The weekend is horribly long. I take Andy on walks past the academy, but I never spot the red Ferrari. I’m not surprised. I don’t think he’s there for any of the weekend classes.
But I know he’s still in town, because at church on Sunday, Mindy and I hole up in the girls’ bathroom reading Tweets about Blitz sightings.
Unlike the previous weekend, however, there are no date pictures. Just Blitz with his parents, eating at restaurants or shopping. The mentions are slowing down and almost none of them have anything mean to say. There’s one or two “Go home to Mama” messages, but overall it’s just general excitement to see a celebrity.
He is, however, doing another charity event Sunday evening. We find a link to a Holiday Giving kickoff for Any Baby Can. Seeing that he’s doing a fund-raiser for children makes my heart squeeze.
Knowing that he’s avoiding anything that even looks like a date gives me hope.
On Monday, I decide not to go up to the academy and risk him not being there again. I want to save up my escapes for when I can actually see him. So I plod on to Tuesday. It’s a good plan, because Mom has calmed down about all my time at the academy last week. She doesn’t even look up when I wave bye for the scheduled class with the wheelchair ballerinas. Hopefully she won’t be upset if I’m not back right on time.
Since Blitz didn’t see me in the light blue leotard on Friday, I carefully wash it to wear again. I’m anxious about this class, because Hannah the shark manager has told the mothers we’re going to be filming the video with Blitz.
As I approach the academy, I see it must be true. There are two vans in the parking lot, both for some production company. A couple men are hanging out behind the open doors of one of them.
When I get inside, the foyer is pandemonium. The girls are getting made up by actual makeup artists under bright lights. Two women are modifying their recital costumes, making sure every strap is perfect.
All the parents who aren’t involved in our class are standing around too. Dancers who should be in class are whining and begging to stay and watch rather than attend their own practice.
Danika weaves through the chaos, trying to move people along and maintain order. Her spiky blue hair is easy to follow in the crowd.
Despite being anxious to find Blitz, I look for Gabriella first. She’s waiting near the makeup table, her eyes bright with excitement. A woman approaches from behind and talks to Gwen, who nods. The two of them swiftly remove the sequin scrunchie and start braiding her long black hair.
She looks so pretty. As they twist her hair into an updo, I realize she closely resembles an image of me hanging in our hallway at home. Anyone who knew Gabriella would see that image and think it was her.
My heart hammers. I can’t imagine a scenario where Blitz or Janel or Danika would be in my house, but I have to make sure it never happens. I never did answer Blitz when he asked if Gabriella was my sister, but it hasn’t come up again. I’m sure he knows I would have mentioned it by now if she were. The truth might scare him. It isn’t time to reveal it.
I head up to the girls and hug them. “You all look so beautiful!” I say.
Janel hovers nearby, looking perturbed. “Did you sign a waiver?” she asks me.
I shake my head. “I can’t. My parents would never allow it.”
“You’re over eighteen,” she says. “You can do whatever you want.”
“Not worth it,” I say. “I have to live with them.”
Plus, Blitz will be in the video. God, I have to hope they never see it and realize he was here. This whole thing is so hard. I have to protect my dance.
A woman with a clipboard approaches me. “Are you Livia Mason?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say.
Janel slaps her hand on the clipboard. “She’s not signing, so back off.” She’s more forceful than I’m used to her being.
The woman takes a step back. “She can’t be in the video unless she signs.”
“I don’t want to be,” I say. “I’ll stay out of the way.”
The woman frowns. “We have the right to remove you from the room if you don’t sign.”
“Back off, shark attack, she assists the dancers,” Janel says. When the woman finally moves on, Janel turns to me. “They are super pushy. That’s why I was up in her face.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Danika spots us and heads over. “This is more than I bargained for,” she says. “I guess it always is.”
“You want some help clearing the foyer?” I ask.
“Good luck with that,” Danika says. “I already tried to herd them. We’ll just have to muscle through.” She glances at her watch. “I probably should have moved this to a quiet time, not the regular slot,” she says. “I thought it would be safe enough on a Tuesday morning without any school-aged kids.”
“It’s the homeschool day,” I remind her.
“Yes, it is. So a lot more kids and parents, all with open time.” Danika looks around. “We’ll get it done. The day’s probably a wash anyway.” She sees someone behind me and looks surprised. “What is Bennett doing here?” She excuses herself and heads toward the door.
A tall man in a perfectly fitting charcoal suit stands just inside, looking over the chaos. Danika approaches him and gives him a long, tight hug.
I’ve never seen Bennett Claremont before, but I know he’s important. He built Dreamcatcher Dance Academy for Danika, his mother-in-law. He married her daughter Juliet, a professional ballerina who sometimes comes in between tours to give the girls a pep talk.
He’s the reason I can take ballet, I know, funding the academy so that it doesn’t have to turn a profit to stay open.
His handsome friendliness makes me think of Blitz. I’m not tall enough to see clearly through the crowd, but I don’t think he’s there. All the attention is on our ballerinas, and I suspect that if he was in the foyer, a lot of faces would be turned to him.
Surely he’ll be here, though. They can’t do the video without him. Maybe I can get a moment to ask Suze if she knows what happened to him Friday, and if he was here yesterday. I hate being unable to communicate with anybody. I had no idea today would be this crazy either.
Maybe I’ll volunteer a second day up at the church just to get more access to a phone.
Jacob comes up behind me and squeezes my arm. We’re officially in the transition now, and the foyer gets even more mobbed as dancers come out of the studios, joining the ones who were waiting for their class.
He leans in. “He’s already in Studio 3,” he whispers.
“Thanks,” I say. It’s nice to have an ally in this. I want to hug him.
Danika is still with Bennett, and I don’t think she’ll go to the studio until the girls do. They are absorbed with makeup, so I take one more look at Gabriella and then push my way to the dance rooms.
It’s crowded here too, everyone buzzing about what is happening. I make my way to the back and peer through the window of Studio 3.
Blitz is in there. He’s got a makeup girl of his own, an older woman who is applying gel to his hair. The manager is there too, in a plum suit today, looking just as put together as last week. She’s talking into a phone while simultaneously pointing at a man who is moving a light pole around.
A couple other crew members are in there, but I don’t see any reason why I can’t go in.
As soon as I’m through the door, Blitz pulls away from the makeup woman and heads straight for me.
“Princess!” he says. “I have got to get your number! Nobody here would give it up and I had no way to find you. I even hung out at your dystopian park this weekend.”
He did? “We’ll figure that out,” I tell him. “What happened?”
“She happened,” he points at Hannah. “Had me going a mile a minute. I missed Friday and you didn’t come yesterday.”
Oh! I could have seen him.
“Let me program in your number.” He reaches in his pocket and comes up empty. “They took my dang phone,” he says. “They are always doing that.”
Hannah approaches, clicking her own phone off. “Blitz, I’m not sure about that outfit.” She tugs on the pants over his hips in a familiar way that makes my cheeks blaze. “I do not want a hint of sexy. Not even the suggestion.”
“Should I wear something baggy?” he asks. “I have sleeping sweatpants in the car.” He laughs.
“Blitz, this is not funny,” she says, but this makes him laugh harder. “The last thing we want are ugly jokes about you and young girls.”
“Hannah, relax,” he says. “Let’s just make a good video. Don’t let anybody take a crotch shot.”
She ignores him and tugs at his fitted black short-sleeved T-shirt. “This is just right,” she says. “I’m just not sold on the pants.” She waves at a girl standing near the door. “Abigail, run to the car where we keep Blitz’s wardrobe bag. I swear we have the pants from episode three in there. Black, loose, a little shiny.”
The girl runs out.
Blitz shakes his head and pulls me away again. “Give me your number. I’ll commit it to memory forever.”
Before I can tell him I don’t have a cell phone, we have to move aside for a camera man pushing a black stand on wheels.
“Finally!” Hannah says. “I was wondering if we were going to get a lighting test anytime today!”
The camera operators bring in more lights and argue about placement with all the mirrors in the room.
Blitz takes my arm as if to lead me out of the room, but Hannah catches him. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she says. “You’re staying right here.”
His expression is pained. “I’m just trying to get you alone,” he whispers in my ear. He pulls me up against him, his arm around my waist.
Abigail rushes back in with another pair of pants. Blitz slings them over his arm, then grabs my hand to leave the room to put them on.
Hannah stops him. “There’s a bathroom in the corner.” She avoids looking at me. I can’t tell if she cares that he’s paying so much attention to me or not.
Blitz gets an evil gleam in his eye. “You just got promoted to wardrobe manager,” he says to me. He leads us toward the side wall, where a corner is taken up by a tiny bathroom and the shelves that hold the sound system.
He pulls me inside and shuts the door. “Alone at last,” he says, lifting me up to sit on the counter, what little there is surrounding the sink.
He doesn’t waste a moment, but pulls me into a kiss. His mouth is gentle and seeking.
My heart is beating fast, and I wonder what everyone out there thinks we’re doing. Blitz pulls away and trails his thumb across my cheek. “This is a lot, isn’t it? The crew and Hannah?” he asks.
I nod. “I rather like the pants.”
He laughs. “I would fight her on it, but I have bigger battles. She generally has good taste. Other than taking me on as a client, maybe.”
He steps back and kicks off his jazz shoes. They are new and gleaming. Then he pulls down the pants.
My face burns. His legs are muscled, only moderately hairy. He wears skin-colored underwear, smooth and fitted, same as a leotard. I drag my gaze away.
“You are adorable, Livia,” he says as he steps into the new pants.
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
“You are just so genuine. And sweet.” He straightens the shirt and moves close to me again. “So girl next door. I feel like I should be asking your father for your hand in marriage before I kiss you anymore.”
“You’re crazy,” I say. I want to breathe him in. His clothes smell new and expensive.
His hands separate my knees so he can step in closer. The movement sends a rush of heat through me. I want more from him. I want to get lost in it. He will take care of things. We won’t be stupid like I was before. Although there is the matter of the fifteen paternity suits.
“Why do all those women think their babies are yours?” I ask suddenly.
He sinks back a little. “That’s one heck of a segue,” he says. “You think your father would ask? Because when I was trying to get your address or number or anything to get in touch with you, everybody said your dad would kill me.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s just that if all these girls think their babies are yours, then you couldn’t have been very…” I hesitate. “Protected.”
“So your mind is going there.” He leans in, his fingers sliding around my neck. “Only one of the fifteen was even someone I slept with,” he says. “The others were just opportunists who thought I would buy them off. It’s a common thing, especially when you have a reputation like mine.”
“What about the one, then?”
“Her boyfriend saw the lawsuit and had a cow. He spoke up that the baby was his. The timing was all wrong from when I was with her anyway. It was dismissed.”
“Was she a contestant?”
“No, she didn’t make it that far. But she did audition. I met her before season one began, when I was still naive enough to think girls liked me for who I was.”
It hadn’t even occurred to me that Blitz would be the one to feel used.
He leans in, touching our foreheads together. “I’ll answer any questions you have. I know I’m up against my own horrible reputation.”
“Are you trying to leave all that behind?” I ask.
He says, “I already have.” And his lips brush mine.
From outside the door, we hear “I have a key and I’m going to use it!”
Blitz breaks away. “Lovely woman, my manager. I guess our time is up.”
As he turns to the door, I stop him. “Blitz, I don’t have a cell phone. My father keeps me on a very short leash. He has his reasons. It’s very hard for me to get away and see you. But I want to. I do.”
His eyes flicker with anger for a moment, but he controls it. “Then we’ll make our own way to keep in touch.”
He opens the door. Hannah is outside. His voice is firm when he says, “I need a second cell phone, before the end of the shoot.”
Hannah tries to open her mouth, but Blitz stops her. “I mean it. I won’t sign off on this video without it.”
“You’re such a diva,” Hannah says, but she waves to the same girl who got the pants. “Go see Roberto for the car keys and the credit card. Pick up another cell phone, whatever is close. Get it activated and ready to go and come back.”
The girl nods.
“Good enough?” she asks Blitz.
He nods. “Thank you.” He kisses her cheek. “This is why you’re my main girl.”
Hannah rolls her eyes. “Scoot! All of you!”
Blitz heads toward the camera, and I scurry out of the way, next to a couple guys holding big silver disks.
Class should have already begun, but the girls still aren’t here. Hannah says to the makeup woman, “Go check on the dancers. We’ll need lighting tests. And bring me the instructor. We need to review the shot list.”
“I’ll go get Janel,” I say. Blitz is busy with the cameraman, who is doing footage of him dancing. Another man, presumably the director, is consulting a clipboard and calling out commands like “Long shot. Get something establishing. Now go tight. B-roll on the feet.”
I hurry out of the room. The hall is quieter and the classes seem to have finally gotten underway. The fourth years are working with Betsy. Jacob has his class. The toddlers are with Aurora.
In the foyer, a few mothers and their kids murmur near the front desk.
The class is still together. A cameraman is out here too, getting shots of their faces and the women adjusting their hair.
Danika turns to me. “We’re about to come down. Were you there?”
“They’re filming Blitz,” I say.
“Okay, hopefully we’ll get this going. I’ll have to move Janel’s next class to the recital hall, I bet. Can you help with them if they still need Janel for the shoot?”
I really want to stay with Blitz, but I say, “Of course.”
Daisy rolls up to me, and the camera follows her. When she gets close, though, the clipboard girl jumps forward. “Not the one in blue! She wouldn’t sign.” She glares at me.
Danika laughs. “This is ridiculous.”
The cameraman heads back to the table.
“What’s up, Daisy?” I say.
“Am I going to be a star?” she asks.
I kneel close to her. “You already are,” I tell her.
The assistant says something to the cameraman. “All right!” he says. “Time to head to the dance.” He hustles ahead to film them coming up the hall. Unlike the fancy lights in the studio, his is a little grid over his camera.
I hang back to make sure I stay out of his frame. Each girl gives me a high five as she passes. The excitement is infectious. The moms follow the line of girls, holding dance bags and glowing themselves. It’s a big day.
All of us are benefiting from the arrival of Blitz Craven.