Page 106 of Rome: The Ballerina

EIGHT

I extended an arm and waited patiently for Rome to grab ahold. She was in no hurry and neither was I. I could wait all fucking night if she needed me to.

The pocket mirror worked in collaboration with the lights from the sun visor to help her finalize a layer of lip gloss. Her eyes were trained on her reflection in the round piece of glass. Slowly, she painted her lips.

The top one.

The bottom one.

A little more on the top.

A faint line on the bottom.

Clearing the bits that had gone outside of the lines.

Then, finally, Rome pressed her lips together, satisfied with her results. She stuffed the tube and compact mirror in her purse once she’d finished.

Mesmerized with her beauty, I didn’t realize her fingers were wrapped around mine, waiting for the assistance I’d volunteered. Not until a chill crept up my spine and the weight of my heart increased suddenly.

“Thank you,” she spoke with clarity.

Her nose pierced the air. Her pebbled nipples followed. She unleashed her inner feline, leaving me struck and unable to move. From behind, I watched her collect herself on the pavement just feet away from the door of the establishment we were headed inside of.

“Well, well. Tonight might just be my lucky night. How are you this evening, ma’am?”

“I’m well, Joshua.”

Georgio’s was no secret in Mt. Clarke. It lived up to every bit of the hype from the Black and wealthy of the city. The guest list was closed months in advance. A spot was hard to come by if you weren’t familiar with the staff, the owner, or someone who brought value to their brand.

Seeing that Rome was familiar with the staff was no surprise. I’d rolled the dice and hoped I was bringing her somewhere out of her realm, but she was making it clear that there weren’t many parts of Clarke she hadn’t visited.

“It’s been quite a while. Four years at least, huh?”

“Sounds about right–” she responded with a smile, genuinely happy to see the young man handling the parking of the cars for Georgio’s. “Good seeing you.”

He turned to me and nodded.

“Good evening, Sir! Or, should I call you Champ?” He greeted me.

“Evening. Champ?” I tittered, “A little soon, huh?”

“Not exactly. I’m trusting my gut. We’re going all the way. Reservations?”

Chuckling, I nodded. “Something of the sorts.”

Of course I had reservations or I wouldn’t be on the property. It would be pointless, almost. Not because you couldn’t buy your way inside the place, but because there wouldn’t be any empty tables if you did. A seat at the bar didn’t do the spot much justice. You needed a seat, preferably one near the windows.

“If the keys are still inside, your host, Olla, will escort you to your table.”

“Yeah. They’re still inside,” I assured him, eyes still fixated on Rome.

She didn’t falter under observation. Neither did she fold. Her confidence was intoxicating. She was the muse. She knew it and so did everyone around her, including Joshua.

“Enjoy your time at Georgio’s. It’s our top priority.Champ. Ma’am.”

With a nod, Joshua took off in the opposite direction.

“Good evening, Ma’am. Sir. I’m Olla. I’ll be seating you this evening.”

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