Chapter 18
On Wednesday afternoon of that week, Blitz pops in my workout room at the studio. He’s completely decked out in a suit, perfect hair, and shiny shoes.
“Whoa,” I say, pausing my third set of ab crunches for the day. “You’re all wardrobed up.”
“Date night with Christy,” he says. “It was on the schedule.” He angles his head toward Jessie. “Ask her to get a copy of mine to go with yours. That way you’ll know when I’m going to be gone.”
My belly turns to cement. “Where are you filming?”
“Some restaurant and ballroom dance place. We’re supposed to spontaneously perform. It’s all extras. They bought out the place.”
“Sounds fun. Isn’t she the one you’re taking to the condo?”
“Yep.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “You going to be okay tonight?”
I nod. “Sure. Is Duke going to take me to the hotel? Our furniture was supposed to be delivered today for move-in.”
Blitz smacks his hand against the door frame. “Shoot. Today was supposed to be our first night!” He gives me a sad smile. “You wanna wait up for me there?”
At that, Jessie and the workout coach quietly exit the room. I don’t blame them. They probably think I’m about to make some big scene.
But I won’t.
“We’re not checked out of the hotel yet, right? I’ll ask Shelly to extend us one more night. We’ll let tomorrow night be our first night there.”
Blitz frowns. “I’m filming with Mariah tomorrow night.”
I let out a breath. “How late will these go?”
“They need night shots. I think I’m walking along the Santa Monica pier with her. It will probably go super late. I don’t even have rehearsal until after lunch either day.”
I bite my lip, holding back tears. “Well, in that case, I guess I’ll go ahead and move as planned. Shelly’s probably already got them packing our stuff and driving it over anyway.”
He steps closer and kneels next to me on the mat. “I’ll be there tonight, I promise. The part with Christy will go fast. We won’t be at my condo for long.”
I nod, resuming my sit-ups. I knew what I signed up for. Blitz has to put on a show.
“Hey,” he says, pressing against my back so I can’t go down into another sit-up. “I love you, remember? This is just work.”
He gathers me against him. I hang on. He smells different, like hair products and aftershave, things he doesn’t ordinarily wear. This helps. They’ve doctored him up for a role. He’s not my Blitz. He’s the version that belongs to the network.
I let him go. “I’ll be the one sleeping in your new bed,” I say.
“I can’t wait to see you in it,” he says. He stands up. “Jessie? You out there?”
Jessie steps timidly inside. “Yes?”
“What’s on Livia’s schedule for tomorrow morning?”
Jessie slides a messenger bag around her body, the one that carries all my things, cell phone, schedule, water, snacks. She unrolls a sheaf of papers. “Eight a.m. ballet workout with Caprice, then a dance rehearsal with Amara at ten. Wardrobe fitting at eleven.”
“Tell Caprice she won’t be at the rehearsal. We’ll be here for Amara at ten.”
Jessie nods. “I will.”
“Tell them Blitz said it, not Livia.”
Jessie nods again. “Got it.”
Blitz turns back to me. “Bought us a lazy morning at the new place.”
I squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”
He presses another light kiss on my mouth and stands up. “I guess I’ll go do this thing.” He straightens his tie. “Christy is easygoing. This one will be fine.”
“It’s Giselle,” we both say at the same time, and laugh.
“When is that lovely date?” I ask.
“Next week.”
“And mine?”
“You are Monday.” He heads to the door. “I got to choose the date, and they aren’t allowed to leak it to you.”
“Sounds like fun,” I say.
“See you at home,” he says.
“Bye, Blitz.”
By the time the workout coach is back, I’ve resumed my ab crunches. I feel better, despite knowing Blitz will be out with Christy tonight. The cameras will be on their every move.
Still, I picture him kissing her, which I’m sure will be scripted or at least highly encouraged, and my stomach turns over.
This is going to be way harder than I thought.
~*´`*~
Duke is with Blitz for the evening, and he feeds me shots of the date with Christy while I supervise the team who is unpacking all our clothes.
I sit on the freshly made bed in the master bedroom, chain-eating chocolate cookies, simultaneously scrolling through the shots and showing the two women which drawers will be mine and which will go to Blitz.
As weird as it feels to have someone else arranging my stuff, I’m too tired to do anything more than sit and eat cookies, which were left by the real estate agent Tammy. A whole dozen of them and a bottle of wine. I might eat them all.
Shelly was here for a while, but I sent her home. Supposedly some grocery service will arrive within the hour to fill the fridge and pantry. She’s mostly working with the chef’s suggestions, but I had her add more chocolate chip cookies. My life has been missing cookies since I got to LA. Tammy was good to remind me of them.
“I think that’s everything,” one of the women says. They are both Hispanic and friendly, and just looking at them makes me miss Blitz. Has he called his mother since we’ve been here? I’m not sure. I should remind him.
“Thank you,” I say. I’m too tired to even show them out, but thankfully, they leave on their own. Now that I don’t have an audience, I flop back on the fluffy cotton duvet.
Another buzz from Duke.
Yes, he kissed her, but it was a silly peck. Devon’s irritated.
A picture is attached, and I have to laugh. Blitz looks positively paternal as he leans in to Christy.
She looks incredibly lovely in an ice-white dress with little crystals along the neckline. They are at some restaurant on a dance floor and the lights make them look blue. It will be a good scene for the show.
I eat another cookie, hoping the grocery shopper brings some milk. Cookies and wine. Maybe that will do.
It will be hours before Blitz comes. They haven’t even gone to the condo yet. I roll off the bed and head to the bathroom, looking around. There are towels now, all in various dusty pastels. A basket of shampoos and conditioners. Body wash. Razors. They’ve thought of everything.
For a moment, I flash to the bathroom at my parents’ house back in San Antonio. My brother’s Star Wars toothbrush. The Ivory soap and discount shampoo. A wave of homesickness passes through me.
I wonder if my parents will ever speak to me again, or if they are lost to me. What do they tell Andy about his sister? That she ran away? That I’m wicked and full of sin?
I can’t even visit the places we used to go, so far away from Texas. I head back to the bed and my phone, pulling up Google Maps so I can zoom in on my dystopian park, bare ground and peeling equipment. Then down along the street to my house. The image shows Mom’s old white minivan, the license plate blurred out.
The front is the same, the green door against the white clapboard. I look closer and I see on the porch a red wagon. It was mine as a child, moved with us from Houston for Andy to use. I can picture him in it. After Gabriella was born and my belly went back down, I was allowed to pull him in it to the park.
Another message from Duke.
Headed to the condo. Not long now.
I know Blitz doesn’t even have his phone on him, but he might get it during the drive over.
And sure enough, a few minutes later, I get a message from him.
Shoot going okay. Sort of dull. The dance was fun. The extras at the restaurant were excited to be there.
I tap a quick message back.
House all set up. Waiting on groceries. Sprawled on the bed!
He responds to that.
Don’t move a muscle. Can’t wait to see you there.
I set down the phone. This will be okay. We will get through it. Of course timing would be bad. Our schedules are brutal.
I reach over for my bag. Jessie got me a printout of Blitz’s schedule. Because of all the shooting he has to do, his dance rehearsals are shorter and less frequent now.
Tomorrow night he and Mariah will go to a nightclub, also populated with extras. They won’t do a showy ballroom dance like Christy, but something more casual and sexy. So the schedule says.
Mariah is the one who started all this mess. She filed the first lawsuit regarding the finale and got the other girls on board.
I roll back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. It’s ten weeks. We can make it.