The Under Boss's Ballerina [18+]

11

"Mama...mama...mama-" I hear a faint voice waking up with a start, startled from the unusual dream of a child's voice inside my head.

Fingering my hair, I close my eyes to think back to the moment.

The pain in that imaginary voice tugs at my heart strings even though I know that it is not real.

Sighing, I sit up on the bed, reaching for the bottle of water on the bedside table, gulping until only the plastic container remains.

What's wrong with me? I think.

I've lived twenty one years without that man, and suddenly all my active and inactive senses belong to him?

It's not normal. At least not for me.

Getting down from the bed, I find the plastic flip flop I wear around the house and shrug on my ankle length robe, tying a bow knot at the mid stomach as I walk out of the bedroom and pad down to the kitchen, firstly filling Coco food and water bowl and holler for him to eat and then fondle him for a while.

It's been four long days since my pool date with Blaire. It wasn't fun as we thought it was going to be.

We sat on the chairs by the infinity pool and drank lemonade. I like to think that I was being distant toward my best friend wallowing in my own pit of self loathing and self pity.

If I would have known Capo Bestone was supposed to be leaving for a three week trip or business trip o would have been nicer to him.

I would have shown him that- I was going to miss him and I would given him something to remember me by the long three weeks.

I am such a sappy ass shit, sometimes.

I take out two eggs and put them on the pan before adding water from the tap to place it on the stove.

There is breakfast. I think. Eggs.

I have no idea where Bertie is, he is usually moving around whatever room I am in, minus the bathroom, to the point I went full psycho in that man.

To my reply the older bald man said, "Ariel, I understand you're lonely and sad, but it's okay. You'll be fine."

And then I cried like a five year old, sitting on the kitchen floor, the dishes about me in a mess that was supposed to be my dinner, two nights before.

In conclusion, I've been weird this whole week and there is still three days and two weeks left of this madness.

Angelo didn't call or text, so that night in the dark, is the last time I saw him.

Does it make me petty to miss him and want him?

Yes. It does.

It makes me a weak ass bitch, but do I care as of this moment about what people think?