Page 92 of Forbidden Dance
One of the girls points up at the screen. I hadn’t noticed it with the sound off. “Here comes the first dance number,” she says and picks up a remote. Now we hear the announcer saying, “And in our first number of the night, Blitz Craven with finalist Giselle Andreas.”
The girls turn my chair so I can see. Cecilia is still doing something to my hair, but I guess my makeup is done.
Blitz comes onstage in all black and dances alone, circling a lamppost onstage. He tips the hat he’s wearing and looks down like he’s lost his last friend.
Giselle comes onstage, doing the same lonely sort of dance, until they bump into each other. They are surprised, then dance together. She’s wearing an old-fashioned brown dress and her hair looks like a pinup girl.
“Your hair work looks great, Marie,” Cecilia says.
Marie steps closer to the television. “They went conservative with her,” she says. “Trying to tone down the tramp.”
“Ain’t nobody can take the tramp out of that girl,” another girl says.
Juliet clasps her hands tightly. I can see she’s agitated. But I think it’s funny, and a break from my nerves.
They do dance well together. I can see why Blitz picked her. I can’t do anything like what they are doing. Lifts and spins and sliding each other across the floor.
“Okay, see what you think of this,” Cecilia says, turning me back to the mirror.
The world whirls for a second, then I lock in on myself. I have to stand up and walk closer to be sure it is me. My face glows, cheeks lightly blushed, and my eyes are big and open, the lashes the only decadent thing about me, long and thick. My lips are pale pink to complement the dress.
My hair is very classic, up in a high bun, glossy and black, with a braid that encircles my head. It’s beautiful, almost regal. Like a princess.
I impulsively give her a hug. “It’s beautiful, thank you,” I say. I turn to Juliet. “Now what?”
“We wait,” she says. “We wait until it’s time for him to choose the winner.”
Chapter 32
We watch the three finalists dance separately with Blitz. There are cameras everywhere, following the girls as they head out, and the announcer sometimes talks with them as they go to their individual dressing rooms.
Bennett has brought my toe shoes, and the wardrobe woman sprayed them light blue to match the dress, adding sparkles to turn them into something new and beautiful. I swing my feet to make sure they dry in time, although she assures me it’s very fast.
The interviews give the stage people time to change out sets. We occasionally hear people rumbling out in the hall. Twice, dancers dash in to have a false eyelash fixed or a lipstick smear corrected.
“Five minutes until the finalists come in to be prepped for the selection,” Cecilia says.
“They’re coming in here?” I ask. I’ve felt safe and somewhat removed from the activity in the makeup room.
“Yes, they have a wardrobe change in their dressing rooms, but they will come here for makeup,” another girl says. “Plus Marie here has to totally redo Giselle’s hair.”
“I have a plan,” Marie says. “We practiced the quick change.”
“I can’t be in here,” I tell Juliet, hopping up from my chair. “I can’t face them.”
Bennett nods. “Probably not the best idea. They will send a camera to get shots of them preparing. We should be out.” He checks his phone. “And…legal has just insisted Livia sign some papers anyway.” He opens the door. “Let me make sure Blitz isn’t out there.”
He looks left and right and motions for us to go. We quickly duck back into the room we started in. There are more people now, some standing to watch the show. It’s in commercial at the moment.
A man in a suit sits at a table in the corner. Bennett leads me over.
The man doesn’t have any formalities but gets straight to the point.
“This document acknowledges that you do not hold the producers, television station, production company, or any of their subsidiaries liable for anything that happens onstage.” He flips the page. “And furthermore, that you agree to allow your likeness to be used as part of this production, and any derivative works that are created based on this production.”
I look up at Bennett. “Isn’t a contract what got us here in the first place?”
He nods. “It sort of is.” He taps his fingers on the table. “Liam, I know you are doing your job, but I’m going to take on the liability for this one.” Bennett leans over and signs his own name to the document. “I’m personally responsible for her actions and any actions taken on her behalf as a result of this production.”
