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“It’s the dancer I’ve got to deal with while I’m on the damn show,” Josh said. “Give it to Security, have them do the usual background check as if she was a prospective employee. Now where are the files on the Humala Six deal and when is the strategy meeting?”
The next day…
Micki couldn’t ever remember being so nervous, not for any audition or performance as she was today, going back the planet to meet with her assigned celebrity, generational billionaire Josh Benfield. She’d researched him of course and the interstellar gossip sites were full of articles and holos about him and his brothers, the hot women they dated, the scandals, the businesses the family owned…it was all overwhelming. She’d spent the evening on Tassia’s couch, having a major anxiety attack over the whole thing. “I can’t deal with a snooty, entitled businessman,” she all but wailed. “I expected the showrunner to give me the comic, we’d pull together a few fun routines, we might last half the season and I’d be done.”
“Partnering Josh Benfield will get you a lot of positive attention,” Tassia said reasonably. “Dancing with the comedian wouldn’t bring any lasting impact for you. You’re a serious dancer, not a comedic foil.”
Liam had been there as well and although he usually left the two girls to have their conversations without his male input, he spoke up now. “Josh is a serious guy. Whatever his reasons are for doing this show, he’ll want to look good doing it. He’ll put the work in and make you look good too. If you want it to be a springboard for you to something better beyond the Comettes, he’s the ideal partner.”
“Think of the contacts he has,” Tassia added.
“This isn’t personal, right?” Liam asked. “You’re not going to get involved with him?”
Micki shook her head emphatically. “No way am I going to be a notch on the guy’s bedpost. We dance and we rehearse and we’re done.”
“Good approach, all business. He’ll have to respect you as a professional.”
Now Micki hoped Liam was right. The Benfield building was huge, all angles and modern architecture and it wasn’t even their headquarters, which was in the Inner Sectors somewhere. This was a small regional annex which Josh had commandeered while he waited to join the ship and start the show. Standing in front of the entrance where the robocab had deposited her, Micki leaned way back and gulped at the way the tower disappeared into the clouds. Shaking herself, ignoring the stares from passersby, she marched up the stairs and passed through the doors, heading to the security desk. Her heels clicked on the floor, the sound echoing in the vast space.
The guards eyed her.
“Micki Allwell, here to see Mr. Benfield. I have an appointment at ten.” She was glad her voice sounded strong and confident because inside she was quaking.
“Wait over there and his assistant will be down to escort you,” the older guard said, pointing to a chair nearby. He handed her a visitor’s badge. “Don’t lose it. It’ll self-destruct when you leave.”
As if that didn’t sound ominous. Micki sat on the edge of the uncomfortable chair and wished she’d worn something else. There was nothing wrong with her dress but maybe it was too tight, too short, too colorful—she didn’t fit in among the businesspeople she watched coming and going and they all gawked at her too. She was an exotic alien bird in her bright plumage, obviously out of place. I never wanted to work in an office anyway. This wasn’t an audition or a job interview but she supposed if Mr. Benfield wanted her replaced the show would probably do it. Be yourself, Tassia and Liam had said last night. Yeah, honesty’s the only thing that’s going to work. As she was wondering for the hundredth time why she’d ever agreed to do this crazy stunt casting, a woman in a severe gray suit stepped out of the gravlift and came toward her.
“Miss Allwell? I’m Sydni, Mr. Benfield’s assistant.” She stuck out her hand and Micki shook it automatically, off balance as she rose from the chair. “Come this way.” Sydni headed toward the gravlift, saying over her shoulder, “Mr. Benfield can only give you five minutes—he has an interstellar conference call.”
She couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or offended. “I could come back later, or tomorrow.”
“Why?” Raising one eyebrow in disdain, Sydni stepped into the grav stream. “This is a courtesy call, not a practice session.”
Oh. Well then. Micki reflected on all the time she’d spent worrying and preparing for this meeting and decided to be annoyed. The big billionaire was doing her a favor, dragging her down to the planet for a five minute meeting they could have had over a comlink. Arrogant.
The antigrav took them to the top of the building, moving more quickly than the gravlifts on the Nebula Zephyr ever did. Fortunately Micki had a good head for heights and was comfortable in antigrav. The ninety-nine stories of empty air below her didn’t upset her at all. Was I supposed to be intimidated by the gravlift? Don’t get grandiose, girl, not everything is about you. Actually, it’s all about Josh Benfield and his convenience.
Riding the wave of anger, Micki managed to quell her butterflies as Sydni led her into a gigantic office, all polished surfaces and décor which screamed mega credits. Josh Benfield was seated behind a huge desk carved from Zulairian mahogany, which probably cost as much as a small spacecraft, in the midst of a telecom. He flicked a glance at her, nodded and pointed to the chair closest to the desk.
“Would you like coffee?” Syd asked. “We have Terran Original Blend.”
“No, thank you.” The last thing Micki wanted was to be amped up on caffeine, even though drinking a cup of the rarest blend in the Sectors would have been like drinking liquid gold. A once in a lifetime experience. Refusing to sit in the chair Josh had indicated, as if she was a dog, Micki wandered around the office admiring the stellar view of the city’s skyline and then the artwork hung on the walls, which were primarily landscapes of other worlds.
Josh continued his com. “Benfield has made its final offer, Daggerty, as you are well aware. Trying to use Kumisarc’s sudden interest as a lever to raise our bid is a dead end, I assure you. There are other acquisition targets in the same industry and we’ll move on. It would be a pity because we were keenly anticipating working closely with your management and creative teams—with you—but of course you need to do whatever you decide is best for your company and your shareholders. I would simply remind you Kumisarc’s first move after taking over a business, any business, is to gut the leadership ranks and install their own people, top to bottom.” He terminated the call so abruptly Micki blinked. She tried to focus on the dreamy forestscape in front of her so it wouldn’t be obvious she’d been eavesdropping.
“Any time you’re done with your art appreciation tour of my office, we can get started, Ms. Allwell.” Josh’s voice was dry and when she turned to him, he was sitting with his fingers steepled, leaning back in his chair, completely at ease.
Micki took her time returning to the chair, although she was conscious of his gaze. Well, she was looking too so she couldn’t exactly complain. For a generational billionaire, Josh Benfield was built like a pro tisba player, all corded muscle and suppressed energy. His face was trideo star handsome although his expression right now was cold, and his hair was a thick shiny brown, longer than she would have expected. Micki had the urge to run her fingers through it and lectured herself sternly. The guy was definitely hot. And untouchable. He was a supernova and she was a tiny little Comette, finding her way through life as best she could. Taking her seat, she adopted a demure pose. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Benfield.”
“Josh. If we’re going to be dancing together for seven weeks, we’re not standing on formality. What do you have planned for us?”
She was amused but hardly surprised at his arrogance in assuming he’d survive every week’s elimination to make the finale. “Planned?”
“The contract I read was most specific regarding the fact the dancer in each celebrity team had the responsibility of choreographing the routines. I’m many things but a choreographer is way outside my scope.”
Nice of him to admit any shortcomings. “Actually, I haven’t given it much thought as yet,” she said.
Now Josh frowned and the expression was epic. “This may be nothing but a frothy trideo entertainment for the Sectors masses,” he said in a cold tone, “But if I’m involved, I intend to do my best. I’m disappointed to hear you taking it so lightly.”
