Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 51

Hello readers! I am so sorry for the delayed update, but ch 51 is at last here! It's a pretty lengthy chapter, and I will have plenty of time this week to get 52 ready for the weekend. If you haven't yet, go check out my A Red Queen Black Friday. It's quite the hit!

As always, enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think will happen in the next chapter . . . he he hee.

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"What?" Iris asks, Converse padding along the sidewalk. "I like taking the subway."

The subway has a few trains that head from the Academy to downtown, and Iris, apparently fascinated with the dingy culture of the subway system, asked if I'd like to take the subway with her. Holding onto a handle, she spent most of the ride gazing around the car with that astute curiosity of hers, always taking in details and analyzing them.

In this case, the details happened to be the knockoff coats and tired faces of Manhattan's working-class who stared at their phones. With my newfound knowledge of who Iris Cygnet is, it makes a little sense. Maybe, in her Converse and blue jeans, Iris likes to experience life apart from the Upper East Side and see how most live.

Though I haven't seen my brother since Sunday evening, I have the feeling that he and the Scarlet Street Fighters intend to exploit my friendship with Iris in some shape or form.

"I can tell," I return, crossing my arms as we leave the shadow of Freedom Tower and wind around Brookfield Place, the massive, modern shopping center that graces the bank of the Hudson. It's only been a week since the gala, but the Calores are already dragging me back downtown. I inwardly sigh as Iris and I pass between two rows of dying trees, a few leaves crunching beneath my boots.

Southern Manhattan looms as it always has, and in spite of the crisp and clear blue sky, the buildings suffocate. The One World Trade Center, otherwise known as the Freedom Tower and the tallest building in Manhattan, at least, gleams in all of its crystalline glory. Its sharp, geometric blue edges threaten to tear apart the sky, and its antenna certainly pierces it.

The sidewalks are still quiet, and the people still talk about what happened.

We're not ten blocks away from Calore Industries.

As usual, I push those thoughts aside, looking ahead. Across the Hudson, the modern buildings of Jersey City await, but compared to Manhattan, they're nothing, few and far in between. The river itself gleams with reflections of the city, looking like a pristine mirror in the face of the polluted East River. The irony of it bordering East Harlem isn't lost on me.

Iris and I walk down tan-colored steps to an open plaza of grey cobblestone. Past a wrought-iron fence, one of the Hudson's marinas awaits. White sailboats and cabin cruisers gently rock against their anchors and ropes, white and glimmering and perfect against the water. Further out, I watch as the occasional speed boat flies across the water followed by a jetski. The rich of New York, finding it to be a warm-enough Saturday for late September, are having their last bout of fun before the temperatures really start dipping.

Even though I was expecting it, I still swallow as I behold the grand jewel of the marina, a jewel far too precious to stay in Manhattan year-round.

"They brought it in from the Hamptons," Iris comments, reading my thoughts. "It'll go right back as soon as the Academy's done with it tonight."

I can only nod, staring at the four-story, sleek, disgusting, and perfect marvel at the far end of the boats. While the body of the yacht is black, its upper stories are a silken eggshell color, adorned with tinted windows and long decks. The bow of the yacht is as sharp as the edges of Freedom Tower. Lavish and expansive foredecks stand on the backside of the boat, and I imagine that all sorts of luxuries await me on each story, between hot tubs, bars, and sumptuous sitting areas. The boat, in a way, reminds me of the Academy and its regal, classical beauty. At night when it's lit up, the yacht will look like it's on fire.