Page 62 of Wicked Dance
Chapter 19
Blitz gets in around two in the morning. We don’t talk about the condo or his date. We have other things to do in our new home, and especially, the new bed.
When I wake up, I notice Duke sent me a couple pictures of Blitz and Christy sitting on his sofa, but I’m afraid to ask what happened, and what Devon and his cameras might have suggested happened. They’ll do what they have to do to make the show interesting for viewers. I trust Blitz.
Even Mariah’s date is no big deal. As I sit at home Thursday night, this time with a pint of strawberry ice cream, Duke reports that she’s stiff and unnatural around Blitz, as if she’s scared he’ll be mad at her about the lawsuit. They only go to the club and take a walk on the pier after. Their date is done by midnight.
According to the schedule, my official date with Blitz is on Monday. The location is marked as secret. We haven’t practiced any dancing for our date, so I assume ours will be different from the ones he did with Christy and Mariah.
When I arrive at the studio Monday, the workout coach puts me through only minimal exercises. Amara gives me somepointework for the classic dance show number, and then I go straight to wardrobe to be prepped for shooting.
Jessie is waiting for me. There are three other women in the makeup room, one I remember from the finale.
“It’s finally Livia’s turn,” the one says, and reminds me that her name is Cecilia. Her hair is still spiky, this time with blue tips. She turns to a tall stout woman with square glasses. “Will her outfit mess up her hair when she puts it on?”
The other woman shakes her head no. “It zips.”
I wonder what they’ve picked out for me, and if that will give me a hint about where we’re going. My nerves are prickly, and my stomach flits with butterflies as if I didn’t see Blitz every night.
This will be different. There will be cameras. People telling us where to go and what to do. These shoots aren’t rehearsed, but Blitz said if something interesting happens, like if I trip and he catches me, they might ask us to do it again to get another angle.
Cecilia pats the chair and I walk over to sit on it. “Don’t you worry, girl, we’ll get you looking like a TV star.”
I guess I’m supposed to be comforted by this. Apparently I don’t look like one now? Does she say that to the other finalists?
I fold my hands in my lap. Cecilia unravels the braided bun. “Girl, you have so much hair,” she says.
“What are you going to do with it?” I ask.
“I have to do what the stylist for the episode tells me,” Cecilia says. “And I’m to make you look like a princess but prepare you for the elements.”
“So I’ll be outside?”
The square-glasses woman speaks up. “All the shoots are partially done outside. If the weather doesn’t hold, we often have to make you up to look exactly like you did the day before and try again.”
“Yikes,” I say.
“It’s going to be a beautiful night,” Cecilia says in a singsong voice. “You are going to shine.”
She starts rolling my hair into hot curlers. The other woman holds different color swatches next to my face. “Have Gigi tone down her skin, go blue,” she says.
My voice is a squeak when I say, “Blue?”
Cecilia laughs. “Not like a Smurf. Just cool tones to your base color, not warm ones. To complement your dress and this black, black hair.”
When all my hair is pinned up in rollers, the third girl approaches, angular with bangs cut in a dramatic straight line just above her eyes. She holds three skin-colored sticks and stripes them all on my cheek.
“Go blue, Gigi,” Cecilia says.
Gigi rolls her eyes. “The skin wants what the skin wants.”
“Well, Cameron wants blue.”
“Cameron can stick to fabrics.”
They continue to banter in this way as Gigi smooths more creams on my face. I’m turned away from the mirror, so I can’t see what she’s doing. She rolls a cart close and lifts the lid. It’s chock full of colors, little circles in every hue imaginable. I see the blues and grimace.
“Not a pretty look,” Gigi says. “It will cause wrinkles around the corners of your mouth.”
