Session 22

Author's Note: The music selected for the paso doble is actually a rock song called Bring Me To Life by Evanescence. To my shock while I was researching, it HAS been used in real life as instruction and competition for the paso doble. I watched a couple routines and decided, why not—there could easily be an instrumental version by the 2070's. The song is gorgeous, and the lyrics are rather impacting considering Bebop's root themes. And I simply could not resist using music from one of my favorite mood music composers. So—Spike and Faye's routine is choreographed to it. Check it out, if by some chance you have not heard it yet, where have you been if you haven't? I have taken some liberty with the moves for this round. But Spike and Faye are already pushing the envelope anyway, so it just makes sense they'd continue their roguish approach. Enjoy …

Spike tugged at the gauzy black fabric of his sleeve. Too much fabric. Way too much fabric on this billowy thing. The ruffles spilling down his chest and ending the cuffs made it qualify as over the top. He felt like he should be in some archaic swashbuckling film with a flimsy little prick of a sword shoved into the obnoxiously wide red sash around his waist. Would that make him a space pirate? He couldn't imagine spending a day in such an outfit, let alone fighting a formidable target in this. Even the shoes were impractical, fitted with little metal bits that clicked when he walked. Fernando had mentioned those additions would make the stomp so critical to the paso doble more pronounced. Frankly, Spike was just annoyed by the incessant tapping. That, and he felt rather like a bird every time he moved his arms. Too much fabric. At least he had been able to persuade Faye to let him drop the hair goop and wear his hair natural. Well, brushed into some semblance of natural.

Beside him Faye was decked out in blood red, her full ruffled skirt embroidered with black roses. Tiny black rose buds sparkling with onyx decorated her hair. A necklace and earrings in blood red garnet finished it off. Her eyes sparkled with excitement beneath the smokey makeup.

Out on the floor the Dunninghams riveted everyone. A solid performance of stiff movements, snapped into precision. There was indeed a reason they were in the finals. They commanded attention as the woman cape protected her man fighter. Then again, everyone of these semi-finalist couples should be good. They'd earned the right to be here.

Spike glanced up at the board. Not much time for this one. They were the second couple to take the floor. Not that Spike was worried. He actually appreciated the narrative they'd worked out with Ferando and Cygne. Going with their style, they were set to deliver something a bit twisted from the typical. Before he knew it, the Dunninghams waved to the divided floor. Competitors had close tables while those who had left the contest remained further away, tucked in the shadows.

As usual the announcers piped up, Derrick began, "I would have hated to have been that bull. Well done, Phillip and Eliza Dunningham. A perfect embodiment of teamwork."

"Next we have a challenge to the orchestra, fortunately there are guitarists and drummers among them. I admit, the music selection for this team is unusual. However, after last round we shouldn't be surprised by the unconventional."

"Let me guess, Veronica, its the Sterlings."

"You guessed it. Usually the paso doble is performed to something with a Spanish flavor. However, they have chosen a full orchestra instrumental arrangement of a rock song called Bring Me To Life. This will be interesting."

"Spike and Faye Sterling have certainly shaken things up and brought a real style we've never seen before. After all, since the Espositos won the contest years ago, another couple taking first in a round is rare. So, can the Sterlings grab the proverbial brass ring again?"

"Shall we see? This is Spike and Faye Sterling performing the bull fighter dance to Bring Me To Life."

Out on the darkened dance floor, the blinding spotlights fell on them. Spike struck the stiff posture, even though he felt rather like a flamboyant peacock. Fine, if he had to be like a friggin' stuck up bird, he'd be an aggressive one. He fixed his eyes out toward Faye standing across the floor drenched in the bright wash of light. Her arms at her sides, eyes level in a confident gaze. A ribbon loop attached to the right hem of her gown slipped over his middle finger. When she raised her arms, the top layer would lift. Focus was everything in this dance. They were in a microcosm. The rest of the world dissolved away.

The pensive notes of the piano haunted the air. Spike held the stiff posture, waiting for the audio mark, all the while the image of a raging bull stabbing the ground with its hoof superimposed itself in the room. No one could see this spectral bull, but Spike had found the threat useful. Just like the imaginary foes in his martial arts routines. Only when the threat seemed real would the fighting spirit manifest. And this bull proved to be a formidable threat. Its gleaming horns prepared to gore.

At the first deep drum beat, Spike's heel slammed to the floor and echoed in the hall. An invitation to the ethereal beast that in his mind's eye turned toward him. But the beast did not charge—yet. Spike raised an arm toward Faye, in time with the music she flowed toward him, resembling a wave of fabric encircling him in an ever tightening circle as the music built. At last her hand ran across his back, from one shoulder blade to the other. As her fingers traced his outstretched arm to the end, they grasped hands and he snapped her back into his arms.

Now he had his cape. He remained upright and brushed his hand against her cheek. Sweeping the hand through and out, her own followed and grasped his. They drove into the eight step combo. There was a name for it, but Spike didn't give a shit about all that. All that mattered was nailing the maneuver to the rhythm of the violins and the thrashing electric guitar.

At the end of it he kept his grip on both of her hands and swung Faye around off the side, brandishing her just like the practice cape.

Ok bull, bring it on!

From across the room the enraged beast threw its head in the air and tore across the floor. Lethal horns aimed straight for them. Spike felt the rhythm of the beast's hooves in the driving drumbeat. The heart beat of the threat in the violins shredding their strings in the frantic flight. At the last moment he swept Faye out of the way, the bull tore by his side as he executed an arrogant stomp on the floor.

However this would place the threat to his rear, not something he would permit. Faye kept her fingers entangled and spun him around. They stepped across the floor, separating into a side-by-side step pattern. Grace in their aggressive attacks to the movement. Once more Spike stared at the bull bearing down on them, tracking their motion at full speed. Drawn to the flick of Faye's red dress.

At the last moment as she crossed in front of him, he grasped her wrists and lifted her in a high sweep. A posture that required Faye to sustain her own arms straight out. Her bare upper arms hardly trembled as she huffed out her breaths in the effort not to sag into it. He swept her down and released her into a free spin. With one hand raised she spun, trading one foot for the other as she moved in a tight circle. Spike raised an arm and turned slowly in the center of it until Faye rolled back into his arms.

The moment she was there he dipped her backward in a full layout.

He almost hated Cygne for suggesting this next bit. But damn—he had to admit it looked amazing when in rehearsal they'd captured video of it. The trouble was the angle, bent over this lift was a bitch and a half. Faye's confident eyes bored into him as she braced for it. After all, nothing about this entire dance was passive for either of them.

He took a deep breath and shifted his arm further into an overlap beneath Faye. Without enough speed he would drop her. He waited for the surge in the music, taking a deep breath. Then, with all his strength he surged upright, pushing with one hand and pulling the other the opposite direction. The sudden torsion on her waist resulted in Faye launching straight up like a spinning missile. At the pinnacle she flung her arms wide carrying the outer skirt like wings.

Spike turned on the ball of his foot, gauging her path. This was the one launch he hadn't been able to aim with any reliability. Every time he had to adjust with as little outward sign as possible. As she came down she folded back in, falling into his hands facing outward. He exhaled, that little trick safely out of the way. She came down into a toe touch on the floor before he released her into a wrap around him. Graceful, forceful.

Dancing around them the bull followed Faye's flow. Never allowed to get close enough. Screaming it's frustration.

Oh, but that would not be a good enough show. Snapping into the eight step switch across the floor, Spike allowed a slight grin as he released one of Faye's hands. She spiraled down low, her back flattening out, not unlike a tabletop.

Let's see another couple pull this one off. Spike kicked his leg up and swung it over her crouched form. His follow through was to come around again, plant his palms on the center of her back and in a twisting move cartwheel over her. Faye only slightly dipped from the pressure. The moment he cleared, she turned, reached up and grabbed his hand. He used the momentum to pull her upward, his other palm planted on her hip, he brought her over like the flash of a cape and guided her down to the floor in a spiral. They came together, forehead to forehead, now fighting for air from the exertion.

This wasn't over. They snapped their eyes toward the imaginary bull.

In an authoritative challenge stance, Spike brought Faye slinking around him. The bull charged in a strike and Spike spun out of the way spiraling downward and breaking the stiff posture. He ended crouched down ankles crossed, facing the floor. Behind him he heard Faye approach with the stomp of her feet from behind. Her hands embraced his shoulders as she sank down laying over his back in a true representation of the cape, her arms encircled his neck, she gripped her own elbows. Her breath teased his ear, a sign she was prepared. Spike hoped he was. In rehearsal this little trick nearly took out his ankle the first time they'd tried it. But he checked himself to be certain the narrow stance would untangle properly this time.

Slowly, accompanied by the lingering final chord, Spike rose to his feet taking Faye's draped body up with him. That narrow stance, with his feet crossed, resumed the tense threat of the bull fighter's spirit. Faye, peered around his neck as their defiant eyes locked on the judges table. Or where it would be beyond the blinding lights.

They both panted in the roar of applause that followed. Spike reached up and took Faye's hand, spinning her around beside him before they bowed together.

Spike whispered into Faye's ear, "That's how you flip off reigning champions."

When they came back up, she placed a hand on his chest and kissed his cheek.

If the announcers said anything it wasn't audible in the commotion. Spike and Faye took their leave, striding past the Espositos table as the two got up for their dance. Faye offered a sly smile, "Break a leg. Literally."

Back at the table, Spike leaned back in the chair still trying to catch his breath. Faye was no less breathy as she leaned forward. "That could not have gone better."

Spike reached for his waiting martini and raised it in a toast to them. The next moment they heard an alarmed shriek and a thump.

In the middle of the floor, Roberta lay on her side rubbing her hip. Carlos took a shambling backward, his eyes darted around as the music drove onward.

"Heh," Spike swirled his drink, "look who got a bit rattled."

Faye rose her glass. "I take that back. It just got better."

Back in their room following dinner, Spike sat smoking out in the enclosed patio watching the stars zip by. He still had the white tux on, but his bow tie hung down undone, the top two buttons of his shirt popped.

Faye joined him seated at the table, lighting her own cigarette as she kicked off her high heels. "So sad that someone was missing at dinner. Poor Espositos must have lost their appetites."

Spike spoke around his cigarette, eyes half lidded. "At least dinner was edible tonight and not some kind of garden pest. Say, I wonder if Carlos is still breathing? Roberta looked pretty pissed. How many times did she hit him?"

Laughing, she closed her eyes trying to count from memory. "At least a dozen. And those weren't light taps."

"Nope. She meant business. Two days from now wonder how they'll be doing in the final round."

"Well, they were so confident of making it. Maybe they should have just not shown up."

"Pricks like that? Nah. They'd never do that." Spike stretched and rubbed his shoulder. "I doubt Carlos imagined that would happen."

"Did you catch the video?"

He nodded. "All the more reason I think the guy might be murdered before breakfast. He tried to turn a straight lift into our missile throw. You can tell that wasn't part of their routine, didn't look practiced at all. Wonder if he asked her?"

Faye smirked. "Did you see her face? No. He clearly didn't. And that landing. Ouch!"

"Bet someone got locked out of the room for the night. Hope Carlos has a nice trainer to crash with."

"Word is they don't."

"What? A nice trainer?"

Faye shrugged. "A trainer period."

He shut his eyes and leaned back, smiling. "Tough luck for Carlos. So, two days from now is the last dance."

"The cabaret. One of the most challenging styles out there."

He cracked an eye open and stared at her. "More than today's routine?" When she nodded he simply smiled broader. "Find that hard to believe. I stood up to a charging bull with nothing but a cape today."

She glared, one eyebrow twitching.

Spike cradled his head in his hands and lay back in the chair. "One really kick ass cape."

See You Space Cowboy