Once I knew where Mauro was stationed outside of the school building, sneaking out became too easy. I strutted down the sidewalk that I knew Amo would be at and somehow that made my heart beat faster, smiling to myself amongst the busy streets of New York for having my very own secret. You'd think someone like me would know when someone was out to ruin me. I saw the thrill of the hunt in his eyes. No good relationship was started on the basis of someone wanting to achieve something through the other. I knew proud men didn't take well to being told what to do. I was all too aware of the dangers of this. Yet, still so very unconcerned about it. There were a hundred reasons not to play into his temptation but still, a quiet yet very urgent feeling in my heart told me to go. If it wasn't for listening to my heart I wouldn't be in this city, I wouldn't have continued ballet. Although sometimes a tumultuous route, in the end I had found it was always worth listening to that small little voice that felt like home. I knew whatever it had to say, it had good reason to say it. Perhaps even to say goodbye. I didn't know and I wasn't as nervous about that fact as I usually was. With Amo it seemed like there was nothing to lose in the situation, except perhaps some of my pride.
I felt lost amidst so many people. So many stories I felt like a tiny drop of water in a sea of people. I looked up at the streets signs trying to orientate myself. Here I thought I could find my way without the map-"Well isn't it my swan princess." I looked over relieved to see Amo, I didn't realize how nice it was for someone to see me specifically. He was standing near a storefront, looking out of place among the typical lunch crowd. "Hello," I said, trying to stay grounded and not to be swept up with his antics today. "You never cease to amaze me in your determination to embarrass yourself in all situations. What are you wearing?" he said as I walked up to him. "This is what I always wear." I had come straight from a three hour rehearsal and would have to continue it after lunch. I had in the meantime donned on my many layers to keep me warm. I had on some loose joggers, leg warmers, a cardigan wrap top and my favorite booties. "I have reservations but I can't guarantee they won't kick you out looking like that," he said as if he couldn't wait to see it. "What even are those things?" He looked at my shoes with disdain. "They're called Russian point booties and these are actually very high end. But that's all beside the point. I'm going to lunch somewhere else, I've actually found a vegan restaurant around the corner." "You couldn't pay me to go to a vegan restaurant," he deadpanned. "Good, I didn't invite you and lunch will be much more appetizing without your face in my proximity." I smiled mischievously and sauntered down the paved sidewalk. Not being subtle in the fact I was luring him in, unsurprised when I heard his footsteps behind me. I was doing society a favor, he needed his ego notched down a few pegs.
"Did you even get the story?" "The price falls in love with the wrong girl," he said, surprisingly right. The cafe was even cuter than the pictures, the salt and pepper shakers were in little cat figures, plants crept up the wall and all the chairs were repurposed, each one a different style. I explained further, "The prince thinks he knows her but she's just an illusion of the truth. Not real. But the prince thinks she's the girl he loves and knows and wrongly proposes to her, in turn cursing his love forever. Only broken by the ultimate sacrifice so they can both be together forever, free." "Death? To be with the one they loved?" he said in mockery. "Love is the strongest emotion of all, it makes total sense," I said seriously. "That's why it's the most dangerous. It leads you down places you should have more common sense than to go." "I would assume it would be worth it... in the end," I said contemplatively as the waiter came up to the table and my excitement returned as I read off the menu, "Hi, I'll have the garden spring wraps and the soup looks really good too. Could I do the butternut squash one? And the salad with extra avocado and dressing on the side. Oh, I'll also have two of the blueberry muffins to go and...That's all. Thank you." I gave her the menu, excited to try the place I thought I would never be able to go to. But here I was! Dreams were coming true. Except this wasn't exactly how I had pictured it in my mind, no that didn't include an all too wary man scrutinizing me across my seat. "What?" I asked Amo. "You eat a lot," he observed. "Do you have absolutely any women in your life? You've managed to insult my appetite and my clothing within fifteen minutes!" "I do have women in my life but they know how to tie their own shoes so they don't have to walk around in velcro space boots." "They don't have velcro, they're slip ons," I said realizing while the words were coming out that it wasn't helping my case. "I happen to exercise a lot," I said instead with confidence. "I exercise too. You don't see me cleaning out their whole kitchen." "Exercise what? Your opinions?" I laughed. "I box for one," he said, annoyed. "I know how to box,'' I said in mock triumph. "No. You don't. Whatever you're doing is not boxing." I don't know why I was defending something I detested so dearly. "I do, why do you have to be so narrow minded about everything?" It was five minutes into the meal and we were already fighting. "Once you've been around this city long enough, you too would hold only pessimism to anyone you meet." "I don't concur," I said. "Of course you don't, I won't even ask you why because I'm sure you'll just go on anyway." I ignored him and continued, "I think it is the judgment you bring to the meeting that determines the outcomes, if you only expect the worst out of everybody all you will be met with is the worst. You're just inflicting your own pain so you can be right about your own ideologies. Not willing to try something else because then you might prove yourself wrong." "My job is to deal with the worst of New York, that's outside of my judgment, that's the legal term for it." "What do you do for work?" "Business," He said, awfully sure of himself. "That's very vague." "And yet so very interesting at the same time, aren't those the best kind of qualities in people? The people who don't reveal all their playing cards in the first meeting? You wouldn't want a synopsis of your favorite book after the first page. The intrigue is what keeps you invested in the journey. In the end it shatters your beliefs you hold so close. It reminds you there are still components to this reality you have no idea what lies beneath it." I smiled meekly at his response, he was mimicking me but I only felt warmth from it. All the times I wanted to discuss underlying philosophical questions which were met with death ears. I liked this side of Amo. "I need to go, make sure you're not getting your feathers caught or whatever you do in this school of yours," I was about to go on another monolog about ballet when he turned and said. "If you want to know what real boxing is, meet me tonight at my gym and I'll show your ballerina ass what it really is." An invitation, a challenge to continue the game and see what lies beneath it. Another part of me very realistically saw this as childish and beneath me, not to mention I hated boxing. "I get to pick the music," I said, dancing with the idea. "Done," he said with determination in his eyes. "I'll be there." Those words were getting me into trouble lately.
Amo stood outside the entrance like a man you would want to avoid. I would even go so far as to walking over to the next street to avoid him. The cab driver who I gave the address to looked at me like I was crazy, then promptly sped away after I closed the cab door. Now I understand why. The place could very accurately be described as the harrowing alleyway my dad kept threatening me with that I would very likely be stabbed in. Water was dripping from somewhere although it hadn't rained all day. The lights were precariously blinking in uneven counts. I could hear voices echoing off a wall somewhere. Voices that were mad with a tone of vengefulness. A lone lost siren could be heard behind me weaving through the streets, seemingly not in a hurry to get anywhere. Then in the middle of it all was Amo, who looked as comfortable in this situation as if he was having tea in the garden. He looked at home in the dark shadows of a sketchy alleyway. Yet to me he was a beacon of light in this unknown place. I held onto my gym bag as I tried not to step in the various pot holes in the ground that held who knows what. Amo already had gym shorts on and a black top that hung low, framing his long torso. I somehow forgot how tall he was every time I saw him, mostly because whenever I was with him I felt myself to be ten feet tall and undefeatable. He looked like he had already worked out with his hair darker than normal. Above his right shoulder, peeking out of the neckline I saw the beginning of a tattoo. Sleek and mysterious as it came in and out of view. Nothing like the many tattoos Nevio inflicted on himself that littered his body. This tattoo was thought out, placed somewhere with intention behind it. Another layer revealed of this man, something that brought us closer somehow. Still so much more to reveal. I walked up to him and he still pretended to ignore me although I saw him tense his shoulders when I had first walked into the alleyway. He was hyper aware of his surroundings but not enough to acknowledge me. He finally looked up from his phone and his face was a plane of disappointment, behind it hid his excitement, a light in the eye. You could always see from the endearment of the eyes the true emotion of the beholder. Where you could pretend with your face, the eyes never lied. "You're wearing a skirt," he said disapprovingly. "It's actually a skort and it's much more versatile and comfortable than any leggings I own." "Disappointment," he said in a strong pronunciation. "What about it?" "I'm disappointed to see you here," he said with a grin. He then turned around and walked inside. I hated when people didn't invite me into places. I never knew if I should follow or not, but I guess I would much rather get away from my prominent death by stabbing in this alleyway. I walked into a cement box of a gym. It was surprisingly nice considering where we had just come from. Yet the space was unnecessarily masculine in the way it was designed to look ruff and tough. I mean It wouldn't kill them to put a sofa in here. At least six other people were here! I stood in shock for a second then ran up behind Amo and whispered, "Amo you know I don't like people." "Well say it as it is princess. It's night, it's gonna be busy with these new kids." He walked over to a boxing ring and started putting chalk on his hands and told me where I could choose the music when I inquired about it.
End Game, Taylor Swift.
When I walked back I was immediately met with refusal. "No. Choose another song." "This is the most badass album of hers!" "No." "You said I get to pick the music. I didn't take you as a man who would back out of his word so easily." He smiled with the challenge. I put on the tape and my gloves. "Come in," he held up the wire of the ring as if welcoming me into his home. I grabbed his hand and he hoisted me up. "Amo, what the fuck is this music?" A boy came up complaining. "Leave him alone," I defended Amo. The music was not only making me more excited but conveniently clearing out the gym as well. "I can't box to this," Amo complained. "True talent pertains through adversity, show me how good you are at boxing!" It felt intoxicating doing something so out of my comfort zone. I guess Aurora was right, hatred was a good emotion to have in the boxing ring. I was better than ever and Amo was surprised. I could see it behind his carefully composed face. He didn't expect me to know how to box. Nevio always said Dad was the best fighter he knew. I guess he was right to the fact that if I could pick up anything from my training, it was a miracle. I wasn't gonna knock Amo out anytime soon but I felt confident in the ring, something I never felt when boxing. I was having fun for the first time especially now that I had my music playing. "Big reputation, big reputation. Ohhh, you and me we got big reputations, Ahhh and you've heard about me, ohhh I got some big enemies-" I sang the lyrics while dancing. It felt like when me and Nevio would skip the practice and instead blast the music, I smiled at all the memories. Totally forgetting the boxing and screaming to the climax of the song. Everything felt so much more real, my senses were on overload. The flame growing without the usual glass barricade.
We were sitting on the bottom platform, a mat surrounding the ring on the floor, taking our gloves off. Now that the space was empty I looked around and appreciated the appearance. Very New York industrial. The lights on the wall against the aged brick gave it a castle appearance with modern workout equipment. A large plant and perhaps a Turkish rug, this place would look like an upscale Architectural Digest piece. "I like the style," I said quietly to the echo of the room. My eardrums were still adjusting from the loud music and after the burning workout I felt the cold chill of the room. "What? The cement or the brick?" "I like that it's not new, it's not mass produced. It has character, stories of what used to be." "If only these walls could talk," Amo said, taking the conversation somewhere darker with his somber tone. Then, turning to me said, "I called a car for you, it should be here in five minutes." He got up checking his watch as he walked over to put his towel in a bin. "Where are you going?" I asked, still sitting down, giving myself permission to watch him, to notice the little moves that others might not notice. I wanted to know things about him that the world didn't. I didn't want to wonder about him from a car window. I wanted to know all his mysteries and unsaid words. His back muscles were strung tight, yet he pulled off a laissez faire attitude and a distant look on his face. Probably for people to underestimate him, but I saw him as a wound up snake, ready to strike. "I'm going on a date tonight," he said clinically. "Don't flatter yourself, no woman would voluntarily put herself through that," I joked, feeling the energy getting too tense. "You'd be surprised. I'm quite the bachelor pick of New York." "Really? What's her name?" That shut him up. "Something starting with A... don't give me that look, she's real." I smiled and got up, walking to put the towel away in the basket, still picking at the sweaty tape stuck on my hands. I turned back to see Amo staring at me. My small smile slipped as I felt the seriousness of his gaze. I looked away to break the stare, put off by his demeanor change. "You don't belong here. You should stay away from this part of the city." "You're the one who invited me here." "Because I thought you had better judgment than that, you are as reckless as you are blind." "Well at least I know you." "Really? Indulge me in the benefit of that fact." "You seem comfortable here and who better to know than a local in the dark corners of this world." He chuckled at me, like you would at a naive little kid. "You think this is like your little concerts, a story to tell but it is much more than that. Once you know these streets you become a citizen to them. There's no going back from that. You don't get to take your costume off at the end of the day, instead you find it becomes embedded in you so much you question what is real. You unbeknownst become a player in this world that doesn't ever let you go." "Like Von Rothbart's curse? You disappoint me with your lack of resourcefulness. There are always ways to transform the curses of this world and this is what has built the greatest stories in history, those who don't succumb to what they are told and instead turn it to something beautiful." "Like Von Rothbart's curse the only way out of this place is death. It's not very creative but if I can't escape these streets at least I can become king of them." "Better to be the greater evil than the lesser evil?" I handed Amo the gloves. We both heard the approaching car but still held each other's eyes. "Do you have your phone with you?" he asked. "I don't have a phone," I said. I wasn't good with technology but I'd already deleted the text messages between me and Alissa on the night I snuck out. I wasn't going to push my luck so far as to put Amo's number on there. "Oh, you don't? What do you have instead, a conch shell? Everybody has a phone in this city." "My parents are... conservative," I said. That was some semblance of the truth. He took my hand where I was toying with the last of the tape. It took all my strength not to pull away my hand. The touch was burning me with new feelings. "Meet me Eight o'clock, Friday night. The same spot you met me for lunch." I looked up at him perplexed as he ripped the last bit of tape off. "Ow!" I should be thankful, the pain was like a bucket of cold water so I could think clearly. "After you just called me stupid for listening to you in the first place? Besides I can't, I'm not supposed to be here. My parents graciously complied to let me come to New York, to practice ballet. I can't just keep walking over their gift like that. I need to focus," or at least I kept telling myself that. "It's amazing how you deny yourself so easily. How quickly you go from being empowered to going back to the docile obedient daughter your expected to be. What are you going back home to? Your pink bedroom and your small dreams that fit inside the expectations of everyone else? Denying the fact you have needs. Content to be locked away for your whole life. Sounds like you're a bit of a hypocrite." I didn't have anything to reply to that. The car's engine was still in the background echoing off the walls. Amo walked away to a sink, ending the conversation. I got my things and looked back at Amo but he still had his back to me. Saying bye was at the tip of my tongue but it was so weak I didn't want to say it in front of him. I walked outside and got into the car and told the man upfront to drop me off at the school. It was a car that felt familiar. I was used to silent chauffeurs and luxury SUVs. Carting me anywhere I went my whole life. I looked out the window the whole drive back, not at other people but at nothing in particular. It sat bitterly the fact that Amo was too close to the truth. All along as he had been revealing small things about himself to me, he too had been stealing away things about me. I had underestimated him, just as he had probably played many others. The question was if I was going to continue to blindly contribute to my own demise.