Spilling Guts

Part 19 - Wake Me Up or Let Me Sleep

"Put your hands together ladies and gentlemen for Louis Patriarch's tango!"

The camera panned across the live audience of "Dancing with the Stars" to rest on the center of the dance floor.

Louis stood with his back straight and hand out, the welcoming position for his partner. The spotlight made the white of his fitted tux shine and the applause from the stands rumbled through the floor. Giant flakes of glitter lay around him like clumps of snow. He was primed and ready in black and white.

The music, an upbeat tune from a movie soundtrack echoed through the chamber, drums beating and a saxophone sassing the air.

But Louis kept standing. Alone. Where was his partner? The music was playing, he had the steps down, where were they?

The announcer, the only visible feature on his face being a too-wide smile with too-perfect teeth, drawled into the microphone.

"Looks like Patriarch is missing his partner for this dance! Can he tango alone? What do you say judges?"

The audience booed at something from the judging table. Louis couldn't see it thanks to the bright lights. But he could go it alone. He could dance without a partner. He had this down and he would prove it!

His right arm remained extended and the left curled out as if on someone's waist. And he stepped, two, three. Step, two , three.

Turn. Smile. Back straight. Keep up the smile. He knew the steps backwards, forwards, sideways, diagonally, and upside down. Who needed a partner?

He could hear the audience roar their approval as he did some fancy footwork, his hips swing and legs swinging out as he canted and dipped. Hell yes! He was doing it!

If only he could see the audience. The lights above were hot enough to make him sweat into his bowtie.

Lights.

Shit! The lights!

And, of course he wasn't wearing his shades.

Suddenly, Louis looked up from the dance floor, barely three inches tall. The music was still going, the drumbeat seeming louder.

"Looks like our contestant can't quite make it through the dance, folks!"

Yes he could! Louis kept his arms out, stepped back and forth. He wasn't wearing the tux anymore. He was wearing the blue uniform from test days at the Watch.

"What do you say judges? First, no partner. And then, unable to finish the waltz. Would that count as disqualification?"

"Doing a solo act does not count as disqualification!" yelled Louis, keeping his body focused on the dance. "Season three, episode eight, Patricia had to do a solo act because her partner broke his leg!"

The audience booed. Fuck. Not that. He had practiced so hard.

Louis tried to slide into the next step. The rubbery soles of his boots squeaked on the wood floor, dragging his step to an awkward jolt. Not good. That'll dock him points.

He could finish this. Just another minute of the music, do the final flare and then he wouldn't be disqualified.

The tremor of the saxophone and trumpet died. Under his feet the floor shook to the constant drum. One, two. One, two. One, two. The rhythm was messing with his dance but he kept going.

The lights died. The audience roar faded away. The announcer with the too big smile crooned into silence. Louis was alone. Disqualified. A tiny nothing that couldn't get the steps right.