The car pulled up in front of Rockefeller center, and the stunt they were about to pull suddenly felt real. Mikey felt the first flutters of anxiety — he should be used to them by now after years of dance shows and then the weekly pressure cooker that was America’s Best Dance Crew, but something about this show outside of the safety of the studio felt different. He fiddled with his earrings, and his legs bounced up and down, ready to get going, ready to dance. “Jason, how many RTs now?”
Jason looked up from his iPhone, and his hazel eyes flashed with excitement. “Over 100 in the last hour. Our secret stunt has officially become a little less secret.”
Madison smiled that confident grin that always wooed the ladies. “Game on.”
The car door opened, and Layla appeared, looking photo-shoot ready as always, her flawless brown hair flowing out from beneath a white knit hat. She smiled. “Come on out guys, we’ve got to get you miked up. Keep your jackets on for now. Don’t want you guys freezing up out there!”
The three guys climbed out of the car, the light February snow falling around them, dusting the soaring concrete towers, the parked cars, and the newsboxes. It looked like everything was covered in powdered sugar — it reminded Madison of the kitchen after he tried to make Christmas cookies with his grandma when he was a little kid. (She’d called the result “the best kind of disaster,” and they’d drawn pictures on the sugar-coated countertop.)
They followed Layla toward the skating rink, and Jason took in all the details: the waving flags, the skaters whirling like colorful snowflakes, the golden statue of Prometheus gleaming above the rink. He’d write it all down later to remember it: maybe those details would make it into a novel someday, or maybe a memoir, because one thing was for sure — this felt like the beginning of something incredible. To Be One had been in New York City before, but this time they had back-to-back events scheduled before they had to head back to L.A., their home away from home.
“Remember when our dads took us skating here when we were, like, nine?” asked Mikey. “And Jason tried out some dance moves on skates and ended up crashing into that cute girl?”
The guys all laughed, and Jason gave Mikey a playful shove. “Killed my dreams of the Ice Capades,” said Jason.
“So that’s what the ballet training was for,” teased Madison.
Madison realized he’d stopped feeling nervous — his brothers (from another mother, but brothers nonetheless) always had that effect on him. He was so grateful he got to do this with Mikey and Jason, since no matter how crazy things got, they’d always keep each other grounded.
Layla presented a big, burly tech guy holding wireless mics. “Okay, gentlemen,” he said, “we’ve got things all set up for you. Did a soundcheck earlier and acoustics are actually pretty great.” He tucked the wireless mic receiver into the back of Jason’s pants, pulling his sweater over top. Jason shivered. He was starting to wish they’d worn more than hoodies and winter hats. But they needed freedom to move, plus snowpants were surefire sexiness killers.
“So here’s how it’ll go,” said Layla. “In a couple minutes you’ll see some arena workers heading out with the dance carpet. You follow them. They’ll unroll it at center ice, and then you take your starting position and we’ll hit the music. We want to take people by surprise.”
The guys nodded. Jason started shaking out his arms and legs, and Madison and Mikey hopped around a bit. Then Mikey pulled them into a huddle: something that had been their tradition since their first performance when they were seven when they’d only remembered half the routine. First they lowered their heads and prayed, like they always did, and Madison gave them a pep talk. “We’ve worked our butts off on this number and we know it inside and out. There’ll never be another performance like this one. Let’s give all these people something to talk about.”
Then Layla joined the huddle. “Okay, boys! Get out there and light this place up.”
They saw the crew on the move with the carpet, and they edged out onto the ice in their sneakers. “Jason, try not to take anyone out this time,” said Madison, and the boys all chuckled. The crew dropped the carpet and unrolled it, and the guys stepped onto the non-slippery patch with some relief — a spectacular wipeout might have made this performance go viral for the wrong reason. They took their starting positions, legs wide, heads down and waited. Some people stopped skating to watch, curious.
Then the rink’s music turned off and the opening notes of “Do You” pierced the hubbub of the rink. And as soon as Mikey hit the first “Yeah, all right,” all their nerves vanished and they locked into the number they’d been practising so much they saw it in their dreams. Now everyone had stopped skating, and people were holding up the phones to capture the number. Jason heard a couple of screams: could they be for them?
They nailed the number: it was as sharp and in synch as it had ever been, and when they finished, and the regular music started back up, the boys found themselves on an tiny carpeted island surrounded by excited girls. The familiar Rockefeller buildings rose around them. But this wasn’t the same New York City they’d known all their lives: suddenly it felt like their New York, and in their New York anything was possible.
What’s next on the band’s New York agenda?
a) A photo shoot for their upcoming album
b) Rehearsals at the local dance studio
YOU ARE READING
Never Gonna Stop
FanfictionA Choose Your Own Adventure-inspired To Be One fan fic! Vote every week, with a new chapter up every Tuesday. Help us decide what the boys should do next... [This is a story written by @livspencer, thanks Liv!]
