Chapter 13
Blitz seems tense as we drive back to the hotel.
“So what’s going on?” I ask him.
His jaw is set, and he doesn’t answer right away. I reach out and squeeze his arm.
He puts his hand over mine. “My lawyer Larry flew in from LA this morning,” he says. “He’s at the hotel.”
“What?” I ask. “I thought you got someone local when you needed things done here in San Antonio.”
“This is big,” he says. “The executive producers of Dance Blitz filed a lawsuit against me. They probably had it ready to go, and when I refused them again yesterday, they filed it.”
My heart drops. “Bennett too?” I assume Danika didn’t know, as we talked to her at Dreamcatcher this morning. Or maybe she wasn’t supposed to say anything. I don’t know how any of this works.
“He probably tried to stop it, but there’s only so much he can do. He’s only one of four executive producers.”
“Who are the others?” I try to picture the room at the last meeting, but we hadn’t stayed long. “I remember the red-faced man who threatened to sue.”
“That’s Lance,” Blitz says. “He’s been having a fling with Giselle, or something. She’s got him under her spell. That’s clear.”
“And there was a woman.”
“Yes, Taya. Then Bennett. Then a man named Drake Addler. He was quiet.”
“What will happen?”
“I guess Larry will tell us.” His face is grim as he exits the freeway near the hotel. “You want to go up and change first? He’s already been here an hour.”
“No, we shouldn’t keep him waiting,” I say.
“Probably not.”
We pull up to the hotel and the valet opens my door. I feel hot and sick. It’s finally come to this. I wonder now if I should have saved Blitz during the live finale after all. If he was going to walk away, maybe it should have been with them firing him. Then we wouldn’t be here.
The ride up in the elevator feels long. Blitz holds my hand. I fiddle with my leotard self-consciously.
We don’t go all the way up to the floor with our suite, but one about halfway. When we step out, there is a lounge like ours, but bigger, with more people. We pass by it and on to a hall where the doors are all open. They are meeting rooms.
Blitz checks his phone again and pauses in front of one of the doors to peek in. “Found him.”
The room would hold about forty people normally and has a speaker podium at the front. There’s a round table near the back. A man in a pale gray suit and a woman in a black dress sit at it, chatting. They stand up when we enter.
“Blitz, Livia,” Larry says. “Glad we could get together.”
“You came all the way from LA,” Blitz says. “It’s bound to be important.”
Larry’s face sobers. “It is. You two sit down.”
The chairs are round and cushioned. I set my bag on the ground by my feet and fold my hands on my lap. I know this isn’t about me directly, but I’m nervous. Blitz is right, Larry wouldn’t have flown here himself, no doubt canceling other important meetings, if it wasn’t critical they meet.
“Just hit me with it,” Blitz says. “No sugarcoating.”
Larry opens a folder and turns it around to slide it across the polished wood table. “You were served a breach of contract lawsuit at close of business yesterday,” Larry says. “I did a quick review and booked a flight because if you’re going to fight this, we need a strategy. It’s not pretty. It goes for the jugular, that you knowingly and maliciously corrupted the holdings of the producers, causing them financial harm.”
Blitz’s face is like stone as he flips through a few pages. “This is legal mumbo jumbo,” he says, pushing it back. “What’s the upshot?”
“They are seeking damages,” he says. “Big ones. I’m not privy to your holdings, but you’re going to want to settle out of court. Their numbers are meant to scare you.”
“Where are they?” Blitz asks.
Larry flips a few pages. I look with him. There are more zeros there than I can quickly add up. But it’s millions of dollars. Millions.
Blitz’s face is still calm. “Did you put in a call to Bennett?”
“Yes, but his lawyer is keeping him at bay. He’s not going to fraternize on this. You know he can’t.”
“What do they want me to do?” he asks.
“The show,” Larry says. “They want the three original bonus shows, on a rush schedule to appease the network and their advertisers. And two more shows to round out the eliminations of the three finalists plus Livia.”
“They want me to consider those other girls?” Blitz asks.
I can see the tension in his shoulders.
“The particulars are not in the document,” he says. “They just have listed the three contracted shows that were promoted but never filmed, plus two option shows, also in the contract, which, honestly, is less than they could go for. They could ask for another fifteen-show season. You could get out of that, but the non-compete clause requires you do no other dance shows for five years if you do.”
“So they really only have me on the hook for three shows I skipped out on. I don’t care about the five year lockout.”
“Yes, they have you on the hook for three. But the malice is what gives them leverage. They feel like they can prove you purposefully destroyed your image to end the show.” Larry closes the folder and sits back. “No way we’d go to trial on that. It would be a circus you don’t need.” He glances my way and my cheeks burn. I know he’s thinking about Gabriella, and the near-disaster we had with Denham, her birth father.
“I will not be bullied into doing that show. It was only a hit because of me,” Blitz says.
“That’s a cocky attitude and why we have to settle,” Larry says, his voice calm and even. “They know you.”
“If I don’t do it, it’s what, just a money issue?”
“Yes, but these damages are ridiculous. It’s over the budget of the show. I know you weren’t paid anything near that. You couldn’t have been.”
“I can do commercials or whatever,” Blitz says. “They are not going to force my hand.”
“Blitz, you knew those shows were coming. You did the promo for them.” Larry’s voice has taken on a soothing quality. The woman in the black dress quietly types their discussion. “Just do them.”
“They will crucify Livia,” Blitz says. “She is not under contract. This is straight-up blackmail.”
“This is straight-up you not holding up your end of a contract,” Larry says. “I’ll fight this if you want me to. I’ll let you go bankrupt. I’ll let you be a Hollywood pariah. But you need to ask yourself if it’s worth it over a few weeks of shooting and a couple dance numbers.”
Blitz looks up at the ceiling. I follow his gaze. It’s pretty, actually, little metal squares with patterns on them, all lined up.
I decide it’s time for me to speak up. “Let’s do the show, Blitz,” I say. “You get to pick the winner. It’s not like you’re going to have to propose to anyone. So what if I can’t dance as well as them?”
Blitz turns to me, his dark eyes soft. “Princess, you have no idea what you’re about to get into. Brutal Tweets dissecting your every move, what you eat, what you say, comparing you to the other girls, deciding whether or not we should be together.”
I pull my cell phone out of my bag. I flip it on, find the Twitter app, and click the little “x” in the corner. The phone confirms, “App deleted.”
“Next problem?” I say.
“Paparazzi. Fans. You can’t go anywhere,” he argues.
“Please,” I say. “We’re already dealing with that. It will die down after the episodes air.”
“They’ll make me go on dates with those other girls. I’ll have to act like they have a chance. You’ll have to go through that.” His eyes are more somber.
“I already watched you buy a diamond ring for one of them,” I say. “It’s a role. It’s acting. I’ll be cheering you on, and heck, maybe I will be the first one to say you sure don’t seem very into that Mariah girl.”
Blitz looks from me to Larry back to me. Seconds tick by. I keep my expression as neutral as possible. I’m scared to death, of course I am. But if Larry is acting like this, then we have to listen.
“All right,” Blitz says. “Tell them I’m on board.” He taps the table. “It’s your job to get me out after these five episodes. Seriously. Your job. After this, I’m done.”
Larry nods. “I’ll let them know. I’m sure they will be in touch with a production schedule.” He tucks the folders away. “You’re doing the right thing. Nobody wins when this happens. Just do your time. Put on that smile. Hang on to your girl. Muddle through.”
He stands up. We do too, and shake his hand.
“Pleasure to meet you in person, Livia. I’m glad your personal matters are resolved.”
I nod at him.
The girl packs up her laptop. We head to the hallway and part ways, them to the regular elevator, us to the private one.
And just like that, we’re back in the world of Dance Blitz.