Chapter 3
Blitz jumps from his chair. “This was a setup!”
Giselle smirks and juts her hips. Her honey-red hair is pale and lovely, falling around her face like Jessica Rabbit. Her red dress must be taped to her body, because the deep V plunges to her waist but molds to her curves. I feel dowdy just looking at her.
“Blitz, baby,” she says. “I really hope you didn’t think you were done with us.”
She sidles up to the chair. “Cameras are rolling, darling,” she says, her hands on Blitz’s shoulders. “Sit a spell.”
Blitz falls back into the chair. Giselle sits on the arm next to him.
Mariah, the dark-haired finalist, looks as regal as a princess in a cobalt blue dress slit up her thigh. She walks behind Blitz and perches on the back.
Christy has totally changed her look, sweet and girl-next-door in a pretty pale yellow sundress. You would never guess that fans had once called her a “skank.” They’ve gotten organized. Stylists and coaches.
Christy curls up at his feet. The four of them look ready for a photo shoot, the image perfectly balanced.
Planned. Every bit of it.
And Blitz knows. He tries to stand up again, but this time all three girls put their hands on him and push him back in place.
“Smile for us, Blitz honey,” Giselle says through her teeth as the cameras flash. “You’re about to go viral.”
I realize I’ve shrunk away from the group, scooting to the far side of my chair. My brain feels erased, and I’m paralyzed. Who did this?
Flashes start popping. I turn to Hannah to see if it was her or this Doug guy, and she stands with her arms crossed, looking very satisfied.
Oh, she is so fired. If there is any way we can get rid of her, we will do it.
“So, ladies, how does it feel to be back with Blitz?” Doug asks.
“Oh, we weren’t near through with this boy,” Giselle purrs. She runs a hand through Blitz’s hair and I want to slap her arm right off him.
Blitz looks about to explode. He notices Hannah’s posture as well, and the cameras. Then he steals a glance at me.
I’m sure I look like a scared rabbit. He closes his eyes a moment, then turns to Doug. “It seems some people won’t take no for an answer.”
The girls giggle.
I manage to straighten my spine and sit more normally in the chair. “Lewis?” I say, not really sure where my own voice is coming from.
The store owner pops out from behind the camera crew. “Yes, Livia?” he asks.
“Isn’t it time to let the fans up?”
“Past time,” he says.
“And how many girls out there are dressed as them?” I wave my hand in the general direction of the finalists.
Lewis smiles. “Why, I don’t believe I saw any.”
Hannah’s smile has faded and now a calculating look is on her face. She’s underestimated me.
“Can you let the Livias in first?” I ask. “They seemed to be near the front. As a special favor.”
“I’d be delighted,” Lewis says. He motions to one of the employees. “It does sound as though we should adjourn this interview and move to the signing table.”
He comes forward to take my hand and lift me from the chair, blocking the cameras from their view of me.
Blitz jumps from his seat, avoiding the three girls. He takes my hand and we head over to the signing table, where there are just two padded folding chairs.
“I think those girls have had their say,” I tell Lewis. “You said you had some security?”
“I do,” he says with a wink.
Two of the burly guards head over to the finalists. I make a point not to watch what happens, organizing the pens and water bottles in front of us.
Blitz stares over at his manager as if he could shoot poison darts from his eyes. We’re more or less alone, the photographers packing up now that we’re in less interesting positions and the flamboyant girls are gone. Geneva talks with Doug in hushed angry tones.
“You okay?” I ask Blitz. I know how I’m feeling, scared to death and shocked that I was able to say what I did. My hands are trembling still.
“I’m fine,” he says. “You were brilliant and got Lewis on your side. Cut those she-devils off at the knees by stopping their publicity.” He finally lets his eyes rest on me. “I haven’t been in charge of my own career since Dance Blitz started,” he says. “Everyone else has always run it, and I’ve done what was expected of me.”
“I know,” I say. “It’s hard. Contracts and all.”
“Screw the contracts,” Blitz says. “Let them sue me. I’m not going to do anything with those women.”
The blue-dress girls start making their way up the stairs, followed by the snaking line. The noise levels rise dramatically as the first segments of the crowd are allowed inside the store.
Blitz looks at them and smiles. “You always surprise me, Livia. You seem so shy and unassuming. Then you walk onto live television and make me dance with you. Or you take total charge of a press interview.”
Lewis holds the crowd for another moment, checking wristbands and waving over two employees with large boxes of DVDs.
“You taught me that,” I say to Blitz, leaning over to kiss his cheek. A flash pops and I realize the cameras haven’t really retreated, just moved back. “We’re going to make this work. Nobody can make you do anything.”
The line moves forward and the blue-dress girls dash to the table. Blitz and I greet them and start our rhythm of pictures, signing, and smiles.
Blitz calls Geneva over and gives her an exclusive interview with us and the Livia fans.
But his manager Hannah stays off to one side, sitting in one of the round chairs we vacated. She watches us with an intensity that makes me squirm. I know if she has her way, Blitz won’t have that chance to drop into obscurity like he wants.
And now she knows that I actually do stand in her way.