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“Yes,” Sam agreed. “It’s very good news.”
But it also meant Sam needed to step up what he was doing about Kiki. If in future she wasn’t going to running the show—Meagan’s new agent seemed to be all but guaranteeing that—would Kiki go so far as to ruin it and make herself look good by having jumped from a sinking ship?
22
IN A WHIRLWIND OF RATINGS, chaos and two more live shows, one of which was going on at that very moment, Sam had become a quiet, strong, passionate force in Meagan’s life.
She stood backstage, watching yet another megasuperstar perform and awaiting the bottom three results. The cupcake footage had turned out to be a really fun episode that they’d used to contrast with the tornado footage. That had been last night’s broadcast. And boy, had it been a show, with massive ratings that had already stirred talks of renewal for another season. Her agent was sure that would happen and he’d insisted they hold off on further contract talks because ratings were the king of cash, not to mention leverage.
Soon, Derek took center stage to read out the names of the bottom three dancers. Meagan held her breath, waiting for the results.
“Tabitha,” Derek called for the first time since the debut show, and the audience wailed, some with boos and some with celebration. Tabitha was, by far, a fan favorite. She seemed equally loved and hated.
“Next up,” Derek said. “Kevin.” Kevin, tall and brunette, rushed forward—a quiet guy not overly well known because he didn’t draw much attention to himself.
“And finally,” Derek said, “Carrie.”
Meagan’s heart stammered instantly. Carrie, like Sam, had surprised her, finding a way into her life that was as powerful as Sam’s presence, though different. Carrie was the kid sister Meagan had never had. They cut to commercials on the tense moment of the last name, and Shayla’s voice came through Meagan’s headset, “I really, really hope she doesn’t go.”
“Me, too,” Meagan whispered. “Me, too.”
Sam stepped into view across the stage, out of audience viewing range. It was the perfect place; exactly where she needed him to be. She sometimes worried she was becoming too dependent on him, that she was forgetting how to be alone, how to be strong without him. Then there were times like this, when just knowing he was in this with her made her stronger, not the opposite.
Someone grabbed Meagan’s arm and asked her a question and she had to turn away, and when she refocused on the stage she noticed Sam had gone. He’d been concerned about Carrie, too. She’d seen it on his face.
When they were live again, it was time for the reveal. Derek called out the first safe contestant. “Tabitha.” The crowd went crazy.
Carrie and Kevin joined hands, and Meagan could see Carrie’s hand shaking. In that instant, Meagan knew that although this was her vision, her show, but she just wasn’t sure she had it in her to get to know the contestants and see their hearts broken. She wasn’t sure she could be this close to it all next season. Next season. If there even was a next season.
“And the other dancer who is safe tonight is…Carrie. Kevin you will be going home.” Meagan’s breath rushed past her lips, guilt twisting inside her at the relief she felt that Carrie would continue on for another week.
Poor Kevin. What did she say to him? How did she make this better? Sure, he’d been picked out of hundreds of thousands of wannabes, but the result was the same—he was still chasing a dream, and still going home. Meagan watched as Carrie, Ginger and DJ surrounded Kevin, to comfort him.
Tabitha signed audience autographs, ignoring Kevin. Meagan realized then that she didn’t want Tabitha to win. She was definitely way too close to this to be objective, and she was frustrated at herself for allowing that to happen.
Hours after the broadcast had ended, Meagan was just finishing some paperwork backstage, when her cell rang. She smiled at Sam’s number, knowing he, too, was probably finishing security matters for the evening.
“Hey.”
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “Listen I’m going to be a while. We’ve had a few complications here tonight—nothing to worry about. At least, not related to security. But I thought you might want to know that Carrie is still at the rehearsal studio.”
“What? What’s she doing there?”
“Dancing in the dark and crying.”
Meagan sucked in a breath. “Oh,” she expelled. “I’m going to her now.”
As Meagan arrived at the dim rehearsal studio, the sound of music touched her ears. She found Carrie in the middle of the hardwood floor, in front of the shadowy mirrors, dancing her heart out. Meagan set her purse down and opened her bag, where she kept her old ballet shoes as a reminder of how easily dreams could be lost. She stared down at the worn black shoes, her throat tight as she slipped off her street shoes, and slipped on the dance shoes.
