The dancers were all leaning slightly forward, clapping their hands in time to the music. “Well, not really in time to the music so much as against the music,” she thought: “Pretty complicated stuff; full of energy.”
She got a good look at each of the women. The slimmer one she reckoned could be trouble if you got on her wrong side. Now why did she think that? She was good looking, but in a hard way. Something about the superior manner she had? Even a little detached. Tenille in contrast, appeared eager and involved; unaware of her beauty, totally caught up in the singer, the song and the music.
For the last number, everyone danced. She enjoyed this one; fast, with easily assimilated rhythms. The castanets were exciting and they were having fun. Even the singer wove his way in and out, in the chorus.
She was spellbound by Tenille’s sensuous dancing. Her body undulated to the music in a most captivating way. The sexiness of her came through in the simplest of gestures. Just throwing a look over her shoulder, with her dark eyes smouldering, or the swirl of her skirt as she twisted and turned, revealing a glimpse of thigh. Or was she biased? Finally the show was over. There were no encores, this being the resident troupe and the regulars would be back the following week.
The women changed into casual clothes. Tenille left her face and hair. She needed to wash out the gel, not just comb it and she would do her face at the same time.
‘Ready girls?’ Devon asked them. ‘Let’s go and have a well-earned drink.’ She turned to Tenille. ‘Leave everything. It’ll be safe and we can pack the dresses before we go.’
When they joined the men at their table, the lighting in the room promoted an atmosphere of the ‘tablas’. The kind of café-bar found in Granada or Toledo; the patrons engaged in animated conversation across the candlelit tables. Now Sidonie could see the red tablecloths and the white stucco walls with bull fight posters on them and liked the ambiance. She saw the male dancer Raoul of course, jump up and grab Tenille round the waist and heard him say: ‘Come, sit here. Let me buy you a drink.’ He indicated the chair next to him and would not let go of her. She smiled back at him, pleasure written all over her face as she thanked him and said she would like a glass of Sangria.
‘The audience loved you. We sparked a feeling between us that ignited them too. People have been congratulating me on my new find. They want to meet you, but I said later. Right now I don’t want them pestering you.’ She saw him look into her eyes as he pressed his hand more firmly against her waist; the gesture possessive.
‘Darling, have something more special than Sangria. I’ll get you anything your heart desires. Just name it.’
Tenille was not happy with all this attention, but she knew it was Raoul’s interest, which had brought her to this moment. It had felt great dancing and she’d grab as many opportunities as she could to do it again … and again.
‘Celebration time.’ Stavros’s voice rose above the hubbub. ‘Let’s drink to Los Flamencos with more Sangria.’ He turned and beckoning the waiter, ordered another large carafe. Everyone was in ebullient mood. Manuel leaned across the table. ‘I have never seen you dance better, Bella Mia.’ Tenille laughed delightedly.
‘You guys will make my head swell, then no one will want to be with me.’
‘Not true, my lovely. We will always want to be with you.’ This from Raoul. Again she observed another squeeze. Tenille was glad when the wine arrived and everybody got involved with their glasses.
From her table, Sidonie noted this approbation with consternation. Even the blonde added her praise. Not sure she had what it would take to break into a group such as this, she braced her shoulders and got up.
‘May I add my congratulations to those of your friends?’ She had stood behind Tenille and was now looking down into her upturned face.
The eyes lit up with pleasure at the sound of these words. ‘Oh … you came after all,’ she breathed. ‘I didn’t think you were here. I looked for you, but couldn’t see past the lights.’ Color rose as she heard her voice sounding emotive, embarrassing herself by her show of feeling in front of these people. Dropping her gaze, she hid behind the wineglass as she made to drink.
‘Yes, I got here just after you had started. But I watched both shows and thought them excellent.’ At this point she let her eyes take in the people seated at the table, including them in her praise. ‘It’s the first time I’ve seen Spanish dancing up close. I found it very exciting.’ Her eyes returned to Tenille.
The others at the table were looking at her with interest, especially Devon. She wondered where this girl had popped up from. She thought she knew all Tenille’s friends and acquaintances. But this one was different. Very different.
Tenille remembered her manners. ‘Let me introduce you to Los Flamencos.’ She went around the table naming everyone and finished with: ‘My friend Sidonie Henderson.’
Raoul was feeling expansive. ‘Grab another chair Stavros for our young friend.’ He turned to Sidonie. ‘We were just about to celebrate Tenille’s first show, with Sangria. Can I offer you a glass?’
‘Thank you,’ although her beer was in her hand.
The extra chair arrived and Stavros placed it close to Tenille’s. Another glass, another fill. General chatter resumed enabling Sidonie to speak quietly. Across the table Devon observed their exchange, not liking this intrusion.
‘Tenille, I didn’t realize how much there is to Spanish dancing. You call it Flamenco? Truly, you were stunning. I loved watching you.’
Tenille, although pleased by her words, was confused as to how to respond.
‘That makes two of us who have been impressed by a stage performance today, doesn’t it?’ turning slightly in her chair, away from the others. ‘You look very nice tonight. This is the first time I’ve seen you dressed … I mean not in gym clothes,’ she amended, hastily. ‘The leather suits you.’ She looked away in confusion and caught Devon’s eyes on them. The expression was hostile, making her feel uneasy. Why should that be? She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Still, she wished Devon would get herself involved in something else.
Sidonie took a sip of the wine which she hadn’t expected to like, but its fruity sweetness, offset by the slice of lemon and the juice around the rim, was pleasant; refreshing on the tongue. She took another and began to relax.
‘How long did you say you’ve been dancing?’
‘Almost eight months now.’
‘So this is your first exposure to Flamenco?’ she inquired, probing for more information about the fascinating woman.
At this juncture Raoul asked Tenille to dance with him; a few couples were already on the floor. Of course she had to acquiesce and Amaia and Stavros got up too. The number was a lively samba. People were doing whatever they pleased. Joining in half way it was soon over, so Raoul claimed her for the next, which turned out to be a slow, romantic number. He took her in his arms and pressing his body close to hers, proceeded to lead her expertly around the floor.
Sidonie had been watching the dancers, but seeing this upset her equilibrium. Averting her eyes, she turned back to the drink.
Devon, from across the table, observed the discomfort and was intrigued. Deciding to do a little prying, she picked up her glass and cigarettes and made her way over to the girl’s side and plonked herself down in the vacated chair.
‘Since you are not part of the Flamenco Cognoscente, I guess you are here to see Tenille dance?’ she inquired, as she selected a cigarette from the pack and lit up. ‘Am I right?’ She looked directly at Sidonie, not one flicker of changing expression to escape her notice.
She was not sure what a cognoscente was, but she could answer the question. ‘Yes, that’s right.’ She didn’t want to talk to this woman and hated smoke in her face. She turned to the dancers again. As she watched she saw that two in particular, were not doing much travelling. Pretty rooted to the spot was more the situation. She’d wait until they returned to their seats, then she’d leave, beginning to feel she should never have come;
was totally out of place.
Devon was not finished, still needing to ferret out the connection. ‘So how did you get to know Tenille? I thought I knew all her friends.’
At this, Sidonie gave her attention to the other woman. ‘We met at the gym.’
‘Oh, the gym.’ she repeated, as though this explained everything. ‘So you are not an old friend of hers? Although that would be unlikely since there’s obviously a big age difference.’
‘Oh? Is there? I’d not noticed.’
‘Hadn’t you? She’s in her early thirties, now,’ Devon affirmed maliciously.
Sidonie fell silent hearing this, as her mind raced. Could it be true? She didn’t look to be that age. But then, her skin was flawless; unblemished, with a golden glow. The lines about her eyes and mouth were laugh-lines. Her way of being didn’t seem old enough, not self-assured like Jessica or Thea.
‘Just think,’ she continued venomously, ‘when you were about ten, running around the school yard, she was like you now.’
“Hardly,” thought Sidonie to herself, but said out loud, in a grating voice: ‘I don’t think Tenille has the same interests as me, at all.’
Devon stubbed out her smoke and leaned forward. She had observed the effect of her words with satisfaction. Yes, there had been more there than met the eye. One more parting shot. ‘She’s in the process of getting over her husband, you know. It’s been hard, but Raoul is helping her.’
Sidonie’s unblinking gaze was cold, while her inner voice told some home truths. “How foolish you’ve been girl. This one’s not for you. You’ve not faced up to it before, but she really likes men. Just hearing her talk, you know she’s come from money. You may look … but don’t touch.” There was a bitter taste in her mouth, as anger flared dangerously in the pit of her stomach, fuelled by frustration.
The music came to an end and dancers began to drift back. ‘I’ll give Tenille her seat,’ Devon declared, rising to her feet and moving away, leaving Sidonie to digest this last piece of information.
So Raoul was very much in the picture. She could understand it; more’s the pity. He was so damned handsome.
Tenille sat down and picked up her glass. Raoul moved his chair closer to hers. ‘We’ll work on a new dance next week, Sweetheart. I can see you are more than ready,’ he proclaimed suggestively.
Suddenly Tenille turned to the girl.
‘I guess we’d better go now, hadn’t we Sidonie? It’s very late and you have an early start tomorrow, haven’t you.’ She looked with great concentration into her face, willing her to understand her need to be bailed out.
‘True,’ she affirmed slowly, looking back, wandering what in hell’s name was going on.
‘I’ll get my things,’ she said hastily, jumping up and almost dragging the cloth with her.
‘Don’t go so soon,’ Raoul complained. ‘It’s not that late. Anyway, tomorrow is Sunday.’
Tenille’s back was already disappearing. Sidonie chipped in quickly, ‘I work seven days a week.’
‘You do?’ doubt spilled over.
‘Yes, at Woodbine Racetrack. Horses have to be cared for on weekends, too.’ She rose and looked about her: ‘Nice meeting you.’ She nodded generally to the assembled group who had been taken by surprise by the unfolding events. ‘Thank you for the drink.’ She had turned to Raoul.
‘We’ll see you again, some time,’ Devon said, smiling sweetly.
Sidonie didn’t answer, just walked over to her table, put down the money and picked up her jacket. She headed for the rear exit to wait for this puzzling woman and speculate on the sudden change. “What had happened? It must have been Raoul. Something he said or …” she grimaced, “something he’s done.”
Tenille appeared, looking about her. She made herself prominent as Tenille walked towards her, waving to the table in passing. She took her big case, leaving her with her purse and jacket. No coat. “Got a ride in?” she thought. Perhaps Raoul had brought her and had expected to take her home … or to wherever. Another grimace.
Once the other side of the drapes, in the passageway, they stopped to put on jackets.
‘The car’s close. We won’t get cold.’ She lead the way easily, having conveniently parked under a spot-light.
Tenille acknowledged with a nod only; still not happy, but looking less tense. The chill of the night air bit into them after the warmth of the bar. Welcome really; a cleansing effect on the mind. A fresh start to the night, allowing unpleasantnesses to be expunged. Once settled she turned to Tenille, her hand on the key.
‘What do you want to do?’ she asked carefully, with a slow smile. ‘I’m yours to command.’ She couldn’t help but notice the humor of the statement since of course, Tenille had no idea how much of her she could command.
She shook her head then looked at Sidonie in the light of the yard. ‘I don’t know. All I do know is that I needed to get out of there. Everything was going so well and I was happy you were able to make it …’ She broke off, giving a hesitant smile. How it transformed her face. Sidonie’s stomach contracted as a wave of longing rose up. She couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and enveloping the woman’s hand in her own. She knew there was no future with this beautiful, unobtainable creature, but it didn’t stop the feeling, or her wanting to ease the pain.
‘Tenille. It’s okay,’ she said huskily. ‘I told you I would do my best to be there and when I say I’ll try to do something, then I really do.’ She searched the woman’s face, noticed an easing of tension about the mouth and eyes. Good. She released her hand and reached again towards the ignition. She would have liked to do more, but Devon’s words were ringing in her ears.
Cold was seeping through. She should get the heater going. Fortunately Tercel could pour it out.
‘Well, would you like to go somewhere for a nightcap or would you prefer to have me take you home?’ Her voice was low and soft. Tenille liked listening to it. She felt she really would like to be with her for a while longer. She was not yet ready to be alone with her thoughts. She would love to be able to unburden herself to this sympathetic girl who seemed so understanding.
‘The nightcap sounds good. Where do you suggest? I don’t know Toronto at night.’
‘Well, I don’t either really,’ she responded, but I’m told the city looks spectacular from Stop 33 at the top of The Westbury. The night is so dry we should get a very clear view.’
Tenille let go completely and relaxed back into her seat as Sidonie started the engine and swung in a slow, smooth arc out of her space. Downtown from here wouldn’t take long; the bar would still be open, no longer rowdy. Parking was easy, just round the corner off Bay Street on Breadalbane. Her previous experience made her decide to be tieless at this bar so she loosened the knot, lifted up her collar and slipped it over her head.
‘You are taking it off,’ Tenille observed, as she put it down on the dash.
‘Yes. I thought perhaps it was too much,’ was the simple reply.
Tenille picked it up and drew the thin slip of leather gently through her fingers. It still retained body warmth. ‘I liked seeing you in it. Won’t you wear it, for me?’ She was suddenly embarrassed, as though she’d overstepped a line somewhere. Yet the thought and the words had sprung out of her, before consciousness and drawn forth a blush of color.
‘If that’s what you’d like, then that is what I’ll do.’ She gave her a quick glance, but in the velvet darkness could not discern her expression. She placed it around her collar again and expertly knotted it, the tie falling easily into its accustomed creases.
“This must be a favorite.” She remembered watching her husband do this. Watching a woman gave a peculiar thrill she’d never before experienced. She wanted to reach out, rest her hand on the fingers manipulating the soft leather; feel them with hers.
“Ten, you are going crazy. What is happening to you?”
By this time Sidonie had completed the task and the crook lock was in place. ‘Shall we go?’ Her warm
smile drew her in. ‘I don’t always use it but downtown, parked on the street, it makes me feel a little more secure. This way.’
Setting a brisk pace back to Bay, Tenille was forced to make an effort to keep in step. A languid mood had settled on her while sitting in the passenger seat, now she had to gear up. As she got into her stride and matched Sidonie’s, her feeling of well being was complete. She felt in capable hands, Sidonie radiating an aura of positiveness, which was most reassuring. How fortunate to have met her. Could they become firm friends?
At their appearance in the hotel lobby, the doorman tipped his hat and indicated the direction for Stop 33. Sidonie guided Tenille to the elevators. While they waited she enjoyed looking at her. The cheeks were flushed from the brisk walk and the eyes … so dark and brooding earlier, now flashed and sparkled with happiness, bejewelled with flecks of gold in the soft brown. “How this woman can change,” she thought. No hiding of her emotions, her expressive face reveals her feelings. “That’s if you read the signs right,” she cautioned. The doors opened and she ushered her in; a bit of a squeeze, others having the same idea for winding down. When they opened again it was to the romantic shadows of a cocktail lounge. Somewhere, a pianist played in mellow mood. A young waitress approached, enquiring if they needed a table for four. Sidonie corrected her assumption and asked for one by the window.
‘Yes certainly. This way.’
They followed across the thick-piled carpet. Tenille exclaimed with pleasure at the panorama that met her eyes. The city by night was magical, sparkling lights spinning before her gaze. An undulating skyline defined by silhouettes from downtown office blocks; the CN Tower a majestic pinnacle rising above them all.
They settled themselves opposite each other in deep, comfortable seats, turned slightly towards the view, the table between them low and round. They placed their orders. Sidonie was prepared to let Tenille talk or not, as she felt the need, but intrigued nonetheless by this woman’s change of disposition. When Tenille’s eyes eventually relinquished the impressive view, she said sincerely: ‘Thank you for helping me out back there. I just knew I had to get away, yet there was no time to explain anything. Fortunately for me, you picked up on the cues. Really, I can’t thank you enough.’
Outing of the Heart Page 29
