The Glass Ballerina Who Danced On Knives

Go Lone Stars

I throw down another pack of cards and bury my head in my hands. This is leading me absolutely nowhere.

After discovering the cryptic note in the Angel statue, I spent three days hatching a plan to get into Avery Kylie Grambs heavily guarded wing. Ah, Avery. The entire reason for why I was going through boxes of playing cards in a small corner in a tunnel underneath the kitchen instead of at my custom made mahogany desk up in my tower.

Thanks to Avery and my beloved granddad, my entire word has been turning upside down. Like literally. The security team is going through my wing, no doubt disrupting my careful colour coding of my shoes from the '68 Spring Season of exclusively Italian shoe brands.

There's a reason my shoes are in a safe, and I'm not trying to hide any weapon that could be a threat to the darling heiress. Granted, none of my family sans my brothers, two of which are head over heels in love with her look at Avery in a light other than a dim and dingey street light from an alley next to the diner she used to work in in Connecticut. Oh, except nan. Nan is far too sassy for that.

I slide my thumb over the small glass pane in the brick next to my left knee and slide the playing cards into the moderately sized chasm that opens up. The words of granddads last riddle run through my mind over and over again:

52 chances. a war of clubs and spears,
The ego's greatest fear
The devil's vice
In which the Angel attempts to stop the dice.
Six sides with 21 eyes

I've found his hidden set of three playing card decks, nested in a secret compartment even Avery hasn't discovered in his study yet, and looked through all the dice in my collection, but I haven't turned up anything of value yet. Still wallowing in my thoughts, I feel a vibration from my chest and pull out my buzzing phone from my inside blazer pocket, checking the caller ID. It's my Swiss banker, Chantal Ostini. She was assigned my case all of one week ago, as a promising young banker with a dying devotion to her already exclusive clientele. Perfect for utter discretion. I dust off my plaid pleated skirt and stand up slowly, careful to not crease my black kitten heels.

Voices come from around the corner, and I tiptoe to the end of the brick wall. Avery and my brother, the "magical, gravitating" Jameson Hawthorne whisper conspiratorially. I gag and move at a snail's pace along the way into the way I entered, a secret fake panel of wood behind the climate controlled spice pantry. The panel makes a soft thud as I step into the kitchen, the buzzing phone still pinned to my chest and I cringe.

"Trinity!" Chantal's cheery voice cuts through the air. "I was afraid I got the times wrong and you were asleep."

She knows damn well she didn't get the times wrong as it's literally 4:30 and has to attend Avery's first NFL game in a little over an hour.

"Nope," I reply through mildly gritted teeth, just doing my makeup and I didn't see the phone." She clearly believes me so much.

I make polite chatter with Chantal about my investments as I climb up into my room, free of men in black with guns before I open up my closet. I slowly make my way up to the second floor, finding my section for game day. The three shelves burst with blue and gold, limited edition hats and a signed football.

Looking around, I grasp that the obvious goal is to look good, but not to outshine Avery, who's making her social debut. I snatch up my blue jeans with Lone Star patches, cropped jersey, white football jacket with TEXAS LONE STARS on the back, and limited edition blue and gold beanie. Loosely, I curl my hair and add blue and gold cowboy boots.

"Hey Trinia!" Libby waves to me from the sedan.She's wearing a Lone Stars jersey with a matching scarf, matching gloves, and matching boots. Her blue hair is tied into pigtails with a thick bunch of blue and gold ribbons. "You look fabulous, as always!"

How can one person always be so happy? It rubs on me and I grin back. "You too, obviously." I climb in and eye Avery. She's decked out in metallic cowboy boots and an oversized Lone Stars jersey.

"Don't ask." she scrowls as she adjusts her jersey.

I nod and smile. "I'll ask Alisa about making some changes to your wardrobes."

She grimaces and shoots me a grateful look. Just as Alisa slides into the SUV.

When we pull up to the stadium, Alisa nudges her. " I want you to roll down the window and shout 'go lone stars!'"

Avery rolls her eyes, but rolls down the window. 'Go Lone Stars!'" she shouts, but as she rolls up her window, a glint of...something crosses her eyes.

Once we enter the private parking garage, Alisa bounds out of the car, business in mind.

"What." I try to keep my calm. "Exactly was that?"

Avery looks at me. "Exactly nothing." She mimics my tone.

I stare back. If that's how she wants to play, I'm the reigning champ. "Your Dad or my Mom?"

Libby steps between us, kohl rimmed eyes about to burst. "He just wanted to see you, Ave."

Avery explodes.

"The man that never did a damned thing for either of us wants to see me? After I've coincidentally inherited billions? See anything wrong with that picture?"

Alisa keeps us moving, ensuring Avery that she's totally safe- so long as the press see her happy. I ball my fists tightly. This was important for me too. I still don't understand the rules of football but I sure as hell understand the rules of being constantly in the public eye. Rule number one? Don't let them see your crown slip.

"Hey Libby, will you take a photo of me for my Instagram?" I hold out my phone, tuning out the argument that's taking place between Avery and Alisa.

Libby nods enthusiastically, snaps a few photos and hands the phone back to me. While I'm finishing up the caption, Grayson smoothly arrives, stealing my reputation as the one with the dramatic entrances, his silver eyes slinting dangerously. I want to scream and kick, to put out a warning sign and tell Avery, but I also want to see Grayson smile again, like he did after their kiss.

So I rocket the photo of me off to my 17.9 million followers and find the second elevator.

The tears prick my eyes as I sit in the sixth seat, the one that I would perch on with my head on grandads lap. Rustling comes from behind me, and I slump into my seat.

"My grandfather could only mingle in the suite for so long before he got fed up and came up here," Graysons voice says. "My siblings and I were the only ones allowed to join him." Avery sits in the first seat, and I duck behind the arm, praying that she won't see me. There were always so many people in the crowd. The energy, the chaos, the sheer volume of it was overwhelming. But here, it was silent.

"I thought you might come to the game with Jameson." Gay's voice bristles."The two of you have been spending a lot of time together."

I can feel the irritation Avery feels. I feel the tension in the box. Why did he trust her to bring her up here in the first place?

"Your brother and I have a bet going." Can't you see I'm making you jealous? Well, Avery, it's sure working. The muscles in his jaw tighten, but she's probably too busy fawning over how they could "cut glass" to notice. Aver couldn't possibly be that shallow. That's a lie and I didnt even say it. My brother sucks all the depth out of her, drying up the stream, the shallow waters that run deep.

"What kind of bet?"

Avery waits, weighing her options, seeking the one thing that gets any emotion out of Gray. A reaction. "Toby is alive."

To someone else, Grayson's reaction might not have been noticeable, but I see the jolt go through him.

His gray eyes glued to her. "Pardon Me?"

"Your uncle is alive and gets his jollies by pretending to be a homeless man in New Castle, Connecticut."

A.N: First Chapter of THL!!!! Lmk what you think. Go read the new bio!! Also, I promise I'm trying to make the chapters longer!

Love you all, Sky(lar) <3!

(P.S. Whats a good song lyric for this chapter? I keep stressing out over the perfect one so ill let you give me ideas:)