Chapter 26
The walk up the red carpet takes a while. Every time we take a step, someone else calls out, “Blitz, Livia, look this way!” and we stop and smile again.
We’re separated, like Blitz said we would be. I try to look natural and smile, but I’m sure I appear to be a lost child in the images. I’ve had more photos taken of me in the past five minutes than in my entire nineteen years.
When we get to the first reporter, Blitz says a few words and then everyone asks if we will kiss for the camera. Blitz is more than happy to oblige, dipping me low as cheers and whoops carry on in the crowd.
I feel more than a little dizzy as he lifts me back up. This whole experience is heady. I can see why people would get addicted to it.
Finally we’re led into the theater itself. The lights are all up over the crowd. It isn’t as large as I thought it would be, only maybe twice the size of a typical movie theater. Devon is in front of the screen, talking into a microphone.
“And here is our star, Blitz Craven, with the lovely Livia Mays.”
I hesitate a second, then remember that I have a stage name now. We wave to the crowd. Devon gestures as if he wants Blitz to come up, but Blitz shakes his head and we move toward the front row. For the first time, I see the other finalists.
Giselle is ridiculously beautiful in a deep black gown, her pale red hair in an elegant chignon offset to one side. Mariah is queenly, her hair an elaborate braided updo, in a tawny gold sequined dress. Christy looks lovely in white again, almost bridal, her blond hair flowing in gentle waves across her shoulders.
Our chairs are marked. I’m to sit next to Christy, and Blitz is on my other side.
We settle in. Devon goes on a little longer about the history of Dance Blitz, making jokes. Barry Winston, the host of the show, comes out for a moment, saying a few disparaging remarks about Blitz, sending the crowd into titters more than once.
Blitz handles this all fine, draping his arm around me and crossing one ankle over his thigh. He seems relaxed, like this is his element.
Finally, they clear the microphone stand and the opening credits to Dance Blitz come on. There’s a cheer in the back, and I realize there must be fans here as well as cast members. I wonder how they get tickets. I wish I could have gotten my friend Mindy here somehow. She would have loved this.
When the show begins, I’m completely captivated, as if the characters onscreen are other people. The host recaps the last season that led to the three finalists. We see brief clips of some of their dance numbers, and at least one kiss with each girl.
I find myself gripping the armrest during this, and Giselle notices and smirks. I let go and try to appear more relaxed.
Then we see Blitz walking across the room where he always deliberates on the girls before he chooses. He looks at Giselle’s image, then Christy’s, then Mariah’s.
Then he opens a drawer and extracts a fourth matching frame. When he turns it around, it’s a photo of me.
He sets it closest to him.
The host is back. He says, “This season is extra special. In this episode, we’ll introduce you to Livia Mays, the new girl who surprised millions of viewers by storming onto the live finale last December.”
They play a clip of me coming onstage.
“Blitz will go on four dates, one with each girl, as we prepare for four live episodes. And this time, you get to choose who is eliminated each week.”
He quickly runs through how the show will work. Four elimination episodes, all with live voting. At the end of episodes three and four, a girl will be sent home.
My stomach flutters.
The rest of the show goes through our dates. Blitz dances with Christy and gives her a chaste peck at his condo. The pier with Mariah, and Duke was right, she seems stiff and unsure.
Then me, at the castle, coming down the steps, and dancing on the path. They don’t use any of the footage of us sitting on the ground, and I apologize to my unhappy legs that they went through all that pain and suffering for nothing.
The host comes out. “We know Livia has the advantage going into the live shows, but there is one wild card in the batch. The girl who has always gotten under Blitz’s skin. Giselle Andreas.”
There’s a flash of a nearly naked Giselle on Blitz’s lap in his dressing room. Then a montage of things that must be old, as Blitz’s hair is a little different and so is Giselle’s. Them kissing. Blitz pressing her against his Jaguar, his hand going up her skirt.
Now I’m having to force myself to stay calm. My heart is beating so hard that it hurts. I’ve never seen most of these moments, even though I watched both seasons. They must be outtakes they didn’t use before.
The two of them roll in sand at the beach, her untying her bikini top and flinging it away. Blitz hides her and waves the cameras away.
Barry comes back onscreen, the images shrinking to a small rectangle behind him. “It will be up to you who gets the final dance with Blitz Craven.” He glances back at an image of Blitz and Giselle gazing into each other’s eyes.
God, it looks like they were meant to be together, the way the clips are done. I’m just one of the other three. It’s completely opposite of real life.
Blitz reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
By the time the lights come back up, I can barely breathe. They want Giselle to win! They definitely want her to stay until the end.
We all stand, and people come up to Giselle and kiss her cheek. Mariah and Christy look over at me uncertainly. I know I must be pale. My face feels numb.
Blitz is easygoing and congenial, greeting people, shaking hands. I’m mute and shocked, like a statue beside him. But he sticks by me.
The time ticks on, never-ending, horrible. Giselle pops over, leaning on Blitz and kissing his cheek long enough for many pictures to be taken. I clutch his hand on the opposite side, unable to say or do anything about it.
Finally, at last, the gathering starts to break up. There’s talk of drinks, an after-party.
I can’t do it. I just can’t. The lights are so bright. The noise so loud. I feel like an explosion has just gone off and my ears are ringing, and I’m barely able to recognize what used to be familiar.
When we make it to the limo, Blitz is all smiles, bouncing with energy. I don’t know how he hasn’t noticed my distress. I don’t know how to explain to him why this is so horrible for me. I can’t explain it to myself.
He asks me what I’m up for, if I want to attend the after-party, and finally registers my expression, the stiffness in my arms and neck.
“Livia, hey, what’s wrong?” He pulls me close.
I can’t answer, my face going to his chest, the fancy hairdo coming undone, me coming undone. It’s like there’s a vise around my lungs, and I can’t take in enough air to say a word.
He instructs the driver to take us home and holds me close. I feel the energy and excitement drain out of him, and I wonder, am I right for him after all?