Page 21 of Wicked Dance
“They’re not even engaged,” Giselle spits out. “And happiness and bliss was never a selling point for the show. It’s the competition.”
“So you can whore yourself out,” Blitz snaps.
I squeeze his hand again. I’m starting to see why he nearly lost his show over a Tweet about her. She really gets to him. I’ve never seen him like this.
“If I may,” Bennett interjects. “After the finale, everyone expects Blitz to be with Livia. She has her own fan base, and a dozen Twitter handles have already appeared for her. I say we get her on board, build a show around the two of them, and ride out the contract.”
A friendly-looking older man sitting next to the finalist Mariah reaches his hand out to the center of the table to get their attention. “I believe,” he says, “that some form of compensation should be offered to the finalists for loss of income and publicity associated with the unscripted ending of the show.”
Bennett speaks again, his face calm below his perfectly trimmed hair. His suit is flawless. He seems totally in control. It’s obvious he manages situations like this every day.
“It isn’t clear who the winner would have been. I’m aware we planned a dance around Mariah, but in all honesty, there were sets prepared for Giselle and Christy too. Blitz had the final say, and we agreed at this very table that he could make a last-minute choice based on the live events of the evening. So all contestants had an equal chance of losing, and the publicity they received after this unscripted finale was greater than it would have been if they had simply lost.”
The lawyer sits back. Mariah frowns.
“What we don’t know,” Hannah says, “is what the future ofDance Blitzshould be. We have a very popular franchise here, and we need to proceed carefully.”
One of the women speaks up again. “I am not on board with a bland show about a couple in love. I don’t think Livia is a strong dancer, and she can’t carry the numbers.”
My face flames hot, even though I know it’s true.
“If we keep the competition aspect, then what are they competing for?” Bennett asks.
“It has to be dramatic,” the threatening man says, his face blustery red. “There’s no point in driving it into the ground.”
“Just let the girls have it,” Blitz says. “They can do aBacheloretteand look for a male partner. I don’t care. Just leave us out of it. I’m only dancing with Livia, and that’s final.”
With that, he leads me out into the hall.
We walk a ways down before I work up the courage to ask him how he’s doing.
“That was open season on me back there,” he says. “They can figure out what they want with the show. They can sue me. I don’t really care if I ever work in this town again anyway.”
We pass through the exit and crunch across the asphalt. The studios are quiet, although there is some activity several buildings down. Blitz punches angrily at his phone. “Trying to get the driver,” he says.
It’s mid-afternoon and beautiful out, sunshine and white clouds. It doesn’t match Blitz’s mood, though, and I just walk alongside him, trying to be a calm to his storm.
I don’t know what the producers can do to him, but Bennett is definitely on our side, and a couple of the others seem as though they could be reasoned with. Surely we will all find a way to work it out.
