Follow My Lead

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “You needed me?” she asked Meagan.

  “Come in,” Meagan encouraged. “And pull the door shut.”

  “I’ll get it,” Blake offered quickly. He closed the door and stepped in between the two women so he could gauge both of their facial expressions as this—whatever it was—went down. “Since Rick isn’t coming back—” Meagan started.

  “Rick isn’t coming back?” Darla asked, her tone rippling with shock.

  Meagan’s gaze flicked Blake a “you didn’t tell her?” look, before she replied, “No. He’s not. He’ll be recuperating for a while. As you know, Blake is filling in for Rick today, but I’ve thrown his name in the ring for a potential long-term replacement.”

  Darla gaped, her attention jerking to Blake’s with accusation. “You’re taking over for Rick?”

  Could he get any more sideswiped? “I’m just rolling with the punches,” he assured her, darting Meagan a warning glance. “I’ve agreed to nothing but helping out today. Maybe a few audition shows forward, if needed. Beyond that, nothing is even somewhat final.”

  “About your future with the show,” Meagan said. “I just hung up from a conference call with your agent—who wants you to call him—and one of the studio executives.” She glanced at Darla. “Right after I had a conversation with your agent and one of your studio executives.”

  Blake’s spine stiffened and he could feel the tension emanating from Darla. He could almost hear her suck in a breath at the same time he did, waiting for what was about to come next, no doubt, thinking what he was thinking.

  Was one or both of them about to be fired?

  13

  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” BLAKE heard Darla say in a strained voice, her ivory skin pasty white. “Is there some sort of a problem with me being on the show because Blake is now potentially the host?”

  “Because if there is,” Blake said sternly, praying that he hadn’t misjudged the situation. “Count me out of the show. I’ll head home and stay there.”

  Meagan looked between the two of them, a keen expression on her face. “You’d walk away from a huge paycheck because it puts Darla in jeopardy?”

  “Yes,” he said at the same time Darla said, “No.”

  “No, you will not,” Darla added, frowning at Blake. “This is your studio, not mine. You belong here.”

  “You both belong here,” Meagan interrupted.

  “I’m perfectly happy doing just my show.” Blake focused on Darla. “The big Hollywood scene has never been my thing. Stepping Up works for me, not because of the big prime-time format, but because of the fans and the contestants. Those things hit the same hot buttons as my show.”

  “This is money and opportunity, as well,” Darla said, being humble and generous, as he’d expect of her. But when she curled her fingers inside her palms, he could see she was shaking. She wanted this. She wanted it bad, and still she added fiercely, “You can’t walk away from this.”

  “I’m not invested in this like you are,” he reasoned. “I can walk away. And I will, if it has to be one or the other, you or me. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “It’s not,” Meagan said firmly, drawing their attention. “This is a great opportunity. You’re right about that, Darla. A great opportunity for both of you.”

  “What?” Darla asked. “I thought…so, wait. There’s not a problem with Blake and I working together?”

  “I never said there was,” Meagan informed her. “You two just took a piece of what I was saying and ran with it. Nobody has a problem with the two of you working together. At least, not now that they’ve heard my plan. In fact, they’re thrilled with the plan I’ve suggested. It’s the two of you that I have to convince now.”

  Darla cast Blake a cautious look. “So,” she said contemplatively, “let me just be sure I understand. My show being on a competing network, in a competing time slot with Blake, isn’t an issue?”

  “It’s a bonus,” Meagan asserted, “and the key to my team’s plan to boost ratings this season.”

  “What are we missing here, Meagan?” Blake asked skeptically.

  “Everyone at the bar last night noticed the combative chemistry the two of you have and they found it entertaining. Add to it the past history with the shoe incident, and people are interested to see how you might clash, or not clash, again.”

  “Oh, wow,” Darla murmured. “Were we that obvious last night?”

  “You say that like it’s a problem,” Meagan chided. “It’s not. In fact, it’s the opposite. It’s magical, and a way to make this season unique. That’s what we need—a way to keep the show from becoming repetitive and boring. Last season we had the curse. This season, two competing television personalities.”

  “Are we talking about some sort of format change for the show or a role change for myself or Darla?” Blake asked. “Because as it is, Darla and I won’t be interacting much.”

  “The judges and the host have plenty of interaction during the live shows,” she corrected. “Which is what we want to play up.”

  “Play up?” Darla asked. “I’m not following, Megan.”

  “The details will have to be fine-tuned based on your input. But what we know for certain is that we’ll emphasize a rivalry between you two and tease the audience with the battle and/or sparks that might fly.”

  Blake’s brow lifted. “Sparks?” His gaze flickered to Darla, who had turned paler still when he hadn’t thought she could do so.

  “Viewers love a good rivalry,” Meagan explained. “They will either want you to clash or want you to fall into each other’s arms. It will be a fun battle of the sexes theme we can use.”

  “I know you mean it when you say this is going to be good for the show and for us,” Darla said. “And I believe you when you say that the studio is supportive of this idea, but I’m concerned this could backfire on me. I’m looking for longevity, not my fifteen minutes of fame. I’m the outsider, the one from a competing network. One misstep that makes them see me as having allegiances to this network over them could cost me my job.”

  “One of your jobs,” Meagan said. “But you aren’t going to leave either show on anyone’s terms but your own. You’re too good to have this end any differently.”

  “You don’t know that,” Darla argued. “This first season for me is more like an audition,” she glanced at Blake, “and we all know it. If I get bad feedback from the audience, I’m gone.”

  “You won’t,” Blake said, unwilling to let her allow fear to affect her decision-making. He might not be a hot Hollywood star, but he knew opportunity when he saw it. “They’ll love you just like your audience loves you.”

  “This is a different format from my show,” Darla said. “I’ll be openly critiquing people’s performances, building and destroying dreams. Blake won’t have that pressure, nor will he have the competing network issue.”

  “Stepping Up is going to be highly invested in you both,” Meagan assured her. “We’ll be doing a print and television campaign featuring the two of you. Any way you look at that, you two are the reasons both networks get this exposure—and Darla, your network gets it for free. Because of you. It’s a sweet deal for them. Call your agent and your producer and talk it out at the next break.”

  “She’s right, Darla,” Blake said. “It’s a sweet deal for your network—and even mine, for that matter. They win ratings and advertisers.”

  Darla shook her head, rejecting his encouragement. “Ultimately we’re still competitors, Blake. The last one standing keeps their show and this one right along with it. You know that’s how this ends.”

  “I don’t know any such thing,” Blake said. “And you could easily have this network pay you enough to make your show a nonissue.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “And you get rid of me as a competitor?”

  “No,” he objected. “Come on, Darla. You know better than that.”

  “How?” she asked. “How do I know better? I barely know you. And we both know our new vari
ety-type shows could stay on the air for twenty years. Prime time rarely hits five seasons. Keeping our day jobs makes sense.”

  “Hey,” Meagan sniped, “don’t be numbering our days already. We are going to keep this show new and fresh, just like we’re trying to do with you two injected into the season full-throttle now.

  “Your daytime shows are your daytime shows,” Megan assured her. “The idea is simply that this show gets your shows more exposure.” She glanced at her watch. “Yikes! Okay. We don’t have much time. You both have concerns. I understand fully, but I sincerely think you will be glad you did this. So let me just arm you both with information to think about and to talk to your representation about.” She glanced at Blake. “Blake, we don’t need you at every audition since we don’t shoot those segments live. We piece together random footage for audition segments. This gives us time to finish planned shows in New York and pretape others to give you breathing room. Vegas week is when we select the final twelve dancers, which will be crazy insanity, with emotions high and contestants sleep-deprived. But it’s also a perfect time to do some playful rival clash stuff between the two of you. We’ll talk through details. I have ideas. Lots of ideas.” She let out a breath. “That brings me to the here and now. Blake, the studio wants to see you at eight tomorrow morning to talk about contract terms and how you are going to juggle two shows. That means you need to go catch a flight to NY now. Your agent is working on finding you one.”

  “What?” Blake asked, taken off guard. “That’s fast, Meagan.” The idea of leaving without the opportunity to talk to Darla was really not a good one. “Surely, the studio can wait until later tomorrow.”

  Meagan shook her head. “Darla is here to stay no matter what. She’s contracted. But if we can’t work this out with you, Blake, I have to find a new host. I need to know where we are headed. If you manage to nail down a contract, and Darla and her agent agree to everything as well, then Darla and I will fly back to New York to meet with everyone involved right after the next audition. We’ll shoot promos and ad campaigns then.”

  A knock sounded on the door and Jimmy rushed inside, not waiting on an answer. “We need you and Darla back on set. And Blake, your agent called. You need to leave for the airport about fifteen minutes ago. I have a car waiting.”

  Damn it, Blake cursed silently.

  “We’re coming,” Meagan called to Jimmy, then lowered her voice. “I’m thrilled about this. The possibilities the two of you represent for this season are endless.”

  Jimmy shouted again and Meagan nodded to Darla. “We better go.” She started walking, and Darla cast Blake one long, meaningful look before she fell into step behind Meagan. She was creating reasons to make him the enemy. Blake stared after her, fighting the urge to grab her and pull her aside. Better yet, to grab her and kiss her, and remind her of what they’d shared. But then, like in the airplane, he held back. He was going to have to leave and wait to talk to Darla when he landed. That is, if she would take his calls.

  * * *

  DARLA FINALLY ENTERED her hotel room at eleven o’clock that evening after a very emotional day. She locked the door behind her and then froze instantly as her nostrils flared with a familiar scent. Blake’s scent. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to thank housekeeping for apparently not doing their job, or complain to management, considering the vivid images the smell provoked—delicious, naughty, wonderful images of her and Blake together. Images that were more proof of how conflicted she was over the man. It made her feel like she’d been naive, like he was using her. And yet, another image of the two of them against the wall, his hands on her breasts, his body pressed to hers, had her shoving away from the door and shaking her head. She was so very conflicted. Darla tossed her purse on the bed and dropped like a rock beside it onto her back, her legs dangling off the mattress. She had to be up early in the morning to fly to New Mexico with Meagan for the next round of auditions. They were going to talk more about the show then as well, and about Blake, although there wasn’t much left to discuss at this point. Darla had spent a few short minutes on the phone with her agent, who had made it clear that not only did her contract allow for everything proposed, he had no idea why she wouldn’t want to do it in the first place. This was exposure, money, all the perks. Her producer had been thrilled, as well. High ratings meant job stability for everyone involved in her daytime show. Neither her agent nor her producer seemed concerned about the things that concerned her, like the possibility that a short-term gain could lead to a crashing and burning. Everyone was so focused on the ratings now, now, now, that they weren’t seeing the future. And money. It was always about money. It had never been that to her, but maybe that was wrong. Money allowed her to care for people she loved. To snub her nose at it would be crazy.

  “The future, your future, could be Stepping Up,” she said to the empty room.

  One door closes and another opens, her father’s voice in her head added. The man had too many sayings and made too much sense. She wanted to call him, to tell him what she was feeling, to ask his advice. He’d make her feel better, but at what price? This time, it was her place to make him feel better. It was her role to make sure he knew everything was going to be okay.

  Darla realized her phone was vibrating, still on silent from when she’d been filming. Shoot. It was probably her parents. She had to shake off her mood and be cheerful. She was going to have to resist the urge to do what she always did, and tell them everything.

  Darla grabbed her purse and dug out her phone only to see a text come through. It’s Blake was all the message read.

  Darla stared at the text, waiting for him to say something more, but he didn’t. She told herself not to respond, but the truth was, she was going to see him and see him plenty. Hiding from him wasn’t an answer. Running from him wouldn’t get her far. No. Blake was in her life to stay. Proof yet again that she was not only lousy at choosing her dates, she was lousy at choosing one-night stands.

  She punched the pad of her phone and typed, It’s Darla.

  His reply was instant. The same Darla who won’t answer her phone?

  She punched the history on her phone and realized she’d missed four calls—all in the past hour. Her parents had called once. Blake owned the other three attempts.

  Darla considered the situation, then typed I don’t like to talk on the phone.

  You’re mean to me was his reply.

  You’re very perceptive, she typed back before she could stop herself.

  I guess you don’t want to know what I’m going to say in the meeting tomorrow, then.

  She sat up and stared at the phone, then punched the call button. The instant he answered, she said, “That was manipulation, just like when you called me and told me to meet you by my room.”

  “Guilty,” he agreed. “But both times were with good intentions.”

  “You knew about this hosting thing and didn’t tell me,” she accused, shifting the conversation to the thing that had bothered her all day long.

  “Not guilty on that one,” he said. “I—”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “I would have,” he argued, “but once again you tucked tail and ran from me.” She opened her mouth to deny it and he added, “And don’t tell me you didn’t, because we both know you did. That left me with two options. Tell you about the possible hosting job through the bathroom door so you had something to worry about besides Lana, or wait to tell you this evening, when you had put Lana behind you. I chose the latter and knowing what a worrier you are, I’d do it again. Unfortunately, Meagan’s time line to deal with Rick’s departure bit me in the ass. And speaking of being bitten in the proverbial ass, what was that about me trying to smash your show? That was a low blow.”

  Darla cringed inwardly. “You hadn’t told me about the hosting thing.”

  “And that makes me a low-down dirty snake?”

  “No.”

  “And?”

  And what? “Okay. I tend to just re
act rather than think first when I feel trapped. I need to work on that. I’m sorry.”

  “Do you believe I want to destroy your show?”

  “Before this conversation or after?”

  “So you believed it when you said it?”

  “I already admitted I reacted to being cornered,” she admitted, and reluctantly added, because he deserved to have it said, “I know that you could have thrown me under the Lana bus, and you didn’t.”

  He was silent a moment. “Did you talk to your agent?”

  “Yes. You?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?” she prodded.

  “You first.”

  “Fine. He said a few good years on a prime-time show could equal more money and opportunity than twenty years on my daytime show.”

  “Why do I sense a but?”

  “I just don’t like the instability of being camera talent,” she confessed, surprised at how easily she shared her feelings with him. “I liked casting because I knew I had a job—a stable job I could count on. This is like gambling all the time on the right step for this level of career or that level of career.”

  “I felt that same thing when I started out,” he admitted. “But I invested well as soon as I had the money to do so, and I made sure I was secure even if I lose the show.”

  “Investing has never been my thing.” But it was smart. She knew it was.

  “Maybe you should watch my show,” he teased, and then added, “And warning. If my father comes to any of these tapings, and he finds out you don’t invest, he’ll insist on it.”

  If his father came to any of the shows. “So. I guess that means you’re taking the job?”

  “My agent wants me to. We’ll see how it goes with the studio. You really don’t want me to take it, do you?”

  No. Yes. She wanted him. That seemed a potential problem. “I’m conflicted.”