Page 28 of Forbidden Dance
“An ex-reality show star,” I say.
“But isn’t getting his show back the whole reason he’s doing all this charity stuff?” Mindy asks.
“He is?” I ask.
“That’s why he’s at Dreamcatcher.” Mindy pulls out her phone. “He’s organized a fund-raiser and kissed a pig at a rodeo and —”
“He WHAT?” I try to picture Blitz and a pig and it so does not fit.
“Yeah, he went to some rodeo last weekend and kissed a pig. If they got so-and-so much money for some charity, he would do it in the arena.”
“Show me.”
Mindy taps on the screen. “Here’s the video.”
I look around, making sure my dad isn’t taking a stroll right about now. I have to be visible when he walks by, but hidden enough that he can’t see what we’re doing.
“Let’s sit on that bench,” I say. Our backs will be to the sidewalk.
We head there and Mindy hands the phone over. The still shot is of Blitz in a cowboy hat and jeans. My pulse speeds up at the sight of him. He looks so different but still perfect.
Blitz stands on a stage with an announcer. It’s not the big San Antonio rodeo, which isn’t until February. It looks pretty small and informal. A teenager brings out a pig with a ribbon on its collar. Blitz gets down on his hands and knees to plant one on its pink snout.
I laugh. He’s trying so hard. He’ll do anything.
“If he gets his show back, he’ll leave for LA again,” I say, eyes still on the video.
“You’ll just have to marry him and go!” Mindy says.
She’s so crazy. And impractical. That’s not how these things work. Even if I was his soul mate, he’d have to go back to his job. And his contestants. Women willing to strip naked for him in front of everyone.
His wife is supposed to come fromDance Blitz. It’s part of the show.
The video ends and another one automatically begins. It’s not a news station, but a celebrity gossip site.
A woman sits with a video in the background, like a newscaster. She says, “And Blitz Craven continues his wild nights deep in the heart of Texas. The dancing Romeo, who was recently the subject of a Twitter scandal when he posted a naked woman in his bed, is back in the saddle with socialite Avery Hines, daughter of tech mogul Michael Hines.”
The video behind her shows Blitz, in jeans and a black jacket, escorting a woman in a slinky red dress to an open limo. His arm is on her back.
My stomach drops. “When was this?” I ask.
“Maybe that was last week,” Mindy says. “Before he even met you.”
But the woman goes on.
“The King of Dance has been seen with several prominent Texas women since he kissed a pig at a small local rodeo last weekend.” Behind her flash several images of Blitz in various places around San Antonio, a different woman on his arm each time.
So he has been seeing other women all week. And unlike me, brushing off his kisses for days, these women probably do all the things he wants.
“You think any of those were last night?” I can barely ask the question, my mouth has gone so dry. “Do you think he went out with someone after he kissed me yesterday?” The words are physically painful, like barbs in my throat.
“No way,” Mindy says. “You said the owner warned him away from you, right? That’s probably what made him see other people. And now that he knows how he feels about you, he won’t. There wasn’t a date on that footage. It could have been a few days ago.”
But I’m not sure about that. I close the video and look on her phone for Twitter. When I open the app, I type in #BurnBlitzBurn.
Page after page of Tweets appear. I read a few out loud to Mindy.
“Looks like the alphahole dancer is making moves on Texas women. Maybe one of them will shoot him. #BurnBlitzBurn.”
