Page 88 of Forbidden Dance
“Thank you, Penny,” Juliet says.
Bennett settles back in his chair. “Everything is on course in LA,” he says. “Dress rehearsals are going well. We are all set.”
“Does anyone know who he’s going to pick?” I ask.
“The director should know, and probably a couple of wardrobe people,” he says. “They have to be ready, as Blitz will do a final dance with the winner.”
“He got a wedding ring,” I say. “Is it scripted for him to propose?”
“He’s not proposing,” Juliet says. “All the shows have a segment where they look for a ring, but it’s rarely used. Twenty seasons of theBachelor, and only one proposal. In fact, I think that six-carat monstrosity is just on loan, right?” She looks to Bennett.
“It’s not even on set,” he says. “It never left the jewelry store.” He laughs. “The producers have to sign off on anything worth more than half a million that needs insuring.”
I begin to calm down with their banter. This is going to be okay. I check my watch. The test will end in ten minutes. That’s when Mom will realize I’m gone. Dad is out with Andy. I wish she had a cell phone. Will she call the police before she even leaves? Or will she go home? I should have thought about that.
“What’s on your mind, Livia?” Bennett asks.
“I’m just worried Mom will call the police from the SAT site, before she can get my note. I’m not very good at planning this escape thing.”
“I’ve already put in a call to my friend on the force,” Bennett says. “But it’s best if we can prevent her from notifying them. I can’t guarantee the dispatcher or officer who is called will know anything.”
“Doesn’t an adult have to be missing twenty-four hours before they do anything?” Juliet asks.
“Technically, I think that’s true,” Bennett says. “But I’d rather avoid the whole thing if we can.”
“Mom doesn’t have a cell phone,” I say.
“You want to leave a message on your home phone?” Juliet asks.
I can do that. I pull out my cell phone and shakily dial my home number.
Then the worst happens.
My father answers.
For a long moment, my voice is stuck in my throat.
“Hello?” he says again, his voice gruff.
I finally manage to squeak out “Dad?”
“Livia? What is it? Is your test done? Is your mother okay?”
“Dad.” I pause. This is hard. “I left Mom at the center. I’m not there.”
“Then where are you?”
“I’m taking a trip away. I took my test. It went fine. Other than the essay part. I skipped that.”
His voice is a roar. “LIVIA MASON, WHERE ARE YOU RIGHT NOW?”
His anger helps me rise up to defend myself, makes me stronger. “I’m doing something for myself, Dad. I’m on an airplane,” I say. “I’m leaving.”
“Get off that plane right now!” he shouts.
“Dad, do you hear yourself?” I ask. “I can’t do that. I’m leaving for a while. You can’t stop me.”
I rush on before he can yell again. “But you can stop me from ever coming home. And I don’t want you to do that. Don’t make it so I never come home.”
