Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  Black Burlesque

  Written by L.C. Castillo

  To the O’s in my life...

  This is my first novel. My first ever attempt at writing. I am a reader, so this was far more difficult than I imagined. The characters in my story are living, breathing people in my imagination, and as hard as I tried, I know I did not do them justice. I hope you are able to enjoy their story. I welcome your positive feedback and constructive criticism.

  Chapter 1

  A Cheshire cat grin spreads across my face as I listen to the quiet pitter-patter of rain drumming its fingers against my roof. I absolutely love waking to the sound of rain, a rare treat in sunny Southern California. My pit bull Bucky bolts up, startling me. I realize it wasn’t the rain that woke us, but the rattle of my shop doors below. I already know who it is. The rattling soon turns into a relentless pounding knock. I grab Bucky’s collar to take him down the stairs with me so that he can go out and handle his business.

  “Go on Bucky. Hurry up, its cold!” The cool air swirls around me and goose bumps prick my skin as I open the backdoor downstairs.

  He pounces back inside a moment later and shakes the rain off his brown coat, sprinkling me in the process. Thanks, Bucky.

  I gaze at my pale skin and cat-like green eyes in a chipped and spotted mirror in my shop. My eyes are nearly transparent this morning. I wrap a red silk scarf around my long dirty blonde mane, and resolve to open the front doors and begin my morning ritual.

  I work in a tiny shop in the heart of Uptown. I make pennies, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. My shop, Uptown Custom Vintage, is an eclectic space. Mismatched bookcases, shelving, vintage furniture, Tiffany lamps, and old, worn Oriental rugs are woven together to create my unique living and work space.

  I weave my way around the shop as I hear the barn style doors of my shop rattle once more and someone curse in the rain outside. He’ll be pissed that I kept him waiting. I peek through the window to see Jordan with his big black umbrella, flipping me off. I smile and unlock the bolt, and slide one of the doors to the side. He closes his umbrella and shakes it in my face. Nice.

  I flip the switch that illuminates my neon sign as Jordan shoves past me. The U in Uptown sputters for a moment before lighting up.

  “Um, good morning to you, too, Jordan.”

  “Did you move the spare key? It wasn’t there. Anyway, I’m hiding out here today. I don’t want to go to work.” He dumps his umbrella into the nearest trashcan.

  “Fine with me, but don’t scare any of my customers away. And the spare key is where it always is,” I murmur as I wander into the kitchen.

  Jordan is by no means big, but his personality can be scary. He is rail thin, is supposedly vegan, (though I swear he ate sushi with me not too long ago), and has long, light brown hair that’s shaved on the sides. His sharp features and high cheekbones give him a handsome, exotic, androgynous look. Somehow he manages to intimidate people by simply narrowing his eyes.

  This morning he is wearing heavy, combat style boots with black skinny jeans and a tight, velvet V-neck sweater. Only he can manage to make this outfit look good.

  “Have you talked to Kazumi today?” he asks. I hear him plop into one of the comfy leather chairs as I busy myself cutting up fruit in my small kitchen.

  “No, I haven’t. You should call her. She doesn’t have any lessons until about four or so. I can bring out the T.V. and we can watch The Long Hot Summer, or something.” Got to love that Paul Newman.

  “Ok, I already texted her. Don’t you want to know why I’m ditching work?”

  Jordan works in his mother’s print shop, but he’s really an artist. He has a small online shop where he sells some of his hand-stamped shirts, usually depicting some weird obscure character from a movie. He’s feigning interest in running his mother’s business, but when she retires he plans to convert the big old industrial building into an art gallery and a place for up-and-coming designers to sell their work. I can already imagine how fantastic it will be once Jordan has free reign.

  “Do I want to know why you’re playing hooky? I know you went out with Caleb this weekend. I’m guessing you’re avoiding him.” I walk out of the kitchen with a fresh carafe of coffee for my customers and a bowl full of fruit for us. I can smell my coffee brewing and my stomach rumbles in response. I prefer Cuban coffee to American coffee, but I do try to keep my customers happy, so I brew both every morning.

  He smiles smugly. “That, my friend, is correct,” he smiles and throws a pillow at me. I dodge it just in time and run back to the kitchen to pour myself some coffee.

  Jordan hired Caleb to help out a bit in the shop, but really I think Jordan wanted something or someone to keep him entertained for a while. Leading guys on is something Jordan does frequently.

  “So, are you going to let him know he’s out of a job? Or let him figure it out for himself?” I say disapprovingly, earning an eye roll from Jordan.

  “Not sure. I think I’ll have my mom let him know,” he says with disinterest.

  “Nice Jordan. That’s very classy, gallant even.”

  “Fuck you,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes.

  “I hate to tell you this, Jordan, but you’re getting predictable.”

  His mouth drops open in surprise, I sip my coffee with my brows high.

  “Eat shit, that’s mean,” he tries to keep the emotion from his voice, but I know I just struck a cord.

  “I seriously don’t get you, Jordan.” I mean to sound stern, but I fail as a small smile creeps back onto my face.

  He shifts around in his seat, and his smug demeanor returns.

  “Good, that’s the point.”

  Kazumi joins us about an hour or so later and we sit on my comfy mid-century modern couch, watching a movie. Seeing that it’s a rainy day, business is sure to be slow, so I don’t feel too guilty about slacking and taking a few hours to sit around with my friends. I absentmindedly stitch a torn seam from a 1950’s fit and flare dress that was dropped off over the weekend as I stare at the sexiness that is Ben Quick.

  Kazumi is silent today, even for her usual self. I watch her from the corner of my eye, and see her chewing something over in her mind.

  “Something wrong, Kazumi?” I say with a mouth full of popcorn. She is wearing bright orange lipstick and gold cross-shaped earrings. As always, she looks gorgeous. Her jet-black hair is kept short and cropped around her pretty face.

  “No, not really. I’m just trying to figure something out. The girls and me could use another night of work. Just trying to figure out which night will work best,” she responds, never taking her eyes off of the screen.

  She must really be deep in thought about this, or stressed out, because she usually looks me in the eyes when she speaks to me. It’s kind of her thing.

  Kazumi choreographs dance routines for a burlesque group called The Mercuries. She’s also in charge of booking acts for a great 1920’s themed bar in downtown called The Speak Easy, which is where the girls perform regularly. I’ve only been there once, it has a terrific atmosphere; a little pricey and high-end, but it’s absolutely beautiful.

  “Well, I’m sure you girls will figure it all out. The club would be crazy not to have you girls every night of the week.”

  She turns and smiles at me softy. And I instantly feel like she is hiding something, like there is a joke I’m not in on. I look at her quizzically and she looks away, with an amused expression. Her heart shaped mouth suppresses a sly smile.

  “Are you still coming to ballet practice tonight?” She asks in her feather soft voice.

  I settle back into my seat and try to rid myself of the paranoid feeling that is ebbing its way through my mind.

  “Of course I am. Why do you ask?”

>   That telltale smile returns to her lips, “Just making sure.” I peek over at Jordan and he is sporting a similar wry smile. What the fuck? Am I missing something?

  Kazumi and Jordan leave shortly after lunch, so I walk upstairs to check on Bucky and he bolts upright when he sees me. I really should take my poor guy out more, but he loves being tucked inside of my shop. The rain has subsided, so I decide to close up for a bit to take him for a walk. It isn’t often we get to walk around in weather like this.

  He trots down the stairs with me, and his tail begins to wag wildly when he see’s me grab his leash.

  Bucky was a gift from Maggie, my guardian. Once she and I furnished and fixed up the apartment above the shop together, she thought I needed a bit of protection. She couldn’t have chosen a better dog for it, but Bucky has yet to have to defend me against anyone or anything. I don’t even know if I’ve ever seen my sweet boy in a bad temper, but he does look ferocious to the outside world. I reach down to stroke him behind the ears, and I swear he smiles up at me in response.

  It’s still pretty misty out when I close up, but it’s comfortable enough for a walk. I decide on the path that begins behind the university. It’s hidden, and secluded. I love to get out in weather like this, to enjoy the quiet and eerily empty streets.

  The city of Uptown is truly lovely. Many of the businesses are in historic buildings and houses that have been adapted for commercial use. Some of my favorite streets are practically unchanged since the town was established in the late 1800’s. I feel really fortunate to live in a town that has such a rich history. I especially love that the city works so hard to preserve and maintain the historical attributes it has to offer.

  A prestigious university, several parks and hiking trails, bike paths, restaurants, nightlife, and great one of a kind shops pepper the city. Close enough to L.A. should I want to go an adventure, but secluded enough to make me feel cozy and tucked away from it all.

  Not that I go out on many jaunts to L.A. I’ve only gone out with Kazumi and Jordan a few times, but I learned that I can dance to almost everything, and Jordan is a fantastic dance partner. It’s great to go out with him because he is a man, so other men won’t approach me when I’m with him; (he can be quite intimidating), and then of course there is no danger of leading him on because he’s gay. All in all, he is a perfect person to go out on dates with.

  I can bump and grind with him to various types of music and not feel guilty or weird about it. Zero confusion. Unlike the dilemmas the gorgeous Kazumi is constantly having, always having to redirect men after they get the wrong idea. A simple smile from the Japanese beauty can send a guy head over heels! Seriously. I’ve seen it happen.

  When I dance, that is the only time I feel my age. I feel young, and carefree. I don’t relate well with people my age, and it can sometimes be isolating. My social skills never fully evolved quite as much as they should have, not enough practice in my youth maybe? It’s probably because I spent most of my time with Maggie and her senior citizen friends. Thankfully Jordan can be pretty persistent when he wants me to go out, and when I do, I don’t regret it.

  I smile at the thought and am suddenly jerked back to reality as Bucky takes off after whatever it is he just saw. He practically pulls my arm from the socket! The ground is muddy and soft and I know what’s going to happen before it does. I let the leash go and slide gracefully to a halt seconds away from slamming into a low tree branch.

  A sigh of relief escapes me, but it’s brief. We are out in nature and heading up a steep hill. I don’t want anything to happen to Bucky, so I start after him. I run as quickly and carefully as I can, shouting at the top of my lungs for him to stop. Damn dog.

  “Bucky! Bucky God-dammit! Stop!” The rain is starting to come down harder and it’s getting difficult for me to see. It’s a grey day today, which messes with my weak vision; a side effect of consuming romance novels and stitching clothing by hand in dim lighting.

  “Bucky! Come back here, now!”

  Minutes tick by and I’m overwhelmed by panic. I’ve lost track of time. It could be just a few minutes have passed, but I feel like I’ve been searching and running after Bucky for an hour. I am soaking wet now, I stop at the top of the hill with my long sleeved shirt sticking to me like glue. My leggings are doing nothing to keep me warm and my rain boots are hidden beneath a thick layer of red mud. I really can’t see well, and the rain is suddenly something furious. It’s deafening. I try to keep an ear open to any sound indicating that Bucky might be near.

  Eventually I see something moving in the distance ahead of me and so I make a run toward it, slipping and sliding on my way up, my leggings are now covered in goopy mud.

  “Bucky!”

  I can vaguely see him; the rain is beginning to feel like it’s penetrating my eyelids. Fuck. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s limping. Shit! No! He hobbles toward me and I see that someone follows him. He is just as soaked as I am and he is holding Bucky’s muddy leash.

  “Is this your dog?” I hear him ask before I am able to see him clearly. His voice is extravagantly deep. I am shaking with cold and adrenaline now. I’ll be sore tomorrow for sure. I can’t look up at him because of the rain, so when the stranger is close enough, I answer.

  “Yes, he is. He got away from me,” I say quietly, the rain pounding violently in my ears. I doubt he even heard me. He reaches forward to hand me the leash. I take it from him, careful not to touch him with my muddy fingers. My eyes slowly peel themselves from the ground, and I lazily peer up at him, my eyes skim across his shoes, legs and torso. He is wearing a grey cardigan sweater with black lapels, and fitted dark denim jeans, and his shoes look like mine, covered in mud.

  My eyes make their way up to his face. His soft fair skin is luminous, his eyes are hidden behind horn-rimmed glasses, and his dark brown hair is dripping wet. Our eyes lock for a moment and in that instant it’s as if I’ve been burned. His eyes are a blazing blue and I don’t know any other way to describe how they make me feel. It’s as though my body temperature has risen several hundred degrees.

  My face flushes tomato red. He is beyond gorgeous. Oh, holy hell...I just had to meet him covered in mud didn’t I? Fucking bullshit weather.

  I suddenly feel as though all of my thoughts are exposed and written across my face. I mumble a quick thank you before kneeling down to check Bucky. I need to get my eyes off of him and regain my equilibrium.

  “He slipped and rolled off the side of the trail, almost fell into that small trench,” the stranger says, pointing to our right. The sound of his voice sends a warm current through my body. I can’t see what he’s talking about, but I know what’s there, a small ravine for the water to flow down in case of heavy rain. It’s steep enough for Bucky to have really gotten hurt. I flinch hearing that’s where he could have ended up. I press on Bucky’s front left leg and he flinches and whines in response. I’m full of remorse and embarrassment.

  “Oh, Bucky. What were you chasing?” I whisper so that only my boy can hear. I stand; Bucky takes a step down the hill and let’s out a small whimper. I hope he isn’t seriously hurt. How am I going to make it down this steep hill with him?

  “I can help you, I’ll carry him down,” the stranger offers in response to my silent struggle. I’m afraid to look at him again. Those burning blue eyes, images of blue flames dance in my head at just the thought.

  He doesn’t wait for me to answer as he scoops Bucky up and starts down the hill at an even and measured pace.

  Bucky is a heavy dog; at least 80 pounds, yet he carries him effortlessly. This stranger is lean, and broad shouldered. His cardigan is stuck to his back, wet with rain, and I can see that he is toned and muscular.

  Must.

  Stop.

  Staring.

  The trek down the hill is rough and slippery, and I’m afraid the stranger is going to slip and fall, and injure my dog even further. But I’m also grateful for the help, so I try to keep my panic in check.


  If I were alone, I probably wouldn’t have found Bucky, and my pup and me would have been stranded up here for hours. I walk silently behind the stranger carrying my dog and it seems like an eternity before we make it back down toward the start of the path. We trudge our way to the small parking lot off to the right side of the trail and he finally sets Bucky down.

  “I can give you a ride if you’d like,” his voice is raised so that I can hear him over the rain. He’s tall, 6’ 3” maybe? I am trying very hard to keep my eyes down and away from his burning eyes.

  “No, that’s ok. We’re not far. We’ll be fine. Thank you,” I mumble as I grab Bucky’s leash from the floor and start back toward the shop. I don’t look up at him again. My hair is in my face and my thick lashes are soaked, they even feel heavy.

  I try to get away as quickly as I can, still shaking, now more from my nerves than the actual cold. Bucky is of course hobbling, so I can’t move fast enough to ease my shaky nerves. I need to get some distance. My senses are in complete disarray.

  “Let me at least give you an umbrella,” he shouts after me. I hear a car door open and close and the slapping of hard soles pounding pavement behind me. I turn stiffly as he catches up and hands me his umbrella. I glance up at him again, and he is staring down at me, his glasses hanging from the pocket of his cardigan now.

  His looks down at me; concern written at the corners of his eyes. I take the umbrella from him and look down again, experiencing that same burning sensation after glancing at his now unobstructed eyes. They’re amazing, framed in thick dark lashes, his fair skin a shocking contrast to his dark hair. My cheeks feel hot even though I am shivering. I think anyone in a three-mile radius can hear my heart beating.

  Fucking.

  Gorgeous.

  “Thank you. How will I get it back to you?” My voice is small, timid and afraid. My eyes remain fixed on Bucky, I don’t think I can handle the feeling if I risk looking up at him again.