Page 17 of Take the Lead
Dreading whatever Donna had to say, Gina headed downstairs and into the hall of offices. Donna ushered her inside and invited her to take a seat in the dark, cramped room, little more than a closet.
Donna was wearing her smarmy smile, which meant this conversation was going to suck.
“How are you getting along with Stone?” Donna waggled her eyebrows. “You gotta admit, he’s handsome.”
Ugh.Gina took a deep breath. “As you saw, we’re focusing on the dance and figuring out strategy. I think—”
“Yeah, we saw that.” Donna frowned. “It looks like you’re holding back, though. You’re usually friendlier with your celebs. And Stone seemed frustrated. Is there some tension between you two?”
Gina shook her head and smiled broadly. “Nope. No problems.” Aside from Stone’s gigantic, distracting muscles and reluctance to do more than the basic steps. She’d lost track of the number of times he’d asked, “Is this really necessary?” And it was only the first day.
Donna leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. “Maybe you could warm things up a bit. It would make him feel more comfortable, I’m sure.”
What the hell? Lips pressed together, Gina sucked in a breath through her nose. She counted to five as she let it out, then spoke clearly and evenly. “As we’ve discussed in the past with my agent, I have a hard stop on the fake romance narrative.”
Donna rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Gina. Look, we know you’re attracted to men—”
“Excuseme?” Gina’s eyes went wide, her lungs swelling like a balloon as disbelief surged through her.
“So I’m not sure what your problem is,” Donna barreled on, ignoring the outraged objection. “Stone’s hot. Just flirt a little more, give us a few soundbites to imply there’s something brewing. Viewers love sexual tension. It will get you tons of votes, and possibly even the trophy.”
Low blow. Donna knew how much Gina wanted to win, but she also knew Gina was adamantly opposed to pretending she was hooking up with her celebrity.
Gina got to her feet. “Don’t worry. We’ll get lots of votes, and we’ll get them the old-fashioned way—through amazing choreography and strong technique.”
“But will it be enough?” Donna pressed.
“It’ll have to be. Because I’m not going to pretend I’m fucking Stone.”
Donna shrugged, unoffended. “You should. I’d fuck him.”
Gina opened her mouth to make some retort she’d probably regret later, but Donna’s next words left her speechless.
“I’m just looking out for you, Gina. The fact of the matter is, if you don’t make the finals, I’m not sure we’ll have a place for you next season.”
Gina’s mouth snapped shut. Her skin prickled like she’d jumped into an ice bath.
“What do you mean?” The words came out raspy.
Donna lowered her voice. “I like you, Gina. You’re smart and you know how to play the game, even if you refuse to do the one thing that would almost assure you the win. But you’ve got to make the finals if you want to stick around.”
“Donna, my nieces watch this show.”
With a shrug, Donna flipped open her laptop. “Figure it out, Gina. And make sure those promo shots are sexy as hell.”
Gina walked out.
She seethed all the way to her car, using a pair of giant black sunglasses to shield her from the crowd of paparazzi hanging out across the street from the parking lot. Once inside, she gripped the steering wheel hard. She wanted to scream, but those assholes with the cameras would hear her.
For years, she’d worked her butt off to build a name for herself in an industry that was cutthroat and unforgiving. She’d done it through talent, skill, and determination. She continued to take dance classes, along with singing and acting lessons, to brand herself as a triple threat.
It burned to have all of that reduced to the lure of her sex appeal. As if that were her only worth, the only reason viewers might vote for her and Stone. Not because she was a qualified teacher and an accomplished choreographer with a good personality. Donna’s statements implied that all the viewers cared about—all the producers cared about—was who she was screwing. This was exactlywhy Gina had insisted her agent tellThe Dance Offupfront that she was not willing to be used for romantic storylines.
She pulled out her phone and called her sister. It was well after work hours in New York, so Araceli would be home, probably making dinner for the kids.
Araceli picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Gigi.”
“They want me to fuck him.”
