We watch the three finalists dance separately with Blitz. There are cameras everywhere, following the girls as they head out, and the announcer sometimes talks with them as they go to their individual dressing rooms.
Bennett has brought my toe shoes, and the wardrobe woman sprayed them light blue to match the dress, adding sparkles to turn them into something new and beautiful. I swing my feet to make sure they dry in time, although she assures me it’s very fast.
The interviews give the stage people time to change out sets. We occasionally hear people rumbling out in the hall. Twice, dancers dash in to have a false eyelash fixed or a lipstick smear corrected.
“Five minutes until the finalists come in to be prepped for the selection,” Cecilia says.
“They’re coming in here?” I ask. I’ve felt safe and somewhat removed from the activity in the makeup room.
“Yes, they have a wardrobe change in their dressing rooms, but they will come here for makeup,” another girl says. “Plus Marie here has to totally redo Giselle’s hair.”
“I have a plan,” Marie says. “We practiced the quick change.”
“I can’t be in here,” I tell Juliet, hopping up from my chair. “I can’t face them.”
Bennett nods. “Probably not the best idea. They will send a camera to get shots of them preparing. We should be out.” He checks his phone. “And…legal has just insisted Livia sign some papers anyway.” He opens the door. “Let me make sure Blitz isn’t out there.”
He looks left and right and motions for us to go. We quickly duck back into the room we started in. There are more people now, some standing to watch the show. It’s in commercial at the moment.
A man in a suit sits at a table in the corner. Bennett leads me over.
The man doesn’t have any formalities but gets straight to the point.
“This document acknowledges that you do not hold the producers, television station, production company, or any of their subsidiaries liable for anything that happens onstage.” He flips the page. “And furthermore, that you agree to allow your likeness to be used as part of this production, and any derivative works that are created based on this production.”
I look up at Bennett. “Isn’t a contract what got us here in the first place?”
He nods. “It sort of is.” He taps his fingers on the table. “Liam, I know you are doing your job, but I’m going to take on the liability for this one.” Bennett leans over and signs his own name to the document. “I’m personally responsible for her actions and any actions taken on her behalf as a result of this production.”
Liam sighs. “This is not how the contract was drawn.”
Bennett shrugs. “Then call security to escort us out.”
Liam closes the folder and stands up to leave. “I was never here.”
A couple of the people in the room have noticed what we’re doing. The blond in the red dress asks, “Is this one of the chorus dancers?”
Bennett doesn’t answer. “Let’s go,” he says. He takes me by the arm, and we head to the door. Behind us, the show starts up again. Blitz is in a room where footage of the finalists dancing is playing on three separate screens. The announcer asks him if he’s ready to make his choice.
We head into the hall. There is a screen a ways down. I can see the flash of the light. I want to see what Blitz is doing, but my nerves are on red alert and I’m trying not to freak out.
We pause outside a set of double doors. Blitz glances up at the red light above it, then opens the door.
We’re in a very dark area with red lights low on the floor. Ahead, I can see a brighter light. We carefully walk across, avoiding thick bundles of wires and passing the shadows of people who are turned to a screen. This one is dim and surrounded by a black case so that the light leaks as little as possible.
I see that Blitz is still in the viewing room. The announcer is talking to him, but this monitor has no sound.
The show switches to montages of Blitz with the three girls. I’ve already seen all these moments, so I turn back to the bright light ahead. Now that we’re closer, I can see people moving equipment around.
It’s the stage.
My stomach twists. We’re here.
A man approaches Bennett. “Is this her?” he asks him.
“Yes,” Bennett says. “Livia, this is Devon, the director.”
“Hell of a thing to spring on me,” Devon says. “But this is gonna go viral tonight.” He seems rather giddy. “Livia, I’m going to take you to the dance choreographer so we can talk about possible scenarios.”
We move closer to the light, and I spot more people standing together. Devon approaches a woman and points me out. The two of them come over.
“Why are we doing this?” the choreographer says. “We already know who he is going to choose and we already have the dance ready to go.”
“Because this girl’s the real deal,” Devon says. “And we’re gonna make reality television history.”
My stomach flips again. I have to believe I’m doing the right thing.
The choreographer looks me over, stopping at the toe shoes. “You’re a dancer?”
“I do ballet,” I say. “But if I danced with Blitz, it would be a waltz.”
“What have we got rights for?” Devon asks her. “What can we play if this goes her way?”
“I have several,” she says. “Slow or fast?”
“Definitely slow,” I say. I feel like throwing up. Am I really going to dance with Blitz in front of everybody? We haven’t practiced anything.
I gulp in air. I have to have faith. He said we danced well together. I always understood his communication and was able to follow. It doesn’t have to be fancy. It just has to be real.
The choreographer starts walking away. “This is nuts,” she says.
Devon takes me to the false wall that backs the stage. “So here is how it goes. Blitz is going to be over there at the podium in the center, the one with flowers on it.” He points. “And the girls will be standing to his left.”
“When should I go out?” I ask.
“Whenever it seems right,” he says. “This is unscripted.” He turns to face me. “And you don’t have to do this, you know. The show can run as planned.”
“I know,” I say. “I’ll only go out if I think he’s going to do something terrible.”
He pats my shoulder. “I knew something was different about him when he came back to rehearsals. I wasn’t surprised when Bennett called me about you.”
A guy in all black comes through, saying, “Back in three.” All around me, people move into new positions. Cameras roll around. Hushed commands are spoken into headsets.
“Let’s get you out of the way,” Devon says. He grabs the arm of a girl dressed in black. “Hide her until everyone is onstage, then bring her right back here.”
The girl nods. We walk deeper into the dark, where we stand beside a fake section of fence I recognize from the second dance number.
A flashlight shines and a man walks through. And I see him. Blitz!
He looks focused and anxious as he follows the other man to the stage. They put him in position by the flowers. I try to read his expression, but he’s concentrating on something.
There’s more movement and the three finalists walk by. They are dressed to the hilt in splashy dresses and full makeup. The woman leading them stops at the edge of the stage, still out of sight.
A big red set of numbers counts down on a screen at the foot of the stage. I can see the audience, movements out beyond the light.
Then music, loud and startling, the show’s theme song.
The announcer is out front, brash and a little over the top in his dark brown suit and spiked hair. He speaks to the audience. “This is it, folks. The big moment. After an entire season one with no success in the end, Blitz Craven will choose his partner. For two broken hearts, tonight was their final dance with the man they have all fallen for. One lucky lady will become his partner, and maybe even get that ring.”
He turns to our side of the stage. “Giselle, Christy, Mariah, come on out!”
The audience cheers as they walk onstage. When they are in their positions, the girl next to me leads me to where they previously stood. I take off the gold cloak and hand it to her.
I don’t know what Blitz can see from the bright stage, but I am directly in his line of sight if he looks this way.
The women all hold hands as Blitz picks up the bouquet of flowers.
“What are your thoughts as you make this decision?” the announcer asks.
That’s when I see it. Blitz’s expression changes. It’s hard. He’s ready to do what he has to do. Something crazy. Something horrible. Something to get him fired.
And I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to. My feet carry me out on the stage.