I grab his arm and catch him off balance.
“You asshole!” I hiss, knowing the crowd noise will cover it. “He trusted you!”
Duke cocks his head. He realizes what I know but plays it off. “Don’t worry your pretty little self about it,” he says. “Now go on and get inside the limo.”
“No,” I say, backing away. “I’m done. Totally and completely done.”
“It’s all a little fun,” Duke says. “Keeps everyone in show business.”
“No,” I say. “This isn’t fun at all.”
I turn and rush back inside the hotel. The stupid heels keep me from running as fast as I like, so I kick them off and leave them in the lobby. I see why Cinderella ditched hers. I don’t care who finds them.
I glance back. Devon and Duke have started to follow, so I head for the private hall. I’m betting neither of them have a secure pass. As soon as I’m through, I slam the door shut and run to the special elevator that goes direct to the top floor of private suites.
As I expected, the others are stopped by the locked door.
I mash the button, and mercifully, the elevator is already down.
My nerves jangle so badly on the way up that I hear ringing in my ears. I try to put it all together. Duke and Giselle. It had always been Duke and Giselle. He kept getting her ways in. Fed her information. And for what? Sex? Did he care for her?
Why did betrayal always happen at the hands of a love affair?
I’m not sure the others won’t convince the hotel to let them up, so as soon as my doors open, I sprint madly to the suite. The regular elevators ding down the hall, whether with Dance Blitz crew or others staying on this floor, I don’t know. I’m not going to stand around to see.
I swipe the card key and throw myself into the room.
Blitz is standing by the mini bar, pouring orange juice.
“Livia!” he says. “What happened?”
I run to him and bury my face against his soft T-shirt. “Giselle was down there,” I choke out.
“What?” His arms around me tighten. “Is she a bridesmaid?”
“I don’t know.” I pull away enough to look up at him. “It was Duke all along,” I say. “I think they’re having some sort of relationship.”
“Duke?” His voice is incredulous, but I see him thinking about it. Weighing conversations, turning over bits of evidence.
He leads me over to the sofa. “Tell me exactly how it went down.”
I relate to him about the crowd, Giselle’s entrance, Duke’s expression.
“He all but admitted it. Said it keeps everyone in show business.”
Blitz rubs his eyes. “We’ve been best friends forever,” he says.
“Did you feel something change? At any point?” I say my next words carefully. “Like maybe right before that tweet?”
Blitz leans against the back of the sofa. “Hell. I don’t know. He was excited to move out here. Quit his job in construction. Loved driving my car around. Had his own place. The show paid him pretty well, let him in on stuff like the placement of the cameras. I knew there was an agreement about secret footage. He generally let me in on that stuff, gave me a heads up. We were having a good time all through season one.”
“Then Giselle came on season two,” I say.
“I saw a lot of her. The whole world knows that. She was great for the show. Got a lot of attention. She’s probably half the reason it did so well.”
“I guess she knows that.”
“Probably. But something turned. She was always catty with the other contestants. That was part of her appeal. But then she got that way with me.”
“Did you know why?”
“I figured it was the show. It’s a tough thing for the women, feeling like you’re fighting for the same guy.” He glances over at me. “They think they’re in love with me, but really, they’re just in love with the idea of it all. Having people follow your every move. Being that ‘in’ couple on the cover of the tabloids.”
“I never loved it.”
Blitz draws me in a little closer. “You always liked me for me.”
“Still do.”
“I guess maybe the real reason she turned could have been Duke.”
“Maybe the tweet was a way to get you out of the picture?” I suggest.
“I was super wasted that night. And I was sick of Giselle by then. They didn’t have to get me to ditch her. I was already there.”
“You said you never knew how it got on your social media. You just sent it to Duke.”
“Yeah, but I have a whole Twitter team. When the tweet came out, we couldn’t own up to that. It’s an illusion that I pay that much attention to fans, retweeting and responding and all that.”
I sit up straight. “So, anybody could have tweeted it? Anyone in marketing?”
“They could have, but it was like three in the morning. And it had to come from my phone. We checked that straight away. Like I said, I did write the thing. I just thought I sent it to Duke.”
“Does Duke have access to your account?”
“I doubt it.”
“Could he have used your phone?”
“Not unless he was here.”
“Was he around?”
“He had left. That’s why I sent him the message.”
“Go through the events exactly.”
Blitz runs his hands through his hair. “I’m out with Giselle. Duke is driving. We get to my condo, and she gets a little wild…” he trails off.
“It’s fine, whatever,” I say.
“Duke asks if we’re done driving for the night. I say yes.”
“Does he leave?” I ask.
“I assume so.”
“How did he seem?”
Blitz heads to the sofa and sinks down on it. “Pissed, I guess. Something was off. We were all off.”
“And what happened next?”
“After…after Giselle is done, she crashes out. I take that picture of her and send it to Duke along with the thing about the gorilla. I was looking for someone to commiserate with.”
“What did you do with your phone after that?”
“Beats me. Set it down. Probably on the charger by the bed.”
“Did you stay with it?”
“I slept on the sofa, not with her. I know that much.”
“Could Giselle have done it?”
His face falls. “Maybe. Why would she release what I said about her?”
“Why would she spray me with frosting?”
We both jump when someone pounds on the door.
“Livia, we have a twenty-thousand-dollar shoot that isn’t happening right now.”
It’s Devon.
“They always think in terms of money, don’t they?” I ask.
“It’s their job,” Blitz says. “Do I let them in?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t want to be dragged into it again, really.”
“So, let’s don’t,” Blitz says.
“Don’t what?” I ask.
“Get dragged in. Screw them. Screw the sixty-three million. Screw it all.”
“Blitz! They will sue you!”
“Let them. I can’t carry this show forever. Let it die. It was a terrible concept anyway.”
“You ready to be poor?” I ask.
“I grew up like a normal kid,” Blitz says. “I can live like a normal adult.”
The banging grows louder. “Livia! We’re going to have the manager let us in!” Devon calls.
“Too bad we’re on the top floor,” I say. “We can’t escape out the window.”
“We don’t need to escape the room,” Blitz says.
“Why not?”
Blitz picks up his phone and scrolls through his contacts. He finds “Larry the lawyer” and hits “call.”
“Because it doesn’t matter whether they come in or not. By the time they get here, I’ll have broken the contract.”
I squeeze his arm. I get it now. “And we’ll have already escaped.”