by Alexie Aaron
“Alas, it’s not the first time the illustrious Kyle has attacked his lover. Usually, it’s the soprano or the lead dancer.”
“He is not my lover,” I protested.
“In his mind you are,” Preston said as he lifted the ice pack and started to repair my makeup. “I think I have to take responsibility for this, diva. I outfitted you as Carmen. Eldora and you look so similar. It’s just the hair that is different. You both have fierce brown eyes and a beautiful mouth. I wanted to honor her with your wearing her costume…”
“No,” I interrupted. “You wanted to bring back her memory. You want to find out what happened to her, and you used me to get a rise out of someone.”
“Kyle would not have been out of short pants when Eldora was around,” Preston said.
“Then who?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I just wanted people to start thinking of her again and wondering what had happened to her. This way, I could convince them to reopen her case.”
There was a timid tap on the door. Mandy stuck her head in. I found Mr. O’Rourke.”
“Send him in!” Preston said.
Harry pushed past Carlos and Preston. “What’s wrong? I got a page, and the young lady brought me here.
“Kyle smacked me hard.”
“How hard?”
I closed my eyes, fighting the memory of Sidney but couldn’t. “Sidney hard.”
“Sidney put you in the hospital,” Harry growled. “Where is Kyle?”
“No! Leave him alone. I’m out of here. I won’t have to deal with him again.”
“You have to call Dave. The man has to be taught he can’t hit a woman, Cin,” Harry stressed.
“Harry, if I may have a moment,” Preston said. “No one saw the assault. The audience saw a besotted young man making public love to a woman. Cin is going to be put in a very awkward position. No one is going to believe her.”
“Dave Buslowski will believe me,” I insisted. “He’s a cop.”
“A bit biased,” Preston said. “Tell you what, I’ll have Kyle brought up before the disciplinary committee. Please let the opera have tonight, so tickets can be purchased, and it will be able to survive another season,” he pleaded.
Harry and I exchanged looks. I nodded slowly. Harry frowned. I could see that I lost something that night. I had lost his esteem.
~
The rest of the night went without further incident. The meet and greet after party found me with Harry plastered to my side. He had a firm grip on my waist wherever I went. He whispered in my ear his observations of the crowd, which caused me to forget my problems and laugh. Preston handed me a glass of something dark and wicked, and I was soon very relaxed.
Kyle scowled at me from across the room. Harry caught his eye and challenged him with the tilt of his chin. Kyle stayed away.
“I want to punch him in the nose,” Harry said.
“Go ahead, but that means that you, and not him are going to be spending the night in jail. Harry, you’re too pretty to survive in prison.”
“Alas, I fear you’re right. Hey, I was thinking that you should go to the Halloween party as Poison Ivy.”
“Hardee har har,” I said. “How about Mother Nature?”
“Not naughty enough.”
“Harry…” I started to scold when Ryan walked over.
“Cin, we need a photo of the group with Kyle.”
“I’m not part of the group, and I’m not getting within ten feet of Kyle,” I said boldly.
“Please.”
“You heard the lady. Move on,” Harry said. “Cin, I think we’ve put in enough time. Let’s go.”
“Hold on,” Ryan said. “At least give me an explanation.”
Harry took Ryan aside and told him what had happened. I saw Ryan look over at Kyle, his face full of rage. He walked back over to me. “I’m sorry, I had no idea. You can leave. I’ll make excuses. Thank you for helping us out.”
I turned to leave when the music started. It was a tango. I looked back, and to my horror, Kyle strode across the floor and held out his hand to me. I saw the patrons of the opera expectantly looking my way. Preston put his hands together, silently pleading for me not to make a scene. I reached out my hand and let Kyle take me out onto the smooth floor of the lobby where people moved quickly away.
Noelle and I had taken a dance class together. I excelled at the tango. Noelle was an excellent lead. I looked up into Kyle’s face and gave him a look of frosty contempt.
The crowd loved it. Kyle gripped my hand hard and led me through the paces. He dipped me over his leg, his lips brushing the lone ivy leaf. He brought me up hard and spun me away, never letting go of my hand. He brought me back hard into his body, and we finished the dance as one. At the end, I bent as far backwards as I dared, just to keep his face off of my breasts.
The applause was thunderous. I looked up at him, and he stared at me with his cold eyes. The music changed, and Harry was there at my side, guiding me away from the other dancers. He assumed a proprietary role as my escort.
“You know why he did that, don’t you?” Harry asked me.
“Yes, so I don’t have a leg to stand on when pressing charges,” I answered. “It’s over. Take me home.”
We moved through the back of the building, collecting my instrument on the way. There were a few people in the parking garage to witness Harry and me running to the car, me barefoot and laughing. He put the alto in the trunk, picked me up and dumped me in the passenger seat. Harry kept the top down on the Z3 and tore out of the lot. I didn’t care that my hair would be a mess when we got back.
Harry pulled into the Taco Bell on the way home. The drive-up person looked at us as if we were nuts.
“You’re kind of overdressed, aren’t you?” she said.
“We always go to the border in style,” Harry said in a posh British accent.
Recitative
I lay on the raft in the pool, my head turned to take advantage of the cool water on my sore and swollen face. I had put on my oldest two-piece and promised myself to stay in that chlorinated water as long as I could stand it to try to fade the vibrant tattoo decorating my body.
I heard the slider open, and since I wasn’t expecting company, I just assumed it was Harry. “Did the paper come yet?”
“No, but mine did,” Dave said coolly.
I turned my face and put my hand to my eyes. “Hello, I thought you were working today.”
“What is that all over your body?” he asked.
Sensing a bit of rage in his voice, I sat up, balancing awkwardly on the raft. “It’s not permanent. It’s supposed to come off,” I tried to explain, slipping off the raft and swimming over to the edge.
“What happened to you?” he asked, looking down at my bruised face. “Did you get into a bar brawl?”
I laughed. “You should have seen the other guy.”
“What happened?”
“She was slapped by Kyle Martel,” Harry said from the open door of his room.
“What? When?” He turned back to Cin.
“After the performance. He… he… Damn, it’s kind of a long story. I survived,” I said lamely.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t want to… No. I wanted to but got talked out of it. For the sake of the opera.”
“Is that true?” Dave asked Harry.
Harry walked over, picked up the discarded paper, and shook his head, looking at something on the front page. “She was asked not to spoil the gala. The opera is failing, and they need the subscribers. I wanted to punch the guy in the nose. Cin wouldn’t let me,” Harry said, opening up the paper. “Oh my god. I am not your young lover! Cin, will they print a retraction?”
“What are you talking about?” I looked up at Dave who was inspecting my face. “What is he talking about?”
“You and Kyle are all over the front page of the Palm Beach Post, plus two pages in The Shiny Sheet. It tells the tale of how Kyle took you right out f
rom under your young lover’s nose. They have pictures of him kissing your hand onstage, the highly sexual tango you two performed, and Harry picking you up, dumping you inside your car, and speeding off.”
I groaned. “Just push me under. Hold me there for four or five minutes. Whatever it takes.”
Dave couldn’t help himself. He started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“I thought that the cad had seduced you.”
“Harry?” I squeaked.
“No, Kyle, you idiot.”
“Are you out of your freckin’ mind?” I splashed him with water. He reached down and dunked me. To give him credit it was only one minute. But it did give me pause.
~
I walked over to the table, stopped, turned around, and walked back. I repeated the motion.
“Go ahead and look,” Dave said.
“If I don’t look at it, then I can go through life blissfully ignorant.”
“Sorry, but someone has a GIF of him kissing your hand on the internet, according to Deputy Jones, who also told me that the tango is on YouTube. You only scored a seven point five by the Dancing with the Stars judges,” Dave said sympathetically. “One of them said Kyle’s handling of you was brutal.”
“It was. Look at my hand. I won’t be playing for a few weeks.” I lifted my hand for Buslowski to inspect.
He dramatically got on his knees and kissed the bruised flesh.
“Hey, none of that. It’s ten in the morning. Sunday morning,” Harry pointed out. He walked out of the kitchen with what looked like iced tea. “Are you on duty?” Harry asked.
“No.”
“On call?”
“No.”
“Then you can have one of these.”
“I take it, it’s not iced tea,” Dave said, sniffing the glass. His eyes opened wide.
I was just about to take a sip when Dave pulled the glass out of my hand. “Have you had any painkillers?”
“No.”
“Okay.” He handed back Harry’s version of a Long Island Iced Tea.
I took a deep drink, and then I sat down and looked at the papers.
There, centered under the headline Kyle Proposes to Diva, was Kyle on his knees kissing my hand. The next picture was Kyle escorting me off the stage with his hand on my waist. “The asshole cuffed me thirty seconds after this in the privacy of the hall. He really is a maniac. I stumbled out of there. Preston found me and put me back together while Mandy went in search of Harry.”
“That explains this picture,” Dave said, pointing to Harry in a full run up the stage steps.
“Jilted lover,” I read aloud, looking at Harry. “Ew,” we said in chorus.
Dave roared with laughter.
I took another drink. “Harry, did you use a little peach schnapps in this?”
“Yes.”
“Good call.”
“Stop stalling. You now have The Shiny Sheet to look over,” Dave said, prodding me.
“You’re a cruel man, Buslowski,” I said as he opened the two-page spread. There I was, bent over Kyle’s knee with his face pressed up against my chest.
“Limber little bugger, isn’t he?” Dave growled.
There was a good shot of the look I gave Kyle in the beginning. Someone had written the caption: Trouble in paradise? A later shot of Harry guiding me away and the look of pure hatred on Kyle’s face, had me rubbing my arms as a chill moved over me. “That can’t be good,” I said.
“This is why I would like permission to set the young man straight,” Dave said. “That look doesn’t say, ‘The best man won,’ it says, ‘I’m coming for you Harry.’”
I looked over at Harry and nodded. “Do whatever you can. I can’t have that psychopath after Harry.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to have you press charges because we are way too late to do that. As far as the courts go, Harry could have done this to your face when you came home. Preston’s makeup job makes you look bruise-free in these shots,” Dave pointed out.
“What picture brought you over here?” I asked.
“This one,” he said, tapping on one I had yet to look at. There under a caption of Eldora Capella’s Ghost? was me spinning away from Kyle. I had a look of pure fear while Kyle’s was of controlled rage.
Underneath the picture was a short article about Eldora Capella and her notorious love life. The writer pointed out that Eldora was still missing and presumed dead. They didn’t name them but insinuated that one of her lovers was a suspect. All four had some sort of control over her. The final sentence haunted me. Could the fate of the soprano be the same for this alto?
“Gee thanks,” I said to the writer. I turned and looked at Dave. “Thanks for coming. I’m going to go inside and throw up.” I got up, ran inside the master suite, and just made the bathroom in time.
I felt Dave’s strong but gentle hands scoop my hair back as I emptied my stomach. I never did well when drinking peach schnapps on an empty stomach.
“Oh, freckles, I’m so sorry to lay this on you. I’ll protect you,” he said softly.
I got up and washed my mouth out and then my face. I tried scrubbing on the ivy around my neck. It almost felt like it had tightened. Dave took the washcloth away from me. He picked me up and walked me back into the bedroom and laid me down. Dave sat there and let me cry until I fell asleep.
~
I woke up disorientated. I found myself in bed, in my damp bathing suit. It took me a moment to remember what had happened. I took off my suit, pulled a robe around me, and walked outside to see Dave and Harry deep in conversation.
“Hey,” I said and walked over and pulled up a chair. “What did I miss?”
“Harry was telling me about a job you were thinking about taking on, a missing persons case. This missing person.” He tapped the newspaper.
“That was before last night,” I said, looking at Harry for confirmation.
“Cin, I think we need to do this,” Harry said. “Dave agrees.”
“Really?” I asked, looking at Dave.
“Harry filled me in on what you told him about Preston’s real reason for dressing you like Eldora. He may have even pushed Kyle into the role of the lover. He bears looking into, but you have to say one thing for the man, he succeeded and got his write-up,” Dave said, displaying The Shiny Sheet article. The case is now open. You and Harry have already been thrust into the limelight. You may as well pool your brilliant minds and figure this out before whatever and whoever happened to Eldora starts looking at you, Cin.”
“He said we have brilliant minds, Harry.”
“That he did. Damn, where is my tape recorder? If you two will excuse me, I’m taking my brilliant mind and heading to a pool party.”
Harry left. My eyes followed him as he walked through the kitchen, snagging the bottle of champagne on his way out. “Some pool party,” I thought suspiciously. Was he dating?
Dave got up and pulled me to my feet. He looked down at the ivy on my leg and undid the robe. “Just how far does this go? Turn around, freckles. I’ve got to follow the trail.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me across the deck and into the bedroom. He tossed me on the bed.
He started to trace the line of ivy upwards. “This isn’t poison ivy, is it? Not three leaves, phew. Cin, are you aware it goes all the way up here?”
“Hello, Dr. Livingston, I’ve finally found you. Hey, your fingers are cold…”
~
“No, I won’t be at practice for a few weeks,” I told Bernice. “Moron crushed my hand in that tango stunt at the opera house.”
“Are you sure you’re not just hiding out? Those society writers were a bit speculative about your love life.”
“The thought of moving away and changing my name has occurred to me, but I’ve weathered bigger storms.”
“About your love life, you and Harry aren’t…”
I pulled the phone away and looked at it as if it was some unknown torture device. If my own best frien
d in the band could be swayed by the papers, I could only imagine what the rest of them thought of me. “No, Harry is like a son to me, Bernice. Honestly. I, however, do have a love life, and I’m very satisfied with the gentleman involved.”
“Not that priest!”
“Oh my god, you have to be kidding.”
“The singer? The one with the dreamy green eyes.”
“No. His name is Dave and…”
“The cop? I’m a bit disappointed. Isn’t he a little old for you?”
“I don’t think age is a problem. Wait, before you get any ideas, I’m not into younger guys. I like a mature man. They understand what romance is.”
“Doesn’t sound like anyone I know,” she joked. “I’m just looking out for you. Cin, you give your heart too quickly and get hurt.”
I thanked her, collected the latest gossip, and hung up. I wandered into my bedroom and opened up one of the matching walk-in closets and looked at my collection of shoes. Noelle had, at one time, helped me by taking pictures of the shoes and attaching the photo to the outside of the box. This made it easier to identify the contents. I found quite a few empty boxes. “Cornwall, Cornwall!” I shouted as I tossed the empty boxes into my bedroom. I had purchased several pairs of shoes for my first trip to Cornwall to work on the music library. Well, they didn’t last past the first two murder attempts. “Railroad tracks!” Here was the box for the clever, little, casual shoes I’d lost crossing the railroad tracks between the trains, trying to stop a poisoning from happening. “Avery Theater,” I said, tears springing to my eyes. These shoes were duct- taped to my feet for my supposed final curtain. I did try to rescue them. Unfortunately, duct tape is forever. “Palm Beach, Sidney.” The loss of these sandals should have signaled to me that all was not right with my relationship with Sidney. He wasn’t just a one-night stand but a murdering, girl-beating bastard! I slammed that box on the ground and jumped on it. I then tore it into little pieces with such violence that I had to lie down.
