~The Glass Ballerina's Reputation~
CHAPTER 1- ...Ready for it?
Masterlist • Chapter 2
averyjameson!mafia AU After Avery's mother's death, she is left with many questions. What happened to her mother's family? Who were they? Why did her mother never talk about them? Why did Jameson Winchester Hawthorne appear in her life? ...What is her mother's secret?
When Avery was a kid, her mom was constantly inventing games. Not your average games like Hide-And-Seek or Tag. They were always small tests, a competition. Once they’d played the Who-Can-Stack-The-Most-Pancakes or Who-Could-Build-The-Tallest-Tower-of-Cards. There was always something to find, something to figure out- something to fix or something to take apart. A challenge. The rush of excitement and the thrill that came with success is what made Avery feel alive.
The last game her mother had made for her was the Don’t-You-Dare-Miss-Me game, where she sent Avery on a challenge to find a mysterious item. It was the longest game yet, suspiciously so. When her mom gave her such complicated games, like that one time she made Avery an escape room, she’d leave little clues that would confirm she was on the right track. Yet this game had been completely devoid of all that. All she was told was to find “where the heart feels whole”.
There was only one possible answer to that. Home. Not their little apartment, no. The antique shop her mother owned, right under where they lived. That’s where they felt at home. Each of the little trinkets they received from donations or found had a story behind them. Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep, Avery would sneak downstairs to the antique shop and try to guess the object’s history. Once they’d received one of those old vintage desks, the ones that had even more shelves on top of the tabletop itself, and a bunch of hidden compartments everywhere. It even had its very own built in gas lamp. She could vividly imagine the original owner sitting at it, working with a quill and a pot of ink, furrowing his brow in concentration or struggle. It was objects like these that had a meaning, that were valued and cherished. They had stories.
When she’d entered the shop, she didn’t find any clue to indicate she was on the right track. The place had felt strange without her mother there ever since she’d been hospitalized.
Avery searched high and low. Nothing. Finally, she went to a relatively small room behind the counter and pushed open the door. There was a fireplace. It had been there ever since her mom had rented this place, but it didn’t work. Sometimes they’d bring chairs and sit around it, pretending it worked. Their home. That’s when her mom told her stories about who she was before she had Avery. About Ricky. About a secret lover. Not once did she ever mention her family.
For Avery, home was where her mom was. Family.
She immediately noticed that one of the wood planks of the flooring was askew. She slipped her fingers beneath it, blindly feeling around for something. Sure enough, she felt it. A paper with a phone number. Libby Grambs, it read, above the string of numbers.
By the time Avery made it back to the hospital, the heart monitor wasn’t beeping with that annoying yet reassuring ding. The bleak room was even more uneasily silent, devoid of life.
It was at that moment that Avery decided to never play again.
“I thought you promised to stay away from him, Lib.”
Avery was tired of watching Libby dust the antique shop over and over again, hobbling around with her black eye and bumping into everything. There were two things Libby always did when she had something on her mind- she either bakes a bunch of cupcakes that Avery would have no choice but stuff herself with later or dusts the antique shop until even the antiques themselves looked brand new.
“I couldn’t help it, Ave. He… he called me and said sorry and that he wanted to meet up.”
Avery rolled her eyes and tapped on the cash register in anger, though holding back from crushing the keys. They definitely couldn’t afford another one unless one of them suddenly married some rich man.
It was always the same story. Libby did or said something Drake didn’t like. Then he’d hit her. Only once, but it was already too much. Then he’d apologize and do his usual speech, and Libby would forgive him.
“This is the seventh time you’ve broken up with him,” she spat at her sister. “Make it be the last.”
Libby nearly knocked over another vintage jewelry box. “I can’t help it.” She ducked down to steady the box, probably already thinking about what types of cupcakes she was going to bake this time.
“How about you go and flip the OPEN sign outside? We should close up. I doubt we’re going to get any more customers at this hour.”
Libby nodded and went to the front door. Just as she was going out, she slammed straight into a man who had just opened the door to come inside.
“Oh my gosh I am so sorry I didn’t mean to–”
Avery glanced over while her sister started rambling away. A man with ashy brown hair and a cowboy hat was helping her sister up in a gentlemanly manner. He had matching cowboy boots, too. He looked… quite odd, honestly. Dressed as both a cowboy and in a fancy way at once. She couldn’t tell if he was some rich guy mocking cowboys or just a desperate wannabe. His skin glowed a beautiful tan, though Avery was skeptical as to whether it was real or not. These days bronzing drops were all the rage.
“Be careful, darlin’,” the handsome stranger said to her sister, whose blush seemed very visible because of her pale skin, looking at him as though he was a heaven-sent messenger offering tickets to paradise. She was so red even her blue roots seemed to be turning purplish.
Libby shyly thanks him and practically runs out the door, red-faced. The stranger’s gaze follows her curiously, and then he picked up an item that had fallen off a nearby shelf when he’d bumped into her. He then turned around and headed for the counter.
“The name’s Nash.” He glanced out at the sign Libby was flipping outside that now read ‘CLOSED’. “Well, mind if I take a look around even though you seem to be closing up? I promise I won’t take long.”
Avery nodded, watching him as he wandered around the little shop, his boots clicking rhythmically. He stopped at a particular shelf and picked up a knife, flipping it over in his large palm. It had patterns engraved onto the blade and a gem encrusted hilt, one of the more expensive items the shop had to sell lately.
“I’ll buy it,” he said, looking back up. The strange cowboy came and placed it on the counter, pulling out a shiny black card.
“Is that your sister?” he asked as she rummaged around, trying to find the magnetic stripe reader. Customers didn’t usually arrive waving around a fancy card.
“Yeah.” Avery paused, looking at him suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
Nash raised an eyebrow playfully. “Ever heard of genuine, well intentioned romantic interest, kid?” he said, a slight southern accent dragging out some vowels and adding an atypical rhythm to his speech. Was that real, too? “What’s her name?”
“Libby. And stay far, far away from her,” she warned as she handed him the receipt and the knife. ‘Nash’ gave her a grin.
“Farewell, little miss. I’ll make sure to come around again, and maybe I’ll have my brothers tag along next time.” With that, he tipped his cowboy hat at her and winked, then turned around to walk out. Avery glared at him through the store’s glass door as he chatted away with Libby outside.
Her fists tightened on the edges of the countertop; fragments of their yapping being heard through the open window. Libby did not need another act to her tragic love life. Drake was already more than enough.
Sure, this guy looked nicer, but you could never know for sure. Drake had looked handsome and calm at first, too.
Avery rubbed her temples, trying to soothe the already forming headache as Libby burst back into the store, blabbing away.
“Avery, isn’t he so dreamy? I never liked cowboys but…”
Someone kill me now.
~~~
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