Page 33 of Rome: The Ballerina

The bell sounded as I stepped in front of the door.Koen’s timing was perfect. I knew, without a doubt, that it was himstanding behind the wood. August was the youngest of the two. He was an enforcer. He wasn’t one to initiate much of anything.

Of course.

Koen’s eyes sparkled as the door crept open. They dipped from my head to my neck. To my chest. To my midsection. To my legs. And, finally, to my feet.

Koen,” I greeted him. “August.”

Both nodded, but didn’t move a single inch.

“Balle–” Koen cleared his throat, placing both hands in front of his black slacks.

“Yes?”

“You look beautiful. Please don’t make me have to shoot a nigga tonight. I don’t want to destroy your dress.”

“She has a washing machine,” August reminded him, adjusting his tie.

I stepped out onto the porch.

“You’re right, August, but I have never used one in my life and I don’t plan on starting tonight.”

I passed them both, finally stopping once I’d descended the three steps that led to my door.

“And Koen,” I paused.

“Yes, Balle?”

“I learned a very long time ago that some people just need to be shot. I don’t think he’s one of those people. Guns on safe. Please.”

“As much as I respect your request, it isn’t an option, ma’am,” Koen responded.

“Stay ready so getting ready isn’t an issue. Can’t afford to be late to that type of function,” August added.

With a sigh, I turned on the tips of my toes. There was no use.

Well, at least I tried.

“We should be leaving now. It’s near the seventh hour.”

Punctuality is a sign of respect. Don’t show up late… not unless you mean it. Richie had a way with words.

He was convinced that the best way to show a person you didn’t value their time or presence was to show up late to a scheduled meeting with them. Be it a date, business meeting, roundtable, or mediation.

“Right behind you.”

Koen and August started toward the lengthy SUV, ultimately making it to the doors before me. I slid inside, taking my position behind the passenger’s seat. With August beside me and Koen at the wheel, we pulled around the arch of my driveway.

I lifted my right leg over the left and rested both hands on top of it. The setting of the sun had begun. Its beauty was striking. Its artistry was something to behold.

Days I sat underneath its canvas after a long, tiring day that was taxing on my body and heart contributed to some of my best memories. As the youngest of eight, there wasn’t much solitude so those moments were cherished. It was only me, the lawn, the trees, the insects, and my mother’s garden.

A sigh pushed through my lungs. I sealed my lids and rested my shoulders on the seat.

Quiet now.

I silenced my thoughts, hoping for comfort as we crept down the street and closer to the hour reserved for time with Sac. Everything around me quieted. There were no words. No music. No worries. I inhaled, drawing in new air. Shortly after, an exhale pushed it back out.

I repeated the breathing exercise, slowly collecting my nerve endings and putting them back where they belonged. Since he’d taken the AirPod from my ear, I’d been a mess. It was clean up time.

---