2|A Show

The internet is an amazing leap in our generation. One of its great perks is more accessible communication, which I am entirely despising as of this moment.

After my moment last night, I didn’t bother to come out of my room. Mom must have waited for me, but I saved us both the heartbreaking trouble of walking down memory lane.

I don’t want to get out of the comfort of my bed. The clammy summer air seeps through the glass windows and balcony door. I forgot to close the curtains last night, and now my skin is cooking under the heatwaves trapped inside my room.

My phone kept buzzing on the nightstand. The annoying device’s battery is not giving up yet, like the person who keeps flooding my phone’s notification.

Groaning loudly, I unwillingly reached for the buzzing device, peeking on the screen with one eye, Tina’s name and face flashing on it.

I tapped the accept button, and before I could growl out my annoyance, she beat me to it. “Oh, you’re still alive?” I groaned, intending to end the call when she practically shouted on the other side of the line. “I have a gig for you.”

She got my full attention now. “Where are you?”

“Sweet Bits.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you are. Be there in five.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sweet Bits was mom’s bakeshop, which was a stone throw away from our place. Agustina Velasquez’s redhead was grabbing too much attention away from Mom’s colorful baked goodies on the counter.

Juan, one of mom’s employees behind the counter, mumbled a too cheerful greeting at nine in the morning. I smiled back at him, thanking him for helping mom when I couldn’t.

Tina was seated in the corner booth of the shop, glancing at the panoramic view of the street through the glass window. I slipped on the opposite leather couch, reaching for her cup of coffee, taking a sip. Her glare could turn me to ashes, but she kept her mouth shut as I took a slow sip of her espresso.

“You look like a wreck,” she commented, eyeing me with curious hazel eyes. I rolled my eyes, huffing, as I stood up. She reached for my arm, preventing me from leaving her. “I’m just telling the truth,” she explained, “you really look like a wreck.”

I already know that. If I were the queen of the world, I would sleep all day today, but sadly I’m just a mere mortal who needs money, and this infuriating woman gives the best gig in town.

I slumped back in my seat, just in time for Juan to serve a cup of black coffee for me. Juan was a lanky kid, two years younger than me, and the son of Eva, Mom’s help in the kitchen.

“What does my look have to do with this gig?” I mumbled after thanking Juan, glancing at Tina over my cup, taking a sip.

Tina leaned her elbows on the laminated table. “Good looks can get you a thousand dollars, missy. Remember that event in the plaza tonight?” She sounded like my personal pimp. Good thing no one was close enough to hear her.

“The dance contest?” The slots were already full when I learned about it. It’s good money, and I can get the truck fixed with that cash.

Tina hummed, taking a bite of her blueberry muffins. “One contestant got into an accident last night, hit by a car….”

Last night’s event flashed in my head at her words. Pellets of cold sweat started to form under the Seville souvenir shirt I was wearing. I continued to sip my coffee, fingers slipping through the ceramic cup.

“... so there’s an open spot,” Tina continued, “are you in?”

I shook my head. Even if I needed that prize, I don’t think I can do this tonight. When I find out who that reckless motorcycle driver was, I will punch him in the throat.

“What? Why?” she asked with furrowed brows. “You’ve been wanting to enter that competition, right?”

“I just don’t feel good right now,” I reasoned.

“Oh. Too bad, they raised the grand prize to five thousand.”

“They what!?”

She hummed. “La Vista jumped on the prize bandwagon, some kind of marketing strategy to make a face with the current issue they’re having.”

La Vista is a well-known property developer in Spain, engaged in the real estate and retail industries. They own malls, hotels; they are practically the largest homebuilder in the entire country. Five thousand dollars for a small-town festival competition is huge.

“Do you have a dress?” I asked, Tina’s hazel eyes lighting up.

“What are you dancing?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anxious footsteps bounced silently on the old-fashioned walls of my room. I kept glancing at the worn-out leather strapped watch wrapped around my wrist, wondering what was taking Tina so long. She promised she’d be here ten minutes ago. We’re running late for the festival.

My thumbnail will be no more from my continuous biting if she won’t be here for another ten minutes.

“Viviana!” my ears perked up upon hearing mom’s sweet voice. “Tina is here.”

Grabbing my backpack from the bed, I almost tripped, skipping two steps at a time as I descended the rickety stairs of our home.

“I’ll be back.” I wrapped my arms around my mother, planting a soft kiss on her pale cheeks.

Sweet cinnamon scent engulfed me as she patted my back, giggling.

“Have fun,” she mumbled, watching me hop excitedly on the passenger side of Tina’s Mercedes.

I glanced back at my mother, the orange sunset glow striking her cheeks while she waved me goodbye, a smile etched on her young, worried face. Those worry lines made her look ten years older. Gray streak adorned her brunette hair, dark shadows framed her green eyes that mirror mine, but despite all these unwanted features, she’s still stunning at forty-one. The effects of last night’s little glitch on my part were long gone; at least, I cannot see the loneliness in her eyes anymore.

“Ready?” Tina mumbled from the driver’s side. She’s more ecstatic than I was.

“As I’ll ever be,” I mumbled with sarcasm.

She rolled her eyes, waving goodbye to mom, stepping on the gas, and we were on the road to the plaza.

“You look like you’re about to faint,” she teased, shifting gears. She doesn’t know how hard I am fighting the urge to jump through the open window of her car. Being on the passenger side of any vehicle had always been a constant reminder of the memories I wanted to forget.

I focused my mind on my goal, just to stay grounded and awake.

“Try entering a dance contest with no preparation,” I feigned annoyance.

Shadows of a building erected on the side of the road pranced over the hood of her car. I focused on that because what she said was spot on. My stomach crawled up in my throat. I’m on the brink of falling unconscious.

She made a pfff sound, flipping her curled hair with sass. “You’re the best dancer in town, if not the entire province of Seville.”

Tina and I met about a year ago. Mom and I left Colorado when grandma became physically ill and needed us to take care of her. A month later, she died because of heart failure, and we stayed here since we had no home to return to in the US.

“You’re a doll,” I pinched Tina’s olive cheeks, forcing the anxiety away from my head, “you know that?”

She winced, nose scrunching up while she rubbed where I pinched her, grimacing. “Buy me churros when you get your hands on that money, ‘kay?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As I stood at the end of the stairs that led towards the stage, I pressed my hands onto my chest, calming my wildly beating heart. This isn’t my first time dancing in front of an audience. I’ve won a few competitions back in the US, but I wasn’t against my own head in all those events.

I walked up the stage, a white fan at hand, smiling towards the crowd and the group of old folks on the back corner of the stage that would play the song live. The man in the middle smiled back at me as his delicate fingers caressed the strings of his instrument. The song Guajira played, mingling with the warm Andalusia summer air.

My hand moved, fingers soft and feather-light as I traced the side of my body, eyes remaining on the side, giving in to the music that rose like an army pushing me to conquer the stage. It wasn’t my first time dancing flamenco - a delicate and passionate dance that needed my utter focus and attitude.

It’s a challenge, though. I am up against contestants who had months of preparation for this night while I, on the other hand, only had three hours. I hope luck is on my side since I was torpedoed with bad luck last night.

With my hand pressed on my hips, I made a graceful flick on my foot, eyeing the crowd who applauded and rained awe as my body took control of my mind. The fan was next, big and fancy, creating an illusion of extension to my already long spread arms as I moved. I conquered the stage with my movements, taking in every applause and praise the audience was willing to give me.

One of the old folk’s voices filled the air. I swayed my hips, moving in with the rhythm, holding my skirt as the middle of the song began. I flashed a smile, locking eyes with Tina, who squeezed her way through the crowd, standing in front of the stage, giving me a thumbs up.

The rhythmic pattern of stamping and patting of my flamenco shoes pushed a horde of beautiful sounds echoing in duet with the band.

The nerves I felt through the drive here were long gone, replaced by the confidence I only feel whenever I dance. I was a star, a center of attraction that grabbed everyone’s attention with the graceful movement of my body. I’m not the broken girl who lived when her father couldn’t.

Looking back at the judges, I caught sight of the man on the previously empty chair in the middle of the long white linen table, locking eyes with him. He smiled. A jolt of unfamiliar sensation caressed my chest. I smirked back, keeping my composure and mind on the performance.

As I danced around the stage, owning it, my eyes kept drifting to his. His hues, as blue as the waters of río Guadalquivir, followed every moment of my body, leaving a wildfire of that foreign feeling in their wake. A rush of electricity zapped every nerve endings in my body. My vision zoned in on him, gray rays enclosed my line of sight, and he became the center of my attention.

I swallowed hard. The moisture in my mouth evaporated when his tongue darted out, wetting his full lips.

His gaze dropped to my chest. The red traje de flamenca Tina loaned me had a fairly deep neckline, showing enough skin. The dress was decent, but the way he was eyeing me made me feel underdressed for the occasion. Then his eyes skimmed on my hips, following my hand as if he was assessing my figure. My body burned in flames of the feeling I recognized now as desire. I wonder how it would feel to have him near me, probably as my dance partner.

He crossed his arms over his chest, the Henley he had on almost ripping, screaming from hugging his well-defined muscles. Everything around me became inconsequential with the way he was regarding me with need, desire, and lust.

I didn’t intend for it to happen, but as my body moved, I realized I was giving him a show. I was only looking at him instead of all the judges and the audience, pulling my skirt up, enticing him with my long legs.

Satisfied with how his eyes darkened with my sensual movement, I smirked, focusing back on my performance. Like every show, I owned the stage as if everything in the world was mine; that prize was mine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To my surprise, I landed third place, grabbing the original prize of the competition. Not bad for someone who didn’t have months of preparation. After taking my check, I stepped out of the organizer’s tent, already headed to where Tina parked her car.

She wasn’t alone, though. My steps faltered when I recognized one of them, the guy with the intense blue eyes. From my vantage point, he was bigger, taller, and more gorgeous.

I pressed my right hand on my chest while I gripped the strap of my backpack with the other tightly. We are in an open space. The people who gathered from the event dispersed to enjoy the rest of the night in the plaza. But everything around me was shrinking. My breathing came in puffs as if my lungs hadn’t cooped up with my performance just yet.

What the hell is happening to me? I really need to make an appointment with a psychiatrist.

“Vee,” Tina waved, motioning me to come forward. I didn’t even realize that I became immobile while looking at ‘him.’

“Congratulations,” he said as I reached them. His voice, smooth and velvety, like the way his eyes were studying me up close.

There was a particular part of my body that throb, somewhere private, and I chewed on my lip, unknowingly rubbing my legs together.

“Have we met before, Señorita?”