Dancing Hours (15 page)

“Do you like the phone?”
  I recognized X’s voice.  For some reason it reminded me of a cartoon villain.
  I tried to push the thought out of my head.

“Yes, it’s very nice, but you know I don’t need this.  I can give you my number.”
I said.

“I know
you don’t need it. I want you to have it.  I have to go now, but enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
He said.

During the week, I cyber-stalked Noah and found the garage he was working at.  The manager said he hadn’t come in for a week but that wasn’t unusual.  Try back next week
, he suggested. 

On Wednesday when I left the apartment for the morning, I found another note on my doorstep.  All it said was
Miss you
.  There was no name or signature.  I thought it looked like the same handwriting
as X, but I’d thrown away his other note so I couldn’t compare the two.  When I got home that afternoon, my roommate told me irritably that the phone X had given me kept beeping.  I picked it up and looked at the screen – 14 missed calls and 7 text messages of rapidly increasing urgency that he wanted to talk to me and asking me to call.  The final text was
Coming
to find you.  Hope U R OK
.  It was left just minutes before.  I called him immediately and we spoke briefly.  I reassured him that I was okay and that I had just been in class and didn’t have the phone.  He asked me to please keep the phone with me, said that this was a dangerous town filled with dangerous people and he was worried about me.   I promised that I would as long as he would not call me during the day because I had classes.  He agreed and seemed to sigh with relief as we got off the phone.

On Friday
the new robot phone rang again.  Of course it was X and he was inviting me to dinner.  That nagging little voice in the back of my mind
telling me to run
was drowned out by the one that said ‘
a girl’s
gotta
eat’
and ‘
why the
heck not have
a little fun?
’  So I agreed.

“I’ve missed you.” he said a little too tenderly
on the phone
.  It seemed too intimate for having know
n
him such a short time.  I m
umbled a thank you of some kind, but felt the urge to hang up the phone and run screaming.

“Do you have anything to wear?” he explored.  It seemed like a strange question.  Of course I had clothes, but I suddenly felt unsure and asked him what he meant.  What he
apparently meant was a nice dress and heels – we had reservation
s at
Spellbinders
.  I didn’t know what
Spellbinders
was so I suggested someplace nearby.  X laughed. 

“Don’t be silly. I have a better idea.  Wait there.”
 
He said.

He hung up. 
Wait here?  What was that supposed to mean?
 
I texted some friends who filled me in that Spellbinders was an upscale restaurant where
if you were inclined
you could have a 7 course meal. 
I went to my closet to examine my wardrobe again as if something was going to magically appear and be perfect for a fancy restaurant I’d never heard of.  I was nervous and
a queasiness
grew in my stomach.  This was a date.
  I hoped my credit card would be able to cover my meal if it had to.  Then I got on the internet to see what I could find out.

I twiddled with the phone some more, programmed in X’s number.  By the time I figured that out, the doorbell rang.  Standing before me was a
buxom woman
wearing what
probably
passes for a business suit in
pornos
.  Her breasts were far too large for her petite frame and her makeup was a little too loud for daytime.  She had hard muscular legs and a big bright smile.  She introduced herself as
Mitzy
, a “shopping
liason
” sent for me. 
She also worked at the club where I’d just seen X. 
Mitzy
explained that her job depended on getting me to say yes.  There was that guilt again.  Her job was on the line if I didn’t go with her.  So I went.  We chatted about her growing up in Oklahoma, always dreaming of being an actress and finding herself here with $24 and a beat up car. 

“Now look at me!” she said brightly and I wondered if this is what her mother imagined for her.  We arrived
after an hour at a giant mall called the Beverly Center
. 

“Your reservations are at seven, so we don’t have much time.”

I looked at my watch. 
It was only four o’clock.  I hadn’t ever spent three hours in a mall I wasn’t working at in all my life, but the Beverly Center was definitely not just a mall. 
Mitzy
made a beeline for a store that carried what appeared to be Miss America pageant gowns.  She left me to browse while she grabbed a saleswoman.  I nearly died of a heart attack when I saw the price tags on
the dresses
.  It was more money than
I made in a whole summer.

I nearly ran over to
Mitzy
  “
I can’t! These dresses are too much.  I can’t pay for this.”
I said in an urgent whisper.

“You’re not paying for it sweet cheeks, I am.”
  She pulled a credit card out of her bra and displayed it proudly.

“No, no, no, no, no.” I pleaded.

She put on her ‘I mean business’ voice:  “Honey, the boss like pretty things to look at and he likes you.  He just wants you to have a knockout night.  Now, just think of it this way… it’s not a gift for
you,
it’s a gift for him.  He won’t like it if you say no.”
She tucked the card back in its original resting place.

For some reason that sounded like a threat.
  My internal alarms were getting more insistent. 
What had I gotten myself into?

“I am
not
this kind of person.  He is not going to get lucky for buying me nice things.”  It felt crass to say it that way. 
Mitzy
narrowed her eyes.

“You’re the one who’s getting lucky, sweet cheeks. 
There’s a whole world of women out there who’d be champing at the bit to get a dress like this, so let’s get off our high horse and spend the boss’ money. Okay?” 

I stared at her for a moment and wondered idly if my own southern accent was as
twangy
as
Mitzy’s
.
  On a different day and under different circumstances, I was sure we could be friends.  “I don’t want to spend his
money,
can we just look in a different store please?” I finally said.

“Excuse me for a moment” she said curtly and marched off.

I could only hear parts of her phone conversation
as she paced around the store
… little snippets like “impossible” and “you can take me to
Spellbinders
; I’ll have a better time” then finally “whatever you say.”

Mitzy
walked
purposefully
over and handed me the phone.
  “He wants to talk to you.”

“Hello?”
I ventured.

“Andrea.
What am I going to do with you?”

“Not this.  I just don’t feel comfortable
with this
.  You shouldn’t
be
buy
ing
me new clothes.”
I fiddled with the zipper on my purse
to hide my discomfort
.

“I completely understand.
” He said.
“
No, I take that back.  I don’t understand at all.  You are a co
mplete mystery to me,
but listen, tomorrow
is
my birthday.  I have to work so I wanted to have a special night out tonight and I couldn’t think of anyone I’d want to share it with more than you.  So please, do me this favor as a birthday gift to me.  Let
Mitzy
dress you up.  Come celebrate with me and I won’t send you shopping again until you want to go.”
He offered as a compromise.

I stewed for a moment.  He pulled the birthday card.  I knew I would lose this one, how could I say no?  Maybe this is what people who use
d
to be poor, but aren’t anymore
do
for kicks. 
Besides, his birthday was so close to mine.  If you were into all that astrology stuff, then we should definitely be able to get along.

“Okay.  But only because it’s your birthday.”
I pouted unintentionally.

Mitzy
squealed happily and handed
me
three different dresses to try on which she must have gathered while I was on the phone.  A new purse and shoes later and I
was
ready for Spellbinders.  I declined the hair and makeup treatment because I could do
those
myself. 
Mitzy
clearly had doubts about my abilities in that department, but she apparently though
t
she had done enough to leave me on my own.

Getting ready was challenging for me.  My roommate followed me around saying things like “
Va
va
voom
!” and chattering excitedly about my date which only made me more nervous.  I’d had to decide between evening gowns that showed way too much cleavage, way too much back or way too much leg.  I settled for too much leg, reassuring myself that most of my dance costumes had been much more revealing.  When I finished getting ready, I hardly recognized myself in the mirror.
  Sunday took a picture with my regular phone and texted it off to my Nan.  I struck a pose like
Cyd
Charisse
in one of Nan’s favorite movies because I thought she’d be amused by it.  I wondered if she would even be able to figure out how to open it up. 

12

X arrived at my door at exactly
6:30
pm.  My roommate introduced herself and then went back to her room.  I heard the text alarm on my phone and checked it on the way out the door. 
I won’t wait up
.  She had wri
tten.  I tucked it quickly away, but
X eyed m
e
curiously
. I chose to pretend not to notice rather than explain.