Page 11 of Wicked Dance
“You were on the show,” Blitz says. “Hannah is treating us like a package deal.”
“Then why did she have the finalists ambush us at a signing?”
He shakes his head. “I have no idea. I’m sure we’re going to find out this afternoon.”
“Are there always contract meetings on weekends?”
“Hollywood doesn’t work on a normal schedule,” Blitz says. “The industry is your life.”
“Interesting timing, though,” I say.
“Isn’t it?” Blitz says. “Makes you wonder what they have up their sleeves.”
We pull up in front of a rather simple white building with green pillars. “What is this place?” I ask.
“A diner,” Blitz says. “I’m going to have every type of pie.”
“Pie,” I say wistfully. “Now that’s something I haven’t had in a while.”
“We are going to eat so much pie,” he says.
The driver parks around the corner. “Doesn’t look too crazy,” he says. “Let me go check the situation.”
Blitz nods.
We sit snuggled against each other on the leather seat. I feel my anxiety levels start to drop a little. “I guess we should have brought a change of clothes,” I say. “Now we have to wait on Jerry.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “I just wanted away from Hannah, and I’m sure she went back to the hotel.”
“Can you fire her?”
“Sure, but there’s a hell of a kill fee for her. And she still gets a percentage of anything related toDance Blitz. She covered her ass.”
“Was she different when you hired her?” I ask.
Blitz laughs. “You don’t hire Hannah. She chooses you. You don’t say no to her.”
“Does she have other clients?”
“Not currently. She drops them if they aren’t performing. If I’m lucky, she’ll dump me.”
“Sounds like she has plans to keep you working.” I watch Blitz’s face as his eyebrows draw together in annoyance.
“She knows I can cut and run. They will all play their hand at the meeting later.”
The driver returns to his seat. “They’ve reserved two chairs at the far side of the bar whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks,” Blitz says. “We just need Jerry.”
“He shouldn’t be far behind unless he’s slow to leave,” the driver says. “The hotel is closer to here than we were.”
“Jerry can be indecisive,” Blitz says.
“Isn’t that him?” I ask.
A wiry man in familiar rectangular glasses gets out of a car down the street. “I’ll flag him,” the driver says.
We watch as they exchange a leather bag.
