by JJ Knight
“You could always join the circus,” Bex says.
I slide down. “Do you miss it?” I ask.
“Cirque?” she asks. “Sure. It’s a rush. But it’s also four hundred shows a year. The wear and tear on your body is incredible. It’s not something you can sustain for long.” She tugs on the black silk to start bringing it down. I guess today’s lesson is over.
“How did you get in?” Blitz asks.
“It’s a process,” Bex says. “There are auditions a few times a year around the world. Some people are scouted. The cuts are merciless. Often only a handful will make it through out of hundreds.”
“Dang,” Blitz says.
“And that only gets you into the training academy, where they will make more cuts. Medical is severe. You have to be top notch, and no braces or accommodations. Then you have to get a contract, and not everyone does. They keep a database of talent and only cast people when they need them.”
Blitz nods. “I’m probably already too old,” he says.
Bex laughs. “For acrobatic work, yes. But it’s not your background.”
“Wouldn’t be my thing anyway,” Blitz says.
“No,” Bex says. “It takes very strict dedication.”
Blitz puts his hand over his heart. “I’m wounded to think you believe I’m not dedicated.”
Bex laughs. “Your reputation precedes you.”
Blitz takes my hand. “Well, that whole lifestyle is behind me. We’re doing this for fun.”
“You can come back tomorrow,” Bex says. “Or give your arms a recovery day. Let me know.”
“We will,” Blitz says. “Thank you.”
Bex nods, folding up the silks. We pick up our bags.
Jenica heads toward us as we move toward the door. “Blitz,” she says, “you sure you don’t want to do more work today? You’ve only just warmed up!”
Blitz winks at me, and I remember how he felt about Jenica’s work schedules. Too much, too high risk for injury.
“We’re good for today,” he says. “I’m needed back at my hotel.” He tugs his phone out of the side of his bag, glances at it, and shoves it back in. “Thirty minutes ago, apparently.” He sighs.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I’ll tell you in the car,” Blitz says.
“See you again soon,” Jenica calls. “You can schedule more time with Weeza on the way out if you would like.”
Blitz laughs. “I think she’d delete anything I book. I’ll have my assistant arrange things.”
Jenica waves and we head past the scowling Weeza.
“Miss you already,” Blitz says as we pass.
We hurry through the door and out to the gray car before she can insult us again.
Chapter 13
Blitz seems tense as we drive back to the hotel.
“So what’s going on?” I ask him.
His jaw is set, and he doesn’t answer right away. I reach out and squeeze his arm.
He puts his hand over mine. “My lawyer Larry flew in from LA this morning,” he says. “He’s at the hotel.”
“What?” I ask. “I thought you got someone local when you needed things done here in San Antonio.”
“This is big,” he says. “The executive producers of Dance Blitz filed a lawsuit against me. They probably had it ready to go, and when I refused them again yesterday, they filed it.”
My heart drops. “Bennett too?” I assume Danika didn’t know, as we talked to her at Dreamcatcher this morning. Or maybe she wasn’t supposed to say anything. I don’t know how any of this works.
“He probably tried to stop it, but there’s only so much he can do. He’s only one of four executive producers.”
“Who are the others?” I try to picture the room at the last meeting, but we hadn’t stayed long. “I remember the red-faced man who threatened to sue.”
“That’s Lance,” Blitz says. “He’s been having a fling with Giselle, or something. She’s got him under her spell. That’s clear.”
“And there was a woman.”
“Yes, Taya. Then Bennett. Then a man named Drake Addler. He was quiet.”
“What will happen?”
“I guess Larry will tell us.” His face is grim as he exits the freeway near the hotel. “You want to go up and change first? He’s already been here an hour.”
“No, we shouldn’t keep him waiting,” I say.
“Probably not.”
We pull up to the hotel and the valet opens my door. I feel hot and sick. It’s finally come to this. I wonder now if I should have saved Blitz during the live finale after all. If he was going to walk away, maybe it should have been with them firing him. Then we wouldn’t be here.
The ride up in the elevator feels long. Blitz holds my hand. I fiddle with my leotard self-consciously.
We don’t go all the way up to the floor with our suite, but one about halfway. When we step out, there is a lounge like ours, but bigger, with more people. We pass by it and on to a hall where the doors are all open. They are meeting rooms.
Blitz checks his phone again and pauses in front of one of the doors to peek in. “Found him.”
The room would hold about forty people normally and has a speaker podium at the front. There’s a round table near the back. A man in a pale gray suit and a woman in a black dress sit at it, chatting. They stand up when we enter.
“Blitz, Livia,” Larry says. “Glad we could get together.”
“You came all the way from LA,” Blitz says. “It’s bound to be important.”
Larry’s face sobers. “It is. You two sit down.”
The chairs are round and cushioned. I set my bag on the ground by my feet and fold my hands on my lap. I know this isn’t about me directly, but I’m nervous. Blitz is right, Larry wouldn’t have flown here himself, no doubt canceling other important meetings, if it wasn’t critical they meet.
“Just hit me with it,” Blitz says. “No sugarcoating.”
Larry opens a folder and turns it around to slide it across the polished wood table. “You were served a breach of contract lawsuit at close of business yesterday,” Larry says. “I did a quick review and booked a flight because if you’re going to fight this, we need a strategy. It’s not pretty. It goes for the jugular, that you knowingly and maliciously corrupted the holdings of the producers, causing them financial harm.”
Blitz’s face is like stone as he flips through a few pages. “This is legal mumbo jumbo,” he says, pushing it back. “What’s the upshot?”
“They are seeking damages,” he says. “Big ones. I’m not privy to your holdings, but you’re going to want to settle out of court. Their numbers are meant to scare you.”
“Where are they?” Blitz asks.
Larry flips a few pages. I look with him. There are more zeros there than I can quickly add up. But it’s millions of dollars. Millions.
Blitz’s face is still calm. “Did you put in a call to Bennett?”
“Yes, but his lawyer is keeping him at bay. He’s not going to fraternize on this. You know he can’t.”
“What do they want me to do?” he asks.
“The show,” Larry says. “They want the three original bonus shows, on a rush schedule to appease the network and their advertisers. And two more shows to round out the eliminations of the three finalists plus Livia.”
“They want me to consider those other girls?” Blitz asks.
I can see the tension in his shoulders.
“The particulars are not in the document,” he says. “They just have listed the three contracted shows that were promoted but never filmed, plus two option shows, also in the contract, which, honestly, is less than they could go for. They could ask for another fifteen-show season. You could get out of that, but the non-compete clause requires you do no other dance shows for five years if you do.”
“So they really only have me on the hook for three shows I skipped out on. I don’t care about the five year lockout.”
“Yes, t
hey have you on the hook for three. But the malice is what gives them leverage. They feel like they can prove you purposefully destroyed your image to end the show.” Larry closes the folder and sits back. “No way we’d go to trial on that. It would be a circus you don’t need.” He glances my way and my cheeks burn. I know he’s thinking about Gabriella, and the near-disaster we had with Denham, her birth father.
“I will not be bullied into doing that show. It was only a hit because of me,” Blitz says.
“That’s a cocky attitude and why we have to settle,” Larry says, his voice calm and even. “They know you.”
“If I don’t do it, it’s what, just a money issue?”
“Yes, but these damages are ridiculous. It’s over the budget of the show. I know you weren’t paid anything near that. You couldn’t have been.”
“I can do commercials or whatever,” Blitz says. “They are not going to force my hand.”
“Blitz, you knew those shows were coming. You did the promo for them.” Larry’s voice has taken on a soothing quality. The woman in the black dress quietly types their discussion. “Just do them.”
“They will crucify Livia,” Blitz says. “She is not under contract. This is straight-up blackmail.”
“This is straight-up you not holding up your end of a contract,” Larry says. “I’ll fight this if you want me to. I’ll let you go bankrupt. I’ll let you be a Hollywood pariah. But you need to ask yourself if it’s worth it over a few weeks of shooting and a couple dance numbers.”
Blitz looks up at the ceiling. I follow his gaze. It’s pretty, actually, little metal squares with patterns on them, all lined up.
I decide it’s time for me to speak up. “Let’s do the show, Blitz,” I say. “You get to pick the winner. It’s not like you’re going to have to propose to anyone. So what if I can’t dance as well as them?”
Blitz turns to me, his dark eyes soft. “Princess, you have no idea what you’re about to get into. Brutal Tweets dissecting your every move, what you eat, what you say, comparing you to the other girls, deciding whether or not we should be together.”
I pull my cell phone out of my bag. I flip it on, find the Twitter app, and click the little “x” in the corner. The phone confirms, “App deleted.”
“Next problem?” I say.
“Paparazzi. Fans. You can’t go anywhere,” he argues.
“Please,” I say. “We’re already dealing with that. It will die down after the episodes air.”
“They’ll make me go on dates with those other girls. I’ll have to act like they have a chance. You’ll have to go through that.” His eyes are more somber.
“I already watched you buy a diamond ring for one of them,” I say. “It’s a role. It’s acting. I’ll be cheering you on, and heck, maybe I will be the first one to say you sure don’t seem very into that Mariah girl.”
Blitz looks from me to Larry back to me. Seconds tick by. I keep my expression as neutral as possible. I’m scared to death, of course I am. But if Larry is acting like this, then we have to listen.
“All right,” Blitz says. “Tell them I’m on board.” He taps the table. “It’s your job to get me out after these five episodes. Seriously. Your job. After this, I’m done.”
Larry nods. “I’ll let them know. I’m sure they will be in touch with a production schedule.” He tucks the folders away. “You’re doing the right thing. Nobody wins when this happens. Just do your time. Put on that smile. Hang on to your girl. Muddle through.”
He stands up. We do too, and shake his hand.
“Pleasure to meet you in person, Livia. I’m glad your personal matters are resolved.”
I nod at him.
The girl packs up her laptop. We head to the hallway and part ways, them to the regular elevator, us to the private one.
And just like that, we’re back in the world of Dance Blitz.
Chapter 14
Hannah calls that afternoon. Blitz sends her call to voice mail, then phones his assistant Shelly to deal with her and get the details of the production schedule. Neither of us feel any love for his manager. When the show is over, she is too.
We sit on our balcony, watching the sun set on the San Antonio skyline. It probably won’t be long before we have to go to LA.
Blitz scans some of the messages coming through and sighs.
“I’m actually going to miss this hotel,” he says. “But we’re going to be gone almost three months. We should pack our things.”
I nod. “We have a lot.”
“I’ll have a service do it. Where would you like to live while we’re in LA? A hotel like this? A condo? My place is still full of cameras. We’ll only go there when we’re contracted to do so.”
“The hotels feel safe,” I say. “But I would like to be able to cook a little. Feel like something is mine.”
“I’ll have Shelly send us some properties. I don’t think I’ll buy another one, just rent something. You don’t want to live permanently in LA, right? We’ll come back here for Gabriella.”
I nod, my voice feeling thick. “We’ll have to tell her we’re going to be gone for a while.”
“We’ll do the wheelchair class on Tuesday and let them know then.”
My head falls back against the chair. It’s cool out, and the tear that squeezes out of my eye feels chilly by the time it slips down my cheek.
We get the schedule the next day. Rehearsals are supposed to start on Monday, but Blitz insists we will arrive Tuesday night. They agree to delay until Wednesday.
We spend part of Friday with Bex at Jenica’s, working on more aerial silks. When she hears we’re leaving town next week, she gives us the name of another instructor in LA. There’s a lot of them there, and some specialty trainers in Vegas if we need help with particular moves. I know we probably won’t have time for it. But everything is temporary. We just have to get through the five shows.
We pack some of our things over the weekend, the items we want to take with us ourselves. Bennett offers his plane on Tuesday, saying nothing about the lawsuit or the result. We accept.
Soon there is nothing left but good-byes. I know they aren’t forever, but it’s still a big change. I’ve never lived anywhere but Texas and have only spent a few days here and there in LA.
I haven’t made up with my parents, who still won’t speak to me.
And there’s Gabriella. I won’t see her for months.
Blitz has new ribbon sticks made for the class, ones they can take home. Each stick is the girl’s favorite color, all made from the same type of sheer shiny fabric. It touches me that he knows each of them so well.
We place the girls in a semicircle at the start of class and Blitz passes out the sticks. He talks a little about each girl and her strengths as a dancer.
When he gets to Gabriella, my heart clenches. I take pictures with my phone, glad for an occasion to get really good, close shots without revealing how important she is to me.
“You, our spunky dark-haired queen,” Blitz says, “have a smile that will light up the stage and a passion that makes every dance of yours something extra special. Everyone who sees you will know that dance is the thing you love most in the world.” He hands her an emerald green ribbon stick.
Like the rest of the girls, tears are streaming down her face. She hiccups, trying to say something, but instead just buries her face on his shoulder when he hugs her. I know how she feels. That shoulder is the best.
Janel brings the music tempo up after that, and we have a good time rolling around the room, free dancing and doing conga lines. When the lights blink to signal the end of class, the girls clutch their new ribbon sticks and roll over to say their good-byes.
I focus in on Gabriella. She’s holding up better than she did an hour ago, watching Blitz with bright, sad eyes. “I will miss you,” she says to Blitz. Then she turns to me. “You too, Miss Livie.”
When her gaze meets mine, it takes everything in me not to lose it. I bend down to hug her, an
d she clings to me. It’s the longest embrace we’ve ever had, and I revel in the feel of her, the strawberry shampoo, her slight little figure bending forward in the wheelchair.
She is the most precious thing I have.
The next class starts to trickle in, and the moms arrive to escort out the reluctant dancers. Blitz and I hang back, watching them all leave. He squeezes my hand.
When Janel has started the new class, we pick up our bags and head out into the hall. Only moms are outside, chatting or watching through the windows. A few glance over at Blitz, but nobody says anything. We’re lucky nobody here gives up our location.
“One more time in the storage room?” Blitz asks.
I nod, looking down the hall as if Gabriella will appear again, although she’s surely gone by now.
He leads me to the back wall and through the door of the storage room. It always feels magical to me to come here, light slanting through the high windows. It lands in fine beams on the mats, equipment, and costumes stored here. A round cap sparkles over the edge of a box, a jaunty feather coming off one side.
“Time for a montage,” Blitz says merrily. He leads me behind a rack and takes on the voice of an announcer. “Right here in this spot, Blitz Craven first kissed the young and lovely Livia, catching her by surprise.” He pulls me close and presses a gentle kiss on my lips.
Then he twirls me out, making me laugh. “And on this wall right here…” He lifts me up, turns in a circle, and sets me down next to a blank spot by the shelves. “The less innocent Livia wrapped her naughty, naughty legs around the wayward dance star.”
He lifts my legs so they encircle his hips.
I speak up next. “And then the clumsy wannabe ballerina knocked over a box of shakers, and the secretive couple was discovered by a fellow instructor.”
Blitz laughs. “I forgot about that.”
He wraps his arms around me and turns, holding me up against him. My hair flies out. “This has been a wonderful place for us, and I promise you.” His face gets earnest, his lips in a serious line. “We will come back here. Together.”