by JJ Knight
The girl nods. We walk deeper into the dark, where we stand beside a fake section of fence I recognize from the second dance number.
A flashlight shines and a man walks through. And I see him. Blitz!
He looks focused and anxious as he follows the other man to the stage. They put him in position by the flowers. I try to read his expression, but he’s concentrating on something.
There’s more movement and the three finalists walk by. They are dressed to the hilt in splashy dresses and full makeup. The woman leading them stops at the edge of the stage, still out of sight.
A big red set of numbers counts down on a screen at the foot of the stage. I can see the audience, movements out beyond the light.
Then music, loud and startling, the show’s theme song.
The announcer is out front, brash and a little over the top in his dark brown suit and spiked hair. He speaks to the audience. “This is it, folks. The big moment. After an entire season one with no success in the end, Blitz Craven will choose his partner. For two broken hearts, tonight was their final dance with the man they have all fallen for. One lucky lady will become his partner, and maybe even get that ring.”
He turns to our side of the stage. “Giselle, Christy, Mariah, come on out!”
The audience cheers as they walk onstage. When they are in their positions, the girl next to me leads me to where they previously stood. I take off the gold cloak and hand it to her.
I don’t know what Blitz can see from the bright stage, but I am directly in his line of sight if he looks this way.
The women all hold hands as Blitz picks up the bouquet of flowers.
“What are your thoughts as you make this decision?” the announcer asks.
That’s when I see it. Blitz’s expression changes. It’s hard. He’s ready to do what he has to do. Something crazy. Something horrible. Something to get him fired.
And I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to. My feet carry me out on the stage.
Chapter 33
Blitz takes a step back when he sees me. “Livia? What are you doing here?”
I run up to him as the audience gasps and murmurs. My body moves, but my voice is definitely paralyzed.
He sets down the flowers. Cameras shift around us. I can hear the three women talking to each other in hushed tones. Even the announcer seems unsure of what to do.
I force air to come out, and then words. “I think you should dance with me right now,” I say.
Blitz looks around, toward the finalists, then out at the audience, and finally back to me.
And that’s when the music begins.
Thank you, Devon.
“Well, it looks like we have a surprise dance,” the announcer says. “Let me be the first to tell you that this is completely unplanned.” He turns to Blitz. “What is going on?”
“I think we’re just going to go with it,” Blitz says.
A woman in a glittery dress comes out and leads the three finalists off the stage. A girl in black comes to move the podium with its flowers out of the way.
The announcer steps off to one side, seeming unsure how to narrate what is happening.
“Did you pick this song?” Blitz asks.
“It’s a waltz,” I say. “It’s what we do best.”
He takes my hand. “I’m going to step on those toe shoes.”
This makes me laugh. “You are just a damn amateur.”
He pulls me in, grasping my hand. His smile is huge and genuine.
The position is familiar and calms me. We begin the steps, one-two-three, easy and simple. When he turns me out in the first spin, people clap. I don’t know what the audience thinks, how simple this must look compared to the big productions they saw earlier. But my eyes are on Blitz, and he’s looking at me. I have to make that be what matters.
Our steps get longer and more sweeping. We swing to the beat, and I feel my skirt flaring out. Then he turns me to face away from him, his hand on my thigh, and I remember this move and let him lift me onto his shoulder, just like that day in Studio 3.
I roll over his back and cartwheel out. The crowd cheers, and we come back around to each other. He lifts me up again, this time rolling me in front of him like he’s done so many times before, his hand on my thigh to sweep me into a downward position. I remember to keep my arms and hands pretty.
Another cheer.
We’re doing it. Unscripted. Us.
He lifts me back to standing and spins me in close, so our faces are right next to each other. We’re both breathing hard. We stay here a moment, hearing the shouts from the audience.
He curls me out from him and lets go of my hand. He takes a few steps back and then, he does it, a grand jeté, just like I taught him. I throw my head back and laugh. “Perfect!” I tell him.
He comes back to me and holds me by the waist. “Turn for me,” he says.
I spin the way we did before, then move away from him into a whirl, my arms starting low and spinning higher and higher as the world becomes a blur.
When I come out of it, Blitz is there, kneeling with one leg back. “Show me what you can do now,” he says.
I know what he means, and I relevé into en pointe and take tiny mincing steps toward him. He grasps me around the waist and turns me in a lazy circle. “You are incredible,” he says.
“You told Bennett you were in love with me,” I say.
“I did,” he says.
“You didn’t tell me about the extra episodes.”
His expression shifts. “No, I didn’t.”
I stop turning and sit on his bent knee. “You didn’t plan to do them, did you?”
He shakes his head no. “Is that why you’re here?”
I smile. “Somebody had to save Benjamin from Blitz Craven.”
The crowd erupts at that and I realize microphones are picking up our words. Somebody in the audience shouts, “Kiss her!” and that’s all the encouragement Blitz needs.
His lips land on mine, and I melt into him in our familiar way. My hands come to his hair, so lacquered and shiny that I almost laugh. But then his kiss gets deeper, more serious, and steals my breath.
The room erupts. The announcer shouts, “Who IS this girl?” over the noise.
Blitz turns me out. “This is Livia!” he says. “And she’s my choice for my partner.” He turns to me. “In dance.” He twirls me out in a circle and then back into him. “And in life.”
He kisses me again. And I don’t know anything else that happens because all I can see or feel is Blitz Craven.
~*´♥`*~
We stay that way until the lights go down. A man shouts, “And we’re out.”
The room goes wild.
Audience members rush the stage. Whatever security is there can’t keep them back.
We’re surrounded. Cameras zip overhead, recording the scene even though we’re off the air. I have a feeling my face is going to be everywhere tomorrow. I wonder if Mindy will see it. If my parents will.
Blitz keeps his arm tight around me. “I’ve got you,” he says.
Eventually four burly security guards muscle through the crowd and lead us offstage and back into the hall. Juliet and Bennett are there, excited and happy.
“Was this your doing?” Blitz asks Bennett.
Bennett holds his hands in the air. “I just bought the jet fuel,” he says.
Juliet embraces me. “You looked beautiful up there. It was perfect.”
“Not too amateur?” I ask.
“It was just fine,” she assures me. “Let’s get out of here before the place is mobbed any worse than it is.”
The four of us hurry down the hall. But when we turn the corner, there they are.
The finalists.
All three.
Giselle lunges at Blitz. “What the hell was that? One more humiliation for the road?”
Christy is crying. “I thought you were going to pick me!” she says.
Mariah has her arms crossed. “I was t
old that you had chosen me. My dress was the one that matched the final dance set!”
Giselle and Christy turn to Mariah in disbelief.
“Really!” Mariah says. Then she spins and walks away.
Blitz seems like he wants to say something, but I think it’s best he doesn’t.
“I’m sure you will all have wonderful careers,” I say and pull on Blitz’s hand to move us away.
“I can’t believe you fell for a two-bit amateur ballerina!” Giselle says. “I always knew you were a loser!”
“Okay,” Bennett says. “That’s enough playground trash talk.” He waves at the security guards to move the girls away.
Soon we’re out of the building and into Bennett’s Mercedes.
Juliet, Blitz, and I squeeze into the back.
Juliet sighs. “This is about the craziest night I’ve had in a long time.”
Blitz holds on to my hand and kisses my fingers. “You came for me.”
“Of course I did,” I say.
“I didn’t deserve it.”
“Of course you did.” I press his hand to my cheek. “I saw a prince who needed to be rescued.”
The lights of the studio flash by as we make our escape. Behind us, we leave it all behind. The crowd, the show, Blitz’s old life.
Now it will simply be us.
Epilogue
Blitz and I stand in the wings of the recital stage as the girls wheel out into the light. As soon as they appear, the audience claps for them.
Janel hurries down the steps so she can cue them from the floor. I hold Blitz’s hand as the sound tech starts the music.
Gabriella is near the end, and my eyes are on her as the girls go through their Nutcracker dance. It’s not flawless, as Daisy in particular gets stage fright and forgets half her turns.
But it’s adorable and emotional, and I wipe tears from my eyes as they finish the song and take their bows.
“We’ll get them in tip-top shape for the spring recital,” Blitz says. “Now that they have a performance under their belt, they’ll be old pros.”
We step aside as the girls wheel off the stage. Blitz gives each of them a high five.
“I still think Gabriella is the spitting image of you,” Blitz says. “She must have taken after her father, because she looks nothing like Gwen.”
I hesitate, thinking it is time to tell him, but we’re so close to all the others. I can’t do it here. They might overhear.
We follow the girls through the path made through the storage room since there isn’t a ramp down from the stage. We let them get ahead, walking slowly through one of our favorite spaces. As we pass the racks, Blitz picks up the top hat from our first time together and places it on his head.
“You haven’t changed one bit,” I tell him, and bump it so it tilts sideways.
He gathers me in his arms and kisses me thoroughly. I giggle and take his hat, placing it on my own head, then back on the rack.
We wander back down the studio hall. Each room is a staging area for the classes, and the whole place is crazy with excitement and nervousness. Blitz threads his fingers through mine as we skirt around kids getting their costumes straightened or lipstick applied.
Jacob sees us and nods, trying to tighten a hat string beneath the chin of one of his jazz students.
The foyer is quiet. I’ve already done my performance, so we don’t have to stay. Still, we linger by the front desk, looking over the programs laid there for the latecomers.
“I’m sorry your parents didn’t come,” Blitz says.
I shrug. “I didn’t expect them to.” When we got back from LA last week, I went by my house. My father refused to open the door.
Mom came out the back and walked around. She hugged me and told me to give him some time. She asked if I was already pregnant.
I said no.
Blitz got out of his car and stood next to it, waiting to see if I wanted him to come forward.
My mom asked, “Is that him?” and I told her it was.
“He must have money,” she said, and then she went inside the house.
I waited a little longer to see if they would come out again, but they didn’t. The curtain moved, and I saw Andy wave at me. I blew him a kiss.
I would give them time, like she asked. Hopefully one day they would come around.
Some of the girls from our class wheel out and head across the foyer to go watch the other recitals. After a minute, Gwen appears with Gabriella. I lean down to give her a hug. “You did great,” I say.
They go out the front doors and I stare wistfully at them as Gabriella zooms down the outside ramp. How I wish things were different.
When the foyer is quiet again, Blitz puts his arm around me. “So, how do you know her? I mean, you set the class up just so she could come.”
I glance around. There’s no one near.
I close my eyes and gather my courage. “Blitz, she’s my daughter. I had her when I was fifteen, and my parents made me give her up for adoption. She doesn’t know I’m her mother.”
Blitz pulls me close to him and presses my head to his chest. He smells like expensive clothes and aftershave. I want to get lost in the smell, forget what I’ve just told him. It’s unbearable, waiting for him to say something.
“Do you want to get her back?” he asks quietly. “I can call my lawyer.”
I pull away to look him in the eye. “No,” I say. “Gwen is a wonderful mother. I would never do that to her.”
He nods. “Okay. Then I see we’ll really have to stay in San Antonio.” He puts his arm around me, and we head for the doors. “Gwen could probably use some help. Let’s see if she’ll let us have some private lessons with her very beautiful, very talented daughter.”
My eyes smart from tears as we head out into the chilly evening and walk to his red Ferrari. This man gets me. All the way.
“Let’s do that,” I tell him. “I’ll bring it up to her next week.”
“Until then,” he says, “let’s go back to the hotel. There has got to be some part of you I haven’t yet memorized.”
I laugh, and he picks me up to cradle me against his chest.
I kick my legs, the pale purple tights of my recital costume a blur as I try to escape.
“Don’t even try it, my princess, my sugar plum fairy, my love,” he says. “Because now that I’ve got you, there is no way I’m ever letting you go.”
He sets me down in the parking lot of my favorite place, the Dreamcatcher Dance Academy. I glance back at it as he opens the door. My life changed at this place. And it’s only going to get better from here.
~*´♥`*~
I hope you enjoyed Dance with a Stranger! It is intended to be a standalone, but if you would like to follow Blitz and Livia for more of their story, there will be at least one more book as they face the challenges of their life together. See a sneak peek next! And don’t miss the bonus scene — the hotel scene from Blitz’s point of view!
Sneak Peek
Enjoy some early scenes from the next book of Blitz and Livia’s story
____________
These are the best days.
Gabriella leans sideways in her wheelchair, arm curved over her shiny black hair. Even at four years old, her ballet movements show expression and deep emotion.
She is her mother’s daughter, even if she doesn’t realize it. She may never know that I gave birth to her and spent years searching for her. I’m okay with that. Teaching her ballet is a joy.
Her pale pink tutu is brilliant with sparkles. It matches mine, minus the glitter. When I glance in the wall of mirrors behind the barre, my long black hair blending into hers, I don’t see how anyone could miss that we are related.
But so far, she’s a perfect secret.
“Hold,” I tell her, and shift her fingers into a prettier position.
“Good call,” Blitz says. He’s standing nearby, his hand cupping his scruffy chin, watching Gabriella’s movements with an eye toward improvement.
He wants to maximize the ways she can dance from the wheelchair.
You’d never guess this patient man, who seems to have all the time in the world, is actually Blitz Craven, currently the most famous dancer in the world due to his reality TV show Dance Blitz.
I turn toward the mirrored window to the hall outside. I can’t see through it, but I know Gabriella’s adopted mother Gwen is watching. She’s been a good mother to my baby, strong and caring even after the car accident that killed her husband and damaged our little girl’s spine.
After I told Blitz about my secret daughter, he suggested we give her private lessons. I changed my life to be near her, and now he has too.
Gwen was delighted at the idea of extra dance help, especially from someone as famous as Blitz. So now I get to see Gabriella twice each week. Once in her class for all the wheelchair ballerinas. And again during the lesson with me and Blitz.
Gwen doesn’t know who I am. No one does. My parents, whom I haven’t seen in the month since I left home to be with Blitz, don’t know I found her.
For a year, my discovery of her was my own solitary secret. Then I told Blitz just a few weeks ago, at the Christmas dance recital.
Now the new year has begun and it’s off to an amazing start. Blitz and I are staying at a hotel close by, still hoping my parents will come around and be willing to speak to me again.
Blitz and I dance together at Dreamcatcher every day while the producers of his show Dance Blitz manage the publicity following my surprise arrival and Blitz’s unscripted announcement on live television that I was his new dance partner. His manager Hannah still hasn’t calmed down about it.
Right now things are easy and good. I miss my little brother Andy, and since he is homeschooled like I used to be, I can’t easily see him. But I’ve been up to my church and managed to tell him hello and give him a hug before my parents took him away.
“Let’s try something with a quicker tempo,” Blitz says, heading toward the audio equipment in the corner. “Gabriella, are you getting tired?”