A Word of Praise

Kiara was having the exact opposite of a blast. The changing room they set aside for her was bigger than she was used to, and it seemed like the old childhood bedroom of an entitled little prick. It probably was, considering what she’d seen so far.

One of the party organizers had thoroughly instructed a servant to lead her there through the back entrance, so the attendees wouldn’t catch a glimpse of the ‘performer’ before the ‘main act’.

Main act my ass. All those stuck-up moneybags couldn’t care less about her performance. They would certainly be busy closing billion-dollar deals and complaining about the rise of the minimum wage.

The agency hadn’t specified what kind of event it was but based on the size of the kitchen she went through and the number of servants running like crazy, she assumed it was a fancy-ass party. And thrown by the modern equivalent of royalty, no doubt.

Who else would hire an aerialist to perform in the middle of a ballroom and guarantee a ceiling height of twenty feet for her silks? Not even the professional tent she performed on the summer had that kind of structure, but those messed up people thought their home should have a triple-height ceiling to compensate for their small dicks.

She wandered around the room, getting familiar with the place. Bounced a bit on the perfectly laid bed, messed the order of books too clean to have ever been read. She had a bit of time before she needed to get ready because they made her arrive two hours before the show.

The action figures were kind of cool, but still too systematically organized for her taste. The owner even sorted them out by cinematic universe, for Christ’s sake! Kiara couldn’t help herself and switched the Hulk and Batman. Much better.

She considered taking the Spider-Man as her prize, but it still didn’t feel quite right. She deserved something else from that place, something nice. So she kept on searching, opening a few drawers and cabinets to find her trophy of the night.

Most of them were empty, suggesting the room was indeed a leftover from the child that once lived there. Probably the heir to that damn empire if she were to guess.

One drawer, much to her delight, was locked. The promise of hidden treasures was too much for her, and she couldn’t contain the small devilish smile that made its way to her face.

She opened her traveling costume bag and took out a hair clip, trying to remember the YouTube video she saw the other day about unlocking doors with the thing. It took her way longer than the video suggested, and she had to watch it a few more times to get it done. But soon enough, she heard that magnificent click sound and bingo.

Inside the faithful drawer was a full collection of jewelry. She was no expert, but the total sum would undoubtedly surpass the order of millions. She rummaged through the pieces as if she were accustomed to it, but the truth was she had never put her hands in that amount of money before. Least of all that literally.

Her fingers felt the sharpness of the diamonds – at least she thought they were diamonds – and took a few pieces out to help her see everything inside. You had to be filthy rich to pile up gemstones like that. It looked like her lingerie closet, and that was saying a lot.

After a few minutes of search, her index finger accidentally worn a magnificent diamond ring that immediately caught her eye. It was a fucking masterpiece! Unlike most other pieces, it wasn’t ostentatious or heavy. Two crossing bands filled with little stones, converging to a slightly bigger one in the middle.

That was it. She couldn’t even argue. That perfect little ring would be her prize for the night. It slid to her finger by itself, it wasn’t even her fault. She chewed over the idea of wearing it to her performance, weighing the risk.

It didn’t take her long to conclude she should go for it. The piece would be too small to be seen from up high, and nobody would pay much attention to her anyway. She was mildly concerned it could get stuck in the aerial silk, but it was clearly made to be worn with fancy lace dresses without tearing them apart. Her instrument would be safe.

Kiara checked the time and began her preparation. She still had an hour to get everything ready before midnight. How original, scheduling a performance to the party right at midnight.

Her process was fairly simple, but she took it seriously. It was her art she was talking about, and even though those unappreciative bastards might not pay much attention, she would perform with all her heart. She only hoped that at least one soul would watch carefully enough to take a piece of it home, much like she’d do with her new ring.

That night she would present a personal favorite, a fifteen-minute performance to the piano version of Sia’s Chandelier. Not that they deserved it, of course. But she didn’t get many opportunities of a ceiling high enough to allow her to ‘swing’ from the virtual ‘chandelier’.

She wanted to perform it at a festival she took part in a while back, but much to her dismay the inner circles of the circus industry are not very accepting of modern song’s routines.

She would have done it anyway if it wasn’t for the strict selection process lead by one of her former instructors. The Russian aerialist slayed on the silks, and Kiara was crazy in love with her art, but the damn woman didn’t accept any routine performed to a song released after the invention of the internet.

A last look in the mirror let her know she was good to go. Her makeup was dark around the eyes, making her blue eyes shine with a mysterious vibe. ‘Thank daddy dearest for that’ she thought, looking up to the roof in silent prayer.

Her hair was loose to improve the flow during the routine. People would always cheer when she got upside down and flipped her hair, showing her sidecut.

The outfit was her favorite part, a cut out black lace unitard that contrasted brilliantly with her blood-red aerial silks. She knew it stood in a grey area between sexy seductress and murderous dominatrix, but that was precisely what she was going for.

She checked the time again, ten to midnight. The silks’ safety knot was attached to the ceiling at the very center of the ballroom, three floors below. She would come in from the balcony on the second floor and swing her way above the public.

She estimated the ribbons would stop about eight feet above the ground, allowing them to flow above people’s heads. Prior to the event, she asked to do a technical rehearsal to sort those things out, but apparently, the hostess rejected the possibility. Bitch.

Kiara reached the balcony where her instrument was safely tied and undid the knot. She signaled at the DJ to plug in her flash drive and took a deep breath to concentrate on her silks and her number. When the first few notes of the top hit song played on the speaker, she clutched the fabric and jumped towards the main hall. Showtime.

The bar of his childhood home used to be a forbidden place for Chris. He would often sneak around the house hoping to simply sit on the high stools and play businessman. The image of his father drinking a glass of whiskey after hours was ingrained in his memory from a very early age, and he could almost see the stamp of his trousers’ back pocket button engraved on the stool leather.

Today, however, the bar was full of drunk ass-kissers that stuck to the counter like scrambled eggs and the frying pan. As if they didn’t have the means to taste that kind of liquor elsewhere.

He tried to escape the ballroom to go lay on his old bed for a while, but apparently, it was being used to ‘host the talent’, whatever that means. His mother really went overboard with the party, inviting over three hundred people to celebrate his new role at the company.

Managing director, one step away from his father’s position as CEO. But a party at the Wright’s residence is never just a celebration, is it? If it were up to him, he would go out for drinks with the boys and consider it done.

But there were social standards to meet and people’s hands to shake. Most important of all, to his mother at least, woman to be paraded in front of him. Speaking of the devil.

“Mother”

“Are you having a good time, son?” Patricia Wright could be called many things, but her most prominent quality was most certainly sophistication. If her elegant navy-blue dress, adorned with handpicked matching jewelry, wasn’t proof enough, her poise definitely was.

“As good as it can be”

“Christopher!” she chastised in a tone perfectly tailored to reach only his ears in the most annoying of ways.

Not that he didn’t love the woman, far from it. She gave him life, and a comfortable one at that, and affection in her own way. But she had unreal expectations for his goals and an unlimited amount of opinions regarding his personal choices.

“Sorry, mother. Yes, I am enjoying the party.”

“Good. Have you met the lovely daughter of the Jacksons?”

There it was. Her number one subject of choice since he joined the family company, over five years ago. He thought that giving in to their wish to have a son taking over the business would be enough to take them off his back, but clearly it wasn’t.

His father could only embark on his well-deserved retirement once he knew a ‘real patriarch’ would take care of the company. Someone who ‘knew the burden of taking care of a household’. His mother’s words, of course.

“I didn’t have the pleasure just yet”

“I’ll introduce you two after the show. She’s very docile”

Docile. Who describes a person as ‘docile’?

“Sure”

“Perfect. Now come with me, the performance is about to begin, and I don’t want to miss it. I know the perfect spot!”

Chris allowed her to pull him through the crowd, imagining just what kind of performance had the woman hired this time. She was always trying to outdo her previous parties, and he had to give her credit. It was usually the highlight of the night.

He noticed when the DJ faded out a song to make room for whatever attraction was coming. A quick look at his clock showed him he was right, exactly midnight. His mother loved a good cliché.

He heard it before he saw it. Loud gasps took over the crowd, everyone looking up all of a sudden. He didn’t know how he could miss the first swing of the enormous flowing fabric that dangled from the ceiling, but now all eyes were on the small girl hanging from it.

The music was spot on. Not only did she look like she was swinging from a chandelier but also the emotion of the whole thing. He didn’t know much about circus performances, but he could feel all the sorrow she was conveying through the song. This was not the typical light party performance; it was pained and heavy.

Each split was opened and then forced to open a bit more. As if each action took a toll on her body and soul. She would fall along the fabric and show how hard it was to climb back up. And then, like her effort meant nothing at all, she would go back down into another fall. It was a shout out to all who suffer and rise to try again. It was an ode to struggle.

For an undetermined number of minutes, he didn’t take his eyes off of her. Then he felt a bump against his shoulder, bringing him out of his daze.

“Sorry, man” drawled the drunken bastard. Only then did he notice most of the people had already gone by their business, ignoring the exceptional spectacle that was taking place right above their heads. ‘Fucking idiots’.

He cocked his head back up to see the rest of the show, just in time to see her at the apex of the ceiling with multiple layers of fabric rolled around her body. She unhooked her feet from the upper part of the ribbon and spiraled down, picking up speed and rapidly approaching the ground.

Chris didn’t know if her expression of despair was part of the show or if something had gone wrong, but he ran towards the center of the main hall just in time for her to halt a mere six feet above the ground.

At that moment, she looked right into his eyes and he could have sworn she saw his soul. She undid the knot that held her in place and let go of the silk, landing on her feet. He worried for a minute about a fall from that high, but her knees and ankles were clearly trained to absorb the impact.

Then she turned to him with a dazzling smile and winked. His heart turned inside his ribcage with that simple act, and he reached out to touch her like she was a delicate statue, too precious to be handled harshly.

She turned to leave, but he got to hold her arm before she could. He just wanted to ask her name. Why was she leaving in such a hurry? But a quick glance down made him notice a shiny object on her left hand.

“Where did you get that?” His voice came out weird, definitely a mix of his antagonistic feelings at the moment. That mysterious creature in front of him still amazed him, but his anger was boiling from the recognition of the priceless item attached to her ring finger.

Another careless guest bumped into him right before she could answer, and she took the opportunity to escape his grip. Then, favored by her petite size, she crawled between the crowded room and evaded the hall. He tried chasing her, to no avail. She quite literally slipped through his fingers and he was left alone once again.