Page 36 of Forbidden Dance
“How do you stay fit eating McDonald’s all the time?” I ask.
He glances down at the cups and bags. “Busted,” he says. “That was mostly on the drive from LA.”
“You drove?”
“Yeah. I avoid airports and other places with tons of people,” he says. “I think you underestimate how hated I am right now.”
“But you kissed a pig!”
He laughs again. “I’m going to have to do a lot more to get past this.” He signals and speeds up to enter the highway.
I screw up my courage and ask, “So why did you do it?”
“Do what?” he asks.
“The terrible thing,” I say. I really don’t want to say it out loud.
He sighs. “It wasn’t supposed to be a Tweet. I was tired. And sick of that girl. She was making my life hell. How that was supposed to make me pick her as the winner, I don’t know. She wanted to go somewhere off camera, so I took her to a hotel.”
His expression is dark. It’s as hard for him to say this as it is for me to hear about this girl he slept with.
“Are there usually cameras around?” I ask.
“Yes and no. The show makes it appear that they follow us everywhere, but they don’t really. Now, my house in LA is definitely rigged. You never know when they are going to activate something or where one might have been moved that you don’t know about.”
“That’s a crazy life,” I say.
“Yeah, well, we were avoiding it. I’ve been under some pressure since I didn’t pick anyone last season. The producers said I had to choose a girl this time, even if I didn’t propose.” He glances over at me. “I have no plans to propose, by the way. I might have danced with one of them for a while. They were all good. But there was no real love affair happening.”
I figure he has to say that. He’s on a date with me, after all.
“So you posted the picture without paying attention where it went?”
“That’s the thing. I just sent the picture to my friend Duke. It was a joke between us. A terrible, horrible joke. But meant to be private.”
“Still, sending a picture of a girl like that.”
He nods. “I know. I freely admit to being a bastard. I guess I just sent it to the wrong account. And screwed myself. I was going to throw this deal at some point anyway. Nobody could get through that lifestyle unscathed.”
My stomach sinks. What am I doing here? It’s so hard to talk to him. He looks like Benjamin. Acts like Benjamin. But this discussion is all about Blitz. That decadent life. And even if he didn’t mean to share that picture with the world, he still took it. And said what he said. Even if it was just to a friend.
I look at his car. His life as Blitz is just like this. Fancy on the outside. Trash on the inside.
“You think you’ll get your show back?” I ask. “Will kissing a pig and dancing with girls in wheelchairs really do it?”
“I adore those girls,” he says. “Don’t think for a minute I don’t.”
“Okay,” I say. I’m not sure I believe him right now, but I’ll go along.
“I’d rather leave them out of it, but it looks like we’re filming them on Tuesday.”
“I gathered.”
“I don’t know about the show. I’m not sure I even want it back at this point.” He reaches over and takes my hand. “I had forgotten what normal life was like.”
His fingers are warm and strong. I feel that glow again. I’m running hot and cold. I don’t know what is real and what is acting. It’s so confusing.
I glance around the car. “Did they put cameras in here too?”
