Page 29 of Wicked Dance
Chapter 9
We succeed at getting to Dreamcatcher Tuesday morning without anyone following. Suze looks up from the front desk with a grim smile. “Y’all are trending again on Twitter,” she says. “Everybody wants a rematch.”
Danika catches us in the hall. “I’m keeping the security,” she says. “The mob at the dance shop made the news and I can’t have that here.”
Blitz and I glance at each other. We already caused enough trouble with my ex Denham showing up and requiring Danika to get a restraining order. His getting arrested out front cost the academy quite a few dancers.
“If we need to take a break, we will,” Blitz says.
I can’t imagine not getting to see Gabriella, but Danika just waves her hand. “We’ll work around it. Just do your part not to be followed. I’ll be on top of any mothers who think it will be fun to say you are here.”
We head back to the studios, where Janel has already begun to warm up the wheelchair ballerinas.
The girls love their sparkle sticks, ones we sent a courier to retrieve from a different shop, and we dance with them for the allotted hour. But what should have been an escape feels hollow and strained. The mothers send us sympathetic glances. More than one keeps checking the hall as if they expect a crowd to surge in at any moment.
“We can’t keep this up,” I say to Blitz as we get in the car after class. “We don’t have the setup to handle this level of privacy invasion.”
“Nobody does,” Blitz says. “But one good thing about the public is its short attention span. I really think this will die down in a few days.”
I hope he’s right. As we drive a circuitous route back to the hotel, I wonder what we’re even going to do for Valentine’s Day. I have a gift for Blitz, not much since I don’t really have money of my own right now, but I’m hoping we get to celebrate it somehow.
When we get back to our suite, I ask him, “Are we staying in tonight?”
He falls back on the sofa. “I have reservations at an amazing place, but I’m not sure they are going to be thrilled about dealing with our level of crazy at the moment.”
“Do they have celebrities often?” I ask.
“Probably, but San Antonio just isn’t that kind of town. It’s not like New York or LA or even DC, where lots of places have protocol in place. Here they rely on being expensive and having valet parking to keep the public at bay.”
“You just want to stay here?” I stand at the end of the white sofa, looking down at him. I’m filled with uncertainty.
“Come here,” he says, waving his arms at me.
He’s taking up the whole sofa, so I lie on top of him and tuck my head against his shoulder.
“I’m happy doing whatever,” I say.
“Me too,” he says, kissing my hair. “But I really don’t like three pain-in-the-ass women controlling our lives.”
“Technically, it’s their Twitter feed,” I say.
He goes still. “What did you say that Twitter account was called?”
“DanceBlitzRematch,” I say.
“Huh. Hold on.” He shifts us a little to pull his phone out of his pocket and taps a contact.
I listen to his heartbeat as it rings. Then someone picks up.
“Hey, it’s Blitz Craven. Is Larry around?”
He pauses. Larry is his lawyer.
“No, no, don’t bother him. Just tell him that we have a trademark violation on Twitter. The account is DanceBlitzRematch. I’d like it down as fast as he can make that happen. Thanks.”
He kills the call. “That will take care of that.”
“Assuming it’s not one of the producers who can lay claim to the trademark,” I say. “There was that one guy.”
