It Takes Two to Tango

Chapter 1: Damage Control

Ace 🖤

I woke up with a pounding headache, my eyes squinting in the bright sunlight filtering in through the half-drawn curtains. I ran my fingers through my long, dark brown hair, trying to piece together the events of the previous night.

As I sat up in bed, I noticed that the room was in disarray, littered with empty beer bottles and crumpled cans strewn across the floor. The sheets beside me rustled, and I turned my head to find a cute brunette sleeping soundly, her hair tousled and a faint smile on her face. Her presence added a layer of confusion to my already throbbing head.

My slim build and toned abs were on full display as I rubbed my temples, trying to shake off the hangover. The sight of the mysterious girl next to me, peacefully sleeping, stirred up a mixture of curiosity and surprise as I tried to piece together the puzzle of the night before.

Just then, the door burst open, and my manager, Big Mike, stormed in, his red face contorted with rage. My brows furrowed with confusion as I tried to figure out what was going on.

"Ace, what the hell did you do last night?" Big Mike bellowed, his voice unnecessarily loud, echoing off the walls.

Big Mike's gaze shifted to the woman in the bed, and with a stern expression, he addressed her, "You, out! Now!"

Startled, she hurriedly grabbed her things and, avoiding eye contact, exited, casting me a nervous glance before disappearing through the door. I couldn't help but feel a sense of indifference as the woman quickly left the room.

I looked up at him, annoyance creeping onto my face. "What are you talking about, Mike?" I muttered.

"You don't know?" Big Mike exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You don't know what you said?"

I shook my head, my stomach churning with unease.

Mike whipped out his phone and thrust it in my face, playing a video clip of me spewing disparaging remarks about women- especially black women.

Interviewer: If you had to decide, what kind of woman is your least favorite?

Me: My least favorite woman?

*Interviewer nods their head with confirmation*

Me: probably black.

*interviewers eyes bulge out with shock*

Interviewer: Do you care to explain what you mean?

Me: uh-blacks... uh - those women act like the world owes them something! Look at that Aria girl, that upcoming singer? All she does is complain on social media. What guy wants a woman who nags about shit that we can't change? Move on already."

I winced as I watched myself on screen, realizing the contemptuous words that had escaped my lips. I was utterly baffled by the words that had tumbled out of my mouth. I had never even thought about black women in general, and I couldn't fathom why I'd felt the need to express something so hurtful.

"Oh, shit," I muttered under my breath. "This isn't good. Why the hell would I say that?"

Big Mike glared at me, his nostrils flaring. "No, it's not good," he hissed. "It's a fucking disaster. You're supposed to be joining the cast of 'Star Strut' in just a few days, and now this video is all over the internet. Do you have any idea how much damage this could do to your career?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, still struggling to comprehend the gravity of the situation. "It's just a stupid video," I muttered. "I didn't mean any harm by it."

Big Mike's face contorted with frustration, his hands clenched into fists. "You better start understanding the gravity of this, Ace," he cautioned, his voice laced with a threatening edge. "Or you can kiss your entire career goodbye."

While I grappled to make sense of the dire situation, Mike continued to prowl around the room, his piercing dark brown eyes betraying a concealed scheme.

"You know what?" he mused, his tone unnervingly composed. "I believe I have a solution to this mess."

My gaze lifted to meet his, suspicion coursing through my narrowed eyes. "What's on your mind?""

"I'm talking about "Star Strut," Big Mike replied, a sly smile curling at the corners of his thin lips. "You're supposed to be dancing with Karina Popovich, the blonde chick, right? Well, I have a better idea. I'm going to switch you to Aria Jackson."

I stood there, my jaw hanging agape in utter disbelief. "Aria Jackson?" I echoed, my voice tinged with surprise and anxiety. "The activist? Come on, Mike, you can't be serious."

Big Mike's shoulders lifted in a casual shrug, but his eyes bore a steely determination. "Ace, you're not exactly in a position to choose," he declared firmly. "Karina's out of the picture, and the show's producers are insistent that we remedy this before you hit the stage. Trust me on this one; Aria is an incredible dancer. The synergy between you two could set the stage on fire. This might just be the image overhaul your fans have been waiting for."

I hesitated, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.

I turned to Mike with a skeptical tone. "Mike, I'm not sure if that's the best way forward. Aria, well, she's known for being a bit challenging to work with, always advocating for women's rights and such. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for respecting women, but based on what I've seen online, she can be quite intense."

A small, knowing smile curved on Mike's lips. "That's precisely why I'm making this change, Ace," he said. "I want you to show everyone that you're not the insensitive person they've portrayed you as. And, besides, the chemistry between you two on the show might be just what we need to elevate your public image."

I sighed, running a hand through my long, dark brown hair. Mike had a point, and I couldn't deny it, but the prospect of working closely with someone who would likely scrutinize my every move didn't sit well with me.

"Fine," I grumbled, my reluctance clear. "But if Aria becomes difficult to work with, I'm out."

Mike clapped me on the back, exuding confidence. "Trust me, Ace," he assured me. "This is going to be a game-changer for you." His grin held a hint of mischief as his eyes sparkled. "And who knows? Maybe this is your chance to mend things with Aria."

I didn't bother responding. I knew that changing Aria's opinion of me was a tall order. However, I also realized that I had no other choice. I was going to have to work with her and do my best to salvage a less than ideal situation.

Sighing heavily, my head still pounding from the hangover, and my mind reeling from the video revelation, I was acutely aware that my career hung in the balance. I couldn't afford to mess this up. With a deep breath, I rose from the bed and set about cleaning the mess in my room. It was an attempt to clear my head and devise a plan for moving forward.

As I picked up the last of the beer cans, I understood that things would never be the same again. I had to confront the consequences of my actions and put in the effort to redeem myself in the eyes of my fans and colleagues. With Aria Jackson as my possible new partner on "Star Strut," I realized that matters were only going to become more complicated from this point onward. Yet, for better or worse, I was committed to seeing it through.

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