Dancing Hours (14 page)

Scanning them all, I noticed that one of the guys was looking directly at me… and I knew his face.  He was still dancing, but he seemed distracted by me just as I was surprised to see him.  It was Noah.

He worked his way to my side of the stage and pulled me
onstage to the roar of my friends behind me and then took me immediately offstage to the back. 
I heard Sunday yell some sort of encouraging remark behind me.
 

“I don’t think I brought enough money for this kind of special treatment
”  I
said dryly.  Apparently I had not completely forgiven him for leaving town without a goodbye.  Noah was not amused.

“What are you doing here?”
he demanded.

“What am I doing here?  What are
you
doing here?  No, I mean, I see what you’re doing here, but why are you doing it?  I thought you had a job at a garage.”
I stumbled over my words and didn’t quite know where to look.

“
G
ood question.” He said half to himself.  He looked embarrassed by his lack of clothing.  “Look, the money can be really good.  I can do this once a month; it doesn’t interfere with my other job and it helps me live in this town.”
He explained.

I felt myself getting warm and my face was burning
again
.  This was not the way I expected any reunion between us to go.  Noah asked me to leave, but I
scoffed at
the idea.  My friends were there, it was my birthday and I came to have a good time.  I suppose that he was asking for a little dignity and I’m sure he’d rather I not share his extracurricular activities with his family.  When the stage manager called out to Noah, he got frustrated.  He demanded
loudly
that if I wasn’t going to leave, I should stay there.

It got the attention of a nearby man, who turned out of curiosity.  Lo and behold, it was
X.
  Tonight was getting way too interesting.  He approached me quickly and as he did
,
so did the stage manager and a nearby bouncer.  I had a feeling I was about to be ejected from my birthday party.  I
watched Noah as the others
des
cended upon me, but X
reached me first and
waved off the other two
, smiling
.

He made startlingly direct eye contact. 
“Hi.”

“H
ey”
I replied
, still not quite able to shake my southernisms
. 
At least he was a
familiar
face, but it was a little awkward seeing him after the night we’d spent talking and then not seeing him again.

Turning to Noah, he said “You may finish your set.  I’ll see to it that Andrea is taken care of.”

Noah paused for a fraction of a second and then turned to go back onstage.  X watched him go and once he’d left the immediate area, faced me.

“I thought I’d never see you again.”
He said.

“Well, here I am.”
I said as casually as I could.

“Kismet.
  I’m surprised to see you, but pleasantly so.  Did you come to enjoy the show?”
He was look
ing
toward the stage
.

I explained that it was my birthday and I’d come with my friends and
about
running into Noah, but he didn’t want me to stay. X was built very differently than Noah.  He was thinner and quite fair skinned.  His eyes were more tired looking and he was
definitely
older.  He took my hand.

“I can understand why he wouldn’t want you to see him that way.  Perhaps you’d be willing to keep me company.  I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

I believed he would, but didn’t want to leave my friends.  X took care of that.  He hardly had to look away from me before someone was there to fulfill his command.  And that command was to pull the most popular dancer and give my friends a private show.  It was dramatic and the power dripping from X was heady, intoxicating.  I felt my social status improving among my friends even as X made it so.  As an afterthought, he made all their drinks on the house.

Without another word, X led me to his office by the hand.  I followed with a strange unease I couldn’t place.

“Do you own this club?”
I asked.

“Yes, this is one of my properties. 
Would you like a drink?”
He offered, gesturing in the direction of a cabinet along the wall.

“No, thanks, I’m not really a drinker.”
I pulled the tiara off my head self-consciously.

“
Noted.
You know, you never finished your story.”  He had not let go of my
other
hand.

“Which story?”
I asked.

“The one about your deepest desire.”
  He had an odd way of talking sometimes, like he was m
uch older than he could possibly
be – or British
, but without the cool accent
.
  It was like he was trying too hard to sound sophisticated.

“I don’t remember having that conversation.”
I gently pulled my hand away and X frowned.

“We should have.”
He said with the same direct eye contact.

I blushed again, what a terrible habit.  I wasn’t sure
if
he was hitting on me.  Most guys my age just went in for a kiss while they were drunk to see what would happen.  X seemed genuine
ly interested in me and he star
ed into my eyes, almost uncomfortably. 
He was nic
e, even if he was a drug dealer
.  Again, I was left with the feeling that he was misunderstood.  An hour later we were still talking.  X revealed his real name, Michael, and the trouble he had growing up poor on the streets – fighting for a place to sleep, food to eat.  I felt sorry for him again and felt guilty for my own comfortable life. 
I tried to imagine what I might do if I had to in order to get by. 
X was grateful not to want for anything anymore
.

“At least, I didn’t think I wanted for anything until I met you.”
 
he
leaned toward me as he said.

I laughed out loud.  X’s face grew serious and dark.  “Please don’t laugh at me.”

“Oh no!
  I wasn’t laughing at you.  It’s just… I mean… you seem like you’ve got a pretty interesting life here and I’m about the most boring person on the plan
e
t.”
  I explained, worried that I had offended him.

“Quite the contrary, Andrea.
  I have never met anyone like you before.”
  He took both my hands in his now.

A knock on the door saved me from responding.  This guy was intense.  It was hard not to be flattered by his attention when the building was
probably
crowded with wom
e
n
who would be happy to be in my place
.
  He got up and had a quiet conversation with
whomever
was at the door.  Turning back, he said
“I have to go now, but I would imagine
Mr. Bastion is
done with his set.  Let me have someone give you and your friends a ride home.”

“That’s really not necessary.  I’m fine to drive.”
I said.

“I know you are, but it would be a favor to me if I knew you got home safely.”
  He walked over, put an arm around me and began walking me to the door.

“Oh, gosh
..
  That
’s
so nice, but…”
I began

“But nothing, it’s settled.” 
He announced. 
With that he pi
cked up the phone, spoke with a
guy named Bruce and I was escorted to my friends.  The dancer was finishing up and my girls were sloshed.  Some girls just can’t turn down a free drink.

Bruce walked us around to a side door where a limo was waiting.  I cringed to think which of my friends would be destroying the upholstery with her vomit.  Before I left, I wanted to see Noah,
but
Bruce told me he had already left.  It wasn’t true.
  Sunday giggled and asked me if I had a good time.  I told her I had, but what I felt was really a mixture of disappointment at missing out on a night with my friends and uneasiness at this budding friendship with X.

I found out much lat
er that
Noah had gone back to look for me
when his set was finished
and when he couldn’t find me, he got into a fight with one of the bouncers
and several of his bouncer friends
.  Apparently Noah got a nasty set of bruises as thanks for trying to look out for me, but at the time I thought he simply didn’t care.

The limo driver was polite and behaved as though we weren’t a
ro
wdy group of girls, screaming and giggling and playing with the buttons in his car.  I thanked him and tried to tip him, but was told that he couldn’t accept any money from me.  Frustrated, I left it on the seat and ducked quickly into my apartment with my roommate. 
She passed out rather quickly and I flipped through channels on TV feeling mildly sorry for myself.  Before going to bed, I checked email and felt a little thrill at getting messages from Kate and David and a couple of other old friends.  Since I didn’t have anything else to do, I spent an hour emailing them all back.  I debated texting David to see if he was still awake, but decided not to.

The next morning – or more like early afternoon – I found a package on my doorstep.  A rose was tied to it and inside the box were a note, the tip I’d left the driver and a
cellphone
.  The note said
Andrea,
You’ll never have to pay for anything I offer you. Please don’t insult me.
   I would like to see you again, but I forgot to ask for your phone number.  Here is a phone so we can keep in touch.

I stared at it for a long time and then finally decided to find a glass to put the rose in some water.  I picked up the phone and turned it over in my hand.  It was much nicer than my regular
cellphone
. 
This phone was next generation.  I had seen commercials for it.  It could find you a restaurant, book a reservation, order your meal and play your
favorite song as hold music all while calculating the square root of Pi to two hundred decimals.  It was not a throw away phone.  And it began to ring almost immediately. 
I stared at it for a moment wondering who it could be, but I answered anyway.