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Miss Rosa was waiting for me by the door of the studio while ten little ballerinas were exiting the room. It was the junior class where the two little girls I’d seen a few weeks ago were enlisted.
“I thought you left, Grazia.”
“I tried, but one of the teachers called in sick and these girls were already here for rehearsal.”
“You took over the class?” She was surprised and for a good reason.
It was just a coincidence that I was passing by just when Mrs. Mariucci, our studio’s manager, was complaining about having to send all the girls home because there was no one there to teach them.
“Yes.” I said, hesitantly. “We checked and there wasn’t any other teacher available. The girls were so excited to wear their new tutus, I couldn’t say no.”
“I see.”
“It wasn’t that hard.” I winked. “After all, I’ve learned from the best.”
“That is true. I am the best. I just never pictured you in my shoes, that’s all.”
“Me neither, to be honest.”
I’d told Mrs. Mariucci that I will teach the class trying to be helpful, but I have to be honest and say that helping little girls find their love for ballet was such a lovely thing to do. I had an amazing time and when the two hours of class ended, I felt disappointed that I didn’t have more time. I saw something in those girls, a spark that I used to have, an eagerness, and harvesting it felt amazing.
I pulled out my phone to check the clock and see it was already past nine.
“I should really go, Miss Rosa. I need to meet my sister-in-law first thing in the morning and it’s getting late.”
“Be on your way, child. I’ll stay around some more.”
“At this hour?”
“You’re not the only one who enjoys a quiet stage, Grazia.”
“Oh,” was that why she was here? “You want to dance,Madame?”
“I have to stay in shape, don’t I?”
I’ve never seen Rosa Mariano-Vitale dance, except for when she wanted to show me the correct way to do a step or on some of her old tapes, but I knew she wouldn’t let me stay and watch, so I didn’t bother asking. I got changed, got my things, and walked out into the street.
It was quiet tonight and the air smelled sweet, like flowers and citrus. Palermo summers nights had something quite magic about them between the sounds of the sea that were traveling down the streets and the light of the moon. This was my favorite time of the year.
I was enjoying the walk, looking down at my phone when I felt the strong arm pulling me into the shadows. My first instinct was not to scream, but to kick and reach for the gun that was tucked in the side pocket of my bag. In the next second, I was looking into the familiar green eyes of a man and holding a gun at his temple.
“Damn it, Grazia.”
“Pietro?”
“Yes, it’s me!” He hissed. “Put the fucking gun away.”
“W-what in the name of God are you doing here?”
I had my suspicions that Salvatore had told his cousin our secret, but was never sure about it. Pietro and I have not seen each other in years, so why was he here now?
“I need to talk to you.”
“I can’t possibly find a reason why.”
“Drop the act, Doll. I know you kept seeing Salvatore.”
Damn them both!
