Ameera, Unveiled (40 page)
We slid our luggage to the side, stripped off costumes, and tied glitter-dot togas with gold cords. I decided to leave in my clip-on ponytail and slipped on sandals. Polly was in red and I was in cobalt blue.
As we wound our way to the glowing aqua pool, two of our nudist students approached us.
“Where’d you go tonight?” one of the women asked. She wore a short, black-leather skirt. The body painter had adorned her with an asp draped over her shoulders, curling her breasts. She saw us staring. “Like my asp?” We laughed as she broke the ice.
“We had a show at Grand Lido,” Jennifer shared. “Nice crowd, but not as fun as Hedo.”
“When’re you doing a show here?” she asked, her friend nodding in agreement.
“We’ve been asking every day,” Jennifer said. “We hope that guests and staff suggest to management that they allow us to dance before we leave. By the way, I love your asp.”
The two women excused themselves as their husbands approached with freshened drinks. “See you in class!” We all did a prom-float wave.
“Let’s dance in the disco before it gets too busy,” Sybil suggested. We left the pool and headed to the steps. Razz had changed from his loincloth to man the door.
“Good evening, ladies,” he said, opening the door to us as if we were royalty.
“Sorry we missed your show tonight,” Polly said. “Your costume looked . . . intriguing.” She couldn’t hide the lust in her voice.
“We had an Egyptian show followed by a thirty-minute guest talent show,” he informed her before turning to Sybil. “How’d it go at Grand Lido?”
“Good, it’s a beautiful resort,” Sybil asked. “Your manager does a great job running both.”
“Yes, he’s very good,” Razz agreed. “But there’re different entertainment managers.”
“Your wonderful manager found a thirty-minute spot for us over there,” Sybil said. “We hope Rich is working on something for us here soon.”
“We’d love to see what you’re working on every morning in the disco,” he said with a big, warm grin.
As Jennifer, Lara, and I waited for our drinks, we noticed a skinny silhouette struggling to hang at the pool window behind our bartender. In spite of a foggy outline, it was clear his naked antics amused his friends. We sauntered to the disco.
The students grabbed us, wanting to dance with belly-dance moves. I put the drinks down at our spot and Jennifer suggested we do Patty’s dance.
We grinned, lined up, and broke into Patty’s dance to a current hit—and it worked. I was elated that I could participate in a spontaneous flash dance. It was surreal, and I felt I’d become the dancer I’d always wanted to be.
Students urged us to dance again, cameras flashing. Between the show and this energy surge, I knew I’d have to go to bed if I was going to be up for practice in the morning. Jennifer looked at me and signaled she was done. I nodded to Polly. It was closing time for her too.
We were about to leave the disco when Razz rushed over. “You shouldn’t leave yet. You’re about to receive a gift,” he said, his expression intense.
“Should we stay here or go back in there?” Jennifer asked.
“No, no,” he said. “Wait right here.” He placed us at the end of the bar where the first pool window stared at us like a Cyclops.
“Do you think some of those hot loincloth guys are meeting us?” Jennifer asked. Polly laughed and gave a little clap. As they discussed it, I sensed movement in the window and heard familiar chuckling muffled by water. I signaled Jennifer and Polly to listen.
We all stood at attention, observing Razz’s open stare at the pool window. A pointed toe descended into view and a female frontal . . . clouded but still a buxom, well-groomed frontal. The laugh was Lara’s. Suddenly, she shot to the surface. Jennifer’s recognition and laughter brought us all to hysterics. Before we could leave, we heard another gurgled giggle and saw another descending toe . . . but this time we got Lara’s very flat ass with posed arms. She hung long enough for us to almost wet our pants.
We started to leave and greet her at the deck of the pool but heard one more giggle and, suddenly, as we rechecked the bar window, we saw Lara in a side pose like a Pharaonic nymph choking on her bubbles. There was no restraint left. I gasped for air from laughter as the toe disappeared from the pool window. Razz enjoyed both sides of our prankster’s show. He held the door and patted us each on the back. By the time we’d climbed to the deck and met Lara retying her bathing suit, she’d blown her nose free of all bubbles interfering with her practical joke. As she saw us stumbling up the steps, we broke into hysterics.
I forced myself to regroup. “I’ve gotta hit the hay for our last practice,” I said. “I’m shot, guys. My virgin show drained me.”
“Me too,” Polly said. We hugged Lara and went to our room.
“Come on, sleepyhead.” Polly smacked my foot under the covers. “Last morning in Disco Hell.”
“Not even sure why we’re gonna practice,” I mumbled. “Rich’s been such an enemy all week regarding us performing.” I surprised myself at the words, sounding like I wanted another chance to mount a stage. “Not that I care about another show,” I added.
“Get up! I skipped working out,” Polly said, toothpaste splattering as she peeked from the bathroom at my bed.
I peeled back the covers and meandered to the drawer for my workout clothes. “Hope we get to sleep in tomorrow. I heard some pole convention arrives and has the stage tomorrow night.” I slipped into yoga pants and tank top. “I’m sure there’s no shot at a show Saturday night.”
“Maybe Sybil can work some magic when she meets with them today,” Polly said, leaving the bathroom so I could brush my teeth.
“I heard her telling Ruth the general manager had been out a couple of days earlier in the week. Apparently, his first day back was Thursday, and he was tickled to get a slot for us at Grand Lido. I don’t understand how he can’t get his Hedo entertainment manager to be more cooperative or override him.” I pulled my hair into a ponytail as I moved toward my pile of costumes, which had been thrown in the corner after the show. I sifted through it and pulled out the gypsy skirt and coin scarf.
Polly popped her head back in the bathroom and grabbed a hand towel. “Have you noticed the closer we get to the end of the week, the maids aren’t being as generous with the towels?”
I nodded. “You can have it for drying off,” I said. “I’ll use some of the paper towels we’ve hidden at the disco.”
“Did I dream Lara flashed us through the pool window in the disco bar last night?” Polly asked.
I giggled. “She’s a trip,” I said.
As we entered the morning-after disco, I thought about it being the last time for us to be there and it made me a little sad. How many women could tell their grandchildren about the time they went to Jamaica to teach belly dance?
“Round-robin, ladies,” Sybil called. We formed a circle away from the hot, sunny bay window. As we settled in, Jennifer looked up at the bridge and we followed her eyes. Several couples were leaning on the banister, watching us. We waved and smiled. Apparently, even our chatting intrigued them.
“If the bridge activities are a gauge for our reception from Hedo, there should be no doubt we’ll be performing an hour show here,” Lara said.
“Okay, ladies—let’s focus,” Sybil interrupted. “I want us to practice as if we had a show tonight. I’ll try to catch the manager when he comes in this morning. Maybe when he hears the feedback from Grand Lido . . .” We all nodded. “So let’s get busy.”
I heard the music for Lara and Jennifer’s wing dance. We were next. The room was heating up, and I felt a little nauseated. Excusing myself, I left the building to get a breath of cooler air.
As I sat outside, I wondered what Steve was doing at 7:34 a.m. in Charleston. I’d left him an anniversary card with strict instructions not to open it until our anniversary.
The juxtaposition of my two marriages was not unlike my relationship with dancing. My first marriage never gave me a glimmer that there would be a happy ending. My second marriage had a happy meter that rarely went under the level of “content.” I heard the wing song ending and returned to prepare for Gypsy land.
“There you are. Everything okay?” Polly asked. I nodded and dropped a soaking paper towel beside my stuff. “Let’s see if I go the right way this time.”
“Knock ’em dead, y’all,” Kelly said, using her hussy walk to pose for the opening moves.
In fewer than four minutes, we’d pulled off an almost-flawless performance. I was aware of Sybil’s intense focus. As we held our eight-count pose, she smiled like a proud mother.
“That was soooo good!” Sybil praised, dimples showing. “I can’t believe you’ve only been dancing together a few weeks.”
Ameera accepted the compliment. She did look good in this dance and we had great partners. “Thanks, Sybil,” we all said in unison. I couldn’t get the hot skirt off fast enough and went into the bar for some water. My bangs were dripping, and I knew I didn’t have the look of a goddess at the moment. More like a drowned rat.
I grabbed a swig of water and took my place between Jennifer and Lara. Ruth started the music and off we went on the “Pathway to Goa.” As we completed the last moves, I felt a little surge of confidence that I knew it better than when I left Charleston.
Staying in character, we exited to strip off costumes and props.
“Polly, you eating?” I asked, stuffing my scarf and skirt into a bag.
“No,” she replied. “I’m going to the souvenir shop. I wanna see if I can find a shirt like Melody’s.”
In an unspoken expression of gratitude, we stopped in the center of the doorway that separated the disco from the bar. It was apparent that each of us was thanking the disco or banking a memory before we left our sticky morning-after practice room.
“Good-bye, Disco Hell,” Kelly said, acting as if she were wiping a tear away. We followed her lead, broke into laughter, and headed up to change for breakfast.
“Kaaaaaat!” Jennifer playfully stroked my name and pointed to a chair across from hers. Even that small gesture was graceful and sensual. “What a good time last night! You did such a great job.”
“I couldn’t believe it was me,” I said. “When I stood in line at the side of the stage, I remembered the first time I went to the mall with Polly to see y’all dance. When Patty’s Dance started, I whispered how much I wished I could be part of your group.”
She smiled warmly and looked me in the eyes. “You are.”
Those two little words dropped into my heart, leaving a lump in my throat. I’d been around Jennifer enough to know it was how she really felt. But before we could discuss the next glittery memory of the night before, I looked up to see the entertainment manager, Rich, charging our table. It was obvious his greeting wouldn’t be “Good morning.”
He snatched an empty chair and mustered his best plop. Glaring at Jennifer, he barked, “Care to explain to me what your group was doing last night across the street? Was it some kind of game to get chummy with Grand Lido and return next year over there?”
Preparing to back up Jennifer, I mentally slid on my legal assistant gloves and began to take notes for the file. Unlike my dance persona, my legal assistant persona was comfortable and confident.
Jennifer didn’t flinch. She put down her fork and softly replied, “We’ve asked all week when you’d like to have us perform, and up till now you haven’t shown any sign of interest. Your boss asked us to perform across the street.”
“You expect me to believe there was no ulterior motive?” Rich asked. “Maybe you don’t think your accommodations are good enough at Hedo?”
He made it sound as though the troupe was ungrateful. I knew Jennifer was the can’t-we-all-just-get-along type. This was a negotiation moment. I’d grown up with Perry Mason and worked in my own career as Della Street just for this moment. I instinctively knew to divert his questions to me.
Cats were the only animal that would kill for the sake of the hunt. It was the first time on this trip that I felt my kahunas hit—glittery ones, of course.
“Excuse me, Rich?” my voice had a velvet-hammer quality. “I know you’re a very busy man and carry a lot of responsibility to staff and guests. Palmetto Oasis wants to assure you that we’ve been earning our keep by interacting with your guests and promoting the 1:30 p.m. class.”
He turned to look at me skeptically.
“I’m not sure if your schedule allowed you time to survey the class’s popularity with the guests, but it’s been growing in numbers every day,” I purred to Rich’s ego.
“I would’ve preferred it if the Grand Lido idea would’ve been run by me,” Rich said. His face didn’t give any sign of letting us on a Hedo stage, but his glare was nothing compared to Sybil’s practice stare so I kept at him.
“Like you, we’ve been busy promoting Hedo’s class and ensuring we’re ready to perform for a Hedo show by practicing daily in the disco,” I said, laying out our itinerary. “We don’t leave until Sunday and are still available for a one-hour performance.”
He looked at Jennifer. She gave him a warm smile.
“I don’t understand why the Grand Lido show wasn’t run by me first,” Rich repeated, leaning back and folding his arms defensively.
