Candice grins. “Brotherly banter. Is there anything better?”
“Yes,” we reply in unison. “Plenty of things,” Wagner adds, staring at me as he raises his wine glass to his lips.
I smirk to annoy him even more as the MC walks onto the stage to get the show underway.
Okay, so maybetalentshow is a bit of a stretch.
So far, we’ve had a so-so acoustic guitar performance medley of a few Taylor Swift deep cuts, a ukulele solo that was…enthusiastic, and a stand-up set mostly focused on roasting neighboring small towns.
The highlight up to this point has been Bunny’s magic trick, where, true to her name, she produced five cute bunnies from her outfit. What topped it off was Sammy and his friends running out onto the stage to play with the bunnies.
But everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. The band playing old-school covers in between acts helps, as does playing short videos explaining the work we do at the sanctuary to rescue and rehab horses. Candice hired a gung-ho social media expert, and they’ve been posting the clips on social platforms in real time. So even those who couldn’t make it in person can follow along and glimpse some of what’s happening here tonight.
“Sammy’s up,” Wagner announces, jerking upright, cell phone in hand to capture every second of Sammy and his friend’s routine. Unlike some people, I don’t kill Sammy’s vibe, and I was allowed to stay and watch their rehearsals yesterday, so I already know their routine is super cute.
Sammy, Candice’s son, Tanner, and two of their friends step out onto the stage. Sammy takes a deep breath and raises his arms like a shooting star. His friends mirror him in perfect unison, their shy smiles melting into giggles as the familiar tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” filters through the ballroom.
They step in a simple pattern—smart move, keeping the choreo simple—and deliver a forward, back, side-to-sideroutine, mostly in sync with each other. At the final “star,” they all point upward, then huddle together for a final bow, smiling with flushed cheeks. It earns the first standing ovation of the night.
The band starts playing a pared-back version of “Shallow.” Candice excuses herself to check on the kids backstage, leaving Wagner and me to make small talk with the other people at our table. So naturally, I take her seat and turn my back to everyone.
“What are you doing?” he asks when I lean over his chair.
“Looking for Jackson.”
“I can’t keep up with you,” Wagner huffs. “I thought you hated him?”
I stop panning across the room and push myself upright again. “I’ve never hated him. He’s frustrated the living fuck out of me, sure, but so do you, and I love you.”
Our eyes meet.
His are wider than normal. “That a slip of the tongue or not?”
“Or not.”
“Okay,” he says, keeping his tone measured. “Once you two get your act together, let me know so I can have a little one-on-one with him.”
“Aw, you do love me,” I say, pawing at his arm.
“Get away from me, you freak.”
The host returns to the stage. Candice isn’t back yet, nor are Sammy and Tanner, so I stay in her seat.
“Please welcome to the stage, Pip Elm—Elma…” The host struggles to pronounce Pip’s surname. I did, too, the first time I saw it. Luckily, Pip was on hand to enunciate it one syllable at a time. “Elmalo…Elm?—
“Elm - a - logue - a - looo,” Pip growls out each syllable at full volume from stage left.
The host smiles, frazzled. “Yes, that. Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up!”
Everyone applauds as a figure draped from head to toe in a rhinestoned black robe glides across the stage. In perfect timing with a dramatic orchestral sound, Pip flings the robe off and launches himself upward into a sequence of jumps and twirls that seem to defy gravity. I know absolutely nothing about ballet, but I’m convinced he must have had formal training at some point. He spins with force and control, his arms glide through the air with a fluid elegance, and his timing is perfect, landing every jump with grace and precision.
Wagner nudges me with his elbow. “Are you seeing it?”
“Of course I’m seeing it. Dude is one seriously talented dancer.”
“No. Not him.It.”
I glance sideways at him. “What are you talking about?”
