Dirty Obsessions - The Lion and The Mouse

“I think you just fucked up gummy bears for me too.”

We headed into the theater.Chapter 2

Ava

It was an hour before the performance. I sat at my vanity table and finished my makeup. “Okay. That’s done.”

The report of my becoming prima ballerina had finally hit international news. Family had been calling all day. Although my uncle in New Orleans wasn’t a fan of talking on the phone or ballet, he texted me a message. It read, “Baby girl, show them white people who you are!”

Ballet friends from New York texted and emailed too. Old high school buddies began adding me as friends on Facebook, even though we hadn’t talked in years.

I squinted at the vanity mirror and turned my head from side to side. “Bun is in place.”

I looked at the wall and smiled at the framed picture of my grandmother and me. It was taken after my last performance in New York. She’d bought me daisies and wore her favorite wig. Shirly Temple curls outlined Grandma’s face. In the picture, she beamed with pride right next to me. She had to work three double shifts in a row with the cleaning company, just to get time off to see me dance.

Everything is different now.

Now she had a bag of money from Misha. When I tried to ask how much was in there, she told me to mind my business. This morning, she explained that she had no intention of returning to New York anytime soon.

I have lots to plan now.

During the theater’s break, I would figure out my next step. Maybe, I would get a new condo for Grandma and me. I still didn’t feel right staying in Misha’s place. Additionally, I promised to help him bury his father. Grandma would come too.

I directed my view to the silver-framed picture under Grandma’s and my photo. It was the only image I had of my dad and mom. In the photo, Mom held me in her arms. Dad smiled wildly at the camera. I had my father’s eyes. Grandma had them too. It was a Jones thing.

Grandma had given me the original photo. I’d made a copy and gifted it to her. She’d taken it with a sad smile. The next day, I found that copy in the trash, pulled it out, and hid it in my room. I never asked Grandma why she threw it away.

Who knows why Grandma does things? Finish getting ready.

I grabbed my small medical bag off the table, checked my toes, and stretched them back and forth. I had a new blister on my right pinky toe from morning rehearsal. I slapped a band-aid on it and assessed the other foot. There were no blisters, cracked nails, or other issues.

A small amount of stage fright came, but not as much as usual. So many other things bounced around in my head. Would Misha get off free for killing those three rich creeps? Would the families seek revenge? Would the theater continue to perform with me as their prima ballerina?

My nerves flared.

Misha isn’t worried. But should he be? This is all out of my element.

I left the chair and made sure I had on underwear.

Okay. Panties on.

My phone rang.

Who’s that? I hope everything is okay.

I answered, “Hello?”

A woman’s voice came on the line. “Hello, Ms. Jones. I’m so sorry. I thought I would be getting your voice service since it’s so close to the performance.”

“Okay.”

She cleared her throat. “I’m Mrs. Hightower. I wanted to know if you have representation. If not, I would love to manage you. I know the theater will be closing for some time, but that doesn’t mean that you will be out of work or opportunities. I would love to talk to you after the show or—”

“I won’t be able to meet after the show.” My heart sped up. “But I will call you in a few days with a meeting place.”

Shock hit her voice. “You will?”

“Yes. You represented O. I mean. . .Olesya. Right?”

“I did.”

“We were close.”

“Oh. I think I remember you tagging along to one of Olesya’s meeting.”

“I did, although I remained quiet in the background. Often, I sat at another table to let you both talk privately. However, I would love to talk to you in the near future.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Jones. We will definitely have that talk. Until then, may you have a great performance!”

“Thank you!” I hung up and stared at the mirror. “O-kay. I. . .have an agent.”

Excitement buzzed in my bones and mingled with worry. Everything was happening so fast.

My phone rang again.

Oh my God. At some point, I’m going to stop answering my phone.

I checked the screen.

Natalie: I’m so proud of you. Look what I printed out.

Next, my cousin Natalie sent a picture. I pressed on the screen to blow it up. She must’ve saved one of the images from an online article about a prior theater performance. It was an old image. Olesya stood in front, but I was on pointed toe in the back. From there, she made the image into a poster and drew a crown over my head.