Quiver (12 page)

“Dani!” called someone behind me. “So good to see you!”

It was Maria.

“Your name, I saw it in the program.” She slid her hand onto my arm and kissed me once on each cheek. “I hoped I would find you here.”

She was wearing a black wrap sweater over a long deep green dress. A square diamond solitaire punctuated each earlobe, and a matching floating diamond pendant rested on her lightly freckled décolleté. The red waves of her hair fell loose over her shoulders. Maria was beautiful whenever you saw her; now, materializing without warning, she seemed sublime.

I didn’t say anything, just stood there, stunned to see her. Maria introduced herself to Dr. MacIvor and said, “Oh, I must steal Dani away for a moment—there are some colleagues of mine who would like to meet her.” I managed to say a polite goodbye to MacIvor and followed Maria across the room. She pulled me into an alcove by the coat check.

“There, now, I have freed you,” she said. “Next, our coats.” She rummaged in her purse, a large, black beaded clutch, for her coat check ticket.

“Uh, I don’t think I should really leave yet,” I said. “I was fine back there, really.”

“Dani, this is
me.
You do not have to pretend. Ah—” She held up her ticket, triumphantly. “Now, where is yours?” She put one hand on her hip and held out the other, palm up.

“Why are you even here? How did you find me?”

“A meeting, darling, it is always the case, yes? Some archivists, curators, strengthening connections between North America and Europe, la la la—you know how it is.”

“But—”

“Dani, I know you cannot really want to stay here in this boring place. There is a whole city out there. I have friends waiting for us.”

I looked back at the reception. Dwindling mounds of cubed cheese on tables, people knotted into small clusters. I heard Carl half-talking, half-shouting about his upcoming book. Smatterings of conversations about funding and research projects.

I pulled my ticket out of my pocket and placed it in Maria’s palm.

Outside, Maria stopped the next cab and we piled into the back seat.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“C Lounge.” She pulled out her phone and sent a text. “There,” she said, “I’ve told them we are on our way. Now,” she looked at me, “we must fix you up. Take off that business jacket.”

I peeled off my blazer and let Maria assess my cobalt blue collared blouse.

“Under your shirt, you have another, a little one, with the straps?” She drew her finger over my shoulder, miming spaghetti straps.

“Uh, well, it’s kind of a tank top camisole thing...it’s just a—”

“What colour?” she demanded.

“Um, black.”

“Good. Take this off,” she tugged on my shirt collar, “and take your lovely hair down.”

I shook my hair out of its ponytail and looked out the cab window to try to see where we were going. Halifax bars rarely had a dress code beyond any old shirt with jeans.

“Here,” Maria pulled a blue scarf out of her purse. “Tie this in your hair. Like this.”

With Maria’s accent, I heard, “You are making it
buon-chi
...like
theeeis
...” I felt like I was on one of TLC’s upscale makeover shows, where famous European stylists bestow their magical touch on some poor, tragically unfashionable girl they rescue from the mall. I felt Maria wrap, tug and tie the scarf, then finger-comb and fluff my hair.

“Much better,” she said. “Just, wait...” She handed me a lipstick and mirror. “Put on a bit of colour.”

I followed her instructions and applied the brick red colour to my lips. I checked out my hair in the mirror. The scarf was wrapped and sleek against my hairline, and my hair tumbled perfectly down my back. “Thank you,” I smiled and handed the makeup back to Maria.

“Just one more thing.” Maria unfastened her necklace. The pendant sparkled like fairy dust floating in the air between us. She leaned in and put it around my neck.

“Maria, that’s yours!” I said. “And I’m sure those are not rhinestones.”

She laughed. “You are right. But I know you will take good care of them tonight.”

Maria passed me the mirror again. “You see! Beautiful.” She stroked the back of my head.

I touched the diamonds at my throat, then double-checked the clasp.

“We are almost there,” said Maria. “Put that shirt into your satchel. You can leave that jacket and everything at our table. Ah, tonight will be so much fun. I am glad I found you.” She smiled. “Ready? We are here.”

Outside, there was a small mob of people clustered at the front of a club. A silver SUV stretch limousine was idling to the side of the building, and a black one drove by and parked a few feet away. The driver got out and opened the back door; a stream of girls in miniskirts and sparkly heels piled out, strode through the mob and up the stairs to the door. A woman in a full-length white fur coat ticked off her clipboard, and a tall, broad-shouldered man in a leather jacket opened the door and ushered them in.

“I don’t know if I’m really dressed well enough for this place,” I said, looking down at my plain dress pants and clunky shoes.

“Do not worry, Dani,” said Maria, taking my hand. She weaved us through the crowd to the perimeter of the roped-off area in front of the club. Everyone was trying to get the attention of the woman in the fur coat, who stood on the first step, clipboard in hand, scanning the crowd. I perched on my tiptoes and tried to peer into the club’s windows, but they were blurred out by a sheet of running water, a waterfall trapped between the double-paned glass.

“Perfect,” I heard Maria say. She yanked on my hand. The bouncer unhooked the rope and ushered us through.

Inside, chaises and zebra-print bucket chairs were arranged in clusters near the long, colourful bar. Bodies stomped and swayed on the dance floor. A crowd huddled near the DJ booth in the far corner.

“Milo!” Maria exclaimed, kissing him on both cheeks.

“At last,” he said. “We’re all over there,” he gestured behind him. He looked at me. “And
who
is
this?”
The way he said it seemed very fake and made me feel conspicuous.

“I have told you about Danica,” said Maria.

“Ah, yes.” He stared at me. “Beautiful.” I lowered my eyes and probably blushed. “Now, this way,” he said as he put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me with him into the crowd.

We arrived at a string of silver tables ringed with shiny vinyl cube chairs. Milo led me to one of the tables, took my bag and jacket and motioned for me to sit down. Three other people were already at the table: a guy and two young women. The girls were exquisite. They reclined against the shiny white vinyl, tanned legs elegantly crossed, holding crystal glasses in their manicured hands. One was blonde; her hair was curled into a smooth fifties-style bob and adorned with a large crystal barrette. The other had short, dark hair and delicate, high cheekbones. She looked like a pixie.

“Sit down, Dani, sit down,” said Maria in an excited, sing-songy voice. “Now, this is Darius.” She waved at the man at the far side of the table. “Vee,” she pointed at the pixie, “and Sylvia.”

“Drinks?” said Milo. I noticed the bottles on the table—champagne, vodka and gin nested in silver buckets of ice and meltwater.

“Champagne,” said Maria. “Dani?”

“I’ll have, um, gin. Is there tonic?” Milo nodded and poured me a drink. He handed it to me and Maria clinked her flute against my glass.

“So good you can be here, Dani.”

“Yes,” said Milo, “Maria has told us all about you.” He touched my arm.

“Oh, I’m—” I looked away from his green eyes and willed myself not to blush again. The bass from the dance floor made the liquid ripple in my glass. I tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound trite or stupid, but only came up with “happy to be here.”

Vee put her hand on my knee. “So, Maria tells us you’re a psychologist?”

“I’m still studying. I’m in the middle of my Ph.D.”

“So, do you get to talk to a lot of, you know, really crazy people? In institutions? Or is it more like people sit down in an office and tell you about their problems with their kids and husband and things like that?” She took a sip of her drink and looked at me expectantly with her dark brown eyes.

“It depends on where you end up working.” I wasn’t sure how much detail she wanted to hear, whether I should mention that we don’t usually use the word
crazy
to describe patients. People often think practising psychology is much more exciting than it actually is. They don’t want to hear about long research studies and paperwork. “What kind of work do you do?”

“I’m an actress. Well, working on being one, full-time, you know?” She put down her drink. “Anyway. You must get asked psychology questions all the time. It’s just that I’m always trying to collect information about people, what they do, why they do it—to help with different characters, audition strategies, you know.”

“Vee, she is very dedicated,” said Maria. She reached across me and brushed aside a wisp of pixie hair from Vee’s forehead. “Working on her craft, all of the time.” Vee leaned into Maria’s touch and smiled. “And of course you should ask Dani. She is brilliant.” Maria turned towards me. “At the conference reception, when I asked one of the delegates about you, he said your paper this morning was excellent.”

The conference reception seemed like a dull speck, even though we’d left it less than an hour ago. “What? Who were you talking to?” I asked.

“According to Maria, word is you’re very talented.” Milo said as he refilled my drink.

Did Maria fabricate this stuff? I hadn’t thought anyone noticed me or my paper at the conference. I usually felt like a permanent shadow of Carl’s.

“Dani, you look so surprised. Do not be so modest.” Maria curled her hand tighter around my waist.

“Didja see me out there, ladies?” A man with a physique like a boxer roared to the table from the dance floor. He leaned forward and kissed Vee and Sylvia on the cheek. “You’re both looking more beautiful than before, if that is possible.”

Despite his bulk, he lithely stepped over Sylvia and plopped himself between Darius and Milo on one of the white vinyl chairs. “I need some refreshment,” he said and downed a shot of vodka. The top few buttons of his dress shirt were undone and sweat beaded on his forehead. He slammed the glass on the silver table and almost leapt out of the chair when he saw Maria sitting across from him.

“When did you get here? I can’t believe I didn’t see you!” His voice was louder and faster than the music.

“Not so long ago,” said Maria.

“Oh, yeah? And your friend,” he got up and gave me a slight bow, took my hand and kissed it, “is this the young lady named Danica you told us about?”

“Um, yes?” I said. I looked at Maria.

“This is Kent,” she said. “He is always livening up our parties.”

“You can count on it,” he said. He turned back to me. “Love the red hair. You’ve got a glamorous wood sprite sorta thing going on.”

“Wood sprite?” Was he making fun of me?

“Totally. All ethereal, otherworldly. Gorgeous.” He poured himself another shot, then clinked my glass. “Milo, top up the ladies’ drinks.”

For the next couple of hours Kent kept everyone’s drinks filled. I danced with the girls and listened to Milo’s travel stories, but I kept an eye on Maria. She was my anchor in this surge of well-dressed people and hypnotic bass-beat thrum. Kent was trying to get the girls and me back on the dance floor when Maria linked her arm through mine and whispered in my ear.

“Let’s go outside.”

“Outside? It’s January.”

“That is not a problem.” She pushed me gently out of the booth. “You must excuse us,” she said to Kent, “Dani and I, we must get some air.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll get my coat.”

“No need.” We started to walk towards an exit. There was a girl behind a counter, doling out plush jackets to people going out the door, hanging them up for people coming in. She gave men grey, women white. I took a coat and stepped outside.

Maria’s heels clacked on the wooden boardwalk that led around the building. I followed the sound, pulling the white fluff of the coat around myself and peering down to find the end of the zipper. The clacking stopped and I walked smack into Maria’s shoulder.

“Careful, Dani,” she said. “Here.” She straightened the coat on my shoulders, led my hands to the slide of the zipper.

“Need some help, ladies?” A tall man, grey jacket on, beer in hand, approached us.

“I do not think you can be of assistance,” said Maria. She took my hand. “This way,” she said, leading me away from the man. When we had walked a few paces, she whispered in my ear, “Two redheads, I suppose we should expect such attention. We make a nice pair, yes?”

I smiled noncommittally, aware of her hand warm against mine. “To the bar,” she said, and we began walking across the immense deck.

The deck, surrounded by a tall wooden fence, had a rectangular raised pool in the centre. The pool was filled with pieces of glass that looked like ice cubes, and a streak of flames, fuelled by thin black pipes of natural gas, ran lengthwise down the middle. At each corner, there was a pillar heaped with cubes of polished glass and topped with a gas flame. We walked around the pool. Pulses of warmth from the fire hit us intermittently as we made our way towards the bar.

“Two lemon drops,” said Maria to the bartender. The bar was carved out of ice. Maria ran her finger along the smooth top of the bar and then pushed a sugar-rimmed shot glass of vodka, with a wedge of lemon perched on top, towards me. Neck arched, she drank her shot, sucked on the lemon. Maria watched as I copied her. “Now,” she said, “let us sit.”

I followed her to the far side of the flaming ice pool, to a row of queen-size beds, each draped with a fluffy polar bear blanket and surrounded by silver crystal bead curtains. A faux bear head hung over their feet. Maria motioned towards a bouncer, who came over and led us to an open bed.

Maria stretched herself over the fur and crooked one leg slightly over the other. Her head rested on her palm, her elbow sank into the bed. She twirled her nails through the fur in front of her. “Sit down, Dani.”