Page 57 of Wounded Dance
“Yeah, we were pushing it,” Blitz says. “So, okay, we’ll figure something else out.”
“Even if that means you never get to see your super fan Weeza again?” I tease.
“I’ll have to live with that.” He drops another kiss on my hair.
“To the bath?” I say.
Blitz nuzzles my neck. “Definitely.”
After an hour’s soak, among other things, we start to feel human again. Blitz calls up a simple breakfast with healthy pressed juice and carbs, and we prepare to head to Dreamcatcher for the wheelchair ballerina class.
“You think BD will be there today?” Blitz asks. “Or did he get enough charge out of his outburst on Friday?”
I slide my Crocs on over my tights. “I honestly don’t know. Danika should have security there by now. And presumably she has a restraining order in place.”
“He still hasn’t seen our gray car,” Blitz says. “I could put a mustache on you.”
I hold up my hands. “No need. I’ll just wear sunglasses.”
“So not fun,” he teases. He calls down to the concierge to have the car brought around.
I shove my dance shoes in my bag. I don’t really know what I will do if Denham is there again. He shouldn’t be, if the order is in place.
“All set,” Blitz says. “Let’s go dance with your daughter!”
The idea of Gabriella being there makes me anxious. Denham has seen the pictures of me as a young girl. They were hanging in the halls. But that was a long time ago. Surely he won’t remember them well enough to recognize Gabriella in them.
Although it’s possible he could recognize something about himself. She has his eyes. Seeing him again confirmed it for me.
We head downstairs, where the gray Mazda waits. Blitz pulls a ball cap low on his face. With his sunglasses, he isn’t recognizable. I wrap my head in a floral scarf and put on my own pair. Now I see why celebrities look like they do.
We drive in silence the short distance to the academy. Blitz approaches it slowly, watching for the green truck.
It doesn’t take long to see it.
“Shit, he’s right there,” Blitz says. He makes an abrupt right on a side street to avoid driving past him.
“You think he saw us?” I ask.
“No,” Blitz says. “He was fiddling with something on the sidewalk.”
“He was out of his truck?”
“Yeah, kneeling on the ground.”
We circle the block and approach Dreamcatcher from the other direction. The green truck is on the opposite side now. Denham is still sitting down low.
“What is he holding?” I ask.
“It’s one of those construction-sized measuring tapes on a reel,” Blitz says. “He’s measuring something.”
We turn into the drive, but I keep my face angled away. “Did he see us?” I ask.
“He glanced up, but he didn’t recognize us in this car,” Blitz says. “He looked right back down again.”
“Did you figure out what he’s doing?”
“The end of his measuring tape was the corner of the parking lot,” Blitz says. He drives around to the back of the building and parks. “I’m guessing he’s making sure he’s outside the zone of the protective order.”
