“I doubt that. Vaslav’s crotch was crotching on that stage.”
“Oh, well. . .they’ll be talking about that too. Poor guy. For a ballerino a big cock can be a gift and a curse.”
Laughing at her, the stagehand removed the final wire and left us.
“Alright, Erica. Do you need water or anything?”
“I’m fine.”
“Get in that breathtaking final costume. It is going to blow everyone’s minds. Geneva really outdid herself.”
“She did.” This giddy excitement fell over me as I headed off the stage and to my dressing room.
Melanique kept my pace. “And to think the newspaper critics had claimed that a black female vampire would not be terrifying. Assholes said, we were being sowokethat the ballet would be ruined from the ridiculous attempt at equality.”
“I bet those bastards wish they hadn’t written that.”
“Shoot. I spotted two of them screaming out, ‘Vampire Queen!’ with everyone else.”
I laughed some more.
Tonight, backstage was a flurry of activity. Stagehands rushed to and fro. Several costumes were being changed and adjusted on ballerinos. A few performers huddled together in small groups, talking excitedly.
Props and equipment were scattered throughout the backstage.
Back here, the smell of sweat, hairspray, and stage makeup lingered in the air, as well as the faint scent of fresh flowers from the bouquets that decorated various tables.
And there were tons of hushed whispers from the performers along with the steady hum of the lighting crew working on their positions.
“Oh shit, Erica. I almost forgot.” This serious expression hit Melanique’s face. “How the hell could I forget?”
We turned the corner and headed down the hallway to my dressing room.
I glanced at her. “Forget what?”
“Your father and brother are in the dressing room.”
“What?” I stopped walking.
Cold shivers ran through me.
“My stepfather? Are you serious?”
She nodded. “I told them that they should wait untilafterthe ballet, but your stepfather was adamant about congratulating you for your performance.”
There was no way that was true. There had never been a moment where Maximo had ever cared about my dancing or even come to my events.
Melanique continued, “Plus. . .well. . .he’s a little bit scary. The sort of guy that you know. . .you can’t say no too.”
“I understand.” I resumed walking, but no longer did I have excitement from the ballet.
Now, the only thing that moved through me was fear.
Dear God. What does Maximo want and why now?
Chapter two
An Odd Visit
