Even though we’re not filming, we still have plenty to do to prepare for the upcoming live shows. The series premiere with episode one is a week away, and this will set the tone for what the TV viewers will think as they learn they are now in control of the winner of Dance Blitz. Voting will begin on live episode two.
I didn’t realize there would be a red carpet premiere viewing until one day during ballet rehearsal, Jessie pops in to say I’m expected in wardrobe in five. This isn’t on my schedule.
I slip out of my toe shoes and head down the hall. Cameron and Kendra are there with a rack of glittery gowns.
“What are those for?” I ask. None of them look easy to dance in.
“Two designers are vying to show off their dresses at the premiere,” Cameron says. “These are on loan, so each of you girls have to choose one and send the rest back.”
I approach the row of dresses in a half-dozen colors. “So there will be cameras on us?”
Cameron and Kendra exchange a look. They have no idea that I was banned from TV and social media for years. Only in the past few months have I been able to connect with the world, and Blitz surely hasn’t done any premieres since I’ve known him.
“I’ve decided to let Blitz’s look be determined by yours,” Kendra says. “I assume you two will go together, no matter what the producers say.” She sorts through the rack.
“The producers don’t want us going together?” I feel lost and confused.
“Of course not,” Kendra says. “It spoils the illusion that this is actually a competition.”
The urge to snatch my phone and look at the other season premieres is intense. “Who did Blitz go with to the others?”
“Stag,” Kendra says. “Of course. It was in his contract. They must have known not to try it this time around.”
I walk up to the dresses. “We’re just in this to finish out his obligations. It doesn’t matter how it goes in the end.”
Another glance between the women. I know Kendra went on all the dates as the stylist, but I had insider information on that with Duke. Does anyone here actually believe the contest is for real?
I’ve been fairly isolated from the other finalists, but now I wonder why. Are they plotting things I don’t know about? A tremor of fear runs through me. Is there anything they can actually do to hurt us?
Kendra turns to the rack and pulls off an aqua-blue dress. “I like this one.”
Cameron considers it. “Do you think we’re overdoing the blue?”
“Possibly,” Kendra says. “But the public’s memory is short. Even with just four contestants, we want to make sure they always know her from Mariah.”
This makes me want to scream. Mariah and I look nothing alike.
Kendra sees my expression and says, “Livia, there will definitely be hard-core fans who will know your every expression, but for a lot of the casual viewers the two dark-haired ones are going to blend together.”
She holds the dress up to me. “I think it’s good to keep her in blue and the others out of it, like the Virgin Mary.” She laughs and I burn inside again.
“Go try it on,” Cameron says. “And don’t damage it. It’s all on loan.”
I take the hanger from her and head to the curtained section. The dress is heavy, beaded from top to bottom, shifting in color from almost white at the top to a medium blue at the bottom. All the beads are white, which lightens the overall tone of the dress. It’s very beautiful, and very simple, just slender straps on top with a square neck. When I put it on, it spills on the ground in the back like a wedding train. It’s a couple inches too long in the front as well.
I pick up the skirt as I walk back out to show the others.
I’m more than a little stunned to see Mariah and Christy in the room.
“More blue,” Mariah says simply.
“It’s the color Blitz loves on her,” Christy says in a singsong voice. The two of them laugh like it’s some big joke.
I ignore them and turn to Cameron. “It’s too long,” I say.
“Nothing some killer heels won’t solve,” she says. She tugs on the bodice, waist, and back. “It’s a good fit. Not a standout dress, but very pretty.”
“What do you have for me?” Mariah asks.
The four women go over to a different rack. I assume I must be done. I spot Jessie in the corner and she gives me a sympathetic smile.
When I’m back in my ballet outfit, I carry the dress out. Cameron and Kendra are still sorting through dresses with Mariah and Christy, so I just hang the dress up and leave. I can see I’m not their priority.
I tell myself again that it doesn’t matter.
When Jessie and I get in the hall, the assistant choreographer runs up to say Blitz is ready to rehearse our number for the second live show, the one where I do a ballet. I’m completely relieved to be able to see him after the stress of the wardrobe room. I send Jessie back to the workout studio to collect my toe shoes.
The stage is mostly empty, although our prop for that dance is partially constructed. It’s a tall, pale blue fake ice sculpture of a goddess, robes flowing, her hair blowing wildly out. It matches our dance, which depicts the ice goddess thawing with the arrival of a man.
Blitz is talking to Amara, who is showing him a deep gentlemanly bow. He tries it, and she adjusts him over and over again. I sit on the floor to tie on my toe shoes. Amara sees me and gestures for a girl holding a flat stiff pancake tutu to approach.
When I stand up, she lowers the tutu so I can step inside it. She seats it properly on my hips, then hooks the closure in the back.
I’ve never worn a pancake tutu, only flowing ones, and as soon as I lower my arms, my wrists smack into the stiff netting. I jerk them back up.
“That’s why we’re practicing with it early,” Amara says. “They take getting used to for both of you. Blitz will have to get accustomed to dealing with the distance he’ll need to keep to avoid smashing it.”
Interesting they are doing this. In a classic tutu like this, we’ll have to stay at arm’s length, like the most traditional ballet.
“I guess we won’t be making out onstage,” I tell him.
He smiles. “I can get around any obstacle.” To prove it, he leans over and presses a kiss on my mouth.
“All right, from the top,” Amara says. “It’s going to feel very different with the costume. Blitz, don’t forget the bow.”
As we run through the dance, the spotters moving forward with each lift since we might run into trouble with the tutu, I realize how stilted and formal it feels. I wonder if I’m being sabotaged. The dance is pretty, and I think the viewers will like it. But we’re not talking about choosing a ballet partner. This is about making a commitment with someone.
And with this dance and this getup, we’re going to look like we barely know each other.