by JJ Knight
She’s going to leave us alone with Blitz’s father again. David already has his eyes back on the TV remote.
I make a move, jumping to my feet. “I’d like to help,” I say.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Renata says.
“I’d love to learn from you,” I say.
She hesitates. “Well, okay.”
“Good,” David says. “Let the women get the meal.” He clicks on the television.
I glance back at Blitz as his mother and I head down the hall. He’s shaking his head and gives me a wink.
Chapter 7
Renata’s kitchen is warm, organized, and bright, all cream with red accents. Piles of chopped tomatoes, yellow peppers, and jalapeños sit brightly on a counter.
“It smells wonderful in here,” I say.
Renata opens the oven and peers inside. “Do you cook much?”
“Yes,” I say. “But not Mexican food.” I glance over at the tortilla warmer and a pair of uncut jalapeños. “My dad is very much a meat and potatoes man.”
Renata laughs. “I’ll teach you to make carne guisada and papas pablanos. That will make any man happy with his meat and potatoes.”
“I’d like that,” I say. “What was Blitz’s — Benjamin’s favorite food as a kid?”
“Macaroni and cheese!” Renata says. She slides on a pot holder and pulls the steaming casserole from the oven. “From the box! I swear every time he went to a friend’s house he came back with worse ideas for food.”
“But you made it for him?”
She sets the casserole on a wide iron trivet on the counter. “I did. He and his brother Dante wanted to eat like their friends’ families.” Renata waves her arms toward the window and the street out front. “It’s where we chose to live.”
“But it’s San Antonio,” I say. “Lots of Hispanic families live here.”
“Yes,” she says. “But the neighborhoods are all different. I probably would have chosen something else, but David insisted. Of course, all the things Benjamin was exposed to here were what led him to be a dancer. So, it was good in the end.”
Renata scoops up the piles of cut vegetables and peppers and drops them into a large wooden bowl. “Are you from San Antonio?”
“Houston, actually,” I say. “We moved here when I was fifteen.”
“How long ago was that?” She gives me a side eye as she mixes lettuce into the bowl and slowly adds dressing.
She’s trying to figure out my age. “Four years ago,” I say. “Coming up on five.”
She nods. “Have you met Dante yet?”
“No,” I say. I knew Blitz has a younger brother because he called him Christmas Day, but he hasn’t made any sort of appearance.
“Ah, soon I will get both my boys together. Dante is like Benjamin, eager to be out and live wild.” She smiles at me. “But maybe you tamed the beast.”
She passes me the bowl. “Take this to the dining table, if you don’t mind. Out that way.” She gestures to a second door.
I head there. I’m surprised to see Blitz and his father sitting already. David is in the process of opening several bottles of beer.
“We moved on to the aperitif,” Blitz says, picking up the bottle. He holds one out to me.
I set down the salad bowl and take the beer. I’m still underage, but I’ve gotten used to drinking lightly when it fits the situation. In the past month, Blitz has had meetings at restaurants and sometimes at bars, and I prefer to blend in.
I know that the comment about the aperitif is meant to be a slight against his father, as I’ve only heard that word at fancy restaurants and brown bottles of beer wouldn’t qualify. The tension between them is pretty intense.
David takes a slug from the bottle and watches for me to sip from mine. We don’t drink beer often so I’m not used to it. It’s dark and bitter and fills my mouth with an overwhelming amount of flavor.
I try to control my expression, but David lets out a sharp laugh. “You brought home a real young one,” he says. “I guess you can teach her to be anything you want.”
Blitz brings the bottle down on the table with a thunk. “Be nice to her, Papá,” Blitz says. “I didn’t bring her here to be abused.”
“Bah,” David says. “You obviously fancy this one. She’s all right. But she’s such a skinny mite. How is she going to give birth to my grandchildren with those tiny hips?”
This makes my face flame. I’ve already had a baby, I want to tell him. But of course I can’t say that. I set my own bottle down, poorly, and it almost topples. I catch it, my hands shaking again.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I ask.
Blitz looks ready to explode, his face red. But he realizes my tactical retreat is better than a standoff. “I’ll show you,” he says, abandoning the beer and his father.
Blitz wraps his arm around my waist to walk me out of the room. I feel better, having him stand by me. I want to be strong, to yell back at this boorish man. But he’s part of Blitz’s family. My father would be no better. It’s what we endure.
We go down a carpeted hall and Blitz turns me into a door.
The bathroom is long and narrow with a curtained shower at the end.
Blitz comes in with me and closes the door. He draws me into his arms. “I’m sorry, Livia,” he says. “He’s being worse than I imagined. Or maybe I just forgot.”
I rest my cheek on his chest. “I’m okay,” I say. “I just needed a moment after the baby comment.”
“I know. But he doesn’t know. He won’t ever know about that.”
Is that true? Denham knows now. And he’s someone we can’t control. He could tell anyone, sell his story to the tabloids, even.
God.
“I have to face my past,” I say. “Others know now.”
“I’m so sorry I said anything about it in front of that guy,” Blitz says. “I should have been more careful. It’s my fault.”
I shake my head. “It’s my history. It happened.”
“But he didn’t know,” Blitz says. “If it wasn’t for me, he never would have.”
I embrace Blitz, my arms around his sturdy body. “I don’t blame you,” I say. “We didn’t expect him.”
“I just saw him, and how he affected you,” Blitz says. “I lost my head.”
I look up at him. “What do you mean, how he affected me?”
“You were so upset. He was so in love with you. It was so obvious. It caught me off guard.” He runs his finger down my cheek. “You loved him a lot too, I’m sure.”
I can’t deny that. Denham had been my everything for a while. But I wasn’t going to think about that. Blitz was here. And he is what I want. I’ve shown the whole world that by walking onto his show.
“I think you have an edge on him on a thing or two,” I say. I meet his gaze and press tightly against him.
“Do I?” Blitz says, the lazy smile I love coming across his beautiful mouth.
“You do,” I confirm, and press my hand against the back of his head so that he will kiss me.
This is what we need. To regroup, recenter, reconnect. It doesn’t matter who is against us. His dad. My parents. The show. Denham. We are strong. We fought to be here.
His lips are tender and calming. The kiss is easy, gentle, and reaffirming. I love this man. He loves me. We’ll get through this evening together. And whatever Denham will try in the coming days.
Blitz increases his pressure, becoming more demanding and urgent. He explores my mouth, his tongue engaging with mine.
After a moment, he breaks away. “I’m not sure I can keep my hands off you if we go on like this,” he says.
I reach for his fingers and slip them under my skirt. “Who says you have to?”
That’s enough for him. His mouth lands on mine again, pressing in, devouring me. He lifts me onto the bathroom counter. The fake marble is cold on my thighs, but I don’t flinch. I want this. The connection. In his home. With his parents waiting by the beer and casserole.
; He reaches for my panties and jerks them down. His fingers slip into me and I moan against his mouth. My hips slide down to give him better access.
He grabs one ankle and shifts my foot up onto the counter. Now he can slip more deeply inside. I lean back, reveling in his expert work inside my body. The tension is gathering around his fingers and I focus on him, the pleasure radiating out from his touch.
He bends down, his mouth there now as well, and this sends me into a frenzy. I hold on to his head, mussing his perfect hair, until I feel my muscles contracting around him.
I cover my face to avoid making noise as the orgasm splinters through me. Blitz doesn’t ease up the pressure until I’ve come all the way down, then he rapidly unbuckles his jeans.
“Come here,” he softly growls, his hands moving beneath me to move him close.
“Don’t forget,” I remind him. I’ve started the pill but it’s still a week before we can be careless.
He nods and drags out his wallet to extract a condom.
When he’s taken care of that, I lead him inside, then he’s got me, burying himself deeply, lifting me to straddle him. I imagine a dance routine that includes this, and figure it’s certainly been done. I wonder if Blitz has ever seen such a dance show, but I’m not going to ask him now, as everything is intense. I feel lightheaded as he lifts me away and drives me down, plunging with an intensity of need that permeates most of our encounters.
His guttural groan precedes the pressure as he lets loose inside me. I cling to his head and shoulders, holding on as his body goes tense and gradually relaxes.
He breathes against my neck, holding on tightly. When he finally lets go and sets me back on the counter, he says, “Can we just sneak out the window and blow off the rest of this dinner?”
My mouth forms a smile as I straighten my skirt and hop down to retrieve my panties. “We’ll just decide that every time your father gets testy, we’ll come back here and make them wait on us again.”
“He’s totally going to figure out what we’re doing,” Blitz says as he buttons his jeans.
“Let him,” I say. “Maybe he’ll decide I’m as much of a tramp as Giselle and like me as much as her.”
Blitz takes my hand. “What did I do to deserve you?”
I kiss his knuckles. “Absolutely nothing. So start earning it.”
He laughs as he opens the door. “I will endeavor to do exactly that.”
Chapter 8
On Friday morning, we head to the academy for my own dance class. I only earned my pointe shoes a month ago, and I still have a long way to go before I can dance in them for any length of time. This is no time to slack off.
My original toe shoes were sprayed blue to match a costume for my surprise appearance on Dance Blitz, but I have several pairs now to match my new leotards. Blitz has spoiled me since I moved into the hotel suite with him.
As so often happens in Texas, the weather took a dramatic turn overnight, the cold replaced with warmth. I can wear my leotard without a jacket, and Blitz is back in the sleeveless dance shirts I remember from our first days together.
He’s been taking my ballet class with Betsy, finally learning all the basics he skipped early in his training due to his father’s disapproval. It’s fun being there with him, especially now that the other girls are used to him. They’ve stopped giggling the whole time.
But when we approach the Dreamcatcher Dance Academy, we see something we didn’t expect.
Denham’s green truck.
“Shit,” Blitz says. “We should have known.” He stops the car a couple blocks away.
“Do we go on in?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“I can pummel him again,” Blitz says.
“No, no,” I say. “Isn’t he trespassing?”
“Not parked on the street,” Blitz says. “He’s wised up.”
His truck is faced away from us, but Blitz’s Ferrari is bright red and easy to spot. All Denham has to do is turn around and he’ll see us.
“What do we do?” I ask. I don’t want another confrontation, or for Blitz to hit him again. Why can’t Denham just go away?
“We call in reinforcements,” Blitz says. He presses a button on the dash screen. The sound of a phone dialing fills the car.
“Cushman and Rowe,” a female voice says. “How may I help you?”
“Alicia, this is Blitz Craven. Is Jeff around?”
“Hello, Blitz,” she says. “Let me see if he’s still in a meeting.”
The call goes quiet a moment.
“Who is this?” I ask.
“My lawyer,” Blitz says.
Alicia comes back on. “If you can hang on just a sec, he’ll pick up,” she says.
“That’s fine,” Blitz says. He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Jeff is good. He’ll give us some sound advice.”
We wait, watching the green truck ahead of us. I can see the back of Denham’s head through his window. He hasn’t turned around, but he might notice the car in his rearview mirror eventually. It’s so flashy. I wish we had a plain car.
“He’ll see us any second,” I say.
“I’ll get a rental,” Blitz says. “Something very plain.”
I try to relax against the seat. The truck is pretty far away still. We’re a couple blocks back and under a tree. Maybe he won’t notice.
“I can back away if you want,” Blitz says. “We can park around a corner.”
I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. I want to see what he does.” I’m deathly afraid he’ll go into the academy and make a scene.
A deep male voice pipes into the car. “Blitz! To what new debauchery of yours do I owe this surprise?”
Blitz laughs. “I’m not in trouble again. Yet.”
“Only a matter of time,” Jeff says. “I’ll name my next office building after you.”
I glance over at Blitz. They find the oddest things funny.
“So I have a situation. An old flame of Livia’s spotted her on the show and now is camping out on the street in front of our dance school. You should know I did try to knock a little sense into him yesterday when he tried to grab her, but he’s come back for more of the same.”
“So you assaulted him?” I can hear the tapping of keys. I guess Jeff is taking notes.
Blitz laughs again. “We’ll call it self-defense. I don’t think that part is going to be an issue. But I don’t like that he’s keeping Livia from dancing. What are our options?”
“We can apply for a restraining order, but unfortunately, that will reveal even more data, plus it becomes public record. Right now I’m guessing the rest of the world doesn’t know who Livia is. Just this guy because he already knew her.”
“We can’t have everyone camping out here,” I say quickly. “I won’t be able to come at all.”
“What else?” Blitz asks.
“Can someone reason with him? Can you keep this out of the public record?” Jeff asks.
Blitz looks over at me.
“He is the outlaw type,” I say shakily. “I think he feels like he doesn’t have much to lose.”
“What’s he after?” Jeff asks. “Is he trying to get Livia to see him?”
Blitz frowns and raises his eyebrows at me. “Should we tell him?”
“I’m sitting down,” Jeff says. “And Livia, confidentiality is what we are all about here. Nothing we discuss here is ever shared.”
I look down at my tightly laced fingers. This is where my shame has brought me. Except, it’s not shame anymore. It’s just my history.
“I had a baby,” I say. “This man’s baby. I gave it up for adoption. He never knew about it.” I hesitate. “But now he does.”
I expect Jeff to be surprised by all this, but his voice is the same steady baritone as he asks, “Is he named on the birth certificate?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “I’m pretty sure my father made up the name.”
The key taps are fast now. “How old were you?”
I don’
t want to say it, but I have to. “Fifteen.”
“Do you have a copy of the adoption contract?” he asks.
“No, but there is one up at my church.”
“Who handled the adoption?” Jeff asks.
“The church. It’s Catholic. There is some organization that does the legal stuff.”
“Have Blitz send me all the information on the church, and we’ll start digging for that contract.”
I’m terrified to ask this question, but I do. “Can he get the baby?”
“Not easily,” Jeff says. “He has to be able to fight, find a lawyer, get a judge to order a DNA test. That’s lots of hoops to jump through and lots of expense. Is the baby in a good home?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “And it would be terrible for her to be taken away. She has no idea who her birth family is.”
“I understand,” Jeff says. “We’ll protect her as best we can. Blitz, while I have you, let’s chat about the court date coming up with the production company.”
They start talking about something businesslike, as if this life-shattering event for me is just another case in his files.
I stare out the windshield at the green truck, petrified Denham’s going to see us and come out. I picture him with a bat, bashing the Ferrari. Why did he have to see me on the show? Why did he have to come?
I want to undo so many things now. The calendar pages in my mind start to flip, hurtling back in time. If only I’d resisted him.
But there had been no way to do that then.
After the sunbathing moment, I was very aware of Denham watching me. Paula and my friends might have been giggly and silly around him, but when his eyes clashed with mine, I didn’t feel like laughing. Something unfurled in me, something dark and intense. I wanted to feel more of it and see where it led.
Even Denham had to give in to the weather at times. Dad insisted he help out a little around the house, and one day the two of them set out in the backyard to replace some rotted fence posts.
Denham began the work in his jeans and boots, but as the day wore on, and the digging and hacking to get the old posts out got to him, he gave in and put on shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt, then eventually got down to just the shorts.