The Ballerina & The Fighter (Book 1) (7 page)

It was hard to believe I now
had the kindof money to do something like that, but my needs had always been
taken care of, my winnings all went into the bank or Joe invested. My last two
fights were my biggest paydays to date. But I’d trained under masters of many
disciplines, to the point I’d created my own style and I’d never lost a
challenge. Fighting was easy to grasp. It was actually harder for me to grasp
it’d been five years since I last saw Ivy. It may as well have been yesterday
as I jogged along the shore and watched her perform some of those amazing
leaps. Her dancing was even more breathtaking.

I’d followed her career the
entire time, the internet made it easy. Her life on stage and rise to fame were
well documented. She’d gotten every part she’d ever auditioned for, and some
chorographer had seen her dance and created a piece just for her. That
performance shot her straight to the ranks of the world’s best. At least that’s
what the articles I’d read said.

I tried to forget her, to
leave her behind but I just couldn’t quite let her go. I knew I could have
pushed for a relationship, long distance even, I knew she needed me after her
friend Shelly died and that she blamed herself for what happened; and that part
of her probably blamed me, too. I even understood why at first she tried to
shut me out. I should have pushed. But I knew it was for the best to let that
distance between us grow.

My life had always been complicated.
I could not be honest with her then, and even less so now. Joe was Triad,
Chinese mafia, and a high ranked head, but he’d been fighting to make changes,
breaking away and forming a Tong, a more legitimate organization. He’d taken me
to Japan to compete in very special arenas, and also in an attempt to
strengthen the Tong. These arenas were ones where the Triads competed and
sometimes against the Yakusa, the Japanese mafia. None of this made the news,
but there were rules everyone agreed to follow.

In the old days the fights
were to the death, not so any more. But this kind of fighting was a way to pit
raw power and talent against an opponent and the best man won, meaning if your
Triad won, and it carried a lot of weigh in that world. In Joe’s case his
rising Tong, but they were still under the umbrella of the Triad they were
trying to break from.

Although Joe kept most of the
shady side of the business away from me, I could not help but know. In truth,
he’d confessed he handled only the legitimate side of the organization now for
years, and he hoped to take it all in that direction. He’d sworn he’d changed
the day my mom died. While Joe loved me as a son, I knew he’d loved my mother,
too. He’s the one who’d trained me most of my life, but I’d begun to suspect it
wasn’t just to keep me out of trouble, but to make sure I’d always be able to
protect myself. Yet there were still parts of his life he would not talk about.
Only once did I have direct interaction with the violent side of the business, they
wanted me to protect someone. Someone who had been marked for death by a rival
group. He was Joe’s best friend and like an uncle to me. Mr. Tsang was the
deputy dragon master and I stopped an attempt on his life. I did it because Joe
asked me to and because I could not live with myself if Tsang got hurt or worse
when I was in a position to help. It was the first time Triad business touched
me directly. The Triad heads had taken real notice of my skills, so it was not
the last.

I had some decisions to make
now. The upcoming fight was the kind of payday that would ensure I would never
have to set foot in the arena again, if I chose. But there were those who
wanted me to throw the fight. Those with the kind of power to put pressure on
me to make me do it. It was the price for Joe’s complete release from the Triad
and the autonomy of the Tong, it would also become the day the Triad would
truly own me. But tonight was for me. No one else. Well, maybe one other, so I
shoved all those dark thoughts to the recesses of my mind.

I focused on the performance
again and let the music wash over me, calming my tormented soul. Or perhaps it
was the woman on the stage who did that with the way she interpreted emotion
through motion. She’d captivated me all those years ago and her hold had not
lessened. No one who knew me would know I thought that way about a woman. Yes
I’ve had women come and go in my life, none lasting for more than a week. I had
no desire for a commitment or a relationship. Not with my life. Except for the
possibility of one special person. No one even knew about my past with her. Nor
for that matter on the date of Shelley’s death I still sent her a text, just to
make sure she was all right, she always texted back she was. In the last five
years that had been the extent of our conversations. I did not deserve her, she
was classy and worlds above me.

Still, I followed her career,
even thousands of miles away Google was my friend. Everything I’d read about
her was true. She danced beautifully. My life was full of so much pain and
ugliness, I wanted her no where near it. Yet I could not stay away. At the end
of the show I did not move. Instead, I remained in my seat, scrolling through
the pictures from that one incredible summer I kept in my phone, making sure I
transferred them every time I replaced my phone. Over the years I’d stared at
them a thousand times, memorizing each line on her face as she smiled up at me.
Finally, the noise level died down, the theatre was empty. Only then, did I
rise and make my way back stage where the dancers would be. At least those that
lingered behind I knew it was Ivy’s way to do that, being among the last to
leave. I’d read that about her, the prima ballerina who shunned the spotlight.
I smiled slightly not surprised by that; she’d always been a little shy. Nor in
truth was I surprised that my feet took me in a direction I knew I should not
go. I did nothing to change my course.

“Can I help you?”

Some guy with a mic in his
ear came down the hallway, toward me, so far no one had challenged me. If you
looked like you belonged, most people didn’t question you. Most of the dancers
were gone but there did seem to be a few people dressed in nice clothes back
here. I didn’t think I stood out that much. I was dressed in about three thousand
dollars worth of threads. Dark gray True Religion slim fit jeans, a dark blue
Bugatchi Uomo form fitting shirt with a black silk Boss leather jacket over it.
“I’m looking for Ivy Deene.”

“And you are?”

I hesitated. I really didn’t
want to give this guy my name. I didn’t want her to be forewarned. In truth, I
wasn’t sure if she’d even see me.
Fuck it.
I wasn’t sure what I was even doing there.

“A fan. Just a fan.”

“Well fan, Just a fan, I’m
sorry but only authorized personnel are allowed back here. You’re going to have
to wait outside at the side exist to see Ms. Deene.”

I shrugged. Relegated to
being with the rest of the masses. What the hell! I turned around and made my
way outside. The one thing I’d never been accused of being was part of the
masses. I could have gotten back in and snuck past him, but I had another idea.
I existed the building and walked past the alleyway where the crowd waited for
her to come out. All of them wanted to see the great ballerina, perhaps get an
autograph or picture with her. I knew the feeling of being on the receiving end
of adulation well. I continued walking until I got to the end of the block and
found a restaurant. I went in and there might have been people ahead of me, but
I palmed the host a hundred dollar bill to be seated immediately. He smiled.

“Table for one?” he asked.

“Two.” I hoped.

He took me all the way to the
rear of the place. I scanned the restaurant for any familiar faces, there were
none, nor did I expect there would in this part of town. The man stopped at a
booth that could have easily sat four, but it was separated a little from the
other tables. Good. I sat down. The host handed me a menu and set another one
on the table, then left. Only one thing to do, I pulled out my phone and turned
it on. I had turned it off earlier while in the theater, and because I didn’t
want my world to intrude on the brief interlude. I had two missed calls from
Joe, as many messages and four texts. I ignored them all; they all said the
same thing. Nothing I wanted to deal with yet. I sent Ivy a text, set the phone
on the table and waited. My heart drummed against my rib cage in its bid to be
set free.

Me:
‘I’m here. Carmines. One block from the theater.’

The waiter appeared and
poured water in the glasses, I waved him off. My eyes on the silent phone. Five
minutes and the phone screen was still dark. No reply. Instead of the drumming
against my chest something else began to take root in my gut. How long should I
wait? What the fuck, I shouldn’t even be here now and I damn well knew it.
Fifteen minutes later I rose from the table and tossed some cash on it. “Fuck
it!” I whispered and walked out of the restaurant just as a black limo pulled
up to the curb in front of the place. Stupid ass that I was, I froze. This was
New York; limos were as plentiful in this town as trash on the ground. Yet I
couldn’t move.

The driver got out and came
around to the rear door. He opened it up and all I saw was this black short
high heeled boot, attached to a long graceful caramel-colored leg, I knew that
leg. The rest of her emerged and my gaze travelled across the leggings she
wore, the short skirt to the short leather jacket, up past her slender neck
until I rested on her face. And it knocked me back in time. I stepped out of
the doorway of the restaurant and approached her. It was only then I realized
since she’d gotten out of the car she hadn’t moved. I registered that she
hadn’t been alone in the car. There seemed to be a few other people in there
with her. They didn’t get out and I paid them no more attention. I was there
for one reason and she stood in front of me. I stood there like an idiot
staring at her, but then she had remained frozen too checking me out as I did
her. I wondered for a fleeting moment what she saw. I was no longer the boy
she’d once known. I was a man now. And she no longer that young ballerina just
beginning to fly. She was shooting among the damn stars now.

The sound of the driver
shutting the car door jarred me from my paralysis. “I thought you weren’t
coming, when I didn’t get a reply.” Five years and those were the fucking first
words out of my mouth between us? Shit.

“I had to get past the
crowd.”

“Oh.” Brilliant reply. Of
course, she had to navigate through the crowd. I was too impatient. In truth, I
was scared shitless she really didn’t want to see me. I’m not sure I could take
that. Not from her. Not now when I risked so much by even seeing her.

“Were you leaving?” Her voice
was hesitant but her gaze roamed over my face as though she tried to mesh her
image of me from the past over the one before her now. I know I was. I loved
what I saw. That sparkle there in her eyes, seemed familiar.

“No.” I took her hand. I had
to know, a test for both of us. I looked into her eyes, damned if that
electricity wasn’t still there between us. And by the way her eyes opened wide
I wasn’t the only one feeling it. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.” Her voice was low
sexy. I was in trouble.

I turned around and led her
back inside. I nodded to the host and asked him for my table again. He just grinned
and led us back to it. If the fucker had asked for more money I would have
given it to him without blinking.

Chapter Eight

Ivy

The roar of applause and
bravas followed me as I stepped off the stage. I’d just finished the finale for
Swan Lake
. Three bows later, some of
my fellow dancers lingering back stage met me there and we embraced. This was
what we’d all worked so hard for. To be a part of a professional ballet
company, it was like being a part of a big family, even right down to the dysfunctionality.
At one time I was the youngest principal ballerina. But after three years with
the company, at twenty-one, I was burnt out. I’d been dancing since I was three
with one goal in mind to become a prima ballerina which I had been for sometime
now, but better known more so I think for my Pas de deux. I’d sacrificed much
to get where I was today. And it was worth it. I would change only one thing.

Shelly.

I had made peace with my part
in her death, yet recently I’d found dance was not enough. Perhaps for the
first time in my life, while the joy was still there and always would be the
solace and peace were missing.