Page 88 of For Your Eyes Only
“That’s right. I never would have jeopardized everything for astripper.”
My lips part as the word slices through me like a knife.
“You lied to me, and now it’s time for you to go.” He turns, striding to his bedroom where my partially packed suitcase is on the bed.
I’m blinking fast, but the tears are coming too quickly for me to stop them. My nose is hot, and I’m trying to see, trying to wipe the moisture from my face. When I reach the room, he’s throwing the rest of my things in the open case.
“But what about Bianca? I have to tell her goodbye…”
He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at me. He continues moving fast, not bothering to fold anything or arrange it in any way.
I’m having trouble breathing as I watch my costumes, my dresses,slam, slam, slam, one after the other he throws my things into the suitcase. Then he storms into the bathroom.
Carefully, I creep to the bed, arranging my dresses with trembling fingers. I can’t see for the tears burning in my eyes.Why is he doing this?
“Put on your shoes,” he orders. “You can’t walk around like a barefoot peasant at the airport.”
Everything he says is a hit to the stomach, a slap to the face.
“Trip, I’m so sorry.” I go to where he’s standing, trying to wrap my arms around his rigid, unyielding shoulders. “You’re right. I should have told you. I was wrong, and I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please don’t send me away.”
Strong hands grasp my arms, removing them from his body. “You knew this would end one day.”
“I did?” My voice cracks. “I thought we would go to New York. I thought I would get a job there, dance with the company, pursue my dream.”
“What gave you that idea?”
My throat is so dry, I can’t answer.
“I don’t wantyou.” He shakes his head, a cruel smile on his face. “It was never about you. It was the fantasy, the chase. It was about fuckingGlitter Girl.”
“I don’t believe that!”
He turns, slamming my suitcase closed and zipping it. “Believe it.”
“But…” I’m broken, a child begging. “I love you.”
For the flash of a second, I think I see him yield. It’s gone so fast, I must’ve imagined it.
He only growls. “Put. On. Your. Shoes.”
With those words, my heart dies. Like a dying star, it pulls everything inside me as it collapses. The butterflies are dead. The dreams are ashes. My lungs struggle to expand. My fingers are numb as I put on my sandals, fasten the buckles.
He rolls my suitcase out of the bedroom, not even waiting for me, all the way to the door, passing it to a large man I’ve never seen before.
“Marco will drive you to the airport, and he’ll watch you board the plane.” He hands me the brown envelope. “Defy him, and I’ll have you forcibly deported.”
He’s not taking me to the airport. He’s throwing me out like garbage.
Oh, God, it’s all happening so fast, my head is spinning, my chest is hollow. I can’t find my bearings. I can’t find anything to hold onto. I’m in the path of a roaring tornado, and it’s ripping my world to shreds, destroying everything, tearing it up by the roots and slamming it to the ground.
No…
God, no…
I have to hold on. I have to walk out of here with something, the last shred of my dignity. I’m a dancer, after all. I’ve spent years training my body to move, even through the worst physical pain, even on bleeding and blistered feet.
Summoning all the strength I have left in the world, I force myself to stand straighter, to face him through the tears, through the invisible nails clawing at my neck.