The taxi halted, they exited and stood on the footpath. Tango music and murmuring voices drifted through the open doors of El Gardenia and once again, the bandoneón had the same effect on her as fingernails down a blackboard. How could she cope being in a dance hall with bandoneóns whining for the next few hours? Carlos cocked his head in the direction of the doors and she tentatively climbed the marble staircase. Images of her mother’s slender figure draped in silk and sequins flashed before her. Dani had no idea how many pictures she’d collected over the years but all showed Iris’s long, dark hair framing a face that appeared younger than her real age. Along with the photos, she’d read hundreds of superficial articles about Iris, who was always referred to as La Gringa Magnifica, the Magnificent Foreigner. In Dani’s mind, though, she was still Iris Kennedy, the woman who forced a little girl to grow up faster than she should have.
Dani reached the top of the stairs and her feet stopped. Carlos turned around, frowned, and held out his hand.
‘Come.’
‘I ...’ How could she explain the emotions zapping through her?
‘You are all right?’
‘Yes, fine.’ She hoped her forced smile would do the trick. He gave no reaction, as if he’d been subjected to female vagueness his entire life. She followed him into the dark hall, and her eyes strained to adjust to the dim light. Fairy lights hung haphazardly from the ceiling as Carlos and Dani moved through wide hallways to a large courtyard. Vegetation wrapped around the columns of the historic building and a white gazebo housed musicians dressed in formal attire.
Carlos gestured with his cane to a small table in the corner. She wove between the clusters of chairs where women sat and stretched their long, tanned legs and stiletto-clad feet. Everywhere Dani looked people laughed, flirted and whispered in secluded corners. The place was reminiscent of a pick-up joint but the atmosphere felt distinctly different; it was more like a group of friends gathering for some saucy, yet harmless, dancing.
A waiter brought over two glasses and a bottle of water. Carlos poured the drinks as Dani sat and tried to ignore the notes of the bandoneón filling the room. Instead, she concentrated on an older couple on the dance floor: the woman was as voluptuous as he was rail thin. Her generous frame followed the man with ease as he twisted and turned, guiding her gently, then they burst into a succession of staccato movements, making it look oh so easy.
Dani nodded in the couple’s direction. ‘They’ve been dancing together for years, I take it?’, she said, hoping to break the silence.
‘I doubt it.’
‘But it’s like they can read each other’s minds.’
‘That is the point.’
‘Huh?’
‘This is a question?’ The corners of his mouth twitched.
‘No.’
‘It sounded like an inflection at the end of your “huh”, yes?’
‘You’re an English teacher now?’
‘I believe this is another question. You dance.’ He stood, held out his hand and helped her up.
Carlos’s cane hung off the back of the metal chair. She opened her mouth but closed it again. He motioned for her to take a place on the dance floor and as she stepped forwards, a lump lodged in her throat. Every molecule of her being told her to bolt but pride and ego wouldn’t allow it. Anyway, she couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see how Carlos danced without a cane, considering his pronounced limp.
‘¡Carlitos!, ¿cómo andas?’
Dani turned to see a short, round man with a wide grin and bright blue eyes. He ran his hand through greying hair then slapped Carlos on the back like an old friend. Carlos grimaced.
‘Gualberto, I am fine. This is Daniela.’
‘Hi, I’m Dani McKenna.’ She held out her hand and the man wrapped his fingers around hers, giving them a tight squeeze. His warm, smooth touch relaxed her shoulders, even though she hadn’t realised they were tense. ‘You’re Gualberto Ghilardi, the bandoneón player, right?’
‘Sí. The one and the same.’ The light caught his gold eye tooth and he gently let go of her hand. Even though he was renowned for his bandoneón skills, his long fingers looked like an average person’s. ‘You have heard of me?’
‘Yes, of course! I read some articles about you and watched your performances on YouTube.’ She didn’t dare tell him that listening to him play had been torture. The man had talent, no denying it, she just wished he played an instrument that didn’t cause her to cringe every time she heard it.
‘I am flattered, I think.’ He narrowed his eyes then said, ‘I hope you are not doing the stalking thing.’
She laughed. ‘No stalking, I promise. I’m just studying the tango.’
‘Good. It is a lovely thing to learn. I hope my cousin is treating you nice.’ His eyes slid in Carlos’s direction.
‘You’re Carlos’s cousin?’ She couldn’t keep incredulity out of her voice.
‘Yes, although we do not advertise this fact. We like to keep family connections away from our professional lives.’
‘I understand.’ On many levels.
‘May I ask you to dance?’ Gualberto cocked an eyebrow at Carlos and said, ‘I am stealing this beautiful specimen.’
Carlos shrugged nonchalantly and Gualberto held out his hand. She placed hers in his and they plunged into the crowd, dodging stationary couples. Although she’d been nervous a moment before, Gualberto’s affable manner put her at ease.
‘There’s music playing, why isn’t anyone dancing?’ Dani asked, happy Gualberto wouldn’t make her stick to silly rules about dancing and questions.
‘Ah, this is the cortina, the curtain. It is like intermission music between groupings of songs.’
‘Oh,’ she said, not convinced she’d ever get her head around this tango business. Not that she really wanted to. Well, she did, but only enough to get her stories done and gain some understanding about what drives a person to ditch their family, fly to the other side of the world and become a tango legend.
Gualberto gently shuffled her into place, manoeuvring her arms into the correct position, ensuring their hearts were aligned. The bright lights hindered her ability to peer into the darkness easily but she spotted Carlos sitting at their table, looking down and massaging his injured leg. He didn’t seem perturbed about not dancing with her.
‘How does Carlos dance with a damaged leg?’ Although they’d just met, Dani sensed Gualberto would be more open to her prodding than Carlos.
‘He doesn’t.’
‘But he was about to get on the dance floor.’ A slight breeze shook the gardenias hanging in pots above their heads, sending a sweet floral scent through the air.
‘He only ever comes to watch his students dance in the real world. He does not do this dancing. Never. Not since ... ’ He swept a hand over his leg.
‘Well, why would he ...’ The music drowned her sentence.
Gualberto leant forwards and said, ‘Follow me.’
The violins, cello and flute trailed the long notes of the bandoneón. Dani tried to block out the dreaded instrument but found it near impossible. The music grew to a crescendo and the sea of bodies ebbed and flowed with the melody. She wanted to cover her ears and stop the screech of the bandoneón but it would be a tad difficult explaining to the world’s bandoneón expert that his instrument repulsed her.
Gualberto gently nudged her to the left, his light touch guiding her with ease. Dani locked onto his moves and the music took hold of her body. She closed her eyes, took a step forwards, two back then one to the side and connected with something bony.
‘¡Mierda!, Mi pierna!’
Oh shit. Her eyes flew open and she dropped her hands to her side. Gualberto rubbed his leg and shook his head.
‘I’m so, so sorry, Gualberto.’ Carlos was right, the tango and martial arts had a lot in common.
‘You should ask for your money back.’ He straightened and gave her a lop-sided grin. ‘My cousin, he has taught you nothing.’
‘
He’s not my dance teacher. Officially, anyway.’
‘I thought you were studying the tango. If this is not so, why are you with him?’ Gualberto cocked his head towards their table. Carlos and his cane had disappeared but his jacket hung on the chair. ‘My leg hurts. Let us sit, yes?’
She wasn’t going to make an injured man limp through a set, especially since she’d caused the damage. Gualberto led the way to the table and Dani followed, pushing through the crowd like a salmon swimming upstream.
He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit then he signalled a waiter to bring drinks. Dani concentrated on the dancers, admiring the ease with which they moved as one, as if they had telepathy and could anticipate each other’s moves. The waiter returned with a carafe of red wine and three glasses. Gualberto filled hers to the brim. She leant forwards, took a tentative sip and let the liquid slide down her throat, warming her insides.
‘I am not shy and I will ask this. Are you and my cousin ...?’ He arched an eyebrow.
She stopped mid-sip and squeezed her eyes shut as red wine burned her throat and nostrils. ‘God no!’
‘Yes, it would have surprised me.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She doubted she’d be Carlos’s type. He wasn’t hers even if he did look like a Ralph Lauren model.
Gualberto leant forwards. ‘How well do you know Carlos?’
‘Not very well. I’m working on articles for a magazine—’
Gualberto slapped his thighs and let out a belly laugh. ‘Oh, ho, ho! What is my cousin doing with a journalist?’
‘He doesn’t like them much, does he?’
‘I believe he would like to stick the hot pokers in his eyes rather than be near people from your profession.’
‘I gathered as much. May I ask why?’
Gualberto cast his eyes around the room and leant his elbows on the table. ‘You do not know his history?’
‘Only from what I’ve read and heard from other journalists. Is that why he has a problem with them?’
‘I am not sure if this is right for me to tell. Perhaps you should be asking him.’ His eyes slid to the dance floor and he watched the couples strut their stuff.
Leaning forwards, she said, ‘I can’t speak for my colleagues, but I promise you I would not betray anyone’s confidence and I don’t plan on telling Carlos’s story unless he wants me to. I may mention him briefly in my article but I’m focusing on the dance, not the man. And I had planned on contacting you so I can write an article about you and your musicianship.’
‘From a well-balanced angle.’
‘Is there any other way to tell a story?’ Then she remembered Carlos had experienced many pointy angles. ‘Scrap that. Just know these articles will do tango proud.’
‘Is this how you get information from people? You charm them with sweetness, yes?’
Dani gave a small laugh. ‘I bet you woo people with your charisma.’
‘Maybe I do.’ His lips kicked up at the corners. ‘I will tell you, but it is only for the benefit of my cousin. If you understand his history you may find a way to work with him. It is important for him to have hope and if he can trust a journalist, maybe he can trust in other aspects of his life, yes?’ He nodded, as if agreeing with himself. ‘The most important trait a tango dancer has is trust.’
‘Okay,’ she said, not entirely sure where he was going. Guilt tugged at her sleeve again. Maybe she should tell Carlos who her mother was.
‘And my cousin doesn’t fully trust anyone.’
‘Is that why he can’t dance the tango any more? Because he doesn’t trust his dance partners?’
‘Ah, it is not that simple, but yes, I do think there is truth in this. But please, do not do the Google on my cousin. You will find many stories but none are true. I am one of the few who know what happened the night of his accident.’ His eyes locked on hers and she willed her expression to remain nonchalant. ‘You have done the Google. I can tell.’
‘How?’
‘Your eyelid. It is moving funny.’ He pointed and she rubbed her eye with her finger.
‘Gualberto, first, remind me never to play poker with you, and second, I don’t believe what’s on the web unless I’ve written it. I prefer to talk directly to the source. However, if you are willing to give me a heads up, I’m all for it.’ She placed her hands on her lap.
‘Hmm.’ His brows furrowed and he paused so long Dani thought he’d given up on the subject. Taking a sip of wine, he put the glass down and said, ‘Carlos, he has toured the world, performed for dignitaries, including presidents, but it was a woman who was his undoing.’ He let out a low whistle. ‘This Cecilia Ortiz, she captured the hearts of thousands. Her beauty and talent was only second to La Gringa Magnifica.’
She sucked in air so fast a sharp pain caught in her throat. Oh god. Change the subject. Change the subject!
‘You are all right, Dani?’ He placed the back of his hand against her forehead. ‘Do you not feel well?’
‘I’m fine.’ She breathed out. ‘This Cecilia Ortiz was Carlos’s fiancée, right?’ She already knew the answer but had to steer away from her mother becoming a topic of conversation.
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
Gualberto cast his eyes around the room, no doubt searching for his cousin. Eventually, he rested his gaze upon her. ‘They were not perfect away from their adoring fans.’ He sighed. ‘Such tragedy.’
‘So it wasn’t an easy relationship?’
‘You are correct. Carlos, he is a private man and I do not blame him. I am still surprised he is talking to you. The journalists blamed him for things he did not do. This killed the relationship he had with Cecilia. Kaput!’ With his hands he mimed a bomb exploding. ‘She left him and now he teaches the dance that broke his heart.’
‘Why does he teach if it gives him so much grief? He doesn’t give the impression of hating it.’
‘He knows nothing else. Would you ask Sir Paul McCartney to plumb a sink? No, you would not. Plus he needs the money.’
‘How badly does he need it?’
‘It is not my place to say.’
‘Sure, I understand,’ she said. ‘He’s got to live, right?’
‘Ah, but it’s not for living, it’s—’ Wariness flashed across Gualberto’s face. ‘Do not worry what it is for. My cousin only knows tango.’
‘So if he didn’t cause the accident why does he let the public think he did?’ she asked. ‘Was it Cecilia’s fault?’
He mimed zipping his lip then gave a small shrug.
‘If it was Cecilia’s fault and he loved her deeply he’d take the flak, wouldn’t he? The media would have crucified him for damaging their darling and so they’d take her side and ... wow.’ She paused to let her thoughts line up. ‘Why wouldn’t he hate the media?’
Gualberto raised his eyebrows but his lips remain closed.
‘And with the public and media blaming him for the accident, she probably believed them even though it wasn’t true.’ She studied Gualberto’s non-committal expression but his eyes told her what she needed to know. ‘How did the accident happen?’
Gualberto exhaled and said, ‘You have to ask Carlos this. I was not there.’
‘But you’re willing to believe your cousin. Because families stick together.’ If they’re not mine, that is.
CHAPTER
5
A man coughed behind Dani and she turned around. Bright lights shone in her eyes and it was impossible to read Carlos’s expression but she figured he wasn’t impressed. It might have had something to do with his tapping foot and hands on hips.
‘I see you have given up on this dancing business.’ Carlos took a seat on the opposite side of the table.
‘I don’t think your cousin wants broken feet and split shins.’ She turned to Gualberto. ‘Sorry again.’
He laughed and raised a glass in the air. ‘To foreigners and their inability to dance like an Argentine. No offence, but you all lack the sou
l required for this dance.’
‘Aside from La Gringa Magnifica.’ Carlos leant back and put his hands behind his head. ‘She was a foreigner with an Argentine soul. If you have done your research on my dance you would know of La Gringa Magnifica, yes?’
Dani stared at her wine glass, wishing she could dive in and disappear into the rich red liquid. She hoped they didn’t notice the goose bumps on her arms, her taut shoulder muscles and throbbing temples. She also prayed they couldn’t sense her mentally super-glueing her butt to the chair so she didn’t dash out the door.
‘Daniela?’
She looked up to find Carlos arching an eyebrow. His use of her full name grated on her but she was willing to let it slide—for now.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t hear you.’ Like hell, she didn’t.
‘Do you know of this Gringa Magnifica?’ Carlos asked again.
‘Yes.’ She drew the ‘s’ out longer than needed.
‘An amazing performer. I would never have imagined Argentines were capable of embracing a foreign tango dancer with such love. They hadn’t, until La Gringa Magnifica arrived on our shores twenty years ago. For a country obsessed with youth, she did very well to find her audience at the age of thirty-five. She was a strong, independent woman who put the younger women to shame and became a role model for others. She was an Australian, like you, sí? I still find it difficult to believe a country with the kangaroos and the bear things—’
‘They’re not bears, they’re koalas.’ Her words sounded snappier than she’d intended. ‘Sorry, I’m a tad tired. I’m not used to starting my evening at midnight.’
‘Ah, then we must train you if we are to take you to more dance halls during your stay, won’t we, Carlos?’ Gualberto smiled like he’d already shoved a plan up his sleeve.
‘She needs to learn to dance to write her article. This is the agreement.’
‘Maybe she could be the next Gringa Magnifica.’ Gualberto patted his cousin on the arm. ‘But I fear you have work cut out for you.’ He winked at Dani.
‘I know dancing’s not one of my talents.’ She forced a smile but felt like a phony. How stupid she’d been to think she could go to Argentina and deal with the inevitable references to her mother. You’re an idiot in denial, Dani McKenna.
Luna Tango Page 4
