Midnight Ballerina

by Cori Williams

  * * * *

  Midnight Ballerina

  Copyright © 2014 by Cori Williams

  Editing by Lea Burn

  Cover design by Mae I Design

  Formatting by JT Formatting

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  For other titles by CA Williams, visit Amazon

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Epilogue

  Other Books by C.A. Williams

  Acknowledgments AKA Semi-Sappy Time

  I GLANCED AT my watch, seeing it was just after midnight. I needed to get the hell out of here so I could get some sleep. Already overworked, I shouldn’t have promised her the favor but she’d always done right by me. I couldn’t keep putting it off.

  My feet froze when I passed by the open door of one of the rooms, eyes drawn to the lone figure in the center of the glossy, wooden floors, her back facing me. Hair as dark as the night sky in a tight bun atop her head enhanced her creamy white skin, body clad in a scrap of black material that offered as little coverage as a bathing suit. That must be what they wore, even when there weren’t many people around so late at night. Business must be good if the place continued to stay open almost twenty-four seven. I didn’t get the need for it, really.

  My attention snapped back as she gracefully raised her arms, completely in her own world, before balancing on her tiptoes and spinning around the room endlessly, making me dizzy. My eyes stayed glued to her performance, her legs drawing me in like a moth to a flame. While she was petite, her legs seemed to go on for miles, and were powerful and lean as she twirled across the floor, changing quickly into step after step.

  I was mesmerized.

  She moved fluidly, legs kicking in every which direction, perfectly in sync with the soft music playing in the background. I could barely make out the song as I focused solely on the ballerina, her body making a tempo of its own, creating a rhythm as she glided effortlessly. Back and forth, forward and backward, round and round.

  My whole body hummed as I shifted, pressing closer as I continued to observe, unnoticed. I didn’t want her to stop my private show, but it all came to an end too soon as someone walked past me in the hallway, pulling me out of my trance. I looked down to see that almost an hour had passed, cursing myself for letting the dancer distract me, and when I glanced back in the studio, she was gone.

  It was for the best, really.

  I walked back out to the front, gathering my tools, resigned to the fact that I’d have to come back to complete the job another time. It wasn’t happening that night.

  My little midnight ballerina made sure of that.

  “YOU’RE FIRED.”

  “What?” My hand froze midway as I reached for an apron, my mouth falling open at my boss’s declaration. He had to be kidding. I swallowed thickly, letting out a weak laugh as my hands finally landed on an apron. “Right, Denny. You’re such a jokester.” I playfully nudged his shoulder, stepping around him to get to the time clock. Denny really wasn’t the joking kind, but I guess there was a first time for everything.

  “Monroe.” His tone was flat so I turned to look at him. He lightly rubbed at the spot that I bumped into and I barely managed to contain an eye roll. Like I actually hurt him or something. “I’m not joking.” He sniffed slightly, grabbing at the apron that was in my hand, and I pulled back on it at the same time. This quickly turned into a little game of tug of war, until he finally decided that he was done playing, letting go with a loud sigh. “Listen.” He scratched at the gray beard on his chin and I squirmed in place, not knowing how to brace myself for what he was about to say.

  I did not get fired from things. Ever. There had to be some sort of mistake. Maybe he’d been hit on the head and really meant to talk to Kelsey, the one I had to constantly clean up behind. I mean, was it really so hard to take sandwich orders and not screw them up? It wasn’t rocket science.

  “You’re a great employee.”

  The best I wanted to add, but I didn’t really think he would care. I could tell his mind was made up.

  “But?” Since I knew it was truly coming, I might as well help the poor guy along. That was me: Monroe Hartley, helper to everyone, even when I was getting fired. I really needed to stop doing that.

  “But it’s just hard to work around your school schedule. I need someone with flexibility, and there are a lot of people out there that actually need jobs. People that have all the time in the world.” He looked at me sheepishly before pushing the wire-rimmed glasses back up onto his nose, though they slid back down almost instantly.

  I stewed over his words, tapping my foot in place as they started to sink in. “So, let me get this straight? It’s not because I’m a bad worker, which I know I’m not, it’s because you have to work around my schedule? And because you don’t think I need this job?” My voice rose, laced with just a hint of panic as the reality started to sink in. It started slowly but eventually hit me full force.

  Yes, the Honey Ham Sandwich Shop was the bane of my existence but at the same time, it paid the bills, the main reason I worked as many shifts as possible in between classes. I even missed one every now and then, if someone called to ask me to cover their shift. “Do you think I don’t have bills? How do you thin
k I pay for the shitty apartment I live in? How do you think I pay for gas?” He stepped backward as I jabbed a finger in his direction, emphasizing each of my points. He gave a nervous smile to a customer that pretended to study the lunch menu, clearly entertained by the scene made by the termination of my employment. “And books? And electric? I pay for everything myself.” His lips pressed into a tight line, but the way his hands were set on his hips, I could tell my sob story wasn’t working.

  “I’m sorry, Monroe.” He shook his head and I huffed loudly, racking my brain for the right words to say to change his mind. I couldn’t think of a single thing. “I’ll put your final check in the mail, that way you don’t have to….” He trailed off as I pierced him with one final glare.

  “Fine, whatever.” I scooped up my purse, throwing the apron that I was still clutching in his face. Take that, Denny. “By the way,” I called over my shoulder in the direction of the customer still waiting at the counter. “Nothing here is organic, the bread isn’t freshly baked—far from it—and I would totally avoid the mayo. Denny there still lives with his mom and he seems to spend a large amount of time locked away in his office, if you know what I mean.” Okay, so, that last part I added on just to be a bitch, but Denny deserved it. The customer gasped dramatically and Denny shouted something after me just as I opened the door, but I really didn’t care what he had to say. Now, I needed to figure out what I was going to do.

  I ignored the scenery around me as I drove home. My apartment complex sat just near the edge of campus, so it wasn’t too pricey but still within walking distance of pretty much everything. I had been in Georgia for two years, and the beauty of the campus still distracted me—normally. It was a whole lot different from my hometown back in Michigan.

  This time of year they could even be seeing snow. In fact, I think my mom mentioned something about a few flurries when we last spoke. Thinking about my mom made my body tense up once again. What was I going to do now that I didn’t have a job? I was lucky when I first arrived on campus as a freshman, not knowing anyone or anything about the area, but still finding a job right away at the sandwich shop. It was close to school, paid okay, and had no problem working around my school schedule—at least that’s what I’d thought. I knew jobs were hard to find, I had a few friends that had been searching for a while now with no luck. I could honestly say that I had never found myself in this type of situation before.

  I was the oldest child out of three. I was always the responsible and mature one over my sister and brother. They constantly seemed to get into trouble, but I was the one who stayed home instead of going out with friends, choosing to study or read instead. The only extracurricular activity I participated in was ballet. I’ve always enjoyed dancing, kept up with it over the years, and even participated in a few competitions.

  But like everything else in my life, I was just okay—only average.

  So when I decided to go away for school, hours away from home, instead of sticking close by at the community college, I shocked the shit out of everyone that knew me. I didn’t have a scholarship because, while I got decent grades, they were nothing spectacular. I just felt like I needed something different, to step away from the realm of what everyone expected from Monroe Hartley. I started working as soon as it was legal, so I had quite a bit put away in my savings, along with a decent car that I purchased on my own. I basically pointed at the map and my finger landed on Georgia. I was accepted soon after applying to the University of Georgia, which led me to Athens. My parents couldn’t believe it; my mom bawled for days, and I almost gave in—almost—but one of my strongest traits was my extreme stubbornness. Once I had my mind set on something, it was very hard to change it.

  My parents offered what little they’d put aside for my education, but it barely covered my gas out of Michigan. They didn’t have much money and I was okay with that. I got that they did their best for us. My siblings on the other hand, well, they weren’t as understanding. Just thinking about Holland and Jackson annoyed me. Apparently, I had inherited all of the independence in our family as well because neither one of them were self-sufficient. They still milked our parents for everything that they possibly could, not blinking an eyelash over the fact that our mom and dad could barely afford their own bills.

  Reality hit when I got to Georgia though and that nice chunk of savings I had started to slowly dwindle away, going toward books, rent, utilities, and all of the other miscellaneous expenses that came along when living on your own. I got by okay, but I depended on my weekly paycheck.

  I shook my head as I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. My dark mood tried to stick around as long as possible, but it was pretty hard to let it once I saw my best friend. She popped out of her car, tapping on my window with one of her perfectly manicured, red fingernails, and gave me a sweet smile, her bright white teeth practically blinding me.

  “What are you doing here, Amelia?”

  “Monroe,” she scoffed, looping her arm through mine. “You’re having a crisis. Whenever there’s a crisis, a girl needs her best friend.” She flicked back a piece of her long, golden blonde hair, giving me one of those pageant smiles she was famous for. I was pretty sure ninety-percent of the student population knew Amelia Emerson, and somehow, I ended up as her best friend. I still had no idea how. She was the quintessential southern belle; her makeup and clothes were always flawless, her manners were some of the best I had ever witnessed in my life, and she was friendly to everyone. The only time she tended to let her hair down just a little bit was when we were alone, out of the public eye. She wasn’t fake; she just didn’t know how to let go sometimes. I couldn’t blame her. It had been drilled into her head to always be perfect, probably straight out of the womb by that mom of hers.

  “I told you on the phone that you didn’t need to come over.” I pushed open the door to my apartment and Amelia followed me in, immediately heading toward the kitchen like she did every time she came over, even though she knew there was hardly ever anything in there. She rolled her eyes when she opened the cupboard next to the fridge and at least five boxes of Milk Duds tumbled to the floor. She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “How is it that you can’t even afford to buy yourself a jar of spaghetti sauce, but yet you seem to have an endless supply of those?” She pointed to the yellow boxes that I quickly scooped up and hugged tightly to my body. Milk Duds were my guilty pleasure, the one thing that I turned to when I was having a bad day. I had a feeling they were going to be my other best friend for a while until I figured things out.

  Amelia shrugged her shoulders and walked into the living room, plopping down as she kicked her heels off. “So, we need to come up with a plan. I don’t know why you just won’t move into the dorms with me. You know my roommate is never there. No one would ever know. Imagine the money you could save.”

  “Nope.” I shook my head and collapsed next to her. “That’s not happening. I could get kicked out of school if they found out.”

  “Oh please, Roe. I highly doubt that. Why do you have to be so stubborn about things? How about I give you a loan? Daddy owes me some back allowance. I can give it to you and you can pay me back whenever you get back on your feet.”

  “Amelia.” I sighed loudly as she rattled on about all of the ideas she had come up with in the short amount of time since finding out I lost my job. Amelia was spoiled, to say the least, and she knew it, but she really didn’t let it go to her head, believe it or not. She always tried to give her money away to friends or charities, only occasionally splurging on a shopping spree or two, here and there.

  “Okay, well I knew that you wouldn’t like any of my ideas, so here.” She pushed a newspaper into my hands, bringing me back to reality.

  “I knew you were my best friend for a reason.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You got that right.” She giggled, pointing to where she had circled some letters with a little heart. “I even found one for you. I think it’s exactly what you’re lookin
g for.”

  I quickly read the ad, rolling my eyes at Amelia who clutched her stomach, her whole body shaking from the laughter she tried to contain.

  “You’re so funny. Maybe you should apply for a job there.”

  “It’s for a strip club, isn’t it?” She covered her mouth with her hand, whispering the question as if someone were going to hear her utter the words strip club. Her mama might just faint if she ever found out that such vulgar language even existed in Amelia’s vocabulary.

  “I’m assuming so. Do you want to go find out?” I smiled wryly and she shivered at just the thought.

  “Monroe Hartley, that is disgusting.” She emphasized, her button nose scrunching up slightly. “I would never be able to step foot in a place like that. Could you imagine?” She trembled again. “Yuck. Now, you, on the other hand….” She trailed off and I pushed my eyebrows together.

  “What exactly are you trying to say?”

  “Really, Monroe? I think I know that you’re not a…you’re not that way. I just figured with that booty pop you love to work, you could probably make some really good money.”

  “That booty pop only comes out when I’m drunk, which is rare. So I think I’m good, but thanks for the suggestion.”

  Amelia stayed for a little while longer, helping me read-through the classifieds, but really, there didn’t seem to be anything worthwhile. I was starting to panic a little, but kept a smile plastered on my face, not wanting Amelia to see that I was worried. I didn’t need her or anyone else’s help. I would figure something out. There was no way in hell I would let myself fail and have to run back to Michigan with my tail between my legs. Nope. Not happening. This was just a tiny bump in the road that I would cruise right on over.

  And there was no way in hell I needed to go work as a stripper, no matter how many times Amelia suggested it.

  I COULDN’T BELIEVE I was actually doing it. I hesitantly looked around the mostly empty parking lot, waiting for someone I knew to pop out of nowhere and ask me what in the hell I was doing at a place like this. Not even Amelia knew I was here. She first brought it up as a total joke, and at the time, I found it slightly funny. Things soon changed, it was officially a different story. I had bills piling up, past due notices stacked high on my kitchen countertop, and to top it all off, my car was starting to act up. Wasn’t it funny how things like that only happened at the worst possible time?