When the music ended, Bentley refused to let go of Sara's hand.

She was forced to stand on the stage, with the camera crews running here and there, and not look as surprised as she felt.

The manager rushed up to them. "Stupendous! Marvelous! Our viewers are going to LOVE you," he declared. He turned towards a skinny man beside him. Sara guessed he was a choreographer.

"Get the other VIP sections down here at once! Teach them the foxtrot, but most of them should already know it." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Bentley released Sara's hand and stepped forward. "I'd like to invite several members of the general audience to join us all onstage."

The manager, looking startled that Bentley had been listening, nearly dropped his clipboard. "Of course, of course! Wonderful idea!" He leaned towards the choreographer. "Make sure anyone you choose from up there" – he pointed to the people who stood at the highest balcony – "teach them the foxtrot BEFORE we start filming. I don't want any hiccups in my show." Before the choreographer could walk away, the manager grabbed him by his shirt collar. "And make sure the people you choose from up there are actually attractive."

Bentley hadn't heard the manager's conversation. He'd been waving at Kurt to come down to the stage.

The choreographer returned, moments later, with several extremely excited people from the general audience.

A couple from VIP section B had also agreed to dance on stage. They were a married couple in their late forties. The man was very heavyset. Sara wondered why the manager didn't point that out if he only considered attractive people worthy of dancing on the stage. But she decided the VIP status obviously had its unfair advantages.

One of the girls from the general audience didn't have a partner. She stood as stiff as a soldier with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She gazed around the room with childlike awe, taking in the exotic costumes of the professional dancers.

Sara saw the girl's dress was very plain. It was an off-gray color that almost looked too big on her small frame.

I have a million dresses at home I could have given her, Sara thought, wistfully.

The manager, who'd been running around yelling at various cameramen, now spotted the girl. He spun around and grabbed the choreographer, again, by his shirt collar. "You brought an odd number!" he snapped. He gave the choreographer a slight shake.

The skinny man shrugged. "I pointed at a group of people like you said. I guess she thought she was supposed to come with me, too." The choreographer shook himself loose from the manager's hold. Stepping back, he crossed his arms over his chest. He glared at the girl as if it was all her fault.

The poor girl looked horrified by the news. "I wasn't supposed to come down here?" She flung her hands up to her face. She started to shake. "Oh, wow. I'm so sorry. I'll just go back up there..." She seemed to be on the verge of tears.

Bentley, who'd been listening with great interest, stepped forward. "She'll dance with me," he said.