The Taste of Silver | Fortune's Fool #2

29 | cry me rivers

When I'd visited The Bolshoi Ballet Academy during my younger summer holidays, the staff members had taken one glance at my coarse afro-textured hair and sent me away. To save the Lisin family from disgrace, Babushka and Dedushka had bribed for me to have a space, yet this came at the expense of daily reminders about my failure to belong and the shame I had brought upon the household.

'All this could have been averted had that excuse of a man not manipulated our daughter into a relationship.'

'Life could have been so much easier without this embarrassment of a child.'

My hair had been straightened by others so many times as a child that it was now permanently damaged, leaving me no choice but to always wear it straight.  Most people didn't even realise that my natural hair fell in the most beautiful curls.

Or used to anyway.

I don't care anyway. It's irrelevant.

I chugged the rest of my champagne, before signalling for the hospitality staff to bring me another. The brown haired man had obviously seen me beckoning him, but stealthily looked away, pretending he hadn't.

My eyes narrowed into slits.

What on earth?

I tried again, but the second staff member ignored me too, instead looking away directly behind me, slightly to the right. I followed their gaze to see Mike finish mouthing something at them, with an angry look.

Oh, fuck that. Screw him if he thought he was going to put me on a drinking ban and cut me dry for the night.

I glared at him hard until I got his attention, before flipping him off. He was daft if he thought I couldn't take matters into my own hand.

Leaning to my right, I whispered to Gabriel that I'd be back shortly, before sliding out my seat and quietly exiting the grand room. The bar had closed as soon as the acts began but I'd discovered where the kitchen was, and alongside where the wine cooler was.

Considering the dinner service was over, as expected, the kitchens were empty, and rather stupidly unlocked.

In haste, I went straight to the large cupboard near the far end of the kitchen, hoping for a bottle of white when a figure stepped out from out of the corner.

A small shriek escaped my mouth as I stumbled backwards, somehow managing to steady myself in my heels. "Mama! What the hell? You scared the life out of me. Don't do that."

Her eyes widened for a second as she quickly apologised. She'd worn a vivid green dress the same shade as her eyes, alongside a pair of black heels. The dress hugged her figure, aging her in reverse at least a decade.

"Your grandfather wanted some black tea, but you know how he only likes it when it's made by me. I thought I'd just come out for a second so he can enjoy it when Zhenya comes out to perform."

I rolled my eyes. Typical Mama. "You're too late. Zhenya's almost finished." Mumbling under my breath, I opened the cupboard and observed what bottles were hidden away, "But may as well continue being their servant as usual. No voice, no thought. Be my guest."

Malbec, Sauvignon Blanc, Merlot.

What would Gabriel fancy? Actually that doesn't matter. He's probably gonna have a spirit anyway, given it's late-ish. The real question is what do I fancy-

"Talisa. Don't speak about them like that. You should have some respect," my mother reported sharply as I twisted my lips, crouching down by the wine bottles.