The intensity in the studio starts reaching a fever pitch as we enter the week of the first live elimination show.
Rehearsals are brutal, especially for Blitz, who practices with all four of us and ususally has to go on talk shows each evening.
When we more or less have the waltz and the ballet down, Amara leaves the supervision of work for the sexy dance to her assistant, who is a hundred times nicer. She has me wear very revealing body suits and work on getting comfortable with another male dancer standing in, his face pressing close to mine, his hands skimming me.
I know this show is important. If I get that far, the sexy show is the last vote, the one that will determine who wins on the final episode. It’s intended to spike the ratings.
We do other exercises I find strange but stirring, watching and mimicking sexy movie scenes, and reading aloud passages from romance novels and doing spontaneous dances to match. I think I’m pretty open to things, but some of them make me seriously blush.
By the time I get home each night from these exercises, I’m more than a little hot for Blitz. Because of his publicity gigs, I always get home before him, and I’ve tackled him before he can even get something to eat.
He doesn’t complain.
The morning of the first live show feels a lot like the finale did, only I’m there for the entire process, not just the show itself. It airs at eight Eastern, so five our time, and preparations begin at six in the morning.
The stage has been transformed since that last live show. Huge video screens flank the two sides. The upper stage, which has been roped off for days, has a new false floor with lights running beneath it.
The bottom stage is lined with neon and is where we perform most of the dances, although some of them involve both sections. We have final rehearsals in costume now that both stages are integrated. The lights and sound will also be tested with us rather than our stand-ins.
My first run-through is with the ballroom dance coach, as they are working not to overtax Blitz. Once Devon has made adjustments to my position as well as the chorus dancers, Blitz comes out.
My heart hammers as he walks up in his dance costume. Our waltz is meant to continue my princess theme from the castle date. I have a deep blue dress with an enormous skirt that billows when I turn. He wears a soldier-inspired outfit with epaulets on the shoulders and frog fasteners down the front, his legs in heavy dark blue tights.
“Places!” Devon shouts. Cameras shift into their locations. They are practicing their roles too. I realize now how much chaos my appearance at the finale created for the well-rehearsed production.
We are bathed in darkness as Barry comes out to introduce our number. On the video screens, images from our castle date tell the story of who we are. A phone number and texting key shows up, with the reminder to download the app or go online.
I wonder if Mindy will get to watch and use all her votes for me. I make a promise to myself to call her house from an unknown number and try to get through. Maybe I can get Jessie to do it, and once she’s on the line, switch to me.
The lights come up and the music begins. Blitz smiles down at me, and I take courage in knowing that of all the dances, ours matters most to him. Everything else is just theatrics.
We begin our path across the stage, which is set to look like a ballroom. Extras in fancy gowns wait on the edges as if entranced by our solo dance. The video screens are still images of windows in the walls of a castle.
We dance and spin, flawless, graceful. My love for him surges. We are doing this. We are getting through it.
The extras come out to fill the upper stage, so Blitz and I move to the lower one to finish out the dance. We twirl and he lifts me momentarily, then we turn out and back. The final notes arrive and we whirl into our final position and hold.
All the lights come up. “Very nice. Blitz and Livia, walk to extreme stage left, where you’ll do your interview with Barry. Once you hit the mark, you can go. Dancers, we need to make a few more adjustments.”
Blitz and I hold hands as we head to the far edge of the stage, where Barry will put us in the spotlight for a post-dance interview while the set is changed.
Once we’re in position, Barry tells us, “I’ll say, ‘How did that feel?’ and you’ll say, ‘We feel great, Barry,’” and if something happened I’ll bring it up, but otherwise we’ll hang here for about ninety seconds of chitchat, then you’ll exit that way.” Barry points behind us.
“Got it,” Blitz says.
Jessie walks up with a bottle of water and Shelly comes to put a towel around Blitz’s neck.
“You guys change out with wardrobe,” Amara says. “We’re done with you. Livia, you’ll need to be in makeup in thirty. Blitz, we’ll do the next number as soon as you’re changed.”
I nod. Blitz squeezes my hand, then takes off for his dressing room. I give the water back to Jessie and tell her I’m going to watch rehearsal and to come get me when it’s time for makeup.
Then I hurry down the steps of the stage and sneak into the audience seating. I sit down in the highest, darkest corner.
The number is run through again with the dance coach and a trainer standing in for me and Blitz. The trainer doesn’t know it perfectly, but the coach more or less leads her through all the positions.
The chorus dancers in their big gowns are so beautiful, led by male dancers in outfits that mimic Blitz’s but in muted tones. Astounding. I can’t believe I’ll be dancing in it. It will be so exciting for everyone at Dreamcatcher to see back home.
I wonder if my parents know. If they’ll look.
My throat feels thick.
The lights go up onstage and the extras for the ballroom scene exit. There’s several minutes where spots go on and off and the video screens flash random footage, blank out, and come back. Barry moves to various places on the upper and extreme side stages while they play with lights and colors.
Then the crew removes the pedestals and flowers for the waltz and bring out an Eiffel Tower and several pillars of fake stone. A Paris scene. I wonder whose it is.
I don’t have long to wait. Like with my rehearsal, Mariah comes out with the dance coach. She is in a long glittery black gown. Her hair is in a lovely tight chignon covered with black net.
I watch the clips that precede her dance. A few are the same from the first episode, and others are different. Blitz kisses her on the Santa Monica pier, the Ferris wheel behind them, and my stomach twists a little. He has no choice. I know this. But I feel sick just the same.
Their dance has more technical difficulty than mine, with lifts and spins while she’s held suspended by the coach. A twinge of jealousy flutters through me that I’m not as good as her. But she’s probably danced all her life. Her poise and training is evident. Every movement, arch, and position is perfect.
When the lights come up, she gets back in place and waits. Blitz comes out again, still tugging on his cuffs. He wears a black and white tuxedo for this number, and my heart squeezes at how handsome he looks.
They greet each other and wait for the darkness to go down. Barry runs through his part again, then the clips, and the cameras move.
Blitz is different from the coach in subtle ways. His movements are not as precise or technically perfect, but he has a smoldering quality that makes the dance more emotional. He tugs at you, making you wish it were you he was dancing with.
The lifts are good, and the quality is definitely there. But Mariah is not quite as on with Blitz, as if his style doesn’t really lead her to be the best she can be. I wish the voting audience could see this. It’s so clear that they are not perfect partners if you see her with another dancer back to back.
I wonder if I’m allowed to vote.
A door opens from above, creating a rectangle of light from the hall. It’s Jessie. I hurry to the hall to head to makeup, wishing I could see all the numbers. Just watching this one has definitely bolstered my confidence.