The Under Boss's Ballerina [18+]

43

"Yes." She agrees. "In Florence. I can't pronounce your spaghetti tortellini hotel name, sorry."

Despite of the grey cloud looming over my mood and the turn that life took last night, her humor makes me laugh.

"Don't get me wrong, I love this country." She says.

"It doesn't have a bitchy weather like London, as if her boyfriend is fucking her best friend. I love the food, the people are kind and lovely. I love the shops and all but just the language though-"

I chuckle.

"I can't seem to understand any." She complains.

"Maybe you should get a tutor." I say, looking up at the ceiling.

"Maybe." Blaire huffs. "I feel left out because everybody don't want to speak English."

I nod. "Reasonable."

She nods.

A short silence follows us as Blaire sighs again. "How do you feel?" She asks.

"I don't know." I reply to my friend.

"I'm sorry." She adds.

"Not you fault, bubs." I say. "You didn't do nothing."

"I have this raging anger through me." She says covering her eyes with her fingers, peaking out from thee gaps. "Like whichever mother fuckers did this, I want to hurt him. Like really bad."

I shake my head.

"Like- like I want to really hurt him." She adds. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"You're angry." I reply. "You want to show your anger, it does not make you or anybody a bad person."

"However, if you do really really hurt him, it makes you unreasonable." I add.

"People aren't good or bad, they're just-" I throw my hand toward the ceiling, ad if throwing a handful of imaginary dust at the ceiling.

"They're just- misguided. Brain washed. Mid understood." I say, not quiet finding the right word to voice my thoughts.

"I really like your concept, bubbles." Blaire says. "But I don't believe you. People are good and bad. Like you're good and Janice is bad. She is a bitch. She's greedy. She's mean."

"Blaire!" I warn. "She's your mother."

"I'll tell you what." Blaire looks at me. "Coralyn has been more of a mother to me in these past weeks than Janice has been in twenty years and also, she can fuck right off with her money and all that malarkey."

I shake my head.

Sometimes making Blaire understand was the hardest job anybody can bestow me with. So I don't bother her with her sudden outburst with anger with her mom.

"Are you excited?" I guess turning to face her, popping myself up on my elbow. "For your tour?"

Blaire shrugs. "I'll see, when you feel well."

I look at the women perplexed. "You are waiting up for me?"

"Isn't that obvious?" She asks as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't know nothing about this place, I don't know your spaghetti language- so obviously I need a guide."

I laugh, shaking my head.

"But I know you might not want to go and sightsee with me or stuff your face with street foods when you aren't feeling that grand." Blaire says.

I frown. "Blaire- don't treat me like a glass doll, please."

"I am grand. And I will gladly go with you to wherever you want-"