Forbidden Dance (Lovers Dance Book 1) Page 12

  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 beats 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 actually liked me.”

  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!” It’s Hannah.

  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 guy holding a big silver disk.

  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 Danika 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.

  Chapter 18

  The majority of the shooting is pretty mundane. The girls turn. The cameramen glide around, catching different angles. The director stops them, has the lights rearranged, and they do it again.

  “How long is this video going to be?” I ask Danika. We’re in the corner with the other unnecessary crew.

  “Three minutes,” a lighting guy says.

  “An hour of shooting on two cameras to get three minutes?” I ask.

  “That’s how it works,” he says. “This is a short one. I’ve had thirty-second commercials take twelve hours.”

  The director motions to us. “I’d like the girls in a half circle around Blitz!” he calls.

  The dancers who can power themselves or have motorized wheelchairs move forward. I can see Marissa is a little fatigued. When she doesn’t move, I jump forward to push her into the circle.

  I figure someone will yell at me to stay out of camera range, but no one does. Blitz kneels before them, taking Gabriella’s hand. I’m so touched, seeing it, that my eyes instantly tear up. Blitz and my little girl. Right here.

 
The cameraman comes beside me to catch Blitz’s face. He’s smiling up at Gabriella, but when he glances a little higher, he sees me. His expression softens. His face is radiant, full of understanding and emotion upon seeing mine.

  “You really love this, don’t you, Princess?” he asks me.

  I nod, afraid to speak out loud since they are filming. I slowly back away so they can get the shot with Blitz and the girls.

  “I know I love it!” Gabriella says.

  “Me too!” the other girls chorus.

  “And I have loved spending this day with you,” Blitz says.

  He goes around the circle, hugging each girl. They seem to know it’s over and some of them start crying. I know how they feel. There is a definite crash after the high of being a part of Blitz’s world.

  “That’s a wrap,” the director says. “Thank you all, young ladies. This was beautiful.”

  The moms come inside the room to collect their girls. The crew is a whirl, breaking things down quickly and loading up bags. I stay out of the way in the corner.

  Blitz speaks with the director for a few moments, nodding and listening. He catches my eye a few times and smiles.

  I’m perfectly content to stand outside his limelight and watch the craziness. I can’t imagine living this sort of life all the time. But that was what he had to do on the show. Cameras in his car. His home. During his practices and his dates. Why had he done it? The Blitz I’ve gotten to know does not seem to seek the spotlight. I’ll have to ask him how it all happened.

  He breaks away from the director and heads over to our corner. Hannah, who has been on the phone, hangs up abruptly and hugs him. “You were brilliant, as always,” she says.

  “Thanks.” He turns away from her to talk to me. “Can you break away from here for a little while?”

  I hesitate. On Tuesdays, I head home for lunch and then go do my work at the church. But I have an idea.

  “I’m doing a lunch thing,” I say. “But after that I could make some time.”

  Blitz turns to Hannah. “What’re my obligations?”

  “I don’t need you until tomorrow night,” Hannah says. “The auction.” She looks around. “Honestly, I think now that we have this, you’re done here. I don’t see a point in two charity dance videos.”

  My stomach sinks. “You’re done with Dreamcatcher?” I ask.

  “I’ll finish out the week,” he says. “It was never meant to be a long gig.”

  I feel flushed with panic. “I won’t see you.”

  He turns to Hannah. “Did you get that phone for me?”

  “She’s on her way back,” Hannah says. “Actually, there she is.”

  They wave to the girl, who holds a box. Blitz takes my arm and heads over to her.

  “Here,” she says. “It’s prepaid for a year.”

  “Perfect,” he tells her. “Thank you.” He takes the box and glances around, his eyes narrowed. I think I know who he’s looking for.

  “Danika left before the shooting ended,” I say.

  “Awesome,” he says.

  We open the door and peer out into the hall just as the lights blink for the transition.

  “Time to blow!” he says, grabbing my hand. We run for the storage room door.

  When we’re on the other side, he laughs. “Princess, I swear you turn me into a high school boy every time we’re together. Sneaking around like the teacher is going to catch us.”

  “But she is!” I laugh too and Blitz sets down the box so he can pick me up and twirl me in a circle. We spin between the storage racks and the door until I’m dizzy and breathless.

  “I’m never going to feel the same way about a closet,” he says.

  I don’t get a chance to respond, because his lips are on mine, hungry and demanding. I melt into him, our bodies separated by so little that I can feel each muscle, his hip bone. And before long, him erect between us.

  “You make me so crazy,” he says, his hands tangled into my hair. “And you’re always in all this spandex.”

  I laugh against his jaw. “I won’t be this afternoon.”

  “Please tell me you’ll wear a skirt with no panties.”

  I suck in a breath, shocked and excited by his sudden drop in gentlemanly manners. “Blitz!”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “No, no, it’s okay. I mean, it’s just funny.”

  He holds me tightly against him. “I’m going insane for you. Did you say you could see me this afternoon or did I dream it?”

  “I think so,” I say. “I have some volunteer work, but I could leave early.” God, this has to work. I have so little time away.

  “Tell me when and where and I’m there.” His hands run along my back and side, across my shoulder blades, as if he’s memorizing the terrain of my body. It’s distracting and makes it hard for me to breathe or think.

  “Two o’clock,” I say, “at our dystopian park.”

  “I’ll be there,” he says. Then, in a whisper, “And I expect no panties.”

  He lets go of me and hands me the box. “I’ll text you on this so you have my number.”

  My jaw drops. “Wait. You got this for me?”

  “Who did you think it was for?” he says. “Open it up.”

  My hands shake as I lift the lid. It’s a shiny gray phone. I press the side button and the screen flickers on.

  “Let me put my number in it,” he says. He opens the contacts and types in his numbers. In the name he puts “Love slave.”

  “Blitz!”

  He laughs. “Text me right away so I’ll have the number for it. Promise?”

  “I promise.” My eyes smart with tears for the second time today. “Thank you.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “Go to your lunch. I’ll see you in a few.”

  We head out the door. The hallway is mostly quiet. One of the cameramen is pushing an equipment crate out of Studio 3.

  He heads back into the room where Hannah waits. I wave and head on down the corridor, glad not to have been spotted by Danika. I shove the phone box in my string bag. I’ll have to ditch the packaging in the trash in the park on the way home, as Mom will notice that. And make sure it’s silenced.

  The foyer is quiet. The makeup girls are packing their table and chairs and mirrors and boxes.

  I push through the doors. When I’m past the parking lot, I pull out the phone and locate the texting feature. It’s a couple blocks of walking before I figure out what my first text to Blitz will be. My courage surges and my body feels hot as I type it.

  Park. Check.

  Skirt. Check.

  Secret date. Check.

  Panties? You’ll have to find out for yourself.

  Chapter 19

  At home I change into a long skirt and a sweater. I can’t leave the panties off. I try twice, but only get as far as the hallway when I turn around and put them back on again.

  I’m just not Blitz’s speed on that.

  Dad comes home for lunch, and I have to fight to keep my expression calm. When we’re all seated at the table, he passes an envelope to me.

  “What’s this?” I ask. I pretty much never know if something from my father will be good or bad.

  “Read it,” he says.

  I open the envelope. It’s a confirmation of my testing date for the SAT. It’s in three weeks.

  “Your last practice score was pretty good,” he says. “I figure if you knuckle down for the next few weeks, you’ll be ready.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Mom says. “You’re going to do great.”

  “Once I take it, I have to start applying, or the score will expire,” I say. My future whizzes before me. Classes in an actual school again. New people. Girls. Boys. Teachers.

  “One step at a time,” Dad says. “I hear there are lots of good online colleges these days.”

  My excitement wilts. Right. He’s still planning to keep me here.

  “Thank you for signing me up,” I say. It costs mo
ney to take the test, and we don’t have a lot. I know that’s a big deal.

  “I’m really proud of you, Livia. I think extending your learning will really do you good.” He reaches for a bowl of mashed potatoes and loads some onto his plate. “Of course, you may have to drop some of your dancing. College takes a lot of time.”

  My heart falls to my knees. He can’t mean that. Attending class is free and only once a week!

  But I know better than to argue. I just focus on my plate. Less than an hour until I head up to the church, and then I’ll make an excuse to leave early. I won’t have as much time as I did last week, but it’s something.

  I already plan to escape one night after dark. That’s even riskier, because my father might go so far as to call the cops or try to have Blitz arrested. I don’t think it would work, because I am nineteen, but he could try. The press would be bad.

  No, actually, maybe I won’t try.

  I swirl my fork through the potatoes and keep quiet until lunch is over.

  My exhilaration isn’t quite as high heading to the church. My list of sins involving it is growing — using the phone to call Gabriella’s adoptive mother, sneaking looks at Blitz footage, and now I’m straight-up lying about being there.

  Not only that, I unplugged our home phone so that it wouldn’t ring if the church secretary decided to call my mom about my leaving early. I don’t think she’d do it, but then, Mindy showed up when I was there alone that time. My parents may have made some sort of agreement with Irma to be notified if anything unusual happens.

  So, yes, I’m being terrible. Liar. Sneak.

  Just like four years ago.

  I circle the building and go in the side.

  Irma is at her desk as always. Usual messy hair. Today’s paisley print dress is pale blue.

  “Don’t you look pretty!” she says. “Your hair is a crown!”

  I touch the braid encircling my head, the long strands falling from it. “Mom taught me how to do it when I was young.”

  “It’s a beautiful look. You tell her I said so.”

  “I will.”

  Irma waves her hand to the back room. “There’s a ton of mail to sort. Lots of junk. Just don’t toss any bills.”