It Takes Two to Tango

Chapter 8: Unfinished Business

Aria

The shrill ring of the phone sliced through the room's heavy air, startling me out of the disarrayed emotions left by my close encounter with Ace. I fumbled for my phone, my hands trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. It was Dylon, my manager, his voice carrying an urgency that set my already racing heart pounding even harder, a sense of foreboding tightening in my chest.

"Aria, you need to take a look at social media right now," Dylon's voice crackled through the phone, tinged with a seriousness that instantly put me on edge. "Last night, after your performance, the internet was ablaze with support for you and Ace. The chemistry, the dance, it was all anyone could talk about. But this morning, something's changed. There's a new story circulating, and it's spreading like wildfire. You and Ace are at the center of it again, but this time, it's not so favorable. You need to see it for yourself." His words hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the euphoria of the previous night's performance, leaving me with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Bewildered and filled with a growing sense of dread, I hastily unlocked my phone and began scrolling through my social media feed. Just hours ago, it had been alight with praise and admiration for our performance - the way Ace and I had moved together, the kiss that had seemed to captivate everyone who watched.

In its place, my screen was flooded with images that struck me like a gut punch: there was Ace, his long, distinctive hair unmistakable, alongside a blonde woman. The series of photos left no room for doubt about the nature of their relationship, capturing Ace with his hand casually draped around her waist as they exited his mother's house. Their body language spoke volumes, an intimacy far beyond what one would expect of mere acquaintances. These photos, now viral across every major blog and news feed, told a story starkly different from the one I had been led to believe.

As I looked at the woman in the photos, a painful truth dawned on me. She was the epitome of Ace's usual preference – blonde, a stark contrast to my own appearance with dark skin and a tightly coiled afro. This realization was a jarring reminder of how out of place I was in this scenario. Standing there, in a compromising position with Ace, suddenly felt absurd, almost laughable. What was I thinking?

As I scrolled through the comments, I couldn't help but notice people criticizing my appearance and praising Ace for having a blonde woman on his arm. The comments were filled with racism, and some members of the Black community were harshly criticizing me for thinking I was different, especially in light of Ace's derogatory comments about Black women in the tabloids. I felt foolish for getting involved in this situation, even though it was just a PR stunt.

Anger soon boiled inside me, a stark contrast to the vulnerability I had felt just moments ago. I felt stupid, played. Ace, the notorious womanizer, had fooled me. Was I a fucking idiot? I knew better than to put myself in this vulnerable position. Here I was with my underwear around my ankles, giving him access like a dumbass.

On the other end of the phone, Dylon's voice continued, business-like and practical, already strategizing ways to manage the fallout and preserve our public image. His words sounded distant, muffled by the torrent of emotions coursing through me. The idea of strategizing, of putting up a facade after such a personal blow, seemed irrelevant and even insulting.

I was utterly repulsed by the fact that Ace just had his fingers inside me when clearly, the night before, he was doing the same to his...whatever the fuck she was to him. I didn't care who she was but one thing about me was, I wasn't going to continue to be played by this womanizing white man. I had way more self-respect than that.

Bringing my attention back to my manager, more anger overwhelmed me, making it impossible to ignore.

"No," I interrupted Dylon, my voice slicing through his stream of PR tactics, sharp and resolute. "I can't do this. I refuse to continue parading around with him as if nothing's wrong, just for the sake of some publicity stunt. Have you read some of these comments? It's too much!"