Pointe of No Return: Giving You All I Got

The Pointe of No Return

Giving You All I Got

Book 2 of The Underworld

Nako

Copyrigh
t©
2016 Nako

Published by Tiece Mickens Presents

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without prior written consent of the publisher, except brief notes used in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to the real locals are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents are entirely coincidental.

Text Tiece to 22828 for updates, spoilers, giveaways, announcements, and any new Tiece Presents releases.

As an author who prides herself on only producing their best work, which include full-length books that master the art of storytelling, I ask in advance that you bear with the story. R
eviews
have shown that novels written by me take quite some time to “pick up and get good”. These stories have been
created
and hand-crafted to connect with you beyond the pages of your Kindle. As you turn the page, I want you to get something from each character and chapter. There are themes
present
that you should personally relate to while reading this story. Acceptance, Family feuds, Addiction and Discovering your purpose are a fe
w
.

If you haven’t read Please Catch My Soul please read it first, it’s Book 1 of The Underworld.

The 
point of no return
 is the 
point
 beyond which one must continue on one's current course of action because turning back is physically impossible, prohibitively expensive, or dangerous.

Please leave a
review
once you are finished.

God Bless You

From my heart to yours,

The Pointe of No Return

NAKO

Words gone fail me… but actions speak volumes. My job was to make u comfortable enough to be yourself w me… mission accomplished…I love who u are and respect how u hold this shit down. Thanks for giving me the confidence to love u unconditionally (u know a nigga was raised to b real skeptical!! Lol) We just getting started tho! – Nipsey Hussle

Prologue

“Number one hundred and forty-one,” the dance instructor called out.

              Demi’s head stuck up like a deer caught in headlights. She looked back down at her number, unsure if she was really who he had called.

It couldn’t be,
she thought to herself. The man repeated himself, this time not sounding too happy.

Demi stepped forward with her head held high and her shoulders to the back. One wouldn’t know that her back was tense and her body in intense pain. Her feet were swollen and her toe nails held on for dear mercy. The average person wouldn’t understand, but a dancer would.

Demi didn’t consider herself mortal or even human, she was a dancer, a dancer who danced in a league all of her own. In the world others lived in, she danced in.

She waited on a few other names to be called, but more numbers never came. The man stood to his feet and left the building with his associates following. Demi looked around for an answer or an announcement to proclaim what had just happened. She heard the whispers and even a few cries, but still she wanted to know, what had just taken place?

There were an estimated fifty-something dancers standing on the stage, dancers that Demi admired from afar, dancers that she considered friends and others that hated her freaking guts.

Demi’s heart beat fast and suddenly she felt like she was wearing the Scarlet letter. She didn’t feel as giddy as she did prior to arriving at the theatre.  Demi couldn’t believe she had been exiled after giving her all, her very best.

Today she danced like never before, knowing how important this day was for her and her family. All of her hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, now meant nothing because she stood alone.

Demi refused to cry in front of her peers, so she took a deep breath and prepared to exit the stage.

“Number one hundred and forty-one, Mr. Apollo wants you in his office,” his assistant ran on stage and said. Demi was now scared and worried, fear stepped over her little heart.

She looked at the other dancers and hate greeted her back. Demi wasn’t surprised nor shocked, it came with the territory. Gone was her girl-next-door demeanor, Demi knew this was a dancer eat dancer world and she was prepared for the hate just as much as the love.

Demi followed the assistant down the side steps and out of the exit doors.  She remained quiet with her hands crossed in the front of her. The assistant knocked and then moved to the side for Demi to enter.

“Come in, come in, Demi…Westbrook, correct?” Mr. Apollo asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Is it true you’re the daughter of Dorane Little?” he asked.

Demi nodded her head, hoping and praying that wasn’t the reason she was chosen.

Mr. Apollo smiled. “Does your mother know you’re here?” he questioned.

Demi told him yes. Of course her mother knows she here, they had been prepping for this day for the past few months. In fact, her mother was sitting on the back row dressed in all black, shades and hat included.

              She hated attention and was now ready for all eyes to be on Demi, her precious Demi.

“Well, I didn’t choose you because of your mother so don’t go getting the big head. You have a lot to prove in the next six weeks. Welcome to the New York Ballet and Company.” He held his hand out for a shake.

Demi smiled and took him in for a hug. Mr. Apollo wasn’t expecting that at all, but then again he didn’t know Demi.

Her smile could light up a room, her personality was amazing, and her spirit, oh her spirit was contagious. Demi was the modern day ballerina that every little girl only dreamt of being. Demi said her goodbyes and ran out of the office to find him.

She knew her family was all back home waiting for the news, but she needed to tell
him
. He had been patient, he had listened when she complained, massaged her feet when they ached, and wiped her tears when she cried, so he was the first person Demi had to celebrate with.

She caught a cab to Queens, knowing she had no business traveling alone, especially since he had forbade her to do so.

Demi stopped the cab and threw the driver more than enough to cover the tab.  She ran the other two blocks to where she knew he would be, where he always was.

Demi opened the doors to the barbershop and looked for him. The other barbers all knew who she was, his prima ballerina as he called her.

“In the back Demi,” his uncle spoke. Demi smiled.

“Hey, how did it go? Today was the big day right?” his uncle asked.

Demi flashed a thumbs up and took off for his office. When she opened the door without knocking, there he was waiting, anticipating her phone call.

He marveled at the sight of her presence. Demi went towards him with tears in her eyes.

“I got it,” she told him.

He took a deep breath and ran his hands over her back. “So proud of you baby,” he said, meaning every single word. 

Demi sighed right along with him, placing her head on his heart.

“So, what about us?” he asked, referring to the sleeping baby in the corner.  Demi looked down at her son, her secret, but somehow her greatest accomplishment and biggest blessing.

“I’ll figure everything out,” she promised.

He didn’t believe her, but today was her big day so he wouldn’t dare argue or fuss.

1

The Westbrook’s

Dorane stood at the top of the marble staircase with a champagne flute in her hand. Diamonds blinded her guests that were down below looking up at her waiting on her speech to begin. Her husband, Isaac, was in the corner with his golf buddies admiring his wife from afar. Dorane was more than excited to announce her good news.

“Thank you for being here tonight to celebrate with The Westbrook’s. On behalf of my husband, Isaac, we want to send our love. It is with so much pleasure that I can finally announce that our baby girl, Demi, got into Julliard!” she announced.

Dorane had been holding the good news in for months. Everyone clapped and cheered as if it came as a surprise that Demi was accepted. Dorane gave millions and millions of dollars to the school every year and she had an assigned parking space for being considered one of the “famous” alumni.

Dorane Little-Westbrook was a legend; for years to come her name will forever be discussed among the greats. Productions weren’t considered productions if Dorane wasn’t on stage. There were times when she literally couldn’t move a muscle or dance another night, and when a person found out her replacement was dancing they would get up and leave the theatre. Dorane danced for almost twenty-five years, which is way more time than the average ballerina. She loved the art of dance and was more than sad to hang up her slippers, but the time had come. Her body now paid for it daily. Dorane was way past addicted to painkillers.

After all of her goals were accomplished, Dorane married Isaac, a real estate tycoon from Florida who moved to New York to increase his network and net worth. Isaac fell madly in love with Dorane’s smile and charm and in return so did she. Dorane and Isaac were the proud parents of young Demi Westbrook. Dorane wouldn’t dare go through labor again so Demi was the apple of their eye. Any and everything she wanted, her parents got. The saying, born with a silver spoon matched Demi perfectly.

Following in her mother’s shoes, although she didn’t really have a choice, Demi fell in love with dance. It was her life and her first love.

Demi and her friends were in the kitchen stuffing their faces with mini cheesecake bites. Demi’s housekeeper and favorite person in the whole world, Mickey, came in the kitchen and tapped Demi on the butt. Demi flashed her big smile; her smile was loved by everyone.

“Don’t tell, mom,” she begged.

Mickey placed her finger over her mouth, signifying that her secret was safe with her. Demi kissed her cheek and ran out of the kitchen with her friends in tow.

“Aah, there she is, my princess. Demi, say something,” her mother said.

Demi’s cheeks lit up red. “Mommmmm, what am I supposed to say?” she whined. Her parent’s special invited guests all erupted into laughter.

“Say thank you, Demi,” her mother said and pursed her lips together.

Demi knew what the look meant. Demi cleared her throat and straightened up her shoulders.

“Hi everyone,” she said and smiled. “Thank you for coming tonight, it means a lot. I’m sure my mother already bought every ticket for the spring productions at Julliard, but it would mean the world to me to see everyone there,” she said kindly.

After extensive hours of media training classes, private etiquette lessons, and a debutante two years in a row, Demi had been trained for life.

Her parents, mainly her mother, had spent more than enough money investing in her as a person and a brand. Dorane believed that Demi Westbrook was going places. She only wanted her daughter to be better than her, and Dorane was the crème de la crème.

She smiled and ran after her friends, following them to her bedroom. When she made it to her bedroom, she removed the red bottoms she wore and asked her friends, “What are y’all doing tonight?”

It was graduation night and Demi didn’t want to be in the house. She thoroughly enjoyed her four years of high school. She didn’t miss a football or basketball game as long as it didn’t interfere with her dance lessons.

Demi’s mother didn’t want Demi to be burned out before she made it to Julliard, so while most dancers were a part of junior companies in middle and in high school, Demi had never been on a stage. Her mother told her she would thank her later.

Their home came equipped with a dance studio that Demi spent all of her free time in. She loved to dance and couldn’t wait to start at Julliard.

“It’s a party in the Hamptons,” her friend said.

“The Hamptons?” Demi repeated.

Her family lived on the outskirts of New Jersey in the suburbs and Demi went to the private school that wasn’t too far from their house. She drove to school every day, and every year her daddy upgraded her car.

“Yes, my cousins invited me,” her friend said.

“I want to go, can I stay at your house tonight?” Demi asked.

Her friend nodded and Demi hopped up to pack an overnight bag. “Let’s leave now while my mom is still yapping away,” Demi suggested.

Her parents weren’t strict at all, probably because Demi was a good child and never gave them any problems.

“You driving?” her classmate asked as they came down the stairs. 

Demi had just received the newest model of the BMW, but it was her high school graduation night and she wasn’t in the mood to be driving.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she said awkwardly.

Her best friend, Nichelle, who had been in the living room flirting with all of Demi’s uncles and other prominent family members approached the clique.

“Where are y’all going?” she asked.

Demi shushed her. “To the Hamptons,” she whispered.

Nichelle smiled. “Oh hell yeah, I’m going too,” she said.

Demi just wanted her to be quiet. “Can y’all just go to the car please?” she said and shooed her friends away. When she closed the front door her mother was standing right behind her.

“Demi, why are your friends leaving? We haven’t cut the cake yet,” her mother asked.

Demi put her dimples on full display as her smile widened and all thirty-two of her teeth were showing.

Dorane wagged her finger, “Oh no missy,” she said.

Demi pouted and wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck. “But why mama? I’ve been with y’all all day.”

Dorane sighed and gave in. “Bye Demi. Have fun and be safe,” her mother said.

Demi jumped up and down. “You’re the best!”

“Where are y’all going?” her mother questioned.

“Not sure, I’ll text daddy before I go to bed,” Demi lied.

“Demi, you’re not driving are you? It’s late.” Her mother always worried about her whenever she was away from home.

She told her mom, “they want me to, but I’m not. Bye, mama.” Demi kissed her cheek and ran out the door before her mother came up with any more questions.

When she got outside she climbed into the back seat of Nichelle’s Lexus truck. “How y’all get her to drive?” she asked her other two friends.

“She offered.”

Demi sat back in her seat and put her seatbelt on. Nichelle’s driving was the worst and she wasn’t trying to die tonight.

The girls got dressed at Nichelle’s house once they stopped at everyone’s houses to pick up clothes. Demi entered the room after using the guest bathroom to freshen up.

“Demi, oh my God, you look good as hell!” Nichelle said as she looked up from rolling her blunt.

Demi blushed and turned around. “Do I really?” she asked.

“Girl, you know you look good,” Briana chimed in. 

Demi stuck her tongue out; they were always teasing her.

Demi hung with the “Cool Kids” at her private school. They had all been friends since the ninth grade, but Nichelle was her ace boon coon just as Briana and Sarah were closer.

Demi was the only virgin left in the crew and the only one who had real plans after graduation. But it was just how her parents were; she didn’t get an option to lounge around in the summers. Demi spent those three free months traveling the world, exploring different cultures.

She stared at herself in the large mirror that was propped up against the wall in the corner of Nichelle’s room that was more like a suite.

Demi ran her hands over her bare mid-section. The knee-length fitted dress with the stomach and back cut out wasn’t something she would normally wear, but she had just turned eighteen and graduated school, Demi was ready to grow up.

Her long tresses were pressed bone straight with a middle part, and she still had the face her mom’s makeup artists painted on her this morning for graduation. She added a darker lip for tonight’s events to give her an exotic look. Demi dabbed Bond no.9 cologne behind her ears after she slipped on her Prada pumps.

“Y’all ready?” Nichelle asked once she had rolled a few blunts.

Demi loved her best friend, but they were complete opposites.

Briana pulled her skirt down and grabbed her cell phone. “We gotta pick up my cousin, she said her boyfriend tripping.”

Nichelle nodded her head. “Cool, let’s go. Demi are you driving? I’m trying to get high before we get there.”

“I’m not driving all the way to the Hamptons, that’s too far,” Demi said.

She was quiet, but she wasn’t to be pushed over. She wasn’t one of those perfect ballerinas; her attitude was from hell. Demi’s attitude wasn’t the worst, but she always spoke up for herself, which was why she turned away every boy that wanted her attention.

“Girl, I’ll drive. Demi, sit up front,” Briana told her.

Demi didn’t care where she sat as long as she wasn’t driving. The girls piled into Nichelle’s truck and made the drive to her cousin’s house.

“Girl, where the heck does your cousin stay?” Nichelle asked from the back seat.

“I forgot y’all bourgeois asses ain’t never been nowhere. Okay, to the left is called the projects,” Briana joked.

Demi didn’t laugh, but Nichelle and Courtney did. Briana’s mother married rich. She wasn’t born into money so she knew all about the hood and the projects. She was the last person to complete their crew. Briana pulled up to a brownstone and laid on the horn.

“Girl, don’t get us shot up,” Nichelle said, sounding nervous. Briana ignored her. This was her hood; she wasn’t worried about bullets coming their way.

Briana’s big cousin and someone she considered her sister came down the steps.

“Y’all, this is Aaliyah, my big cousin,” Briana introduced everyone.

“Hi mamas,” Aaliyah said to everyone.

Demi changed the tunes from her classical to the newest popular song.

“I was about to say, what the hell y’all listening to?” Aaliyah joked.

“Sorry, I had practice this morning,” Demi said.

“You practiced on graduation?” Courtney asked.

Demi turned around and said, “You know how my mom is.” Courtney shook her head, but Demi didn’t see her do it.

They made it to the Hamptons safely, but Demi couldn't deny that the drive made her sleepy.

“Whose party is this?” Nichelle asked.

“My boyfriend’s people. We’re good, let’s get out,” Aaliyah said.

Demi looked at her appearance one more time in the mirror before hopping out the truck.

“I love your shoes,” Aaliyah told Demi. Demi told her thank you and looked for Nichelle.

“Right here rollie,” Nichelle said, coming next to Demi and holding her hand. Demi smiled at her best friend and together they followed Aaliyah into the house.

Other women may have been impressed to see such a nice house, but to Demi and her friends it was nothing. In fact, Demi’s parents had a house out here that they only came to once a year for Labor Day. The girls followed Aaliyah into the kitchen to get drinks.

“What you drinking?” Aaliyah asked as she pulled a few red cups out.

Nichelle and Courtney said, “Brown” while Briana told her cousin to make her whatever she was drinking.

Aaliyah asked Demi, “What you drinking, boo?”

“Girl, she don’t drink,” Nichelle answered. 

“Aww, it’s y’all graduation night, turn up!” Aaliyah coaxed.

Demi turned her head and looked out to the pool. “I’m going to see what’s popping outside,” she told her friends.

“Don’t go too far, D,” Nichelle told her best friend.

Demi made sure her Chanel bag was on her shoulder before opening the patio door and stepping over the ledge. She just wanted to feel a breeze. It was kind of stuffy in the house, plus the smell of weed was blowing her mind.

Demi walked around being very careful not to get near the pool. Everybody in there looked drunk as hell and Demi looked too good to be getting wet.

She saw a few people shooting dice, some were drinking, others vibing to music. The party was somewhat jumping.

“Demi!” Nichelle called her name across the lawn. Everyone was focused on what they were doing so it wasn’t like people stopped to see who “Demi” was. Demi made her way back into the house to see what they wanted.

“We about to go the VIP area,” Briana told her.

Demi thought to herself,
VIP in a house
? But she said nothing. She just followed everyone else down a hallway and through a set of double doors.