The Devil of DiRisio Page 6

  “Why?” I asked. Damian adjusted himself on the floor. For the first time since I’d known him, he looked uncomfortable. Like he had lost the upper hand.

  “I always felt my Papa loved me no matter what. He made it clear that I could do anything I wanted in life and he would support me. All my life, my Papa was more than my father, he was my friend. My mother,” he began as he took out a cigarette.

  “Please don’t smoke. I hate smoke.” He flashed his turquoise eyes at me. For a moment, I thought he was angry, but he just put the cigarette away and continued.

  “My mother always tried to make me into something I was not. I always felt if I did not do what she wanted or become who she wanted, she would not love me as much.”

  “But you’re a dancer like she is. She has to approve of your talent and your success.” Damian shook his head.

  “She thinks hip-hop is not dance. She says it is vulgar. I spent years trying to please her, but she never seemed to be happy with me. So, when I am eighteen, I tell her I do not want to be what she wants me to be and she tells me she does not want to see me anymore.” The more Damian spoke, the further and further he slipped into his Russian accent. It seemed to be his true self coming out. “I don’t speak to her for five years.” He grew silent and reflective.

  “What changed?” I asked after a while. This seemed to snap him out of his reverie.

  “MTV,” he said, once again going to an ambiguous accent. “I became a world-famous choreographer. I was sought after by famous musicians, dance companies, and even filmmakers. Her career started fizzling out. I started to get more famous than she was. She finally realized that hip-hop is art as well.”

  “And now?”

  “Now we are friends. I even performed with her company last year.” I smiled. I was happy for him. His story made me miss my mother. I wondered what she was doing. I tried to talk to her all the time, but she was always working. I settled for writing her once a week and sending her any money I’d saved from the monthly stipend I received from DiRisio. I didn’t really need much extra money. Will was always there to take care of my needs. Hmph, Will. Why did I feel like I was cheating on Will just by sitting here and talking to Damian?

  “So, what about you? What is your story?” he asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  I told him all about Venton Heights and growing up poor and how I had to clean the studio in order to afford ballet lessons. He seemed impressed.

  “I knew there was a story behind your dancing,” he said when I was finished.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was not just trying to sleep with you when I said you are an excellent dancer. You really are. There is a mystery, a depth to your movements that is entrancing. It’s like your body is telling the story of your struggle to get this far.”

  “Really?” I said as I blushed inside. I really needed that compliment. Even though Will told me all the time, it was different coming from another dancer. Even if it was coming from a hip-hop dancer who knew nothing about ballet.

  “I bet your boyfriend fell in love with your dancing before he even knew you.” I thought back to our time at Bridgeton and how Will watched me dance for two months before he had the courage to talk to me. He said that I filled a void in his life after his parents died, but I filled that void before he ever even spoke to me. It could have been anyone in that dance studio window, and he would have fell in love with them, as well. I didn’t want to tell Damian this, but I think he picked up on it from my facial expression. “How long have you been together?” he asked when I didn’t say anything.

  “A few months,” I said.

  “Months? How many months?” he asked.

  I shrugged.

  “Twelve months?” I didn’t say anything. “Ten months?” I still didn’t respond. “Eight months?” I was starting to feel a little silly. Will and I hadn’t known each other for seven months and he already wanted to get married. Why was Damian so concerned about my love life anyway? He was starting to annoy me again.

  “So what if he fell in love with my dancing?” I said defensively. “Maybe I fell in love with his … basketballing.” Damian laughed at my made up word. I joined in on the laughing. “Have you ever been in love?” I asked trying to turn the tables on him.

  “I love all women,” he said evasively. “I especially love beautiful dancers,” he added with a smirk.

  “No, I mean real love. The kind that keeps you up at night wondering what the other person is doing. The kind that makes your heart flutter when you think of her. The kind of love that gives song lyrics new meanings and paintings new colors.”

  He grew serious for a moment and then said, “Nope, never.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean why? I haven’t found the right person yet, that’s why.”

  “I don’t think you’ve tried.” Damian looked unsure of himself. He seemed confused by my comment. “I don’t think you get to know people enough before … you know,” I said awkwardly, implying sex by waving my hands in the air. “You just see women as conquests or collectibles. You just want to play the game.”

  Just as he was about to respond, Gita opened her door and Damian fell backward into her room. She started yelling again in Swedish. Damian smiled and she softened. After he said a few words to her, she actually let him in. Wow, he was good.

  Now I was sitting alone in the hallway wondering what I was going to do. I had just decided to walk to Will’s house when I saw him coming up the stairs holding my purse and my keys.

  “I tried to call you to say goodnight and someone at the performance hall answered. I figured you might need your purse,” he said. He kissed me goodnight again leaving me thankful that I had such a loving perfect boyfriend. So I thought.

  Chapter 11

  Trapped in France

  The next morning was a Saturday morning. I knew it was Saturday. I was positive. I rolled over in bed and thought about it some more. Yes, it was Saturday. So what unholy, unearthly, ungodly, cruel-intentioned person was banging on my door at four thirty in the morning on a Saturday? When I realized the banging wouldn’t stop, I dragged myself out of bed and answered the door. When my eyes registered that it was Damian standing on the other side of it, I flung it closed and shuffled back to bed. Damian caught the door before it shut and let himself in.

  “What do you want?” I said from under the pillow.

  “You are coming to the video shoot, right?”

  “Not if it means I have to get up within the next two hours.”

  “Get up. Let’s go.” Was he serious? At this hour? He had to be kidding. I lifted the pillow from my head and looked at him. His definitive glare revealed just how serious he was. His fierce blue eyes filled with annoyance as he looked at his watch and noticed the time. Lifting his eyes from his watch, his expression changed from annoyance to … lust. I looked down at myself and noticed that I was wearing very little. I had on one of Will’s Lottomatica T-shirts that came to about mid-thigh. Nothing underneath. Damian Karl stood in my room, leering at my practically naked body. I jumped up and wrapped the bed sheet around me.

  “Fine, I’ll go. Just get out and let me get ready.” One corner of Damian’s mouth raised into a wicked grin, but he didn’t move. “I said get out!”

  Damian still didn’t move or wipe off his evil smirk. My heart pounded and my hands began to shake. I knew what he wanted. I could see it in his eyes. What if he tried something? What would I do?

  Just then, Gita poked her head in and spoke to him in Swedish.

  “You’ve got ten minutes,” he said as he followed Gita back to her room. I quickly got up and locked the door.

  So that was how I found myself at the set of Veronica Valerio’s new music video. The song was called ‘Colpa mia’ or ‘My Fault’ in English and, God, it sucked. I had forced myself to listen to its ridiculous lyrics and upbeat, sugary, candy-pop rhythm several times over the past couple of days as I rehearsed the choreography.

/>   In the song, Veronica unwittingly steals another girl’s boyfriend. The chorus drummed in your head the idea that it wasn’t her fault because she was just too sexy. And it’s not her fault because his girlfriend was just not around enough. And it’s not her fault that she had everything he needed.

  I wanted to gag. I couldn’t believe I let myself be a part of this. Damian assured me that the exposure of a music video could get me discovered. Someone could see my face and my talent and perhaps want me in a movie or to join a company or something. He said the opportunities it opened up far outweighed the pain of listening to Veronica’s voice.

  Most of the video had already been filmed earlier in a studio somewhere. They just needed the group dance scenes, which took place at an outdoor basketball court. The princess Veronica stayed in her trailer for most of the morning while everything was meticulously prepared for her emergence. God forbid she might have to stay outside one minute longer than necessary. Her silicone might freeze.

  As Damian rehearsed the sixteen back-up dancers, I noticed that one of the extras looked a lot like Will. There were nine or ten guys hired to play basketball in the background and one of those guys looked totally like my Will. I mean exactly. Even though I only saw him from behind, his mannerisms and the way he leaned on the fence all gave weight to my suspicion.

  But I knew it couldn’t be. When I told him where I would be today … Okay, so I didn’t tell him exactly where I would be. I was too embarrassed to admit I would be in this imbecilic video, so I told him that I had rehearsal. Anyway, when I told him I couldn’t hang out today, he told me that he was going to stay home and play video games. My Will wouldn’t lie to me. My Will wouldn’t …wait a minute. The Will look-a-like had on a Jersey that said El Matador on the back and a number three. Okay, that’s just too much of a coincidence.

  When Damian gave us a break, I went over to the doppelganger and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around, I gasped.

  “What are you doing here?” I yelled at Will. Just the tone of my voice implied the answer. He was a liar who was cheating on me with Veronica.

  “Sony! I thought you had rehearsal,” was his pathetic response.

  “This is my rehearsal,” I said pointing to the area where I’d just been dancing. “I thought you were playing video games.”

  “You’re in trouble now, Will,” one of the guys said with a mischievous grin. Will reddened with embarrassment.

  “I was … I mean … I am,” he stuttered. “This is a video and I’m going to be playing basketball which is a game.” He smiled innocently with that adorable smile that usually won me over instantly. It didn’t work. I stared at him in disbelief. How could he try to pass off such a flimsy excuse? Anger eclipsed my speaking capabilities. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I spun around and stormed off. Will followed.

  “Angel, baby, wait,” he said, grabbing my arm.

  It pained me for him to use that nickname that meant so much between us. He called me that the night of our first kiss, when he said I had helped him work through the pain of his parents’ tragic accident before we had even met. When he called me angel, I knew it meant I was his everything. But when he used it then, it just seemed cheap and insincere, like he only used it to get himself out of trouble.

  “Don’t call me angel. I am not your angel. If I was your angel, you wouldn’t lie to me,” I said, trying to jerk my arm away from him.

  “Sonya, I’m sorry. But I didn’t lie. I was playing video games, then Ronnie called and asked me to come down and be in her video I was gonna call you but … ”

  “W-w-wait a minute. Ronnie?” I asked with more attitude than I expected. The group of guys, who for a while found this amusing, finally saw the proverbial steam seep out of my ears and decided they better leave.

  “Yeah, Veronica,”

  “When did Veronica become Ronnie?” I asked. Will stuttered incoherent syllables while still refusing to relinquish my elbow. “Let go of me,” I said as I yanked my arm free and went to pack up my things.

  “Where are you going? Let me take you home,” Will begged as he followed me to the bench that contained my cluttered dance bag and scattered clothing.

  “Leave me alone!” I snapped. Will jumped back as if he thought I would really bite him or something. I swung my bag over my shoulder and practically ran off the set. As I left, I caught a glimpse of Damian Karl, smiling.

  ~ * * * ~

  As if that wasn’t enough to make it the most horrific day ever, when I got back to my room, I found a note from Alejandro. On official DiRisio Academy letterhead he informed me that my performance academically and artistically had been subpar and that after my next performance with the company I would sit down with the enrollment committee to discuss my future at the Academy. I knew exactly what this meant. I could read between the lines and see that I obviously had no future with the Academy. I was out.

  I needed to get away. I couldn’t stay in that cramped dorm room anymore. I needed to go somewhere, anywhere, just to clear my head. So I started walking. I didn’t know where I headed, I just walked. I ended up at the train station buying a ticket to Nice, France. I don’t know why. Maybe I blamed Italy for all my problems, and I just wanted to get out of the country. On the eight hour train ride, I contemplated my life. I lived in a beautiful city and danced with world-famous performers on a daily basis, but I felt completely miserable. I missed my mother, I missed my father, I missed my sister. As crazy as it sounded, I missed my life in that cramped, roach-infested apartment in Venton Heights.

  I got off the train and walked some more. Then exhaustion overcame me. I couldn’t take another step. I took my phone out of my purse to look at the time and noticed I had thirty-six missed calls from Will. With the phone on silent, I could easily ignore his persistent attempts at communication.

  A little after midnight, I made my way back to the train station. I knew I couldn’t afford to stay in France for the night. I had just enough money to get a train ticket back to Rome.

  When Will called my phone again, I felt I had cooled off enough to talk to him.

  “What are you doing in France?” he said without even saying hello.

  “How do you know where I am?”

  “It’s after midnight. You shouldn’t be in a strange country all by yourself.”

  “How do you know where I am?” I asked again looking around suspiciously. Had he hired someone to follow me?

  “The phone I gave you has a GPS system.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t move. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” I knew I sounded like a child, but I couldn’t help it. Who did he think he was, keeping tabs on me? And how could he be here in an hour?

  “I left right after my game to come find you. I’ve been following the signal for hours. Go to a crowded area and wait for me,” he ordered. I hung up on him and went to buy my return ticket. I didn’t need him to come rescue me like I’m some sort of damsel in distress. I could take care of myself.

  I went up to the ticket counter and suddenly realized my purse was gone. I had set it down when I answered Will’s phone call, then I got so angry and flustered while I spoke to him that I just got up and left it. Now it was gone. I was stuck in France with no money. Thankfully, I had gotten in the habit of wearing my passport in a little pouch that I wore around my neck so I wouldn’t lose it. So at least I didn’t have to worry about that. But how would I be able to afford a ticket out of France? Maybe I could sell this stupid cell phone with its stupid GPS tracking system from my stupid stalker boyfriend. I screamed in frustration, then kicked the ticket counter before settling down in a seat to wait for Will.

  I saw Will enter the train station looking for me frantically, but I didn’t let him see me at first. I just sat back and let him search. Why didn’t he just take out his creepy little GPS system and use it like a metal detector to find me?

  As I watched him, I noticed that my
once-carefree boyfriend who never concerned himself too much with clothes had recently started dressing more like some sort of fashion model. I hadn’t seen his favorite dirty Converse All-Stars in weeks. They had been traded in for Italian leather shoes. And he had apparently started a collection of designer trench coats, since he seemed to wear a different one every day. They made him look even taller and more dashing. The women in the train station apparently agreed, since they were now all staring at him. I crossed my arms, slouched in my chair and glared at him. He must have felt the fire in my stare because he turned and spotted me. He breathed a sigh of relief and walked toward me.

  Will squatted before me and rested his hands on my knees.

  “Sony, you can’t go storming off out of the country every time you’re mad at me,” he said calmly.

  “Why not?” I fired.

  “Because it’s childish.”

  “And so is telling your girlfriend you’re playing video games when you’re really sneaking off to play with another woman.”

  “That’s not …” Will started to raise his voice, but then forced himself to calm down. “Let me just take you home, and we can discuss this in the car.” He spoke to me like a father speaks to a misbehaving child. Who did he think he was?

  “I got here by myself and I’ll get home by myself.” I crossed my arms and stared off to the side.

  Will sighed. “You’re shivering. Take my coat,” he said as he draped his trench coat over my shoulders. I was freezing, so even though I wanted to, I didn’t refuse the coat. Then he started looking on either side of me. “Where’s your purse?” I didn’t respond. Will took out his wallet and said, “If you insist on being ridiculous, at least take this.” He handed me some money.

  “I don’t want your money,” I almost yelled. Suddenly I was even angrier. “You’re just like all the other rich kids back in Bridgeton. You think you can solve everything with money. You think because you have money, you can get whatever you want.” I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth. What the hell was the matter with me? How could I be so cruel and petty? I honestly thought I saw tears in Will’s eyes.