THREE

Seven days later, another Saturday, same club, and there she is.
On the dance floor, dancing alone in the middle of the crowd, her messy, sweated hair hanging on her forehead and eyes, her head bobbing at the music, eyes closed and a rhythm on her own.
She’s wearing vintage blue jeans and a black shirt. And a white tie.
I observe her from a very long time, unseen, my back leaned against the wall.
I’ll admit it: the only reason why I’m here is her.
The nameless sullen girl, now looking engrossed, concentrated.
Slowly, I start walking toward the dance floor and, the more she’s near, the more I start swaying my hips.
It’s fun.
And I really want to erase that expressionless look from her pretty face.
So I start grinding my ass against her back, smiling a little.
She steps away and I follow her. She doesn’t even bother to turn around and see who’s the girl who’s brushing a perfect pair of southern cheeks against her back.
I grind again, slower but harder this time, and then I turn her around.
Her eyes meet mine and, for a second, she seems surprised to see me.
“You’re not the only one who can dance alone!”, I shout.
She narrows her eyes and bends her head toward me.
“What?!”, she yells back, pointing at the amplifiers to show me that she can’t hear me.
“I said you look in need of a Coke!!”.
I grab her tie, dragging her toward the bar.
She doesn’t offer resistance and I laugh.

We sit on the bar stools, side by side.
“Uh, my friend here will have a Coke, and I’ll have a –“.
“Vodka Martini, very dry, three olives…”, she cuts in.
I turn to her and smile.
“Good memory!”.
“My mind has an endless capacity for useless information”, she shrugs.
I sigh heavily.
“I’ve had a terrible day. I know we were talking about you for a moment, there, but my day was so bad. “Ho bad was it?”, you might ask…”.
“I might if you gave me the opportunity”.
I elbow her gently and chuckle.
“I was saving you the effort…”.
The ghost of a smile appears on her face as she sips her Coke.
“…So that after I tell you my tale of woe we can move on to happier topics. Perhaps one of your choosing”.
She looks at me and seems amused.
“Anyway, I’m an actress. Did I tell you that?”.
“No. But I’m not surprised…”, she replies quietly.
“Anyway I had this monologue in class today. And I was prepared. You know, I mean, like really prepared”.
She nods.
“You know Suddenly Last Summer by Tennessee Williams?”.
She shakes her head.
“No”.
“Oh, it’s one of my favorites”, I emphasize, “Great story. It’s about this girl, Katherine – moi – who is slated for a lobotomy because the mother of her cousin wants to keep her mouth shut about certain goings-on involving the old lady’s son Sebastian”.
She blinks her eyelids and I toss off my drink.
“You see, the women sort of pimp for Cousin Sebastian… Are you following this?”.
“Amazingly, yes”, she arches her eyebrow.
“Anyway, it turns out… on their travels together Cousin Sebastian liked to troll the beaches… Looking for young native boys in order to satisfy his base instincts. One hot afternoon in Cartagena, the boys decide they have had quite enough of Sebastian’s shenanigans… and they… well, they eat him”.
She tilts her head, perplexed.
“You mean, metaphorically”.
“No, no. they really eat him”, I laugh, “They devour him!”.
She smiles a little.
“In short, he’s lunch. And Katherine witnesses every course… from soup to nuts, if you’ll pardon the expression”.
She chuckles briefly, slightly.
“Anyway, I’m about to do this killer monologue. I’m up next when the teacher says: ‘If one more actor saunters into this class and recites Katherine’s native boys ate my cousin Sebastian speech from Suddenly Last Summer… I’m going to puke’”.
I stare at her, seriously.
“The teacher didn’t lose his launch. I did”.
“I’m sorry”, she says, lighting a smoke.
“So am I”, I shrug, “Now, on to happier topics, I promise. How about a movie?”.
I seductively blink my long eyelashes.
“I told you”, she replies flatly, and I smile.
“I know. I know. You don’t date”.
She just sighs and says nothing.
I narrow my eyes and lean forward her in a conspirator way.
“Is it a religious thing?”.
“No”.
“Well, you like movies, don’t you?”.
She moves on the stool, uncomfortably.
“They’re okay”.
“How about tomorrow night?”, I ask.
She swallows and in her eyes I can see a desperate, scared look. Like she’s got cornered.
I wave my hand in the air.
“Look, it doesn’t have to be a date. We’ll meet at the theater”.
“I don’t know”, she murmurs, avoiding eye-contact.
I chuckle.
“Look. I’ll make it easy. Ok, sullen girl? Tomorrow night I’m going to the late show of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre at the Sunset Five. If you decide you would like to join the human race, meet me there”.
She looks up at me for a second, speechless.
I extend my hand.
“Oh, by the way. I’m Carmen”.
She doesn’t do the same.
“I’m Shane”.