Chapter 24 #2
beautiful, and the camera loves you. This is safe. It’s within your reach.”
She backed away. “And nothing else is?”
“I’m not saying this to be cruel, but your dreams of being some great actor aren’t realistic.” He spoke softly, his expression
etched with the same concern he could project on-screen whenever the part called for it. “If you had the kind of charisma
that makes a star, you wouldn’t be thirty-seven years old and still trying to make it in the business.”
She wasn’t thirty-seven, but he was right about the rest, and he was saying everything she feared. She had the face and body to play Lucinda, but maybe she didn’t have the range or the talent to do much more. Roth was offering her a sure thing. This was her chance.
He could feel her capitulating, and his voice grew even softer, more caring. “Babe, you know what I’m saying is true. Not
everyone has star quality, just like not everyone can be as beautiful as you. Forget about your little show. You’ll only be
hurting yourself. Let’s get out of here.”
Her “little show.” The show she’d molded from nothing, poured every part of herself into. The show that had become her badge
of courage. “No.” Her voice came from far away.
“Dancy . . .”
“I said ‘no.’” Despite the knots in her stomach, despite her doubts, her fears, she had to do this. Just once. If she didn’t,
she’d never be able to take another risk, never be able to do anything brave. She’d always be stuck in the past.
“No matter how much I try to help, you always fight me.” His sudden hostility showed exactly how insincere his concern had
been. “Now you want to ruin the chance of a lifetime so you can spill your guts about your personal life in front of the world.”
“I don’t have anything to hide.”
“What about me?” he shot back. “If you want to hang out your dirty laundry, that’s on you, but I have a big problem with my
privacy being compromised by an ex-wife with a grudge.”
Suddenly it was so clear that she should have immediately seen through him, and she was furious. “You’re only offering me
Lucinda to shut me up. This is blackmail. You’re afraid what I say onstage will tarnish that shiny image you’ve built.”
Instead of denying it, he pushed harder. “This is your last chance. My plane is taking off with or without you.”
A blind stubbornness gripped her. “Without me.”
Roth wasn’t used to anyone saying “no” to him, and genuine bewilderment replaced his hostility. “Why are you being so stubborn? Why do you have to make everything so hard?”
“This time I’m doing what’s best for me.”
Cole Legend disappeared, and the petulant, insecure man beneath emerged. “Please, Dancy. Don’t make me do this.”
“Do what?”
He pulled out his phone and tapped it. His hand was shaking as he held it so she could see the screen.
It was a video of her. In their bedroom. Naked. Eyes closed, head thrown back, straddling him. She remembered the night. It
was during the last year of their marriage when she’d been the only one trying to save their relationship. And Roth had secretly
shot a sex tape.
She’d never consented to being filmed, and she’d been furious when he’d shown it to her. He said it was only for the two of
them and it turned him on, but she’d held firm and made him delete the video in front of her. Except he hadn’t done that.
“I’m sorry.” His words were defiant but his expression sullen. He moved his thumb over the screen and pulled up the same video.
Except not the same. He’d digitally altered this one, replacing his face with another man.
She gazed at it horrified. “Roth, what have you done?”
“I had to do it!” he exclaimed. “But if you get on that plane with me now, nobody will ever see this.” His chin dipped. “Nobody
will see you . . . cheating on me.”
Stunned, she stared at him. “Cheating on you?”
He gazed miserably at the stage floor. “It’s your fault,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t have had to do this if you hadn’t backed
me into a corner.”
“Oh my God!” With a howl of outrage, she shot across the stage and hit him square in the chest. He lost his balance and fell, his phone skidding across the floor. She threw herself on top of him. “Man up, you pussy!” She hit him as hard as she could.
“Stop it! Are you crazy?”
“You bastard!” The robe made her clumsy, but she struck him wherever she could reach. “If you’re going to do something this
vile, own it! Don’t try to push it off on somebody else!”
He rolled on top of her and pinned her to the floor.
She freed her leg from the robe to kick him. But there was no need for further struggle. An invisible force hauled him off
her.
Clint yanked Roth to his feet. Furious, Roth thrust out his arms like a kindergarten tattletale. “She attacked me! She’s crazy!”
Clint grabbed him, looking so much like a cold-blooded killer that Dancy jumped in front of him, frightened by what he might
do and what it would mean to his career. “He’s right. I attacked him.”
“Then you must have had a good reason.” Clint sidestepped her and threw a quick punch.
Roth staggered backward, his howl of pain meeting a scream from the auditorium. “Stop!” Bisa waddled down the center aisle, legs splayed, moving as fast as her advanced pregnancy allowed. “Don’t hurt his face!”
Dancy’s knees went weak from an adrenaline overload. It was all too much—the show, the sex tape, the fight. And now Bisa,
looking as if she could deliver any second. “Everybody go. Leave me alone.” She sank into the single armchair onstage.
“This is your last chance,” Roth said, breathing hard and keeping a wary eye on Clint even as he addressed her.
“Last chance for what?” Clint looked more like an executioner than her levelheaded ex-boyfriend.
Dancy kept her gaze fixed on Roth. “Go to hell.”
Clint closed in on her. “Am I supposed to beat him up or not?”
“No. But thanks.”
“Come with me, Roth. Right now!” This was a different Bisa, no longer the vacuous child of a few months ago. This hugely pregnant
girl had become a she-devil, and she turned on Dancy. “You know how he is! Is it too much to ask for a little sensitivity?”
Dancy blinked at Bisa. Clint tensed at her side, and Dancy touched his arm. “You can’t beat up a pregnant woman.”
“Damn,” he muttered.
Roth stumbled down the steps toward his wife. Bisa grabbed his hand. “You’re leaving.”
Dancy glimpsed a shadow of revulsion cross Roth’s face as his arm brushed her belly. He pulled away only to have Bisa grab
him again and lead him from the auditorium.
Clint pulled her to his chest, his jaw resting on the side of her head. “Whatever happened here . . . I’m sorry.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I stopped in to check on you and see if you needed anything. I didn’t figure on this.”
She couldn’t let herself lean against him, even for a moment, and she pulled away.
“He heard about the show from the woman who made my costumes. He’s afraid I’m going to expose him for the rat he is, so he offered me Lucinda for real this time.
Except I would have to leave now and not perform my ‘little show.’ His words, not mine.
” She wouldn’t tell him about Roth’s manipulated sex tape.
Clint would see that for himself soon enough.
She could scream to the world that it was a fake, but Clint was the only one who’d believe her.
He rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “You turned him down.”
“Stupid of me, I’m sure. I should have agreed. The irony is, I don’t mention him once in the show. I was scrupulous about
that.” She twisted her hands in front of her. “This seemed like a good idea when I was putting everything together in LA.
My chance to let the world see I’m a serious actor.” She spoke the last two words with all the mockery they deserved. “I loved
doing the research and writing the script. I loved staging it myself without having to answer to anyone. But here’s what I
forgot.” She gripped the lapels of her robe in her fists. “I forgot that doing everything by myself meant no one was around
to tell me I was in over my head.”
“Why would you think that? You know what you’re doing. You believed in yourself enough to tell Roth to go to hell.”
“That was stubbornness, not conviction.”
Her teen helpers burst in. “We saw Roth Hardy outside!” Leo exclaimed.
Mia jumped up on her toes. “Do you know him? Is he coming tonight?” She broke off as she spotted Clint. “Ohmygod . . . It’s
Clint Garrett!” Mia didn’t know who Dancy was, but she recognized Clint.
Leo was clearly not a football fan, and he regarded Clint curiously, but Mia was starstruck. “I’m like, a superfan. After
Green Bay, the Stars are like, my favorite team.”
“That’s great,” he said.
“Are you coming to the show?” she asked.
Dancy and Clint spoke together, “No.” “Yes.”
Dancy recovered. “Unfortunately, Clint has to get back to Chicago. If you’ll give us a minute . . .”
They moved away, Mia reluctantly, Leo trying to figure out who Clint was, both undoubtedly wondering what Roth Hardy had to
do with all this.
Dancy gazed at Clint. “Thank you.” She blinked hard against the sting in her eyes. “I have to get ready now. It would be better
if you didn’t stay.”
He touched the corner of her mouth and gave a slow nod. She brushed his cheek with her hand and walked away, afraid she’d
beg him not to leave if she didn’t.
The theater didn’t have a dressing room, only a single bathroom off the wings with cement floors and bad lighting. She had
to fix her makeup and change out of the sweaty bodysuit into the spare she’d brought. She leaned against the door to steady
herself. Any minute now, Erin would be letting in the audience.
Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking as she caught her hair up with a tie. She sponged herself off with a couple of wet paper towels,
hoping the cold water would settle her, but she only grew more anxious. Barely twenty people will be watching. Hardly anyone.
She lost her balance changing and banged her shin on the rim of the toilet seat. She was hyperventilating. She shook out her
hair and tried to brush it. Her fingers wouldn’t work as she put the robe back on. She was dizzy, her heart was racing, and
if she didn’t get fresh air, she was going to faint.
She rushed from the bathroom, ducked behind the backdrop, and hit the stage door, hurling herself into the alley. The shock of the chilly air steadied her, but only for a moment. She had to cancel the show. She’d text Erin, tell her she was sick, then climb into her car and drive away.
She bent over, splaying her hands on her thighs. The collection of cigarette butts at her feet swam before her eyes.
The stage door swung open behind her. “Dancy?”
Why did no one listen to her? She’d told Clint to leave, but he’d stayed. “Go away.”
He pressed his big hand to the small of her back. “Not a chance.”
She stared at the shredded remains of a burger wrapper. “I can’t do this.”
“Sure you can.”
“I can’t. It’s too much.”
“Straighten up, Dance.” He took her by the shoulders, making her stand. “You have the playbook locked in. You know it by heart.
All you have to do is execute.”
Her back touched the wall. “It’s not a playbook. It’s a script.”
“Same damn thing.” He moved in front of her. “Right now, it’s all about mental toughness. I know that as well as anyone. I
might not have it right now, but you do. You’ve got this.”
“I don’t have anything!”
“Sure you do. This is your chance to test yourself. See what you’re made of.”
“Nothing! I’m made of nothing!”
“Stop it.” He glowered at her. “You’ve put in the hard work. You’re ready to do exactly what you trained for. You don’t have
to score a touchdown, but you’d damn well better put yourself in field goal range.”
“I want more than a field goal!” she cried.
“Then fight for it!”
She moaned and pressed herself against the bricks.
He splayed his hands against the wall on either side of her head.
“It’s supposed to hurt, Dance. Champions aren’t made in the sunshine.
Champions are made in the storm. They’re made in the muck and the mire.
That’s how we test ourselves.” He hooked a finger under her chin.
“First we suit up. Then we go out there. We ignore the boos and the name-calling. We ignore the hits and the bad calls. We put our heart into it, and we make every play.”
He was talking about himself as much as her. She knew it.
“Look at me, Dance.” He stabbed his fingers toward his eyes. “Look right at me. You can get it done. You will get it done. This is your chance to show the world who you are and what you’re made of.”
“What if I’m made of nothing?” she cried. “Nothing but big boobs and blond hair.”
He gazed straight into her soul. “You don’t believe that. And I know why. Because you’re a fighter.”
“Like you?”
“Damn right, like me. You were right about everything. I hate it, but you’re right, and no matter how hard it is, I’m going
to figure out how to fix this. We’re both fighters. The two of us. Willing to do the hard work so we can throw ourselves into
the game. And because we’re fighters, we stay in the game. We’re tough. Do you hear me? No one’s tougher than we are. And
this is your opportunity—your golden opportunity to go out there and shine. Are you ready to do that?”
Her heart was racing so fast her mouth wouldn’t work.
“Are you ready?” he exclaimed.
“Yes,” she muttered. “Yes, I’m ready.”
He poked her hard in the chest with his finger. “Louder!”
“I’m ready!” she cried.
“I can’t hear you!”
“I’m ready!”
He yanked open the stage door and propelled her inside. “Then get out there and kick some serious ass.”
He was crazy! That was a locker room speech, not a theater speech! And yet . . . it was working. She felt steadier. Steady.
A buzz of conversation came from the audience. Leo appeared next to her. “It’s eight o’clock.”
As he hurried back to his control board, she took her place in the wings, dropped her robe, and kicked off her shoes. She
was going to do this.
The house lights dimmed.
Moments later, Mia’s voice came over the speakers as she’d been instructed. “Ladies and gentlemen, Dancy Flynn!”
Dancy stepped out wearing only makeup and a nude bodysuit.
An excited murmur ran through the crowd as, one by one, people recognized her. Erin sat in the middle of the first row, perched
on the edge of her chair like a proud mother. She began to applaud, and the rest of the group, seated in the next few rows,
joined in.
Dancy moved to center stage and struck an exaggerated pose. Hands on hips, breasts outthrust. She searched for her sexpot
voice. It came out reedy, but at least it came out. “Nobody understands how hard it is to be a bimbo.” She pouted, smoothed
her hands along her body. “The upkeep . . .”
An explosion rocketed the theater.