by JJ Knight
The audience applauds. I’m thrilled to be here and see this, but it definitely isn’t what I expected. I can’t possibly take Danika aside for a meeting in the midst of all the activity.
Blitz takes my hand and I squeeze it. The curtain opens and Amanda, a girl from my advanced ballet class, comes out in a blue dress and apron. She must be Alice. She wanders the stage alone, glancing around. The music begins, light and airy.
Five of Aurora’s toddlers arrive, dressed as flowers. The audience collectively sighs and giggles as the little ones wiggle out onstage in green leotards and big petaled hats.
Aurora heads down to the floor and leads the girls in a little flower dance. Alice wanders among them, keeping them in line when needed. Then they toddle off.
A boy who is surely from Jacob’s hip-hop class comes out, dressed as a white rabbit. The music shifts to an upbeat rhythm as he tries to convince Alice to come with him.
I glance over at Blitz. This is amazing.
Alice slides down the hole and goes through her process of eating and drinking to change size, along with dancers up on stilts, and then another round of teeny-tiny dancers for her to tower over.
Then the Mad Hatter arrives, and the back curtain goes up to reveal the tea party.
I almost jump out of my seat.
The wheelchair ballerinas are there, all of them! Gabriella!
I’m crying, just sobbing, to see her. They are all dressed in wild colors. The music is lively and quick. Then the girls all come around in front of the table to do a little dance with the teapots, passing them down and being silly as another older boy leaps around in his crazy tall hat.
There is much laughter in the room at their antics, but I can’t stop crying. She’s up there. She’s right there!
Blitz videos it all with his phone while my attention is glued to the stage. The scene finishes and maybe it’s just my imagination, but the applause is tremendous. I’m standing and cheering, then realize the show is moving on. I sit back down in embarrassment.
“You’re fine,” Blitz says. “You’re not the only overzealous parent.”
I wonder if Gwen saw me, if this is okay, or if she will be angry.
Then I realize — I was invited. Danika wanted me here. Even though Gabriella would be performing.
I settle back in my seat.
During the intermission, Blitz takes my hand. “We’re wanted backstage.”
My heart hammers. Will I get to see her?
“Is Gabriella there?” I ask.
“Not right away,” he says. “But I believe we’ll all be onstage together in the end.”
“We will?”
We head to the front and zip up the stairs to the stage, then duck between the side curtains to the backstage area.
Several parents dressed in black are rolling the tea-party table off the stage and pushing out a few fake trees.
I spot the Cheshire cat and Tweedledee and Tweedledum. They are definitely from Jacob’s jazz class. Blitz gives each of them a high five. They are excited to see him.
We pass on through and into the storage area, where a huge path has been cleared to allow dancers to go to the opposite hall.
Then we’re in the bright lights of the studios, kids everywhere. I peek into Studios 3 and 4, which are near the back, but the wheelchair ballerinas aren’t in those.
“There’s Danika,” Blitz says, and pulls us into the Dance of the Shades room where we first met.
It’s like coming home. The floor-to-ceiling images depict Juliet and her fellow ballerinas dancing the number the room is named for. I feel like I deserve to be here finally. My time doing Sleeping Beauty has given me that confidence.
“Oh, there you two are,” Danika says. She passes a clipboard to Aurora, who is helping the toddlers put away their flower heads and find their mothers.
“We are ready and willing for duty,” Blitz says.
Danika shakes her head with a laugh. “I forgot what a card you are. We’re going to slide you in at the end of the party when Alice returns home. All the characters other than the toddlers will circle the stage.”
“What are we going to do?” I shouldn’t feel any panic about dancing after my stints on live TV, then having to prove myself before professional ballerinas, but I do.
“Whatever you like. Shall we play a waltz?” Danika asks.
“Way too slow,” Blitz says. “Just give us a jazzy number and we’ll roll with it.”
“Sounds perfect,” Danika says.
She’s about to turn away when I say, “Wait!”
Danika’s eyes meet mine. Her blue hair is recently re-dyed, vivid against her pale face. “You want to know about Gabriella,” she says.
“Yes,” I answer.
She glances at the other mothers and steps closer.
“Gwen has agreed to let you attend the recitals and say hello. Just not to teach her. No private lessons. And not to reveal your identity as her mother.”
My throat goes tight. “Okay,” I say.
“I assumed you would agree,” she says. “She may come around yet. Let this be the start.”
My eyes sting. “I will.”
Blitz squeezes my hand. “You want to practice something or just wing it?” he asks.
“Are you crazy?” I ask him. “We’re going to practice something.”
As more of the sleepy toddlers file out, I pull him to the back corner of the room. “Show me what you’ve got, Blitz Craven.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Epilogue
I’ve been on a lot of stages.
There was the second season of Dance Blitz, the flat stage, when I stormed on unannounced.
There was the short third season. One prerecorded show and four live ones after they built that stage out to be larger and have two levels edged in neon.
I danced on eight different stages during our tour. Chicago, Boston, Baltimore, New York, Miami, Houston, LA, and Seattle. Some were bigger than others. Some fancier. Some historic. Some new.
But this stage is the one that matters.
I learned to dance on this stage.
I taught Blitz Craven, the most famous dancer in all of the country, to do a grand jeté on this stage.
I had my first recital here.
And today, I’m dancing with him in front of my daughter.
The kids form a circle around us, taking up the corners and leaving the center clear. It’s less space than we’re used to, but we can make do.
Because the fact is, together, Blitz and I can do anything.
We’ve come too far for me not to believe that.
The music begins, and the kids clap to the beat. We start strong as I run and leap into Blitz’s arms and he launches me into the air.
I scissor above him and turn so that he can catch me. We’re much braver now after doing aerial silks. This is nothing.
He slides me to the floor, and for a moment we tango, then move into a contemporary jitterbug. He spins me, I turn, then slide between his legs. I stop just inches from a ten-year-old boy from Jacob’s class and kiss him on the cheek. He claps his hand to his face.
Then I’m back at Blitz. We’re making it up as we go now, having only had time to work out the opening moves. But I know him. He knows me. We dance like other people have conversation.
The song is coming to a close, and I know he’ll want to end dramatically. So I leap away from him to prepare for another pass at a lift.
He holds his hands and arms in a position I know. It’s how we communicate, in gestures and angles. I run toward him and jump as I get near. He grabs my feet and launches me up again. This time I turn and come down horizontally. He catches me and dips me, head near the floor. As the music ends with three pounding notes, we hold our position.
The kids jump to their feet.
By the time he sets me down, we’re surrounded, children holding on to my legs, hanging on to Blitz. Danika comes out, but instead of speaking into the microphone
she holds, she passes it to Blitz.
The kids don’t leave us, but sit right where we stand.
Blitz takes my hand.
“Livia Mason,” he says, his breathing still rapid, and maybe with a small waver in it. I immediately clasp his fingers harder, wondering what has gotten him shaken up. “We met right here at Dreamcatcher Dance Academy!”
There are cheers then, led by the other dance teachers, and the kids quickly follow their lead. We have to wait a moment for it to die down.
“It’s been an entire year now, and I think everybody in the world has wondered why I’ve waited so long.”
He drops to one knee.
Now I get it. His nervousness. The dance. The kids all around us.
I look at him, his hair sticking to his forehead, the blue of his shirt making his eyes stand out, his black hair gleaming. My Blitz. My Benjamin. My love.
“I know a famous ballerina like yourself may not find an out-of-work dancer like me a great catch,” he says. The audience laughs.
“But if you’ll have me, it would be the greatest honor of my life if you would be my wife.” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he goes on. “Will you marry me?”
One of the boys near him nudges him and says, “You better have a ring.” There is more laughter.
Blitz fumbles with the microphone and reaches in his pocket. A ring box wouldn’t fit in those pants, no way, but it’s just the ring. A diamond, princess cut of course, the rectangle as wide as my finger and surrounded by blue gems the exact color of that first leotard I wore just for him. Like today.
I try to answer and find my voice isn’t quite working, so I just nod for yes.
The cheers are tremendous and it feels like the roof will lift right off. Blitz slides the ring on my finger and stands up to take me in his arms.
His kiss is warm and tender and full of promise. To have and to hold. Till death do us part. I can feel the words as if he’s saying them.
When he finally lets us go, I find the wheelchair ballerinas have pushed their way to the center. We hug each of them. When I get to Gabriella, I keep my embrace as close to the others as I can, but I breathe her in, the strawberry shampoo, the hair spray, the little girl I remember.
When I look out in the audience, I spot my brother running forward. My mom holds out her arm, unable to stop him. I catch her eyes and she shrugs. She wipes the corner of her eye.
Then he’s up with us, my baby brother, Andy, and we’re hugging. The teachers walk up to lead the children off the stage. Danika takes the microphone to thank everyone for coming.
It’s all a fog, the sound, the lights, the movement.
Gwen comes onstage to get Gabriella and our gazes meet for just a moment. She keeps a tight smile as she pushes Gabriella away.
I got to see her. I will see her. She isn’t lost.
My mom comes up and watches me gaze after them.
“That’s her, isn’t it?” she asks.
I nod.
“She looks exactly like you,” Mom says.
“Who does? Who does?” Andy asks.
“Just one of the dancers,” I say. “She has the same color hair as me.”
Andy is not impressed by this and takes my hand. “Can we go get ice cream?” he asks. “Can I have sprinkles?”
Blitz ruffles his hair. “As long as Mom says it’s all right, that sounds like a perfect plan.”
I glance out at the rapidly emptying recital hall. For a moment I catch a glimpse of a man by the door and swear it is my father.
But then he’s gone, and Blitz is leading the four of us down the stairs to the seats. I don’t even know if it was him.
“How did you know to come?” I ask Mom.
“Benjamin called,” she says. She tugs a phone out of her bag, a new one. “He gave me our own special way to communicate back in Houston.” She sticks it back in her bag. “Your dad knows about it.”
I shove my shoulder against Blitz’s. “You and your surprise phones.”
“It’s my only party trick,” he says.
Before we pass through the exit doors, I turn back to look at the empty stage. The lights are still up, and the velvet curtains are open, stirring slightly in the current of air from the vents.
I never imagined this would be my life. That it would start someplace like this.
But Dreamcatcher has been the place where I discovered who I could be, that best self that was waiting for one thing. For me to believe in her.
Mom and Andy have walked ahead, but Blitz waits for me, looking where I look. If anyone understands, it’s him. He drapes his arm across my shoulders.
“Good things happen here,” he says.
I lean in close, my head resting on his shoulder. The light sparkles through the new ring on my finger.
“The best things happen here,” I say.
And I believe they have only just begun.
THE HUSBAND
A BONUS book in the BLITZED Series
By JJ Knight
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Summary:
Blitz and Livia plan a quiet private wedding when they learn their contracts require a two-hour live televised ceremony, and a few enemies are out to ruin it.
Chapter 1
Boobs are in the sky.
Two of them. Crudely drawn, of course. You can’t get very accurate in airplane exhaust.
The boobs are definitely not mine.
Mine don’t, well…hang. Not yet, anyway. Give it a few years.
Blitz steps out of the limo. “Some people will do anything for publicity.” He turns to take my hand as I slide forward toward the door.
“Who did that?” I ask. I peer up at the sky. The little plane has finished its work and motors out of sight. In the parking lot, several crew members have stopped to look up at the pendulous boobs and take shots on their cell phones.
“No telling,” Blitz says. He leads me to the back door of the studio building.
I haven’t been here in ages, not since Mack Williams took over Dance Blitz, the TV show that Blitz used to host. But this week we’re here in LA for rehearsals for the final episode of Mack’s first season. The one where he will supposedly choose a partner.
I hope he does, because they’ve already started the search for a bachelor dancer for season five. Mack is right out. Unlike Blitz, he won’t get a second season to try again.
A security guard opens the back door, speaking into his headset. He’ll let people know we’re here. It will be a whirlwind few days.
A tiny girl, barely five feet tall, approaches, also wearing a headset and cradling an iPad like a baby. “Blitz, Livia, so glad to see you. Let me get you to wardrobe.”
“Jumping right in,” Blitz says with a grin.
“Just like old times,” I say.
I pause to look at the sky one more time, feeling some anxiety. Maybe the boobs aren’t meant for us. Maybe it’s a joke for some other show that is also filming right now. It could even be a publicity stunt for a strip club.
I shake it off as we walk into the building.
After practically living at this studio during the five episodes I shot with the three other finalists, it’s strange to have been gone so long. Well over a year has passed. I’ve been a ballerina for an entire production of Sleeping Beauty, and several other offers have come my way since the release of the DVD version of the ballet.
I haven’t taken any. Blitz hasn’t accepted any long-term jobs either.
We’ve been planning our wedding. A small ceremony on a cruise ship. Just a few friends and family. It’s a very exclusive cruise line, so we don’t have to worry about spies or paparazzi.
Devon, the director of Dance Blitz, catches up with us as we’re led down the hall. I smile inside, remembering how he tries to channel Steve Jobs with his black turtleneck and jeans. It’s all he ever wears.
“Blitz, good to see you again. Livia.
” He nods at me. “Did you get the script of the show?”
“Nope,” Blitz says.
Devon’s expression gets hard. “I sent them to Hannah a week ago.”
“I’m not speaking to my agent,” Blitz says.
“Still? It’s been a year,” Devon says.
“I hold a grudge.”
“All right. It’s nothing much,” Devon says, motioning us to follow him. “You have two dance numbers. One with Mack, followed by a little session where you give him some advice. Then one with Livia. Where you propose, of course.”
“I what?” Blitz stops dead.
“You propose to Livia. You know that has to happen on camera, right? It’s in your contract.”
Nobody told us that.
Devon glances down at the engagement ring on my hand. “How many people have seen that?”
I clutch my hand to my chest. “We’ve kept it quiet.”
“Any public appearances with it on? Any pictures?”
I shake my head. “Not that we’ve noticed.”
Blitz proposed at a small recital at the dance academy where we train. A few of the parents who saw it might have posted something, but probably on private feeds.
“You would have known,” Devon says. “Blitz going off the market would be big news.”
“You forget,” Blitz says. “We’re out of the spotlight.”
“Not for long,” he says. “But if you’re right, your proposal will seem real to everyone.”
Blitz and I glance at each other. Of course it’s real! We’re getting married!
I’m about to protest when Amara, the show choreographer, pops her head out of a rehearsal room. “Finally! I need Blitz in with Mack as soon as you can spare him.”
“I need them for wardrobe,” the girl says.
