Chapter Four

Red light and pulsing strobes flashed from the awning. The street was alive with activity, happy people walking by the club, some of them stopping to look inside the plasma screens at the dancers on the stages. Most kept walking, shaking their heads a bit in amusement. A few walked in.

The night was cold and windy, a typical San Francisco night in every way. The lights from the harbor three blocks below shown brightly, and the space port on Missionary Island in the bay was active as ever. Cars and light trains drove past the club, casting a bit more light on the dark shadows around the day.

One of those walking in paused at the opening before he crossed the threshold. He took a final drag on his cigarette and looked around a bit, then opened the door and stepped inside. The light and warmth shone brightly for a second as the door was open, and then it was dark again, mystery concealed behind its façade.

* * *

“Hello sir, welcome to Flamenco’s,” the man in the old-style tuxedo said to the newcomer. “Will you be enjoying the club on your own tonight sir?”

“Yes.”

“Very good sir. Let me have Desire here take you to a table. And I’m sorry sir, I’m not sure we’ve had the pleasure here before. My name is Mr. Smithson, the club director,” the man said, extending his hand.

Gray took the man’s hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you Mr. Smithson, thank you for the warm welcome tonight.”

Mr. Smithson smiled back at Gray. “And your name sir?” he asked with a polite smile.

“Gray.”

“I see sir, very good. Is there a first name with that Mr. Gray?” he laughed.

“Just Gray,” Gray said, not smiling.

Mr. Smithson’s smile wavered a bit, and then he nervously coughed. “As you wish Mr. Gray. Please follow Desire here.”

Desire walked up to Gray. She was a dancer in her early twenties, dressed in an early twentieth century flapper’s outfit. Her hair was full, but tied up in a complex weave on top of her head. She took a look at Gray and gave an easy, relaxed smile. She cocked her head to one side and extended an arm for him.

Gray liked her immediately.

“Hello Mr. Gray. I’m glad you’re here tonight,” she said in a soft voice. She looked at him for a second in her eyes and then giggled quietly.

Gray smiled. Might as well loosen up a little, he thought. Desire certainly seems like a nice girl, he laughed to himself.

“Hello Desire. You look wonderful tonight. And it’s just Gray, not Mr.”

She took his arm. “Thanks Gray, you like my outfit?”

He looked her over again. The tight top was colorful, with a black base accentuated with red and blue jewel-like adornments. When Desire moved the small tassels along the side of her outfit jiggled a bit, giving her a fluid, lithe style. Gray liked the outfit.

She took him and began walking through the club. The first stage he passed had a man and a woman on it, dancing a modified tango. The man wore a traditional Argentine tuxedo, but the woman was mostly nude, with a tight sarong around her midsection, its white cloth glowing brightly in the ultraviolet lights, helping to maintain her sense of mystery. A group of people were on seats around the stage, men and women, all of them transfixed by the graceful dance.

Gray paused to let a group of space crew mates walk past, all of them drunk and boisterous. One bumped into him and gave him a challenging look, but Gray held the gaze. The younger man paused a bit, then nodded at Gray. Gray nodded back and turned back to Desire. She leaned over to him and put her lips next to ear, her breath feeling hot against him.

“Are you a strong guy Gray?” she breathed into his ear.

He smiled faintly but didn’t answer. He didn’t want to move his head away from hers.

She waited a few seconds for his answer, then laughed, softly again, into his ear. “Let’s get you a table Gray.”

The next stage they passed was different. It had a grand piano on the riser, with a man playing and a woman singing beside it. Gray noticed her beautiful voice and stopped to listen. Her eyes were closed, hands crossed in front of her over a formal black gown. The man was looking at her while he softly played. Her voice was soft and powerful at the same time. She was singing Schubert’s “Der Hirt Auf Dem Felsen” he noticed. He remembered the piece from his time in school. They don’t teach that anymore I guess, he thought.

Desire pulled him again and finally they made their way to a more private room towards the back. She sat down with him in a booth along the back wall. She sat close to him.

“Gray you don’t want a piano with a girl singing a sad song today, you need something more exciting,” she said, nodding towards the stage in front of them.

The stage was plain, maybe half a meter off the floor, and adorned with a simple red cloth around the edges. On the stage was a man with a guitar on his lap. He tapped his feet as he played a fast, passionate piece. Two women and a man danced in front of him. The woman were in gowns, one blue the other red, and tied them at their waists with a brightly colored cloth belt. The man was in a traditional matador’s outfit, with a white shirt covered with a black vest, a red cape in his hand. They all danced together yet separately, moving together in a complex rhythm. They hands were mostly held high and their fingers snapped above their heads to the music, with an occasional “Ole!” or similar shout to match the tempo.

Flamenco.

“You see Gray, this makes a lonely man happy,” Desire whispered next to him. Her hand found his leg under the table, and he turned to her.

“What makes you think I’m lonely Desire?” he asked, his voice not unkind.

“Ah Gray, a man like you—tall, handsome, nicely dressed. You don’t come to Flamenco’s unless you’re lonely. You’re looking for a new friend,” she said, proudly pointing to herself.

Gray thought for a moment, a faint smile breaking out on his lips. She was correct enough, he thought. Loneliness had stopped being a feeling he’d been able to distinctly realize or feel. It just was.

He leaned closer to her. “Desire, could I have a drink now? And will you drink with me?”

She rubbed his leg again and whispered back, “Now that’s better Gray. What do you want to drink?”

“A Manhattan.”

“A Manhattan, so serious,” she laughed. “I’ll be back Gray, and we’ll watch these dancers.”

She got up and started walking towards the bar in the other room. As she passed their room’s little entrance she looked back, catching Gray’s eye. Easy guy, he thought. Discipline.

He turned his attention back to the stage now. The song was at a crescendo. The woman in red had her hands at her waist, and was facing the crowd. The woman in blue and the man were back a bit, facing the guitarist and dancing for him. The woman in red was alone for the crowd then, and danced for each of them, almost individual. Her eyes swept the crowd, making contact with each of the people in the bar, mostly men, before coming to Gray.

She looked at him and the racy smile on her lips faltered a bit. Gray held her gaze as she quickly turned around to dance back towards the others. Gray took out a cigarette and lit it.

The dancers all continued all continued the piece, with the guitarist standing up now and slamming his feet on the floor. The patrons in the room were clapping in rhythm, some of them shouting out in encouragement. The dancers were frantic now, slapping their feet on their floor and snapping above their heads. The guitarist increased the tempo and began singing. The woman sang above him and the crowd pitched in. The energy was high in the room.

Desire came back with their drinks. She remained standing, mimicking the dancers on stage.

“Gray, this is so wonderful, this Spanish music! Dance with me!” she yelled as she grabbed his hand.

He stood and placed his hands on her waist. She looked up at him for a moment and matched his serious stare, then laughed. She turned around to watch the final act on the stage.

Gray did as well, watching the woman in red without seeing the rest of the dancers. The guitarist’s gestures faded away, as did the pounding, the snapping, the fast dancing, and everything else around him. He narrowed his focus completely to the woman in the red gown, her black hat and thin veil not concealing the face and hair he knew so well.

The song ended and the audience erupted into applause, shouts of “Bravo!” and “Bellissima!” breaking out among the crowd. The guitarist put down his instrument, and got out a towel, wiping sweat from his face and head. The dancers took their bows, the crowd loving every minute of it.

The woman in red stayed on stage after the others left, and then quickly walked off the back of the stage towards a curtain.

Gray quickly excused himself from Desire and walked towards the back of the stage. His way was blocked with standing, cheering patrons, but he gradually pushed through them. He could see the woman heading towards a door on the back wall.

He walked faster now, bumping into people and not apologizing. He made the door just as the woman walked through. He slammed his leg into it and rushed through.

The woman spun around and put her hands up.

“Gray, please. What are you doing?”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and moved her quickly to the right, into a darkened closet off of the main hallway where they’d been. He shut the door, putting them in total darkness. He could hear the crowd outside, but it was muffled now. All his attention was on the woman now, her frantic breathing coming in gasps.

“Gray, stop it. Let’s talk about this!” she said, her voice shaking and almost hitting a scream.

“No Linda, we tried talking last week,” he growled. Anger rose in him and he put his hand in his pocket. “Now you talk and I listen.”