Page 66 of Wicked Dance
The house is enormous and breathtaking. Large blocks of orange-red stone make up the exterior, sweeping up three stories, with a towering four-story round turret.
A wide stone staircase takes us up to a porch that could hold my parents’ entire house. Devon looks around, nodding to himself, as if feeling assured that he chose the right place.
“What will happen here?” I ask.
“It will all unfold as it should,” he says.
We go inside the heavy doors. Smooth round columns as big around as tree trunks separate the sections of the main floor. A wooden staircase goes up, light filtering in through stained glass windows inset in the wall.
“Let’s go on up,” Devon says.
I try to spot anyone else, but the main room is empty. Doors and halls branch off every direction. There is no telling where Blitz is in this maze.
We head upstairs. The rooms are amazing, wallpaper framed by ornate carved wood corners and baseboards.
“I’m going to deposit you ladies here,” Devon says. “I need to check on the set.” He takes off.
We look around our room. It’s empty other than a couple chairs in one corner.
“You go ahead,” Jessie says, and plops down on the polished hardwood floor.
I lower myself tentatively on the hard-backed chair.
“Let me check your lips,” Gigi says. “Once we start shooting, you will only pretend to eat and drink. Don’t actually do it.”
“Okay,” I say. I hope I can keep all these instructions straight.
She brushes more color on my mouth.
Then we wait.
And wait.
I’m tempted to get my phone from Jessie and text Blitz to see what is going on, but he probably doesn’t have his phone either.
At least a half hour passes. Gigi checks me every so often and scolds me not to bite my lips.
I stand up and look out the window at the grounds of the castle. It’s beautifully manicured, big green trees and boxed hedges, even in February.
Finally a woman comes in. “Livia, ready?”
I take a deep breath. It’s time.
When I get out on the landing, there is barely room to walk. Devon is there, cameras, lights, a whole crew of people.
“I want B roll of her feet, the skirt, her back,” Devon says. He turns to me. “Livia, we’re going to have you go up and down the stairs a few times.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Hand on the rail, lightly,” Devon says. “Go down gracefully. Like a ballerina.”
I nod and touch my fingers to the wood banister and start to go down. I’m anxious to see if Blitz is below, but once I’m halfway, the only thing I see are more cameras, more lights, more crew.
“All right, Livia, back to the top,” Devon says.
We repeat this a few times.
“All right,” Devon says. “Let’s move on.”
