Chapter 6
I decide to be late. After Blitz shows me the door to the boardroom, I move on to a bathroom to fix myself up. I simply cannot walk in there with crazy hair and smelling like sex.
In the mirror, I untie the braid and create an updo that tucks in on itself. With a little water to turn the hairspray into glue, it holds.
When I’m clean enough and smell like soap instead of Blitz, I head back out, anxious to find out what will happen to the show.
I can hear strident voices before I get to the door.
“Blitz, don’t throw away everything you’ve done over this!” That one is Hannah, sounding as perturbed as she did in the limo.
“Stop trying to force my hand!” Blitz shoots back.
I pause outside the closed door. For a second people talk in lower tones, so I can’t hear anything else. Then a voice I know well. Giselle, the red-haired finalist. “You played dirty for two seasons! Now we’re going to!”
What is she doing here?
I shove hard on the handle. The door flies open so fast it smashes into the wall on the inside.
A dozen well-dressed, perfect people all turn to look at me. I see the three finalists first, still in their getups from the hostile takeover they attempted at the DVD shop this morning. And Blitz’s manager Hannah, of course.
Then Blitz, red faced and as angry as I’ve ever seen him.
Then our friend Bennett, looking subdued.
The rest I don’t know, all wealthy looking, some in suits, others in expensive casual wear. I spot two women that I figure were the ones who were in the prop room earlier.
“Look who decided to show up,” Giselle says. “The little bitch who thinks she can ruin all of us.”
My face flushes hot. Blitz gets up and comes over to me. “This is out of hand,” he says. “And I’m not going to submit Livia to it.” He takes my arm as if we’re going to leave.
“Don’t walk away or we’ll sue you into your next lifetime,” one of the men says coldly. “You have obligations to your financial backers, the network, and the staff.”
Blitz pauses. I squeeze his hand, trying to pull myself together. “It’s all right, Blitz. Let’s hear them out,” I say.
Giselle laughs. “Oh, that’s rich. As if you are in charge.”
One of the women says quietly, “Giselle, don’t talk yourself out of the picture. These are negotiations, not ultimatums or blackmail.” She flashes a stern look at the man who threatened to sue.
Bennett stands up. “So glad to see you again, Livia. It’s always a pleasure. Please, take my seat.”
I notice that there isn’t a chair for me.
“We’ll stand over here,” Blitz says. “Because I want to make it clear that I’m prepared to walk.”
“You’re always so dramatic,” Hannah says. “We’re not proposing anything that preposterous.”
Bennett sits back down. “Let’s sort this out now that Livia is here. It concerns her.”
Blitz puts his arm around me and holds me tightly by the waist. We stay by the door.
“What’s on the table?” I ask, hoping I sound faintly businesslike.
The threatening man speaks up. “Bennett proposed a new format for the show focused on you and Blitz, not unlike the three episodes planned for the contest winner. Meet the parents, wedding plans, and so on.”
My belly quavers. “I don’t think my parents would agree,” I say, glancing up at Blitz.
I can’t involve them in any way. They aren’t even speaking to me, but I don’t want to tell these people that.
“They’re not even engaged,” Giselle spits out. “And happiness and bliss was never a selling point for the show. It’s the competition.”
“So you can whore yourself out,” Blitz snaps.
I squeeze his hand again. I’m starting to see why he nearly lost his show over a Tweet about her. She really gets to him. I’ve never seen him like this.
“If I may,” Bennett interjects. “After the finale, everyone expects Blitz to be with Livia. She has her own fan base, and a dozen Twitter handles have already appeared for her. I say we get her on board, build a show around the two of them, and ride out the contract.”
A friendly-looking older man sitting next to the finalist Mariah reaches his hand out to the center of the table to get their attention. “I believe,” he says, “that some form of compensation should be offered to the finalists for loss of income and publicity associated with the unscripted ending of the show.”
Bennett speaks again, his face calm below his perfectly trimmed hair. His suit is flawless. He seems totally in control. It’s obvious he manages situations like this every day.
“It isn’t clear who the winner would have been. I’m aware we planned a dance around Mariah, but in all honesty, there were sets prepared for Giselle and Christy too. Blitz had the final say, and we agreed at this very table that he could make a last-minute choice based on the live events of the evening. So all contestants had an equal chance of losing, and the publicity they received after this unscripted finale was greater than it would have been if they had simply lost.”
The lawyer sits back. Mariah frowns.
“What we don’t know,” Hannah says, “is what the future of Dance Blitz should be. We have a very popular franchise here, and we need to proceed carefully.”
One of the women speaks up again. “I am not on board with a bland show about a couple in love. I don’t think Livia is a strong dancer, and she can’t carry the numbers.”
My face flames hot, even though I know it’s true.
“If we keep the competition aspect, then what are they competing for?” Bennett asks.
“It has to be dramatic,” the threatening man says, his face blustery red. “There’s no point in driving it into the ground.”
“Just let the girls have it,” Blitz says. “They can do a Bachelorette and look for a male partner. I don’t care. Just leave us out of it. I’m only dancing with Livia, and that’s final.”
With that, he leads me out into the hall.
We walk a ways down before I work up the courage to ask him how he’s doing.
“That was open season on me back there,” he says. “They can figure out what they want with the show. They can sue me. I don’t really care if I ever work in this town again anyway.”
We pass through the exit and crunch across the asphalt. The studios are quiet, although there is some activity several buildings down. Blitz punches angrily at his phone. “Trying to get the driver,” he says.
It’s mid-afternoon and beautiful out, sunshine and white clouds. It doesn’t match Blitz’s mood, though, and I just walk alongside him, trying to be a calm to his storm.
I don’t know what the producers can do to him, but Bennett is definitely on our side, and a couple of the others seem as though they could be reasoned with. Surely we will all find a way to work it out.