With a peremptory: âWait here,' she strode off.
The wait was somewhat protracted so Tenille spent her time looking at Florsheim Shoes, in an attractively laid out store in front of which she found herself. Beautiful footwear, but too expensive. Although loving good leather shoes, she spent most of her time in joggers and slippers. One day perhaps. She returned to her post.
âAll done.' Sidonie pulled to a halt from a quick run. âI'm just down this way.' At the exit they shrugged into their outdoor gear. Although the sun was shining with greater zeal, it didn't yet have real warmth. The cloudless sky was a breathtakingly intense blue as sunlight reflected off the tops of the cars and their windscreens, dazzling the eyes. Tenille took out her sunglasses.
âWe're not going far,' Sidonie told her.
âOh, don't mind me,' she replied. âI think I must have a photophobia. I put on sunglasses at the slightest hint of brightness.'
âHere we are â my blue baby.' She unlocked and they piled into the front seats, winding down their windows. Sidonie opened up the paper bags. âI remember you like your coffee white, no sugar so that's yours.' She handed over the Styrofoam cup. âNow for eaties. I selected croissants, one alfalfa sprouts and egg salad, the other ham and celery with red pepper rings. Which would you like?'
âYou choose, they both sound nice and I really don't mind.'
âI thought this might happen so I asked for them to be cut in half. That way we get a taste of each, right?' Her bright eyes sparkled with delight as she smiled happily. Her heart was so light. She opened her first offering, nestled in a paper napkin. Tenille laughed, feeling vivacious, tucked up in Sidonie's car, eating a tasty lunch and being kept warm by the coffee.
In this relaxed and companionable environment, she blurted out, seemingly from nowhere: âI'll be dancing this evening at the Sancho Panza Restaurant. Would you like to see the show? I remember you expressed an interest in Flamenco, that day we went for coffee.' The dark centres of her eyes widened as she watched the other girl's face.
Sidonie did some rapid thinking. She had said she would meet Karen at the bar. It had been a casual: âSee you later,' but she knew Karen. She could take it as a personal affront, then the proverbial shit would hit. Phone and postpone? It would be a difficult call ⦠but what the hell, she had been pussyfooting around Karen long enough. Always trying to make up for the terrible wrong she claimed she'd done.
Tenille observed the changing expressions, chasing in sequence across the intelligent face. She berated herself for being gauche; laying herself open like this. To cover her discomfort she conceded that of course there was no need for her to commit herself. It had just been a thought ⦠if she had nothing on.
âAt this late date I should have known you would have your evening planned.' She felt she'd been silly and gulped down the last of her coffee, a sour taste in her mouth, declaring their time was up.
âNow hold on a cotton pickin'. I didn't say my evening was booked did I?' Sidonie looked severe, her almond-shaped eyes almost violet. Tenille gazed back, saying nothing, feeling reprimanded. She could hear her heart in her ears.
âI'd love to see Flamenco, Tenille.' Her voice softened and her look warmed. âJust give me the details.' She checked her watch. âThere's time. I have pen and paper in the glove box.' She wrote down the information. As Sidonie took the pad and glanced over the particulars she said: âNow I can't guarantee that I'll be there, but I would love to see you dance, so I'll do my best.'
She felt less foolish now and the disappointment of a moment ago turned to hope, but all she said in acknowledgment was: âThat's fine.'
Sidonie's heart swelled. She was exulting in the chance to see Tenille again. However, holding to her earlier resolve of not making waves, she kept their amplitude down to an unthreatening minimum, trying not to appear too eager. She couldn't let on that, âcome hell or high water,' as the saying goes, nothing would get in her way of being at the Sancho Panza at eleven that night.
âOkay, let's head back. Leave the garbage; I'll deal with it later. I have to clean the car this weekend anyway. Now the weather's staying fine, I'll take it through the car wash. They have a good one at Canadian Tire at a reasonable cost.' She could hear herself babbling, but it seemed the only way to release her pent up feelings.
“Oh hell, she'll think me even more juvenile. Shut up, dummy,”
she thought, annoyed with herself.
They made a quick return to the Mall. Inside Tenille turned to her: âI'll say goodbye. I hope the second show goes well. I'm sure it will, judging by the first. Oh ⦠and thank you for lunch.'
âMy pleasure. And thank you for coming out.'
They stood together awkwardly, a stiff silence between them, then Tenille said goodbye again and turned towards the exit.
Sidonie retraced her steps to the marquee, already thinking of the phone call she must make. She'd only said yes to meeting Karen because she had been so persistent. She didn't want to hurt her anymore than she had already. Now she must try to get out of it. Or could they meet earlier? She almost tripped over a stroller, so lost in thought, but apologies made, she returned immediately to her dilemma. It would mean driving from downtown out to Bathurst. She'd probably be able to make it in half an hour, so long as Karen didn't try to hold her back. She would be sure to want to know why she was leaving. Even if she didn't ask, she'd be speculating. Then that doleful look would come to her face, meant to soften her heart and make her change her mind.
She rushed into the tent and began stripping off.
“Why did life have to be so complicated?”
she worried to herself. Leonie's voice broke her thoughts, jolting her back.
âMy, you're cutting it fine. We're on in ten minutes.' The voice sounded disapproving.
Sidonie knew she must put her problem on hold. She had a job to do.
CHAPTER 6
Once Tenille had alighted from the train, she couldn't wait to get into her practise shoes and mark her routine one more time. Especially with the prospect of Sidonie being there.
“Oh, she probably won't
m
ake it. You're just over reacting,
“ she thought, as she inserted her key. Serafina heard her arrive and called out. She stopped at the top of her stairs and told her about the show and her first night nerves.
âI will cook you a nice light pasta, just right for a fluttery belly. You like that?'
She jumped at the offer, happy to sample Mrs. Sandrelli's food again, but she was still anxious to get to her practise; the best way to settle down and take away this jangled feeling in her nerves.
Eventually she got away to change into a loose T-shirt and her practice skirt, not forgetting the damned hat. She had a bit of business with it halfway through. She was to lift it up, high above her head, then skim it across the floor. It was just before she and Raoul would be dancing very close. More at ease now, with the run through over and no mistakes, she was about to get organized for the night when Mrs. Sandrelli called her name ⦠the telephone ⦠it was Raoul.
âThere's going to be a get together at Manuel's for a light supper. Would you like to come? About seven-thirtyish.' She couldn't mistake the eager note in his voice, despite the thick accent. She had to decline and explained her landlady was cooking tonight.
âBut thank you for inviting me. We're still to be there at ten, o'clock?'
âYes, that's right. It gives us enough time to get settled.'
âOkay. I'll see you then.'
She returned to her room and started the packing. It was amazing how many bits and pieces were needed. She would put her makeup on there; Raoul had stage foundation. Deodorant; she would suffer from excess perspiration. “
Try to keep the nerves in check, Ten.”
It was good she would be with Mrs. Sandrelli; so nurturing and she built up her self-esteem. In the end it was done. She would feel very Spanish tonight. The phone rang again. Mrs. Sandrelli commented the line was running hot. This time it was Devon.
âAre you okay? For tonight I mean.'
âYes. Nervous as a filly on point duty, but I'm also very excited to have this chance.'
âLook. I'm not going to Manuel's. There will be too much shop talk and that makes me nervous. Would you like to come over to my place and I'll order in pizza?
âOh Dev, that would have been lovely, but Mrs. Sandrelli has made dinner for me ⦠I was just on my way up.'
âOh.'
The single sound spoke volumes. Not her night for making people happy it seemed.
Devon had hoped to have some private time with her. âCould I come round later and pick you up? No need to worry about carting your big case on the train then.'
This suggestion really appealed and she appreciated the offer. âOh, would you, Dev? What time were you thinking? Raoul told me about ten.'
âYes, that's fine by me. I like to take my time getting ready too.' Not quite the pizza at her place but still ⦠I'll collect you at nine-thirty, okay?'
âPerfect. I'll be ready. See you then. And Dev ⦠thank you very much for this.'
âYou're entirely welcome, Honey.' The line went dead and Tenille was left wondering what had brought such generous interest from her. Could it be she was missing her? “
Oh Dev, it's no good. It's too late. I won't be sucked in a second time.”
Nonetheless, she did feel inordinately elated as she ran the brush through her hair then skipped upstairs to the kitchen.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Supper had distracted her from the big event ahead, but now she was at the stage where she wished it would just be over and done with. Could she dream up an excuse to back out? “
That's not fair and anyway you don't really not want to do it. Nerves again,
” she remonstrated with herself. She decided on casual dress for after the show. She wouldn't hang around, although talking to Mrs. Sandrelli tonight, she knew not to worry if she were home late. She chose her soft cashmere top, Devon had said it suited her, worn outside over jeans. For now her hair was pulled back and held in place with a rose pink scrunchie. When Devon saw her in the porch light, she found her an absolute knockout. With her hair like this, the attention was drawn to the dark, heavily lashed eyes and she knew then what she'd been missing.
Tenille was ready with all her stuff and Mrs. Sandrelli came out to wish her all the best. âI will think of you in your beautiful dress.' She beamed at both of them as they said their farewells.
It didn't take long to get to Annette. Tenille looked about for Sidonie, but there was no sign.
“Of course not, she's busy elsewhere. It's a Saturday night.”
Amaia would still be dancing for the next two weeks, then if all went well, it was hoped Tenille could take over. The three women squeezed into cramped quarters for changing, but with the excitement of the night ahead, it just added to the fun. Once dressed and at the makeup stage, Raoul stood in the doorway to talk. He asked Tenille if she would like to dance the Sevillanas. âI'll partner you. You've danced at Belen's and with me as a warm up. What do you think?' She wasn't sure; had not expected this.
âI appreciate you asking Raoul, but being my first night and all â¦'
âYes, yes I know, first night nerves. Well, think about it. I'm really looking for a full stage and an atmosphere of
fiesta
. See how you feel after you've got Soleares behind you.'
Devon and Amaia urged her to reconsider. It would mean she would be on stage for the final bow.
Devon was ready first and took off to see how the place was filling up. She reported back: âVery nicely, thank you.'
âI think I don't want to know,' Tenille muttered from her seat, frowning at the reflection as she finished off her eyes. But they heard her.
âListen Tenille,' Amaia reasoned. âYou know the dance inside out. Raoul has drilled you so much you could perform in your sleep. Anyway, half the time the people will be watching him.'
âIt's the other half that's worrying me,' she wailed. Some Karma Sutra behind her ears and on her wrists and she was done.
âYou'll be fine,' Devon encouraged. âAs soon as you hear the music you'll be lost in the dance and will be oblivious to the people out front.' She went over and gave her shoulders a squeeze, looking in the mirror, then bent down and murmured in her ear:
âYou look fantastic tonight. You are such a beautiful woman.' Her glittering green eyes locked onto hers for a long moment and Tenille felt her heart flutter. Looking back at the face in the mirror, it was like receiving a compliment from a stranger. She was wearing her black wig and with the dress and the flower, was another person; one she didn't know. The mystery was exciting.
âThank you, Dev. I know you're both right. I just need to get out and do it.' She put on her Cordobez and was ready. It was just on eleven. Raoul came in again.
âSenoras, vamos.
It's time to take our seats.' He turned to Tenille. You look the perfect Spanish
senorita,
my little one. I know you will do well.' His dark, flashing eyes bore into her as he delivered a light kiss upon her lips, taking her by surprise.
âThank you, Raoul. And you know I will give it my all.' She returned his smile with sincerity, if not his kiss. They heard the applause for those already in position on the little stage. She followed the others, a moment later Raoul made his entrance to whistles and stomps and furious clapping.
“He sure is popular, he deserves every bit of it too,”
she thought.
Getting the audience in the mood with some palmas, they accompanied one of Manuel's lighter renditions. Something with which the Aficionados would be familiar and could join in. She had looked to see if Sidonie was out there, but the stage lights were too bright, then all her attention had to be on the music and that was not hard. Devon was right, hearing the rich chords of the Spanish guitar and those exciting rhythms, she was lost to all else.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Sidonie checked the numbers on her clock again. It was almost eleven.
“Shit. I'm going to be late.”
Putting her foot down harder, she hoped the lights wouldn't change. Hell. There was no guarantee she'd find parking. That Karen. Why did she have to be so difficult? For her sake she had not taken the easy way out and cancelled, just requesting they go to Jessica's earlier. Interesting, she hadn't asked any questions then, but readily complied.
The second show at Yorkdale had gone off even better than the first. Every one settled down and got into the swing of it. Once back at the track she had had a rest, knowing it would be a long night; at least she hoped so. After her five-thirty start this morning she was not sure she wouldn't fade too soon. She had felt good about the promotion for the gym and not a little encouraged by Tenille's invitation. All in all life was looking up.
She had gotten a refreshing sleep and when the alarm interrupted at seven, she'd bounced out of bed, ready and eager. After the shower it had been a careful search through the closet to find just the âlook' for tonight. She didn't want to put Tenille off by appearing out of place, nor did she want to spoil her image at Chez Moi. The selection had been a crisp, white shirt, (couldn't go far wrong with that), and her black leather tie, just a slim one, nothing flamboyant. Her black leather jacket with the padded shoulders always looked good. When she got to Sancho Panza's, she could remove it and slip on her favorite argyle vest featuring black, white and grey diamond panels, with a black line running through their centres. The big decision had been, should she wear black leather pants or black jeans? In the end she had come down on the side of the leather pants, figuring straights usually dressed âup' when they went somewhere for a floorshow.
âDarn tootin', this is no disco dive,' she had said to herself, checking the effect in the mirror. The finishing touch had been the pride of her closet, her Cuban healed boots with the silver studs across the back. She loved that little extra height. Not over the top with bikers' chiselled toes, but pointed. She had done the best with what she had and was satisfied Tenille would be pleased she had dressed for the occasion. Lastly, her hair. It needed to be just right; the front casually drifting towards the left eye, the rest slicked back.
Sidonie was a handsome girl. She didn't see it, like so many her of age, concentrating on what she found as faults. She did know heads turned when she entered a bar, or at a party. They would certainly turn tonight. She looked outstanding. Unfortunately, they would turn at the Sancho Panza too, but not for the same reason. Her butchness was very much in evidence. Only time would tell how this sortie into the straight scene would pan out.
She had arrived at the Chez a little early ⦠no Karen. Ordering a Coke, she had passed the time with Larni; her observation ⦠she was looking sharp.
âSomeone special in the offing, Sid?'
She had lifted her hand and given it little twists, right and left. âIt's a question of wait and see at this stage, Larni.' Shortly thereafter, Karen had shown up and the two of them had moved over to a table, Karen nursing a Bacardi and Coke. Sidonie's appearance had a great impact on her and she had wished more than ever they were still together. She couldn't get over this girl, but she needed to talk about Mitch. She was pressing to have Karen move in with her. She wasn't sure. She wanted to know what she thought. When she had replied that really it was nothing to do with her, Karen had begun to loose it, accusing Sidonie of not even being her friend now. After the second rum and Coke, she had gone so far as to say Sidonie would be just as happy if she fell off the face of the earth. Things were definitely getting out of hand and when Sidonie had looked at her watch and told her she had to leave, well that just about ripped it apart. The accusation of being cold and unfeeling came out. How could she just up and leave when her future happiness hung in the balance?
In the end Sidonie had had to be firm. She was sorry, but it was getting late and she had to go. Then Karen had shot out that she had met someone. That was why she looked so special tonight. She had urged her not to cry and promised they could talk some more next time. That was it. She had responded: âSidonie Henderson, you are a fish-stinking, heartless cunt and I don't want to talk to you ever again. Go. Go on. Go to your new conquest. Anywhere, but get out of my sight.'
She had not wanted to leave her in that state, but as it was she would be pushing it. There was nothing she could do for Karen. She knew what she wanted, but they couldn't go back. As she had picked up her keys she had caught Larni's eye and gone over to ask her to look out for Karen.
âIf she drinks too much, will you make sure she gets home safe. I'll pay the cab fare.'
âOK pal.' Larni had agreed. âLeave it with me.'
Sidonie crossed the intersection and saw the lights of the restaurant ahead. “
Good, now for parking.”
She checked the time again. It was already twenty past.
“Shit, oh shit. and no space in sight.”
She spotted a sign, PARKING AT REAR with an arrow pointing down a laneway. Following directions, she discovered a big, open space, pretty full, but room for one more and pulled in neatly. She preferred to reverse, in the event she'd tied one on, but tonight her mind didn't allow thought for extra manoeuvring. Quickly, ripping off the jacket, she reached over for the vest.
A light illuminated the back entrance. Dashing through the biting wind, she found herself in a narrow passage, down which came the strumming of a guitar and the strangled sounds of someone singing. She was not sure she could get used to that. Through the heavy, velour drapes and a young waiter jumped to attention.