Ameera, Unveiled (39 page)
“Let me add more glitter to your eyes.” Sybil patted the stool. Polly was front and center, fluttering her eyelashes, and making me laugh. In less than a minute, Polly’s lip gloss and eyebrows were “blinging.”
“Sit, Kat,” Sybil ordered. “You didn’t use false eyelashes?”
“I’m not really good at them yet,” I answered.
“That’s fine. You’ve got very long, natural lashes,” Sybil said, as she blobbed on complementary glitter and dusted my lips. I stared at the mirror and saw an exotic face staring back. She didn’t look a bit scared like the one melting down on the bed moments before. Her sparkly eyelids blinked over big, green eyes. Ameera had arrived. “How’s that?” Sybil asked.
“Wow, Sybil!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe that’s me . . . or Ameera.”
Sybil smiled as if I were going to my first prom. “Okay, let’s go, ladies,” she said. We zipped our cover-ups and headed out the door. We picked up our costumes as we passed the porch and rolled down the sidewalk. Bangles jingled. I saw several other black, glittery silhouettes ahead being stopped by guests. As we caught up, questions were flying.
“Can we take a peek at your costumes?” a tipsy guest asked.
“Sorry. We cover up till we perform,” Jennifer said. “Tradition.”
“You performing tonight?” asked a cute guest in a white toga.
“Across the street at Grand Lido,” Denise said.
“You performing here?” she asked. We all paused to give Sybil a chance to answer that one.
“We could. It might help if you give feedback to the management,” Sybil said. “We’ve gotta get moving. But we have a belly dance class in the gym at one thirty tomorrow afternoon.”
We extracted ourselves from the growing crowd between bar and dining room. I felt their eyes following us.
“Let’s do a photo for our website,” Sybil said. She chatted quietly with the desk clerks and they smiled, then she demanded my camera and told me to show them how it worked. After a short tutorial, I handed it over and joined the group posing behind the counter.
“One, two, cheese,” Sybil said. We stood erect and held grins until we finally saw the flash. “One more, please?” As we left the photo op, Sybil summoned us to the middle of the lobby. I wiggled my way into the circle between Polly and Denise.
“Okay, ladies. Here’s our chance,” Sybil said, putting her hand in the center of the circle like a sports team before a championship game. “Who are we?” The veterans knew to join palms in the center of the circle. Polly and I followed suit.
“Palmetto Oasis,” we said in unison.
“Who are we?” Sybil asked again, while everyone left their fingers touching.
“PALMETTO OASIS!” we shouted. Our hands shot upwards in unison, with zaghareets invading the lobby.
We chattered as we headed toward Grand Lido. Sybil approached the guard shack in travel-leader mode as the chain lowered to allow us to pass into the other resort.
“Oh my word,” Kelly said. “This is across from us?”
We walked toward floodlit marble pillars, on the scale of the Pantheon in Rome, bordered on either side by softly flowing streams inviting us to sashay to the main lobby.
“Follow me,” Sybil said, leading us to the concierge desk. She motioned us to wait. We stood there in our mysterious black shrouds, taking in the plushy elegant surroundings.
“Doing okay, Kat?” Polly asked. I nodded but felt the ongoing battle on my performance shoulder between my demon and Ameera.
I wanted to find an exorcist who could remove the demon and allow me to be excited to be a part of this Jamaican dance project. My mind still argued, so I forced myself to remember what I had seen in the mirror as Sybil splashed glitter on me. I prayed that Grand Lido had a bit more prestige with all the marble hype presenting itself.
Sybil shot back to us. “We’re being moved to the changing room offstage,” she said. We pulled our suitcases after our mother duck.
“What’re the odds the audience won’t walk off like across the street?” I heard Kelly asking Denise.
“I think they’ve seen the Hedo shows a ton of times,” Denise responded quietly. “There’re a bunch of repeat guests here. I’m having a hard time picturing Hedo guests walking out on our show.”
I took some solace in their exchange. We passed the open dining room and saw the oddly shaped stage.
“We’ll have to decide how to work with that,” Sybil remarked to Jennifer.
The assistant manager led us to a building at the side of the dining room. As he unlocked the door and flicked a light switch, we stared down a short set of stairs. It looked like a janitor’s room. Without hesitation, Sybil headed down with her suitcase thumping behind her.
“Isn’t it amazing how we can walk on a stage, hoping to make a little girl wanna be us?” Jennifer said. “But they’ve got no idea where we change offstage to bedazzle them.”
“Is there enough oxygen for all of us?” Lara asked, laughing as she descended to find a spot to open her costume bag.
“At least we won’t be here at the same time once the show starts,” Denise said.
“I’m gonna meet with the soundman and check out the stage,” Jennifer said.
Zippers released us from cover-ups. As bags opened, the room burst into a rainbow of jewel-colored costumes.
“Look at us . . . dressed to the nines and using a shabby dressing room,” I reflected. I loved the irony, which took the edge off my stage fright. “Divas in a broom closet!”
“Nine Cinderellas about to attend a Jamaican ball,” Polly said, sorting her costumes into matching piles and hanging jewelry on the netting of her luggage. She looked over at me and winked.
“Five minutes and we’ll need to head to the stage,” Sybil said. “Remember . . . if something happens, keep smiling and finish the dance. A special good luck to Kat and Polly. This is their first official gig!”
I took a deep breath and exhaled. Glitter was floating in the air. I heard jingling from beads and coined costumes as the girls gave us a round of zaghareets. As we climbed the dirty stairs, I thought of Jennifer’s freak-out on the plane. I looked at her as I headed to my personal fear-of-flying zone.
I sent myself to a quiet place as we walked. Internally, I felt a sweep of serenity and a little voice play in my head:
Remember how much you loved
dancing in the mornings when you were little? Go back there and just have
fun with your friends. Have fun, fun, fun
. I smiled and felt a little pep in my glittery step as we closed in on the stage. As I lined up for our first dance, Kelly gave me a small slap on my rump like a coach.
“Popping your cherry tonight, Kat!” Kelly said. “Hope you didn’t use your antiperspirant.” Polly and I laughed. “Buy you a drink later. You too, Polly.”
“Shhhhh,” Sybil motioned for us to get into our dance personae. I decided to let Ameera take over and stood tall, reminding myself not to take this too seriously.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Palm Mato Asis,” the emcee said, mangling our name.
I felt a shiver down my spine as “Entrance to the Stars” opened the show with its haunting call. We started our first show, enjoying the gasps of the audience as we presented ourselves.
Ameera smiled at the audience. Stage lights blocked facial recognition and sent back only the images of silhouettes around tables speckling the dining room. Sandwiched between Lara and Denise, I found the first six eight-counts streamed along until we twirled stage right and finished with a twirl stage left. As the single line separated, I became aware that the beads on Lara’s and my skirt had decided to hook up. As Lara moved forward and I shifted to the back line, our skirts were in a Hedo lip-lock. Lara dived to the connection and thought she had pulled them apart—unsuccessfully. She’d resumed her spot in the dance.
In my mind, I heard Sybil’s last admonishment: “If something happens, just keep dancing.” I stooped and broke the link between the skirts and popped back into my dance spot. Keep going, Ameera, I told myself. Within four minutes, we’d completed one of six dances and I’d already used my Mulligan to escape a disaster in costume failure.
Flashes from cameras as we held our final pose hinted that the audience hadn’t left. We exited the stage following Sybil’s confident walk and went back to our changing room. Jennifer remained to welcome the audience and give a lesson in zaghareet execution. Ruth stood in the wings, prepared to do her cane dance.
“Good job, Kat,” Lara said. I knew she was referring to the costume malfunction.
“Can’t believe that happened my first dance and show,” I said but felt satisfied with my coolness. “Hope I didn’t mess up your skirt crystals. That’s a gorgeous costume.”
“We gotta do what we gotta do,” Lara said. “Apparently, our costumes knew they were in Hedo and took advantage.” She laughed and patted me on the back. “What’s your next dance?”
“Gypsy,” I said. “You’re doing wings with Jennifer?”
“Got it, sista,” Lara said, descending the rickety stairs.
I had a complete persona and costume change to manage within two dances.
Having fun, yet?
I asked Ameera. I felt her smiling at me. I was having fun too. It helps when you can’t see their faces. I went to my luggage and pulled out the skirts and proceeded to peel and hope no one was watching. I felt like a real belly dancer.
The thirty-minute countdown continued from Ruth’s cane, the Forte wings, Gypsy, Ruth’s Spanish dance, and finally Lara’s “Pathway to Goa.” We’d each experienced slips and bumps, but now I was sandwiched between the Forte sisters to do Lara’s chorus for the last number. I’d changed back into my misbehaving chartreuse skirt from Patty’s dance. This was my weakest dance, but I felt I’d grown better in the disco practices.
“You’re doing great, Kat,” Jennifer whispered from behind me. I needed to accept the compliment instead of telling her how much my head was driving my dancing. I was counting because I knew that if I didn’t, I’d lose my place. It also held me back from engaging with a lighter countenance.
Then I said silently,
Baby steps, Ameera
. I needed to unite my heart’s desire with my body’s inexperience.
There’d been too many voices discouraging my innate feminine instinct to explore the mystery of life. I felt my feet transform, uniting movement with joy and responsibility. These amazing women were pushing me to fulfill my destiny to find Ameera and the rituals of dance. Since we’d performed our first number, there’d been no time for me to even think about walking away from the show.
As the music started, we whirled, twirled, and presented veils and wings. Before I knew it, we were holding our last pose for photographers.
The audience applauded healthily and a few tried to zaghareet. We left the stage and our giddy chatter filled the air as we repacked our luggage in the Billy Goat Gruff hole.
Kelly said, “Whoever works here and uses this room is gonna have glitter around for a long time.” We chuckled and kept packing.
“I want cover-ups back on so the Hedo guests don’t see our costumes,” Sybil instructed. “Remember, it’s toga night.”
The sound of zippers buzzed around the room. The thump of costume bags bumping up the stairs confirmed that we were heading back to Hedo. As usual, I was at the back of the line.
“Okay, Kat?” Polly asked, as we moved up the glittery cattle line.
“Wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined,” I said. “Lara’s and my skirt got caught at the hems.”
“And you kept on dancing!” Polly said, finishing the story. “Gypsy looked really good. I turned the wrong way at the same place I always mess up. I felt sorry for Ruth when her music got messed up and she had to stop to show the soundman where her second track was before starting again.”
We caught up with a giddy troupe prepared to take several pictures by a small creek running beside the walkway.
“Here comes our new skank and ho,” Kelly said. “Show cherries officially popped. Woo-hoo!”
Everyone smiled in our direction. I felt a little self-conscious. But I also felt I’d officially proved myself as a team player.
One of the staff approached us. “Want me to take your photo?”
“That’d be great,” Sybil said. She motioned everyone to get into place. “Take a couple, please.” Several cameras were laid at her feet; it would take a few minutes to satisfy the picture quota for our group.
“Overall, it went well,” I overheard Sybil say to Ruth.
“Especially in light of our having to fly by the seat of our harem pants,” Ruth responded.
As we arrived at Flasher’s Corner, Jennifer and Lara shed cover-ups and started taking more pictures. I kept moving so I could get back to the room and out of my bra and the back diaper pin jabbing my flesh.
As we approached the lobby, we were inundated by guests in togas of all shapes and sizes. As Polly and I turned the corner to our room, I saw Razz wearing an Egyptian loincloth. Polly noticed this at the same time.
“He’s got the body of a god,” Polly said, eyes scanning him from head to toe several times.
“Easy, girl,” I said. “He’s staff, and I’m sure he feels more like a piece of meat than he wants to.”
He looked up and gave us a big smile and wave.
“He’s sweet,” I said.
We opened the door to our room, trying to keep the bugs swarming our porch light from following us.
