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CHAPTER18
Monroe
I’m dressedin a black leotard that has sheer sleeves to my wrists and a matching sheer skirt, diamonds glistening along it. My hair is up in an elegant bun that also has rhinestones embedded in it. I stare into the mirror as I paint the dark purple lipstick on my lips to match my black-and-silver eyeshadow and over-the-top eyelashes. I’d already performed two solos and three group dances. It was now the second act, and I’m getting ready to perform my lyrical. The dance I came up with when I lost Nixon. It has so much passion and soul in it, I still cry whenever I perform it.
“Showtime in three, Monroe.” Preston knocks on my door. I take a deep breath.
Showtime.
* * *
The crowd roars as I stand from the ground. The ending was made to look like I crumbled. The song told a story of a strong girl who fought a war with herself until she couldn’t be strong anymore. Roses litter the stage, and I scan the crowd, seeing my mom and Eliza crying as Nixon whistles, and Holly, well, she is livid. It must really suck to not be good at anything. To be so pretty, yet so bitter. I bow as the curtains shut and then I am rushed to change outfits for the duet with Craig. He was an amazing dancer. I loved him as my partner.
Letting my hair loose, I wipe off my lipstick for a neutral color. I didn’t have time to redo my eyes as they put me into a pair of black spandex and an ocean blue flowy shirt that has lines of glitter like waves down the front.
We dance to “Trampoline” by SHAED. Our bodies move as one as we dance around one another, ending in a lifting pose. After that, I take a small break, where I wipe my face and start all over again. Gold fading into dark green eyeshadow. I leave my hair in a wavy mess. Slipping on my camo print pants and loose white crop top. Then sliding on my Jordans and my flat bill hat.
I walk behind the curtain, getting into position for “Ride.”I throw my hands in a circle above my head, my hip jutted out to the right side, my left foot pointed. The heavy base of the song breaks in. I start out in a sequence of hip-hop moves, popping my arms and legs before I’m sliding on my knees, pulling up my shirt while my hands roam my body. My hands in my hair, I spin my head, rolling over legs spread. I transition to a split, then I get up and shake my ass. I go through more hip-hop moves, throwing in turns and leaps, ending with my head down. The crowd cheers and I hear my aunts whistling, but my eyes connect with Dad’s. He has an unreadable look on his face. My shoulders sag as I bow, but when I look back up, I see my dad clapping. His eyes are misty when he winks at me, causing a huge smile to break over my face.
My last dance, and the last dance of the night, is a jazz number. And I slay it. I smile in the mirror as I wipe my performance makeup off. Nothing would ever come close to the feeling I have when it came to dancing. I throw my tracksuit on, leaving the jacket unzipped. My hair is now in a messy high ponytail.
I turn around to look at my dressing room one last time.
A smile, a tear, and a thank-you to the room that holds so many memories. Memories I will always cherish. “May your next dancer love you as much as I do,” I whisper to the room, flicking the lights off and shutting the door.
Past
I stare at the grimy man tied up to the chair. He has a gray beard and wrinkled skin. I look up to my daddy. “Do I have to?” I ask him as he smiles at me sadly.
He bends down on his knees until his eyes are level with mine. Dark eyes, dark hair. My daddy is a dark knight. “There’re going to be people in this world who want to hurt you, Monroe.”
Frowning, I look back over to the man. “But why? I’m a sweet girl. I don’t ever hurt anyone.”
My daddy sighs. “Yes, but you have power. Your bloodline is pure and rich. Some people don’t like the power you hold. The secrets you’ll keep.”
I twist my hands around the metal. It’s the same one my trainer, Justin, had me practice with. It is cold and heavy. And really loud. I didn’t like it. “But I don’t want to do this, Daddy.” I look at him. “Please,” I whisper. “Please don’t make me.”
He kisses my head. “You either be the prey or the hunter,” he speaks softly.
I look up to my mom who is wiping tears away from her cheek. “Have you killed someone?”
She nods sadly. “People want to hurt us, baby. We can’t let that happen.”
I raise the gun to the man with shaky hands. The barrel trembles and I close my eyes and squeeze. When I open them, tears are running down my face as a hole is torn clear through the man's forehead. I choke on my sobs. “Show no weakness, give no mercy,” I whisper.
Doors bust in as Uncle Vince walks in, smiling. “You got a sharpshooter on your hands.” Uncle Vince reaches down, ruffling my hair.
When I get home, I run to Nix’s house. Being in his presence always made everything better. Except, I couldn’t shake the thoughts of the man from my head.
I killed someone.
Present
Sometimes when I’m in this ring, the memory of my first kill replays. One of the only traumatizing things to ever happen to me. I still feel guilty about it. “Monroe!” Justin barks.
I shake my head, getting into position. Yesterday a dancer, today a sleeper agent. I hate fighting Easton. He sends a roundhouse kick to my head as I crash to the mat. Growling, I jump up, swinging my palm into his nose. He stumbles back and I take advantage, sending him onto the ground as I get into guard mode, throwing combos to his face. He flips me over, and as my legs crawl up his back, he twists and I know I have him when I straddle his ass, cutting off his air supply. He taps my leg twice and I scream in victory. This is the first time I’ve won against anyone besides Jasmine. I throw my hands in the air as Justin chuckles and claps for me.
“Ezra and Everett, get in there,” Justin barks.
