Page 52 of Wicked Dance
Chapter 16
The next morning, Duke picks us up in the black SUV. Shelly isn’t with him. I’m dressed in plain workout clothes, same as Blitz. I have no idea what to expect.
Duke passes Blitz an Egg McMuffin. “Since you skipped the Golden Arches last night.”
Blitz takes it with a grimace. I know how he feels. I don’t want to eat anything greasy or heavy, unsure of what I’ll be put through today, and for how long. At least Blitz knows all the people involved.
Duke is cheerful and feeling chatty. He asks, “So that Giselle chick is still around? What is going on with her? Can’t she take a hint?”
Blitz stares out his side window.
“Come on, as soon as I got that message from you that night, I figured she was toast!” Duke glances in the rearview mirror at us.
This gets Blitz’s attention. “You actually got that picture?”
“Sure,” he says. “I figured you sent it to everybody when it went viral. I sure as hell didn’t show it to anybody. You split town, so we never talked about it.”
“It got posted to Twitter.”
“Yeah, I saw that,” Duke says. “It’s like it went two places at once. Doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Blitz says. “But I checked my phone that day. I’d sent it from my phone, straight to Twitter.”
“How much did you have to drink,compadre?” he asks. “Were you three sheets to the wind?”
“More than usual,” Blitz admits. “I was sick of that girl and booze got me through it.”
I stay quiet through this exchange. I rarely see Blitz drink more than a cocktail or a glass of wine at client meetings. We had a bar in our hotel room for months, and he almost never poured anything from it.
“Something is definitely fishy about that,” Duke says.
“Water under the bridge now,” Blitz says.
We pull up to the giant gates of the studio and are stopped by a guard. Duke flashes him a pass and we’re waved through.
My head feels light and jangly with nerves. I try to focus on my happy memories here. The prop room and the satin bed. The end of the live finale, when we escaped with Bennett and Juliet.
I wish I had brought my blue-sprayed toe shoes. I keep them in a special box, not to be worn since that epic night. They might have brought me luck today.
Duke pulls up to the double doors of the building. “Have fun, lovebirds. Blitz, don’t punch anybody. Livia, if you kiss any girls, send pictures.” He winks at me.
Duke jumps out to open my door. Blitz meets me on the other side.
Blitz waves Duke off, and we enter the familiar hall.
The activity is more than I expected. A man pushes a rack of costumes down the corridor. Two men with headsets chat as they hurry through a door. Three girls in leotards spot Blitz and wave wildly, eyes big.
Blitz takes my hand. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s see where we’re supposed to go.”
We head into the viewing room I first entered when I arrived months ago with Bennett. The place is crowded with people, some in suits, others in dance gear. I quickly spot the three finalists, Mariah, Christy, and Giselle. They are dressed the same as I am, and I let out a sigh that I got that much right.
“Look who decided to show up finally,” Giselle says. “I wondered if we were all going to be competing for a ghost.”
Blitz’s manager Hannah steps forward, as casual as I’ve ever seen her in jeans and a gray sweater. “I know you’re not speaking to me, but legal needs Livia to sign all the documents that allow her on the show.” She points to the same man I saw the night of the finale, when Bennett signed on my behalf. “Right over there.”
I nod and let go of Blitz. I’m not going to even worry about the papers. Whatever they say I have to do, I will do. None of this is about me. It’s about getting to the end of the show and returning to our lives.
I sit in the chair opposite the man. He extends a hand. “Nice to see you again, Livia,” he says. “I’m Liam Reynolds.”
