Chapter 10 Arabelle
Arabelle
Exhaustion. I can’t escape it.
My life revolves around rehearsals, performances, after-parties, and photoshoots.
It’s not a complaint because I love to dance, and I work hard to do the one thing I love to do.
My mom used to say that there’s always a downside to the things you love to do.
With age comes understanding, and now, I get it.
At three, I put on my first pair of ballet shoes. Dance comes naturally to me, which has led some to call me a prodigy. The stage is where I find peace and feel at home. Even now that I’m older, the excitement of performing remains.
Dance is everything to me. It’s in my bones. It’s the very air that I breathe. But I can admit it gets lonely.
I’m lonely.
I have nothing outside my life at the theater.
The women around me are untrustworthy because they are always looking for any weakness so they can take my place.
So, I have to be conscious of that fact anytime anyone tries to befriend me.
I learned my lesson a long time ago when it comes to my colleagues.
They are not my enemies, but they are not my friends either.
This career is cutthroat, and I have to always remember that, especially with the more fame I gain.
So because my life centers around the theater, I have no friends to hang out with, and I have never had a real boyfriend. Not even my family comes around unless they want something.
I lost my mother at a young age, and it’s hard for me to recall much about her.
The memory that always stays with me is her guidance to plié, her knees bending perfectly, and her arms extended gracefully.
Despite her small size, her voice remains firm yet proud, offering words of encouragement as I follow her guidance, saying, “Great job, my lovely Belle.” Her words of praise always echo in my mind whenever I achieve something.
Although my mother has passed, my father is still alive and well. However, he only contacts me when he wants something or believes I need to work harder for his benefit.
In the past year, he’s been bothering me more because of the rumors circulating about me becoming the principal dancer. I’ve become a way for him to get money more than anything else. It’s sad, but I believe if it weren’t for dance, I wouldn’t have any contact with him or my sisters.
My sister, Raven, who is the middle child, needs rehab and medical care due to her alcohol addiction.
My oldest sister, Angela, is a vindictive bitch always trying to get ahead in her life on my name and on her back.
My father is addicted to gambling and always expects me to bail him out financially.
I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m my family’s meal ticket.
Without my money, they would probably not give a damn about me or what happens to me.
“Do either of you know what this is about?” Raven asks.
She gulps down the last of her beer sitting in front of her before taking the cap off another one.
I respond with an eye roll and with a glare directed at her.
She hasn’t been out of rehab for very long.
To ensure she received the best care, I covered all of the expenses for her stay in an exclusive rehab facility out west, even though my father didn’t contribute one dime after he made me believe he would help.
At this point, she’s had no less than three beers while we’ve been sitting here.
God knows how many she’s had before now, and she’ll have at least six more before calling it quits with the beer and moving on to the wine cabinet.
Although I’d like to question her about it, she gets defensive, and I lack the energy to argue with her about something she doesn’t want to change.
I used to feel sorry for her and Angela.
I believe our mother’s death set them on their destructive paths, Raven’s being the path of alcoholism.
Angela surrounds herself with countless men who care nothing for her, hoping they’ll make her life easier.
But now I just believe neither gives a shit about anything, and both are determined to continue down their destructive paths, regardless.
So, I don’t feel sorry for them anymore.
We’ve all handled our mother’s death differently, including my father.
Now, all of them are just using her death as an excuse.
I’ve been back in New York not even an hour, and my father has already called a family meeting, so whatever he’s got to say can’t be good. The flight from California was long, and all I want to do is sleep for a few days before I go back to work. I want to have no worries. Just relaxation.
“It’s something to do with Belle, like always,” Angela scoffs. “Raven, you know Belle’s all daddy cares about, anyway.”
Raven grunts, nodding in agreement. I ignore my older sister’s snide remark.
She hates me, and it’s only gotten worse the older we’ve gotten.
As the youngest, I’ve never been close with either of my sisters.
Both would rather use me than have a real relationship with me.
I’ve come to terms with their jealousy and hate for me.
“I don’t know why he’s called a meeting,” I say, scrolling through my phone, returning emails from my agent confirming my schedule for the next month.
I’ve got two one-week performances, rehearsals, and a few photoshoots.
Three days of rest isn’t enough time, but I’ll have to make do. “I just got here.”
“Good,” my father says as he walks in and sits at the head of the dining room table, interrupting our conversation. “I’m glad you’re all here.”
He places a manila folder on the table in front of him.
“What’s going on, Daddy?” Raven asks, sipping from the bottle of beer. “You said it was urgent.”
My father’s eyes narrow on her while she continues drinking like nothing’s wrong.
Like I didn’t just spend my hard-earned money to get her help.
And for a brief second, it looks like my father will say something to her, but the disapproving shake of his head is the only acknowledgment he gives to Raven while she continues to drink.
The money I spent on rehab was a waste. I’m going to have to cut them off sometime soon.
“Well, I need each of you to know that our family company and name are on the line with this deal.”
I sit back in my chair and eye my father with a critical gaze. While he’s speaking to all of us, he only looks at my sisters, and my hackles rise.
“What’s going on with the company?” I ask, hoping to get the truth, knowing it’s unlikely.
“It’s nothing for you to be concerned about, Belle,” he says, looking at me for the first time since he walked into the room, which did not ease my concern. “None of you need to worry. Not anymore. I’ve handled it.”
The effortlessness with which he lies is quite alarming. If he insists there’s no reason for me to worry, that usually means I should start worrying.
Has he always been like this?
When I was young, like most little girls, my dad was my hero, especially after my mother passed away.
Without fail, he’d bring us gifts from his business trips whenever he was away.
Of course, my sisters would always ask for something expensive—jewelry, designer clothes.
Anything they could flash at their friends, they had to have it.
All I wanted was my favorite flower: a single red rose from wherever he had visited.
Now, there are no longer any roses. Not from him, anyway.
I’m the one who’s always giving. He has become unrecognizable to me.
A leech.
His eyes are heavy with trepidation and fear, as if weighed down by an invisible burden.
In fact, as I pay closer attention to him, I realize his entire appearance is unusual.
His designer suit doesn’t conceal his noticeable weight loss, the paleness of his skin, or the lackluster expression in his eyes.
“Are you sick?”
Both my sisters’ lack of reaction to my question is typical and unsurprising.
They’re less concerned with what’s happening if the conversation doesn’t revolve around them.
Despite knowing my father only values me for what I can provide, I can’t help but worry about him more than I probably should because he’s still my father.
“No, I’m not.”
I nod, relief sinking in instantly. I’m not sure if it’s the truth, but something has caused his sickly appearance. Maybe it’s this deal concerning the company.
“Are you going to keep us in suspense?” my oldest sister asks, picking at her manicured nails.
Her nonchalant attitude has always irked me. She doesn’t have a care in the world because everything with this family always sits on my shoulders. She doesn’t have anything to worry about as long as I fund her existence.
“We know it has something to do with Belle,” she continues. “It always does. Let’s get it over with because I have a date.”
“Of course, you do,” I mumble. “The unlucky bastard.”
“It would do you some good to get fucked too, ice princess,” she sneers.
I roll my eyes. “Having sex is the least of my worries, Angela, especially when I have to work. You know, make a living? But, of course, you wouldn’t know anything about that since I’m the one funding your lifestyle.”
“You bitch!” she screams, jumping up from her seat.
“Could you both stop this damn bickering? Sit down, Angela.” My father runs his hand down his face. “This is too important.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” I apologize.
Of course, Angela won’t apologize even if her life depended on it. Even as adults, some things will never change. I should stop expecting them to.
“I’ve been offered a business proposition,” my father says, a rare smile gracing his face. “A very lucrative business proposition.”
“What kind?” Raven asks before I have the chance to. “And what does it have to do with me?”