By Sin We Fall

Chapter Nine

Let the games begin

Greta

The classical orchestra outside was beginning to warm up, this always caused a bout of goosebumps to break out. It was the last show of the weekend. The most important one if rumors were correct. People were busy whispering backstage that Barnard, the director of the New York Ballet, was seen amongst the audience. He would surely be reviewing who would be in the contention for the final spots of getting into the ballet company. I was warming up in the studio provided. It was still half an hour till I was to be backstage. Until then I was practicing. Breathing in a short strong breath. Going up to a releve, standing up on my toes, then gently falling my arms down. Breathing out gently and rolling my head down to a first position with my arms cradling the air affectionately, my toes tip-taping against the floor. Again. Breath in, toes all the way en point, breath out, let down. My mind was still a bit adrift from last night. The whole thing seemed like a dream but my dress in my closet this morning was a stark reminder of the reality of it. I tried to bury the whole thing so I could move on, but the dress was physical evidence, tainted and stained by the event. The delicate petal layers now had tiny specks of red wine scattered on them. I wasn't mad about it, it looked even more artistically defined, but I could never wear it out again. I couldn't explain how it got there. I stood there that morning just staring at it, entranced for a moment before I snapped out of it and got dressed for my rehearsal. I couldn't afford to lose my focus. Mauro and Simone were just as quiet as they usually were. I kept waiting for them to reveal my crime. To scold me and return me home in shackles, as I deserved. But it never came. The creak of the door announced someone coming in, ruining my sequence. Usually the girls liked to get ready together, nobody venturing to these parts. I turned around to be faced with... with the man from the restaurant. Somehow my forbidden fantasy was intersecting with my real life. My nightmares invading my day. It didn't exactly surprise me, of course he had come to have the last word. I've played this game too many times to know better. But I was fluent in his language. I'd just never spoken it. I frowned as my heart rate started speeding up. Even outside the creeping shadows his face still looked haunted in the bright lights of the studio. Where were my bodyguards? Their present this morning made me more thankful for them than I'd been in a long time. It felt comforting to have that familiar shadow that I'd known my whole life. The man's face didn't look angry nor wicked like he did the other night. Unless he was trying to trick me. "Hello," I said gently, since he was just staring. I guess I was doing the same. He stayed quiet and my nerves went on alert. "Have you come to apologize for your words at the restaurant?'' I said, almost biting my tongue afterwards. How was that making the situation better? "Perhaps you should be the one doing the apologizing, for breaking our two thousand dollar wine you so delicately wielded as a weapon." Was that why the bottle looked so weird? "That's absurd. Do you really have so little pleasure in your life you have to spend money on that? And for two thousand dollars it should at least have a better structure. I'm sure half the cost was just for that ludicrous design." The bottle was shaped in a dark wavy glass. I remembered it explicitly. "Says the one who respects art so much," he said sardonically. "I do, and I value expression of oneself very highly but useless art that poses as a money hungry gimmick leaves a foul taste in my mouth," I sounded haughty even to myself. "I never got your name," he said, stalking toward me. "I never got my apology,'' I rebuked. He smiled and walked closer causing my heart to beat faster. Why was I engaging in conversation with this man? I thought I escaped Vegas and vile unpredictable men but now it seemed I was luring them in. I felt safe in the darkness of the restaurant last night but now it felt like I was in full view, nowhere to hide. "I'm sorry for breaking your wine but that is all I am condensing in my apology. Oh and I didn't mean to insult strippers in the heat of my anger. I respect any form of dance and It's not like me to put down other women." "I'll extend your apology," he said unamused. "If you have come to clear your consciousness, you should know I do not hold onto grudges nor resentments so you can die in peace now," I said, going back to my practice, trying to ignore the man somehow. "I have much more pressing things on my conscience than your opinion of me, don't worry." I looked back to see him smiling, a grin of a predator. A clear sign to stay away. Why wasn't I adhering to the warning signs? "That sounds like a you problem, I can't help you with anything else, especially your shallow perception of this life. So you may leave," I gave a fake smile that clearly said move on. I guess I hadn't had enough though because I blurted, "I'm sure you're burning by being somewhere so avant-garde for your taste." "The opposite in fact, I'm finding the space quite enticing. So much so, I've come to watch the show." That stopped me in my exercise, "What?'' I said horrified. He smiled at my indignation. "Yes, even growing up in this city, it is true. As you pointed out so pretentiously, I'm not familiar with the variety of culture this city has to offer. I prefer other night life activities. So I've decided to take your advice to experience it, to watch," he had such an infuriating grin on his face. He was even more arrogant in the daylight, what a surprise. He knew he was making me uncomfortable and he was having fun doing it. "You can't see this show, you can see the next show, not this one," I frowned. Not finding this conversation fun anymore. "Oh no, you will not be in the next show." "You don't understand! I have to have a clear mental state to perform and knowing you will be in the audience will mess everything up!" It was an important show, definitely not one to make a mistake in. "Do I have so much of an effect on you already? I'm flattered, truly." Argh! He really did remind me of Nevio. "Even my family doesn't tell me when they come to a show. I need to be hundred percent focused on my work." Not to be dramatic but he was ruining everything. "You're a detestable man, first you insult my craft and now you want to watch it." "I thought you were one for forgiving? How venomous you turn when the tables are turned." This was useless. "You know what, fine, watch the show, enjoy it. But I revoke my forgiveness, you may now die an old bitter man who surrounds himself with fake things you paid too much for." I usually wasn't so provocative with my conversation. I would gladly let someone ramble on about something I thought was wrong just to not get into an argument. Now it seemed because the man had seen the worst of me, I had no problem revealing the gray. "I'm sure you'll survive. My name is Amo by the way." "I didn't ask for your name!" I yelled but the door shut on my last word. Infuriating! I'd been waiting to kick him out a whole time, preparing my speech of how I needed to practice and to send him back to his dark alleyway or wherever he crawled out from. But no, I got swept away in the bantering and now he left me frazzled and confused. I breathed in a full breath dropping my shoulders, trying to get a semblance of focus from where I left off from. I tried to get back into the zone but it was illusive, the symphony outside let me know I was nearing my curtain call.