Page 74 of Straightened Out

“Whether it can or it can’t it’s going to. Now, pick up the phone and call him back.” My gaze cuts to Richie. “And you, you call Bruno and tell him to meet me back at the house. I’m picking up Violet from the Academy and taking her to dinner. I don’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the day.”

“Rocco, man, I don’t need to be the one to tell you it doesn’t work like that,” Johnny calls from behind me. “

I don’t bother turning around when I reply.

“My game, my rules.”

~*~

Violet should’ve been donewith school long ago. I called her a few times, and every call went unanswered. Tired of waiting around, I decide to check on her myself. I don’t know what the protocol is, if I.D. is required to enter the building, but I’m quickly learning the mighty dollar goes a long way and there isn’t a person in this city who can’t be bought.

A hundred dollars not only buys me admission into the Academy but also directions to where I can find Violet. Navigating the hallway, I peek inside one room after another until a woman steps out of one of them and stops me in my tracks.

“May I help you?”

I turn around to face her, taking in the tightly pulled bun on the top of her and the standard garb of a ballerina. For a second, I try to picture Violet in the same getup, but I fall short. She’s unbelievably talented, no one can dispute that, but staring at this woman, I can’t imagine Violet sporting the same look. Violet isn’t stiff, she’s not prim and proper. She’s wild and dances to the beat of her own drum. I guess that’s sort of how she perceives me when she sees me in a suit.

Pushing that thought to the back of my head, I offer the older woman a friendly smile.

“I’m looking for Violet Cabrera,” I reply.

“And you are?”

“A friend.”

It’s the safest answer with all the buzz my name is getting these days.

She stares at me for a moment and I raise an eyebrow.

“Violet is very busy perfecting her routine for the auditions we have coming up and I find it very concerning how you are even here in this building. Do you have a visitor’s pass?”

“No, but the guy working the door has a crisp hundred in his wallet. Look, ma’am—”

“Ms. Beechers,” she interrupts, her lips twisting in disgust.

As soon as she reveals her name, I connect the dots and realize this is the woman giving Violet hell. I bite the inside of my cheek, giving myself a moment to decide how I want to handle her. Today has been a fucking day from hell and I’m tempted to unleash my fury on this stuck-up broad.

“Rocco?”

Both me and Ms. Beechers turn at the sound of Violet calling my name. Our eyes connect for a brief moment before the color drains from her face and her gaze cuts to the headmaster of this joint. She quickly schools her features and steps to my side. Her fingers curl around my arm as she stares at this Becchers woman.

“I’m sorry Ms. Beechers,” she says. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

She jerks her head tightly and Violet pushes me into one of the empty dance studios.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, hello to you too,” I grunt.

Ignoring me she crosses her arms against her chest, and it dawns on me that she’s dressed just like Ms. Beechers—tight bun and all.

“How did you even get in here?”

“Does that really matter? I tried calling you.”

“I don’t keep my phone on me when I’m rehearsing.”

I glance at the watch on my wrist.

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