Page 92 of Roulette: The Madam

He vanished, leaving Kiara and I alone in the hallway. I was a mess between the legs and needed to clean up before I wenthome for a shower and change of clothes. I started in Kiara’s direction and stopped right before I reached her.

“Try to fuck that one if you want to, community pussy. I will forget my morals and the fact that I don’t give a fuck just to send you back up there to the Nigga that made you.”

I left her with her thoughts as I rounded the corner that led to my office. If she was even a decently wise girl, she’d listen to my words and not take them lightly. I meant each one of them.

NINE

Baby girl.

Malaya’s pretty face crossed my mind as the curtains lowered behind the cast of the beautiful production I’d just experienced.

Black ballerinas.

This was her speed. There was once a point of her life when ballet excited her. As her mother’s addiction worsened and her world changed, so did her interests. She was more devoted to helping cure her mother’s illness than pointing her toes and hand-washing her unitard.

Ballet had taken the backseat. So had cheer. School was the only thing she was hanging onto and she was barely keeping upwith her studies. She’d come so far, surpassing every expectation of the average Black girl.

The world hated to admit that they were the most educated group of women in the world, which made her academic journey much harder than it had to be. Her brain made her the target for unsolicited advice, hatred, and harassment. Nevertheless, she still prevailed, making her the only fifteen year old senior at her school.

Seeing the cast during the hour and a half long show made a decision for me that I’d been struggling with for some time now. Yara was such a great person, but her addiction was eating away at her beauty–inside and out. It affected the way my daughter saw her, operated on a daily basis, and compartmentalized certain aspects of her childhood.

If it wasn’t beautiful, I didn’t want my daughter to experience it. She deserved the best of everything. That included us.Her parents. Yara was no good for Malaya. Not now, at least. Stripping her of her rights to see Malaya would come with its challenges, but it was a risk I was willing to take.

Ninety days.

Over the next ninety days, I’d taper her access to the child we’d created together. Weekend visits would be limited. Phone calls would be shorter. Facetime calls would be fewer.

It was time. I had to get a hold of Malaya before she lost herself in her mother’s hardships. They weren’t hers and I needed to help her understand that. It started with the reduction of Yara’s presence.

My ass rose from my seat and my hands met near my chest. They collided. Over and over and over again as a reel of the story that had been told through dance played in my head. As the applause subsided, a pair of pretty brown eyes found me.

The influence of the light far above her head emphasized every detail of her being. She hardly looked anything like I’dimagined. She was thinner. Darker. Smaller. Prettier. Better. Putting it lightly, she was a sight to behold. Just likeher.

My eyes found one of the few long figures on the first row. Roulette stood with her hands hidden in front of her. She wore a cream, long sleeved dress that fully exposed her shoulders. Shoulders I wanted to kiss the body butter from until my lips and her skin were both raw.

In addition to the eighty-eight days, six more had passed. Aside from our time in the hallway, I hadn’t seen Roulette. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to orneedto. It was because I was on a strict schedule with very strict orders since receiving clearance from her family.

My attendance atThe Whale & Walsh, the incredible performance, wasn’t personal. It was business. Though I enjoyed the show, I wasn’t here for the theatrics. I was here for advancement.

“Mr. Kingston–” an unfamiliar voice disrupted my train of thought, “This way.”

I turned to find a theater employee with an extended arm, ushering me out into the main aisle. I didn’t move a muscle. I remained planted, waiting for his case to be stated.

“The Ballerinawill see you now.”

His words confirmed my suspicions. I stepped out into the aisle and followed him toward the back. We passed the lobby and entered a lengthy room that led to a dimly-lit hallway. Beyond the hallway was an area where cast and crew were gathered, discussing the phenomenal show that’d just completed.

“Right here.”

The door to a private room opened with the employee’s help. I entered and found the same person who’d blown us all away sitting at a vanity with bulbs lining the mirror.

“Good evening, Mr. Kingston.

“Good evening.”

“I amThe Ballerina,the next point of contact in your journey.”

“I am aware.”

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