Page 6 of Wicked Dance
Chapter 2
“My parents might see this,” I whisper to Blitz as the reporter stops the recording and repeats it all again. She’s obviously not live.
“And what will they do?” Blitz asks. “Ground you?” He walks us over to the table, a little farther from the cameramen setting up lights and tripods. “You’re with me now. They don’t control you.”
“But if everyone finds out who they are, people might camp out at their house and ask them questions,” I say.
He kisses my hand for the hundredth time that day. “Livia, nobody bothers my parents. Remember at the city jail a few weeks ago, picking up Baby Daddy? Nobody even recognized my dad.”
He’s right. Maybe nobody really cares about my family.
“Besides,” Blitz says, “we’ve given them a fake last name for you. With no social media footprint, and no connections to anyone, they can’t find you. Nobody knows where you came from.”
He’s right. Hannah came up with Livia Mays, close enough to my real name that I wouldn’t screw it up if someone used it, but common enough to be generic. For the first time, I’m glad I was homeschooled. There is literally nothing on the Internet anywhere with my real name or picture. Nobody knows me. There’s no glib classmates to interview, no high school teachers to say what I was like.
Although due to Gabriella, there are definitely secrets to dig up. Big ones.
My confidence falters again.
Hannah claps her hands. “Douglas,” she says, smiling at one of the reporters, “why don’t you place Livia and Blitz where you would like them, and we can start?”
Blitz and I glance at each other. Hannah never gives up control of these things. She must think this guy is important.
A friendly man in a shiny gray suit that looks like it came off a runway model, almost too short in the legs, pencil thin, and close fitted, hurries forward and extends his hand. “Blitz, Livia, delighted to be here today. I appreciate this opportunity to talk with you both.”
I shake his hand weakly.
“Hey, Doug,” Blitz says, “I hear you’re short-listed for the new entertainment hour.”
“That I am,” Doug says. “Decision on that should be announced any day.”
I can tell from Blitz’s subtle reluctance that he thinks this Doug guy is going to do something dramatic to increase his chances of getting whatever show this is. He’s wary, so of course I’m panicked. Even more than before.
Hannah watches from a distance, a pleased expression on her face, like she’s a cat that just got the dog sent outside in the rain.
My anxiety makes me feel hot. I touch my fingertips to my hairline, where I might be starting to sweat. I’m more likely to destroy my makeup than Blitz at this point.
Doug gestures to a couple of armchairs situated at the end of the rows of books behind the tables where we’re signing. “Let’s head over here.”
Without Doug saying a word, a girl in a black shirt shoves a third armchair over to the first pair. The other cameramen and reporters seem annoyed as Doug commandeers the situation. Another girl clips tiny silver microphones to my dress and Blitz’s shirt.
“Is this an exclusive?” asks the female reporter who recorded her intro. “Because nobody told me this was exclusive.”
“Of course not,” Doug says. “You guys can cut in anytime.”
But his chair is close enough that it’s probably hard to keep him out of the shot. And I’m pretty sure the woman won’t want Doug’s voice in her recording.
The tension between them is intense. Blitz leans forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees. “Doug, maybe you can ask a few questions, and then we’ll move on to…” he hesitates, looking at the woman expectantly.
“Geneva,” the woman says with an edge in her voice. “Geneva Farmington from the local affiliate.”
“Thanks for being here, Geneva,” Blitz says. He flashes her one of his megawatt smiles and she melts a little.
I’m not annoyed by this. I know it’s one of his tactics. He has them for men too. He’s very good at sizing up a person and delivering the right dose of attitude or charm.
Doug nods knowingly. “Always good to keep the locals happy,” he says. “Of course, mine is a national broadcast.”
“Acablebroadcast,” Geneva fires back. “Nationalnetworkswill pick up mine.”
