Page 45 of Wicked Dance
Chapter 13
Blitz seems tense as we drive back to the hotel.
“So what’s going on?” I ask him.
His jaw is set, and he doesn’t answer right away. I reach out and squeeze his arm.
He puts his hand over mine. “My lawyer Larry flew in from LA this morning,” he says. “He’s at the hotel.”
“What?” I ask. “I thought you got someone local when you needed things done here in San Antonio.”
“This is big,” he says. “The executive producers ofDance Blitzfiled a lawsuit against me. They probably had it ready to go, and when I refused them again yesterday, they filed it.”
My heart drops. “Bennett too?” I assume Danika didn’t know, as we talked to her at Dreamcatcher this morning. Or maybe she wasn’t supposed to say anything. I don’t know how any of this works.
“He probably tried to stop it, but there’s only so much he can do. He’s only one of four executive producers.”
“Who are the others?” I try to picture the room at the last meeting, but we hadn’t stayed long. “I remember the red-faced man who threatened to sue.”
“That’s Lance,” Blitz says. “He’s been having a fling with Giselle, or something. She’s got him under her spell. That’s clear.”
“And there was a woman.”
“Yes, Taya. Then Bennett. Then a man named Drake Addler. He was quiet.”
“What will happen?”
“I guess Larry will tell us.” His face is grim as he exits the freeway near the hotel. “You want to go up and change first? He’s already been here an hour.”
“No, we shouldn’t keep him waiting,” I say.
“Probably not.”
We pull up to the hotel and the valet opens my door. I feel hot and sick. It’s finally come to this. I wonder now if I should have saved Blitz during the live finale after all. If he was going to walk away, maybe it should have been with them firing him. Then we wouldn’t be here.
The ride up in the elevator feels long. Blitz holds my hand. I fiddle with my leotard self-consciously.
We don’t go all the way up to the floor with our suite, but one about halfway. When we step out, there is a lounge like ours, but bigger, with more people. We pass by it and on to a hall where the doors are all open. They are meeting rooms.
Blitz checks his phone again and pauses in front of one of the doors to peek in. “Found him.”
The room would hold about forty people normally and has a speaker podium at the front. There’s a round table near the back. A man in a pale gray suit and a woman in a black dress sit at it, chatting. They stand up when we enter.
“Blitz, Livia,” Larry says. “Glad we could get together.”
“You came all the way from LA,” Blitz says. “It’s bound to be important.”
Larry’s face sobers. “It is. You two sit down.”
The chairs are round and cushioned. I set my bag on the ground by my feet and fold my hands on my lap. I know this isn’t about me directly, but I’m nervous. Blitz is right, Larry wouldn’t have flown here himself, no doubt canceling other important meetings, if it wasn’t critical they meet.
“Just hit me with it,” Blitz says. “No sugarcoating.”
Larry opens a folder and turns it around to slide it across the polished wood table. “You were served a breach of contract lawsuit at close of business yesterday,” Larry says. “I did a quick review and booked a flight because if you’re going to fight this, we need a strategy. It’s not pretty. It goes for the jugular, that you knowingly and maliciously corrupted the holdings of the producers, causing them financial harm.”
Blitz’s face is like stone as he flips through a few pages. “This is legal mumbo jumbo,” he says, pushing it back. “What’s the upshot?”
“They are seeking damages,” he says. “Big ones. I’m not privy to your holdings, but you’re going to want to settle out of court. Their numbers are meant to scare you.”
