Page 93 of Forbidden Dance
Liam sighs. “This is not how the contract was drawn.”
Bennett shrugs. “Then call security to escort us out.”
Liam closes the folder and stands up to leave. “I was never here.”
A couple of the people in the room have noticed what we’re doing. The blond in the red dress asks, “Is this one of the chorus dancers?”
Bennett doesn’t answer. “Let’s go,” he says. He takes me by the arm, and we head to the door. Behind us, the show starts up again. Blitz is in a room where footage of the finalists dancing is playing on three separate screens. The announcer asks him if he’s ready to make his choice.
We head into the hall. There is a screen a ways down. I can see the flash of the light. I want to see what Blitz is doing, but my nerves are on red alert and I’m trying not to freak out.
We pause outside a set of double doors. Blitz glances up at the red light above it, then opens the door.
We’re in a very dark area with red lights low on the floor. Ahead, I can see a brighter light. We carefully walk across, avoiding thick bundles of wires and passing the shadows of people who are turned to a screen. This one is dim and surrounded by a black case so that the light leaks as little as possible.
I see that Blitz is still in the viewing room. The announcer is talking to him, but this monitor has no sound.
The show switches to montages of Blitz with the three girls. I’ve already seen all these moments, so I turn back to the bright light ahead. Now that we’re closer, I can see people moving equipment around.
It’s the stage.
My stomach twists. We’re here.
A man approaches Bennett. “Is this her?” he asks him.
“Yes,” Bennett says. “Livia, this is Devon, the director.”
“Hell of a thing to spring on me,” Devon says. “But this is gonna go viral tonight.” He seems rather giddy. “Livia, I’m going to take you to the dance choreographer so we can talk about possible scenarios.”
We move closer to the light, and I spot more people standing together. Devon approaches a woman and points me out. The two of them come over.
“Why are we doing this?” the choreographer says. “We already know who he is going to choose and we already have the dance ready to go.”
“Because this girl’s the real deal,” Devon says. “And we’re gonna make reality television history.”
My stomach flips again. I have to believe I’m doing the right thing.
The choreographer looks me over, stopping at the toe shoes. “You’re a dancer?”
“I do ballet,” I say. “But if I danced with Blitz, it would be a waltz.”
“What have we got rights for?” Devon asks her. “What can we play if this goes her way?”
“I have several,” she says. “Slow or fast?”
“Definitely slow,” I say. I feel like throwing up. Am I really going to dance with Blitz in front of everybody? We haven’t practiced anything.
I gulp in air. I have to have faith. He said we danced well together. I always understood his communication and was able to follow. It doesn’t have to be fancy. It just has to be real.
The choreographer starts walking away. “This is nuts,” she says.
Devon takes me to the false wall that backs the stage. “So here is how it goes. Blitz is going to be over there at the podium in the center, the one with flowers on it.” He points. “And the girls will be standing to his left.”
“When should I go out?” I ask.
“Whenever it seems right,” he says. “This is unscripted.” He turns to face me. “And you don’t have to do this, you know. The show can run as planned.”
“I know,” I say. “I’ll only go out if I think he’s going to do something terrible.”
