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Performing was always my strong suit. I could act my way out of almost anything. In high school, I acted my way out of failing my SATs, I acted my way out of breaking up with my boyfriend, flipped the script and made him break up with me. I even acted my way out of giving a salutatorian speech at graduation. But I could never act my way out of this.

“Demitria Carmen Taylor. You will be visiting us for the summer come hell or high water.“, she says accompanied with clattering pans.

“Ma madrina...“, I whined.

“Don’t you ‘madrina’ me. Io sai meglio. You will see us this summer. I have already discussed this with your mother and father and they agree with me. Bambina you haven’t see us in five years! Five years without seeing my heart, my daughter! Do you have any idea what it’s like, living through your vlogs just to feel close to you? E il tuo padrino!?! Mi amore, please see where I’m coming from. We miss you, dearly.” She pleaded with me.

I sighed ignoring her mention of my sperm donor. “Si madrina, I completely understand but I’ve been b-”

“Demi, if you say busy...”

“I’ve been preoccupied with my auditions. I’ve had four this week alone and I’ve been trying to nail this solo. I’d love to be Cathy in the Broward Center’s production of The Last Five Years. It’s one of my-”

“Your favourite musicals by one of your favourite composers, I know mi amore I know. Anyways my love, Nicolo will be home soon with the boys we’ll purchase your one-way ticket to Manhattan in a few hours so you better start packing. Talk you soon mia principessa. Send my love to your sibbys.”

“Will do Mama.“, I say chuckling. “Send mine to Papa as well. Ciao.”

“Ciao.”

I hang up the phone and proceed to run through my sheet music.

When you come home to me, I’ll wear a sweeter smile. And hope that for a while you’ll stay...

I remember very vividly when was younger hearing my father play this on the baby grand piano as Elizabetta, my godmother, sang. My father’s family were family friends with the Morretti’s for decades prior to his and Nicolo’s birth. Both coming from a strong Jamaican and Italian background-respectively, they were raised in the old school style. They grew up alongside each other building two very different empires. As my father grew more well-known and more within the lime light, Nicolo’s business was more lucrative and emerged from the shadows, allowing his name to spread throughout all parts of the globe, drawing in more illegitimate attention. My father, Aubin Taylor, who was a sporadic and harebrained man, that still finds spontaneity in his environment, to be one of the better things in life, met and married my mother, Deanna Williams, who on the other hand always a quiet and predictable woman. They eventfully gave birth to me on April second, the day where both my father and Nicolo passed out at the sight of my birth and Elizabetta had to step in making sure my mother knew when to breathe. There’s a picture of that day hanging right over the stairs in my grandparents’ house.

As I wrap up my personal rehearsal, I place my waist length natural curls into a low bun at the nape of my neck and slip into a pair of gray shorts with HOLLYWOOD embroidered on the seat and a white Forever 21 camisole. I begin to prepare dinner when Papa calls me.

“Papa!”

“Ciao Bambina, come stai? Tu madrina canta su di te!” Nicolo chuckles.

“I’m well Papa. I’m ecstatic about my trip to Manhattan. I miss you all.” I sighed as I admired my sautéed button mushrooms.

“I am as well. We do have a party that we’re throwing to introduce you to the families.”

“To make me untouchable.” I state blatantly dropping the container of black pepper on the floor. I was not too fond of this aspect of my Papa’s life. He tried to hide me away from this part of him until a tragic incident occurred.

“Think of it more so... as a celebration. A homecoming. Many members haven’t met you, and I would prefer it if you were generally known to be off limits just as Elizabetta and Deanna. It’s much safer this way Bambina.” I hear rustling in the background along with shuffling. “Fanculo. Figlio di una cagna incasinato per l’ultima volta.” He growled to someone else, then I heard a gun cocked.

“Papa?” I whisper.

“Si mi amore?” His tone was much softer.

“We’re not supposed to talk business on the phone, remember?” I continue in a hushed whisper.

He chuckles, “Si Bambina. Very good. I didn’t mean for you to hear that Sweetheart.” I hear him grumble again for the men to get out. “Start packing your bags mi amore, your flight has been set for Wednesday at noon. Your old room is already set up to go. Not much has changed, the blue is still in there from when you were ten...“, he said probably drifting off on a memory.

“Thank you so much Papa. I can’t wait to see everyone. Talk to you soon.”

“Of course mi amore. I have some... business to tend to.” I rolled my eyes. “Ti amo il mio Tesoro. Sleep well love.”

“Bueno notte Papa.”

“Bueno notte Bambina.” Then the line went dead.

I stared out my window as I sat and ate my dinner, enjoying the Aventura skyline and the stunning cotton candy sunset that was gracing the tops of the mirrored buildings wondering how my Untouchable announcement would go over with the families. Especially the O’Henry’s. After I clean up from dinner, I finish up the most recent episode of American Horror Story, admiring Evan Peters’ acting skills, slipped on my satin bonnet and snuggle into my queen sized bed until I drift away on the thought of green eyes and smile lines.

The next day I spent all morning packing and buying travel sized versions of my essentials at Sephora for everything except my hair, because a travel sized bottle will do absolutely nothing for my curls. I have too much hair for that. I put on a nude maxi dress and a camel waterfall duster to with a pair of nude sandals for the flight. A girl can be fashionable and comfortable, but being comfortable is was more important. With my hair in a loose ponytail and my carry-on bag in one hand and suit case in the other, I catch an Uber to the Fort Lauderdale International Airport. As I board the flight, I place on an eye mask with oversized sunglasses to hide them, order a Pellegrino with pistachios, because knowing Elizabetta- dinner is going to be big, and listen to my Musical Theatre Playlist on Spotify, which is pretty bumping if I do say so myself, then I close my eyes as Lin Manuel Miranda graces my ears with Hamilton. When I wake up, the fight is about to land so I reapply lip balm and remove my eye mask and pat in the excess. I text in the group chat with my mom, Elizabetta and Nicolo that I’ve arrived safely at JFK Airport. When I look up I see an older, greying man in a black suit, holding a sign saying

Demitria Carmen Taylor

I snapchat Nicolo a picture of it and then a picture of my confused face because I will not be getting into some car driven by a man I’ve never seen in my life. He snaps me, upside down, nodding his head, laughing and directing me to go with this man. I must teach him how to use this app. So with my contorted confirmation sent, I walk towards this man.

“Miss Taylor?” He asked.

I take off my sunglasses and place them on the top of my head and smiled, “Yes that’s me.”

“Hello I’m Peter, I will be your driver for today, allow me to get your bag.”

“Oh no, I can get it.”

“No I insist, your Godfather made sure to take care of everything. He told me you would try to go against it but gave me specific instructions to make sure you never lift a finger.”

I sighed and conceited, “Okay. Thank you.”

We proceed to get into a black Cadillac Escalade with pass the legal limit of tinted windows. I get comfortable and listen to my music.

“Miss Taylor, would you like to use the auxiliary cord?”

“Yes please Peter.” I put on one of the ensemble pieces from Hamilton. And started jamming out it with him.

“Um what is this if you don’t mind me asking?”

“This is one of the greatest musicals of all time written by my idol Lin Manuel Miranda. It’s a rap opera that is about the Secretary and Treasurer of State Alexander Hamilton. The guy on the ten-dollar bill. I went to Lin’s acting, dancing and singing workshop last May to prepare for my summer auditions.” I explained.

“Mr. Morretti never mentioned that you do Theatre? I used to as well in younger years.”

“That’s amazing.” I smiled wide truly appreciating that we had that one connection, it made me feel much more comfortable. In middle school I was thoroughly tormented for being into theatre, science and the arts and for wearing glasses and being overweight and short in comparison to the other girls.

There’s a million things he hasn’t done, just you wait. What’s your name man? Alexander Hamilton.

By the end of the song, we had arrived to large steel gates leading us up to a huge brownstone mansion, covered in Ivy leaves all over the face of the house up to the third story. There are men patrolling the estate in all black, strapped as if they were prepared to take anyone out at any moment. There’s a large circular driveway in front of a garage that was home to a Vanquish, a custom made Jeep Wrangler, yellow 911 Turbo. As the Escalade pulled to a stop, I inhaled, adjusted my glasses at the top of my head, took a deep breath and proceeded to exit the car.

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