“You did it, baby!” Grandma kept clapping and pointing at me. “You did it!”

Several people had taken out their phones and recorded. It would be on the theater blogs by morning, and I could care less what anyone thought of it.

Akiva took my hand. “Okay. We must go to the center of the stage for the announcement.”

So stunned, I couldn’t move.

“You go, Ava!” Grandma hadn’t finished her yelling. “Yes! You show these white people!”

Oh, God. Don’t say that, grandma.

Misha grinned as he remained seated by her.

“Show them, baby!”

With a new sense of hope, I walked to the center of the stage with Akiva. His face had reddened, probably from embarrassment.

I dabbed at my eyes to stop the flow of tears, but surely my makeup had streaked.

The musicians ceased with their warmups. A stagehand rushed to Akiva and gave him a microphone. My grandmother remained standing as the lightening in the audience dimmed.

Everyone quieted.

Akiva raised the microphone to his lips. “Hello and thank you for attending tonight’s performance of La Bayadere.”

As if grandma and I had hyped the crowd up, several hooted and clapped. Again, it was completely uncharacteristic for the typical theater crowd, but Akiva’s face lightened and he widened his mouth into a smile.

“We are all excited.” Akiva beamed. “As all of you know, Mariinsky theater suffered a tragic loss in the passing of our prima ballerina Olesya Pavlova.”

The cheering ended.

All went somber and quiet.

“However, I’ve known Olesya for many years and I know personally how she adored Ava Jones.” Akiva took my hand. “They had been best friends, and Ava was Olesya’s understudy for La Bayadere. I believe in my heart that Olesya would be more than happy with the Mariinsky Theater’s decision.”

Many took out their phones again and began to record, even though it was not allowed in the theater.

Oh my God. This is really going to happen.

Akiva continued, “Tonight, we mourn the death of our beloved Olesya, and we will do so, in the way that she would have loved. We will honor her best friend, Ava Jones, who has earned the new title and proven herself season after season as being one of the most talented ballerinas in Russia.”

Several people rose in the audience and hooted.

My heartbeats increased.

“So, I ask you to welcome someone that is very important.” Akiva turned to me with a smile. “Introducing Mariinsky Theater’s new prima ballerina.”

The audience roared. One would’ve thought we were at a basketball game and their team had made a winning basket. People clapped. Many cheered. All had their phones out recording.

But no one.

And I meant no one.

Was as loud as my grandma!

“Yes, Lord! Yes! My God is powerful! Don’t he show you?! Don’t he show you?!” She clapped harder. “Yes, girl! Yes! That’s my grandbaby right there! Looking all pretty!”

Akiva cleared his throat and attempted to get the crowd to settle down. After a few minutes, all went back to their seats, including my grandma who was wiping her face.

Misha watched me and all I could think about was fucking his brains out this evening. He’d given me the biggest surprise of my life. Nothing could top it. No amount of money, cars, houses, plane tickets, would outshine him bringing my grandma to me.

Akiva spoke into the microphone, “And now we bring you. . .La Bayadere.”

I couldn’t tell anyone what happened during that performance. The excitement. The adrenaline. The blessedness that swarmed through me.

I knew I danced on clouds. I pirouetted with the angels. I performed grand jetés—these long horizontal jumps, starting from one leg and landing on the other. I did full leg splits in mid-air, hitting the fullest split at the height of the jump.

And I rose, I almost hovered. So high, I saw God but couldn’t tell anyone which act it was. This night would live in my soul, my heart, for the rest of my life.

Nothing could take this moment away.

Chapter 13

Misha

Never before had I seen Ava dance the way she did tonight.

It was clear she was powered by the love of her grandmother. She leapt higher than ever before, stunning the audience and me. When she twirled, it was mystical as if some supernatural power guided her body.

My Ava had done the impossible.

No other ballerina would ever dare dance this role again.

She owned it.

Made the stage her domain.

The performance ended with a standing ovation. Minutes later, the theater hadn’t emptied. People remained standing and clapping. It appeared no one wanted to leave. No one wanted the evening to end.

I knew you would blow them away.

We remained in my balcony for now. I’d asked the theater’s management to allow us to go to Ava’s dressing room. A Mrs. Carson assured me that we could, but someone would come to escort us. After the performance, Maxwell left to go smoke a joint in one of my guard’s car.

Tags: Kenya Wright Romance
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