His phone flashed, and he glanced at it. Ryan. Hey dude, where are you?
He exhaled, and shoved it away. He couldn’t answer. Not with anything that wouldn’t be a lie. And already this place felt filled with so much fakery he’d need an ice bath to slew off the untruths.
Last night’s meet and greet with the other cast members and judges had been cringe city. He recognized some people, even as he was recognized by more than a few. They’d told him that they hadn’t had a hockey player on the show for a while, not since a retired Hall of Famer from three seasons ago. It was enough to make him wonder why his club and agent thought this such a great idea, but there it was. He’d committed now, had signed his autograph on a contract that he couldn’t break. He’d just have to hope he did badly enough to get eliminated in the first couple of rounds. At least this didn’t go for three months as some other shows like this did.
“Luc Blanchard?” An assistant appeared at the door. “They’re waiting for you.”
“Am I pretty enough?” he asked the makeup artist.
“You’ll do.”
“It’s okay. I know you did the best you could.” He pointed to his face. “It’s hard when you’ve not got much to work with.”
“Don’t talk like that. You’re a handsome guy.”
Yeah, if a woman was blind, maybe. But self-deprecation wasn’t a quality admired around here. Some of the peeps from last night seemed to live in self-adulation land, and he’d never been too good with that. Sure, he could talk up a big game, and knew how to inspire others to win, but this was a whole other level. He’d not realized the level of competitiveness that existed in the TV ballroom scene. And he didn’t think Bailey had realized that either.
“This way, Luc.”
He followed down a rabbit warren of halls, then out where the bright lights hit his face. He’d done interviews before, plenty of them, and he knew he’d need to channel some of the personality that viewers might think was fun, and yet wouldn’t seem too cheesy.
“Hey Luc, are you ready?”
“Born ready,” he lied, settling in his seat, while the makeup girl dusted powder on his nose, and tweaked his hair. It was unbelievable how crazy intense this was, and he hadn’t even danced a step yet. How on earth was he going to keep it together?
“Okay, I want you to look in this camera when we’re rolling, okay?”
He nodded, as the magnitude of what he was doing hit him like a tsunami. His mouth dried, just like it had when he’d first seen Bailey in that tiny silver dress. She’d looked way too hot for someone like him, and he’d barely known where was safe to look, let alone place any part of him near. But she’d guided him like a boss, which he supposed she was, and he was grateful that at least her Christian status meant they’d likely not get too hot and heavy. Dear Lord, no.
The interviewer grinned at him, as his microphone was fed through his shirt and adjusted. “Just relax. It’s okay.”
His words reminded him of Bailey, how she calmed him with her words or with her smile or laugh. He might not have known her long, but she seemed a real deal chick, for sure.
“Okay, are you ready?”
Luc nodded. “Let’s do this.” He smiled at the camera and gave a thumbs-up, adopting the fun and bouncy personality of that actor dude Bailey and her friend had hung out with a bit last night.
“And here I am with Luc Blanchard, a man known more for his forecheck than his dance moves. Luc, tell us why you agreed to do this show.”
Hit them with the truth, or a version of it? He’d choose option B. “It’s always good to learn a new skill, and when the opportunity came, I was sure they’d picked the wrong guy, because I have two left feet, so I guess we’ll see how that flies.”
“Cut.” The producer called. “Luc, I’m sorry, but we need a little more snap and crackle.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need to sound a little more positive. You know, like you’re excited to be here?”
Man, he wished Bailey was around. She seemed to have enough snap and crackle and sparkle for the two of them. “Uh, sure. Let’s do it again.” Lord? You need to help me here. I’ve got nothing.
“In three, two, one.”
The interviewer nodded. “And here I am with Luc Blanchard, a man known more for his mean forecheck than his dance moves. Luc, can you tell us why you agreed to come on Dance Off?”
He made an effort to smile harder this time. That seemed to work for Bailey. “I found this was an opportunity too good to pass up. Who doesn’t want the chance to learn a new skill, and make a fool of oneself, all in the name of charity?”
“Cut.” The producer eyed him. “A fool? Seriously?”
“I’m just keeping it real.”
The man sighed. “Could you try that answer again, this time without the fool part?”
“How real did you want this to be? I didn’t realize I should be giving scripted answers.”
“We don’t need you to have rehearsed answers, and look, I do understand this was a last-minute thing, so perhaps you haven’t had the chance to get your head around everything yet—”
That was for sure.
“—but we need positive energy from you, Luc. This interview shapes how you’ll be seen by the viewing public, and how long you’ll last. Nobody wants to see a downer on TV.”
“I’m not being a downer. I’m keeping it real, that’s all.”
“Maybe just a little less real, this time?”
Wow. “Okay.”
Third time lucky. This time, when the interviewer paused, Luc grinned like a fool, and said, “I know my being here will surprise a lot of people, but this was an awesome opportunity to learn a new skill. And when it’s all in the name of good fun and raising money for one of my favorite charities, I knew I had to say yes.”
“Cut.” The producer beamed. “That’s perfect.”
