Ameera, Unveiled (43 page)
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “As some of you know, we’re Palmetto Oasis Middle Eastern Dance Troupe from Charleston, South Carolina.” More applause. I noticed the students sitting on the edge of the stage, chatting excitedly. “We hope you’ll enjoy our show. I’m gonna explain to you the type of applause we appreciate during our performance while the girls go backstage and get ready.” On cue, we turned and negotiated the slippery steps.
As I hid behind the glass wall, I unzipped my cover-up, ripped off my shoes, and looked for my placement to start the show with Patty’s dance.
Lara looked at me ripping off my shoes. “That floor is freaking slippery,” she agreed, unlacing her shoes. Lara’s abandonment of her dance shoes confirmed that I was making a smart move.
Jennifer came around the corner, setting aside prop and cover-up. She jumped into place, and we migrated to line up in full cabaret costume at the head of the stairs.
As the audience spied Lara and Denise entering and taking their dance positions, the Hedo congregation sighed. I did a confident walk to my spot and realized the disco mornings had given me an extra dollop of courage. I scanned the audience. No one was moving. I resisted crying in relief.
The soundman pressed the button to our first musical track and “Entrance of the Stars” sent its haunting invitation to see what we had in store. I set my peripheral vision on Lara and Polly to set the pace of counts. As we got to the split of the lines, my skirt separated without incident.
Ameera took over and finished the dance with the required eight-count picture pose. The camera flashes diminished our ability to look into the audience. As they subsided, I noticed Rich leave his pillar and shuffle to the kitchen. Did I dare to hope it was to get us a plate of lobster tails?
Focus, Kat.
I tipped my chin into the air, turned confidently, and grabbed my abandoned shoes and cover-up to change into Gypsy back at the fitness center. Ruth waited behind the glass-block wall for her cane dance, buying us time to prepare for the next numbers and costume changes.
“Polly, they aren’t leaving!” I said, as I flung off the black cabaret.
“I think you’re right,” Polly agreed. The fitness room buzzed as beads were discarded, and wings and new costumes slid on our naked bodies. I had three dances before Gypsy. I watched as the Forte sisters pushed their way through the fitness door to head to the stage. The method to the madness was manifesting—the troupe operated purely on instinct.
We shot to the stage, danced, and left in our saucy attitudes.
“Spot on!” Denise said as we headed back to the fitness room.
I shed my costume and grabbed the last one for Lara’s dance. It was my rogue chartreuse skirt. I wanted to watch the student skit, so I threw my stuff on and ran to hang out at the side of the soundman’s area.
As I arrived, Jennifer and Ruth finished putting a skirt and turban on Donald. Razz started the music, and Jennifer led Donald to his chair as if she’d hypnotized him. He played along and acted as if he were in a trance. Ruth led the students in and, one by one, they toyed with the genie who remained unresponsive. They formed a circle using their May Flag movement around stoic Donald sitting on a chair with arms crossed. He reminded me of Yul Brynner in an Egyptian Pharaoh role.
In spite of the fact that we’d given him permission at practice to pick his queen before the music played all the way through, Donald sat and the girls kept circling. Ruth tried to switch up the monotonous veil parade, and the students picked up on her lead.
“Come on, Donald,” Melody whispered. “Pick your queen.” I nudged her with my shoulder and smiled.
As the music died, Donald seemed to wake from harem basking and twirled in a circle to pick the doctor’s wife. As a good Hedo genie, he hugged and kissed each contender.
It was time for our finale. We lined up and entered center stage, resembling a colorful Chinese dragon. Lara popped her arms over her head. Jennifer and I followed her lead. Razz started the last song, and we transitioned through each part from front to back of the stage.
I couldn’t believe we’d be done in less than three minutes. I smiled at the adoring students still lined up on the front stage step and surveyed the audience—a full house! As we made our last approach to the audience for a final pose, I offered a prayer of thanks.
We held our pose for pictures, basking in healthy applause peppered with whistles and zaghareets. We relaxed our arms, and Sybil walked the perimeter of the stage, applauding the audience and students. We followed her lead.
Jennifer threw kisses as we walked off. I saw Lara turn back from the step and pop her chest.
“Nice,” I said to her.
As we were laughing and heading back to the fitness center, Rich approached Sybil.
“Good job,” Rich said. He paused as if it’d taken a lot of energy to say the words. We stood around him, waiting.
“The students really seemed to enjoy being part of the show,” Sybil said. “Thank you for having us here and allowing us to perform for your guests. We’ve enjoyed this week.”
“I had the kitchen hold some lobster tails for you whenever you’re ready,” he said. We all squealed and basked in his reward. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, Rich!” Lara said, giving him a polite Southern hug, leaving a smattering of glitter on his shirt. Each of us thanked him in turn. He slipped away and headed to the lobby.
“Let’s leave the fitness room neat and tidy,” Sybil said. “Good job, ladies!”
Costumes and accessories landed in my bag, rough and tussled. Polly and I looked around our spot for lost coins or beads.
As we made our way to our rooms, guests waved and clapped. Our uncovered costumes blew and shimmered in a light sea breeze.
“You did it, Kat!” Polly said. She opened our door, and I plopped backward on the bed. While the adrenaline pumped, my week flashed before me as I stared in the mirror.
I thought of Steve at home without me on our anniversary. He’d given me access to the best anniversary present of all . . . unveiling Ameera. She was smiling at me from the mirror above.
“Do the stars look brighter?” Polly asked. I took a closer look at one of the last evening panoramas of Hedonism.
The sea breeze was light and the sapphire-blue pool glowed with submerged lighting.
“Your adrenaline’s still rushing,” I said. “But if you want them to shine brighter, so be it!” I pretended to wave a scepter. “And while my queenliness is working, Ameera demands lobster and champagne for everyone!”
We laughed. As we walked toward our reward, we saw most of the troupe already sitting at a large, round table near the kitchen.
I sat beside Denise. “I think we were a hit,” I said to her and Kelly.
“Woo-hoo! Y’all, we did it!” Kelly exclaimed, jumping to her feet with a draft beer in hand. Lara raised her glass of champagne. I reached over to fill my glass with champagne.
“Who are we?” Sybil asked. In unison, we yelled “Palmetto Oasis” as a victory chant. As we settled back into our seats, a waitress presented a covered tray of lobster tails, drawn butter, and lots of lemon.
“Congratulations, ladies,” she said. “Enjoy this as we enjoyed your show.”
I walked to the salad bar and grabbed nine plates. Polly followed me to claim napkins and silverware. By the time we’d returned, Sybil had removed the cellophane from our feast, and Lara and Jennifer had refilled the champagne glasses.
“Did anyone notice the kitchen staff came out during the show and stood by the salad bar to watch?” Ruth asked.
“I loved how the students were huddled on the top step of the stage,” Melody added. “They kept pointing and whispering. One of them came up to me after the show and wanted to know if I was Melody or Kat.” I felt flattered to be confused with beautiful, sweet Melody.
I looked around the circle and felt . . . included. As we chatted in the afterglow of the show, the swingers came up to the table.
“Good jobs, ladies,” Baby Daddy said. His entourage stood behind him. “We’ll be out by the pool for Jamaican dance night. Hope you join us.”
The naughty student couple stopped by to compliment Jennifer and Lara’s wing dance. The Forte sisters were gracious and humble, trying to divert praise to the efforts of the entire troupe. The Velvet Rabbit Fan Club meandered past. I finished my lobster tail and pushed the plate away.
“That’s all you’re eating?” Polly asked.
I nodded. “It’s rich.”
“By the way, how did we get lobster?” Sybil asked.
Kelly pointed over my head. “Kat did it. She caught Rich on the way to the lobby and schmoozed him. Y’all, she’s good. She should’ve been an attorney.”
I tried to dismiss the attention. “Can’t hurt to ask,” I said. “I think this whole trip’s been a collaborative effort to pass on the love of dance.”
“Here, here,” Jennifer said, raising her glass. “To our fearless leader!”
Sybil waved off the attention. “We’re a team . . . a sisterhood,” she replied.
Twenty minutes later, the sisterhood had eaten every lobster tail and polished off the last bottle of champagne.
“Let’s go to the disco and play on the pole,” Ruth suggested.
Sybil popped up as though she’d been challenged to a duel. “I’m there, baby,” she answered. “Just for the record, no class tomorrow. We’re gonna enjoy our last day. Sleep in, ladies.”
“Woo-hoo!” Kelly belted. “I’ll be in bed while Denise and Ruth patrol the beach for birds or the last chance to buy ganja!” We laughed. “Let’s dance!”
Razz opened the disco door, giving us his big, warm, island smile. “Good job, ladies. The costumes were amazing. How much longer do we have you at Hedo?”
“We leave on Sunday,” Jennifer said. “It’s been wonderful.”
He hugged each of us as we entered the club. The disco ball reflected on the walls as if in celebration of our arrival.
“Anyone want a beer?” Kelly asked. The bartender, anticipating her request, had poured two beers for her before she got to the bar. I started to feel a champagne buzz. I was leaning toward water until I’d danced, so I followed her to the bar.
“Soda water with lime, please?” I asked. I knew to monitor the alcohol buzz since my protective anniversary mate wasn’t with me.
“Make that two,” Polly said from behind me.
“It was fun tonight.” Lara shoved her shoulder at me. I shoved her back.
“Absolutely,” I said. I couldn’t help but well up in tears. I told myself,
I’m
emotional because I miss Steve.
“Kat, you’re a great asset,” Lara said. I met her eyes and hugged her neck. I knew it might be my only moment to do that. I loved Lara. She was real people—like Jennifer.
We played on the pole as we danced, abandoning ourselves to the post-performance celebration. Audience members migrated in and focused on taking pictures of us goofing off. Polly and I jumped on the pole. We laughed and giggled as we danced together.
Sybil and Ruth took over the pole and lost their balance. Their laughter unhinged us. I captured the moment on my camera.
Over the noise, I looked at Jennifer and tried to tell her that I needed to go to bed. She sent a questioning look to me as the disco filtered down from us to other guests joining the dance floor.
“Y’all, I want us to dance to the Black Eyed Peas,” Kelly said. “Razz said I can go in the DJ room and discuss it with Rockas.”
Before any of us could interject, she’d disappeared around the corner. As we watched her and Rockas discussing the song, he turned to search his music inventory. She looked at us on the other side of the glass window.
“Believe” by Cher hit the sound system.
In classic goofball mode, Kelly brought an invisible mic to her lips and started lip-syncing the song. She turned back to the DJ, who was paying no attention to her antics, and acted as if she were appealing to him to answer the song’s question—would he believe in life after love?
Jennifer’s laughter erupted, and I knew this would only get better. Kelly turned and acted as if she were walking downstairs and disappeared behind the counter. Then she came up as if she were on an elevator and looked front, left, right . . . and disappeared. The DJ glanced at us and looked down, as if checking on Kelly. He then continued his song search.
