Shall We Dance Page #5

You are a romantic.

Bobbie!

- A new costume.

- Yeah.

I got it from this mermaid dream

I had in the hospital.

Just floated up from

my subconscious.

Where, tragically,

it did not stay.

Come on, partner.

What are you waiting for?

Divine intervention?

You're a brave man, John Clark. Not

just anyone could take on the Bobbinator.

Yeah.

Good luck, man.

We're with you.

Somebody help me up! Please?

John!

OK. 55 days from today you two

are gonna win the novice competition.

That means you're gonna

have to master five dances.

I've asked Paulina

to videotape you tonight,

so you can see what

you're doing wrong.

Let's start with a rumba.

What? What is it?

It's the rumba.

It's the dance of love.

And he's just not

giving me anything.

What does she want me to do?

I'm doing it exactly the way I was taught.

You think it's easy...?

The rumba... is a vertical expression

of a horizontal wish.

You have to hold her like the skin

on her thigh is your reason for living.

Let her go like your heart's

being ripped from your chest.

Pull her back like you're gonna have your

way with her, right here on the dance floor.

And then finish...

Like she's ruined you for life.

See? Why can't you

just do it like that?

Anyone else care

for a glass of water?

Damn it!

No, not you.

Look, I have to call you back.

No, he's not home yet.

What was the score at half-time

in the NBA playoffs last night?

Why?

Why? You said you watched.

What was the score?

- I forget now.

- You didn't forget. You didn't watch.

You don't care about playoffs.

You care about dancing!

Shh!

I do not.

Yeah? Then what's this?

Give me that! No!

Give me that! Give me...

It's not even mine.

It's my mother's.

At least, it was my mother's until I took it

to this wonderful alterations guy...

who had it tailored for me.

Look, it's not like I've

figured this out either.

- Hey, listen...

- What?

- Come back to class.

- No.

You could take over as

Bobbie's partner in the Latin dances.

You've got those knocked already.

There's no way I could learn 'em in time.

I'm not comin' back as

the Bobbinator's partner!

We'll look like an olive

and a toothpick together.

Besides, she would

never dance with me.

Sure she would.

Just the Latin dances.

I'll still do the waltz and the quickstep.

She would.

No!

Not if he was the last bald, bad-breathed,

heterosexual sequin-freak on earth -

which he probably is.

I'm not doin' it.

You wanna win the Latin competition

or not? It's up to you. I don't care.

Link already knows the dances.

And he'll be a good competitor.

Right, Link?

So, finally giving up

on the underage bimbettes...

and gonna go for a real woman?

Is that it?

Yeah, no more underage bimbettes for me.

Only real women from now on.

Don't even think about coming near me

without a breath mint. You got that?

And quit lookin' at my ass.

We'll try.

Vern, you know, there's a

joyful freedom in your Latin.

And Chic, you have an innate sensuality

quite uncommon in a man.

I've entered you both in the

competition along with John.

Good. That's settled.

You... are the frame.

I'm the frame.

- She is the picture...

- She is the picture...

...in your frame.

Everything that you do

is to show her off.

- You got that?

- I didn't hear that.

Nice. Invite the lady in.

And... make the connection.

Projecting to the third balcony.

911! 911, quick!

Quick, 911! 9...

And start here with an

initial sweep past the crowd.

Watch.

And contra-check.

Excellent.

Oh, Jesus.

We wanted something unusual.

- Are you OK?

- Yeah.

- You sure?

- No, I'm good.

But you guys look exhausted.

I tell you what,

why don't we call it a night?

For your sake, John.

You look like you're toast.

- And tomorrow's a big day.

- Yeah.

- Get home safe.

- OK.

- I'm wearing you guys out.

- No. No, no, no.

It's good. I like it when my feet hurt.

Takes my mind off my knees.

I've just been getting carried away, you

know, working hard with the two of you.

I guess I like it.

Feels good, you know?

For me too.

All right.

Well, I'm going home.

Hey, wait.

I wanted to talk to you about

that night that you asked me to dinner.

I'm sorry about

how I treated you.

It's just, you know, that people get

the wrong idea about me all the time.

Paulina, you don't have to

explain anything to me, ever.

Well, I know I don't have

to explain anything to anybody...

because I don't care

what people think about me.

Good. Good.

- I mean it.

- Yeah, uh-huh. Good. Good.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't

be here right now.

No, it's OK. I think I'm just

hungry or something.

- Hungry?

- Very.

- Oh, this is so stupid.

- No.

No, not at all. No, no.

I cry too when I'm hungry.

For French fries, usually. You?

Cake.

Careful. Don't spill it

on your new coat.

- Old coat, new color. I had it dyed.

- Yeah?

Yeah, my dad did it.

He's a dry-cleaner.

As is my mom, my brother,

my two older sisters and me.

I told you I know about stains.

- You're a dry-cleaner?

- Well, I was. Until I was eight.

Actually, that's when

I started dancing.

I was helping out in the store

one day after school...

when my mom asked me

to go in the back and get an order.

It was this incredibly delicate sequined

thing, held together by a gold thread.

Well, I carried the costume

like it was gonna break.

And then I saw the customer.

She was the most beautiful woman

I had ever laid eyes on.

She invited us to see her dance that night.

And my mother said yes.

It was like the whole world had suddenly

gone from black-and-white to color.

The beautiful woman and her partner

stopped right in front of us...

and did a waltz pose.

She tilted her head back

and she winked at me.

And I felt like she was trying

to tell me something.

I took it as a sign.

And from then on. I knew that

ballroom dancing would be my life.

It wasn't the kind of dream

my parents had in mind.

What made you wanna dance?

You.

Looking out that window,

right up there.

You can see it from the train and...

every night I'd come home from work

and I'd look for you, your face.

You looked on the outside

the way I was feeling on the inside.

I was watching you too.

From the window I saw you

practicing on the platform.

No! Oh...

That night I said all those things to you,

I didn't think I'd ever see you again.

But you kept coming back.

I didn't want to.

But I figured if I hadn't, you'd have been

right about everything you accused me of.

Then I started dancing and I found

I really liked it. It made me happy.

Yes, it shows.

I mean, I feel excited about something

for the first time in such a long time.

- Aren't you?

- Excited?

About tomorrow.

The competition.

No, no, no.

I'm petrified. I'm...

I'm gonna forget everything, I won't be able

to put one foot in front of the other,

- I'll make a mess of the whole thing.

- No.

Give me one hour.

Leave it. Leave the light.

Don't say anything...

and don't think.

And don't move

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