Very funny you brat" Their bickering had taken on a much friendlier tone these days. "Well to tell you the truth, my real name is Thaddeus Cornelius Collins. But it just seemed a bit of a mouthful so the studio shortened it to something catchier. Get my drift?"
"Then why don't you ever call yourself that? As far as I know, no one even knows your real name."
The teasing atmosphere lost some of its lightness as he mused over her last question before he answered thoughtfully.
"You know what, I don't believe I have. Apart from you just now obviously. It just seemed like I had a persona to fill. That when I was Corny Collins, star and host of my own show I was a different person. When I was a kid, I played baseball and went to school and helped out with chores at home same as everyone. The boy I was before, he had big dreams. But he wasn't getting anywhere. My parents…well they didn't agree with my dreams. When I finally got my big break, maybe I felt the name came with the charm, the smile, the girls- OUCH did you have to hit my arm? Fine just kidding about the girls. There aren't any pretty ones."
He yelped again as Amber hit him again, harder this time in his already tingling shoulder. Laughing at her disgruntled face he retorted "Nothing makes you happy does it? Better watch that expression. Your face may freeze that way and then I wouldn't be lying when I said there weren't any pretty girls around me."
However, instead of laughing in return, she propped herself up on her shoulder so she was looking down on him sideways. There was something about her uncharacteristically thoughtful manner and contemplative blue eyes which gave him pause.
"You know what? I think that you need to realise that a name doesn't define who you are Thaddeus. You'd still be the same person even if your name was Genghis Kahn. And if you insist on clinging to a name because it defines who you are, what will you have after it ends? Will you know who you are? And maybe you just want to forget that little boy from a small town who hungered for something more, but that determination made you. You shouldn't be ashamed of where you come from. And I think your parents would be so proud of you now. Whether you're a dance show host or a pig farmer, you're good and noble and honest. You're more than just a cardboard smiling, dancing host. And I wish everyone could see the person you are behind the huge smile and the corny name."
All he could do was stare at her seriously intent face. Thinking about it, what he had just said and how she had answered had pretty much been a reminder of things he had avoided thinking about for ages. Hearing her words, he was struck by a maturity and sensitivity he had rarely seen in her before. Much less on behalf of anyone other than herself. I wonder what else I don't know about her. As much as I realise I need to re-examine myself, perhaps I did pigeon-hole everyone else to early as well. Especially Amber. At a loss for the first time in a long time, he didn't know what to say, that could show her the gratitude and ease he felt in that moment. So he settled for the obvious. "Thanks." On a sudden spur of inspiration he added "And Amber, why don't you call me Thad?"
The sudden brilliant flashing of her smile that lit up the room, and the radiant joy that filled her sky blue eyes caused him to be momentarily blinded, making him blink and gape like an idiot. If he had been a younger boy, he would have sworn what he was feeling at this moment was his heart turning over in his chest as he gazed at her. But even he couldn't deny the wonderfully painful yearning and twisting in his gut and his conflicting desires to laugh out loud for sheer joy or jump into a cold pond to cool his flushed face. And that's when he realised, Amber was beautiful. Not merely just another pretty girl, but the most stunning and lovely woman he had ever come across.