Luna Tango (17 page)

‘This emotion ...'

She looked up to find his dark eyes studying her. Her body temperature soared.

‘Yes?' she asked, not sure whether he was referring to the dance or the girly crush she'd developed. Man, she was like every other woman in Argentina.

‘This emotion is the most important part of the dance. Remember what I said about where tango started? Without emotion there is no point—much like everything in life that is worth the while. Ready?'

Before she had a chance to say a word, Carlos dipped her backwards and curls spilled across her face. Blowing them away with a large puff, she looked up, their faces inches apart. He held her for what felt like an eternity, his strong arms firmly gripping her torso, their gaze not breaking, electricity zapping between them. He guided her to the standing position and let go. Dani smoothed her skirt, looking everywhere but directly at Carlos.

‘Now, you dance with Gualberto.' He sat and sipped his wine.

Dani's head spun as Gualberto led her to the dance floor. Once again Carlos had awakened a yearning deep within then disconnected himself as though he'd just finished a business transaction. Barely able to walk straight, she stopped when Gualberto did and took the position he'd shown her before. Extracting herself from Carlos's embrace hadn't cooled her any and she hoped it was the atmosphere of the
práctica
that made her hot and bothered, not him. She couldn't work out which would be worse: falling for tango like her mother, or falling for someone removed from his emotions like Carlos. Both spelled trouble.

The music started and Dani counted through the steps she'd learnt. Her movements were less jerky and she followed Gualberto with a little more grace than the last time she'd plodded across the boards.

‘You are doing very good,' said Gualberto.

‘Thanks.'

‘I am not talking just about the dancing. I am speaking of my cousin. You keep him happy.'

She faltered, but stopped before she trod on his foot. ‘Huh?'

‘I have not seen Carlos like this in a long time.'

‘Like what?'

‘Interested in tango. Since the accident, his heart has not been in it. But with you,' he paused, narrowing his eyes, ‘with you it is different. The spark he lost has appeared again. It is nice to see.'

‘Really? But he's not danced with me. He's held me a couple of times but—'

‘His leg, it gives him trouble.'

‘Yes, I can see. But it's sore every time he plans to dance with me.'

‘He has a long way to go. Some days his pain is intense and he cannot get out of bed but since you have arrived, he is at the studio every day. I hope you will stay here as long as possible.'

A dark cloud loomed above, spoiling her rhythm. She turned her concentration to the task at hand and managed to keep up with Gualberto by centring her weight on the balls of her feet and trying to skim across the floor. Dani felt like she could finally get through a song without inflicting grievous bodily harm on her partner. The music finished and she sighed.

‘You are happy?'

‘Yes! I didn't kick you!'

‘Let us not push our luck. We shall take a seat now.'

‘But isn't it rude if we don't finish the
tanda
together?' she asked, a little too keen to keep going.

‘Not if we both agree to stop.' Gualberto grinned and gestured towards the table where Diego sat next to Carlos. Their mouths moved in conversation but their eyes were fixed on her and Gualberto.

Dani opted to sit opposite Carlos as she was uneasy about getting too close to him again. Although, looking at him from across the table, she didn't feel any more comfortable. It was nice to have butterflies in someone else's presence again but getting carried away with a useless crush on a subject went against her ethics. It wouldn't do to disregard them with her first-ever interview subject.
Oh, lighten up. Since when did a harmless crush become a no-no?

‘Daniela, you have done well with the dancing tonight. I will say I am surprised. And instead of giving you a bonus questions to ask, you will get something better. Diego and I have agreed it would be bad if I do not introduce you to
La Gringa Magnifica
. If you interview her, your articles will be like no other and we will both have achieved our goals.'

‘I—'

Carlos held up his hand. ‘Do not thank me now. Thank me when we find her. Tomorrow we start our detective work. It will be fun, yes?'

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the open window as the white organza curtains flapped in the cool morning breeze. Dani rubbed her itchy eyes and dreaded looking in the mirror. Rolling over on the soft bed, she checked the clock: 11.02 a.m. She'd barely had three hours sleep. Fat lot of use she'd be today.

Rolling onto her back, Dani slung an arm over her forehead and stared at the ceiling fan whirring above. The dull hum soothed her, but only a fraction. Carlos wanting to go the extra mile for her articles was wonderful, except for the one teeny problem that popped up like a cactus in a bed of gerberas: her mother. She had options, but none of them appealed. One, she could tell Carlos about her cruddy relationship with Iris and call off the hunt. Two, not tell Carlos, find Iris, and have Carlos peeved because she hadn't told him the truth. Three, disappear on a permanent trip to the Amazon and find a tribe who'd accept her. Not surprisingly, these options didn't include a happy, tearful reunion with her mother. If nothing else, Dani was a pragmatist.

‘Bloody families.'

A rap on the door jerked her from the moment. Reaching for the white hotel robe, she wrapped it around her flimsy nightie, padded over to the door and peered through the peephole.

‘Shit,' she mumbled.

‘I heard that, Daniela.' She spied a toothy grin on the other side of the door. ‘You are late. Did you not remember our meeting?'

Oh crap!
‘I'm sorry, Carlos! I'll meet you downstairs at the café in five minutes.' Really? How could she make herself presentable in public with her hair a knotted mess and bags under her eyes big enough to carry basketballs?

‘I will order us coffee. You need some, yes?'

‘Yes. Thanks. Be there soon.' She dashed to the bathroom, turned on the shower, shed her clothes and stepped in.

‘Ow!' Hot water burned her skin and she backed against the tiles, reached for the taps and fiddled around until she got the right temperature.
This is what happens when things are done in a hurry
. She despised not having more time to mull over her options, which was probably why her subconscious had blanked out their meeting. If she didn't talk to Carlos, she didn't have to make decisions.

As Dani lathered her hair, it occurred to her one of the reasons she hadn't 'fessed up about her mother was because she feared Carlos would put her in a headlock and march her straight to Iris. Especially after his speech about how families should work things out, no matter how difficult the problem. Now he'd decided she should undertake this stupid search for Iris, she had to make a decision about which route to go.

‘Bloody brilliant.'

Turning off the taps, she dried herself then pulled a brush through her wet curls, taking a little more care than normal. Being surrounded by beautiful people made her want to make more of an effort. Sure, beauty should shine from within, blah, blah, blah, but it did feel good when she walked down the street and caught the attention of hot-blooded Latin men. She was in her twenties for god's sake, she wasn't ready to book into a nursing home just yet.

Dani donned the paisley halterneck dress she'd bought at the upmarket Galerías Pacifico shopping mall. Executing a quick spin, she marvelled at how the skirt elegantly fell into place when she stopped moving. Even the Queen of Jeans could appreciate the design and care that went into constructing such a beautiful piece of clothing. She bent over and strapped on the plum sandals she'd bought at the same shop, then swore never to enter the doors of Galerías Pacifico again. Under the ornate plasterwork and magnificent architecture lay shops that hypnotised one with gorgeous merchandise that maxed out the credit card.

Leaving her room, she made her way to the café and found Carlos reading a newspaper at a corner table. Two large windows gave the perfect view down the street where people rushed along, risking life and limb as they dashed between cars. Carlos looked up and his eyes widened.

‘
Hola
Señorita McKenna.' He stood and pulled out a seat for her. A pot of steaming coffee sat in the middle of the table and Carlos poured a cup and passed it to her. Leaning against the chair, he placed his hands behind his neck. ‘You look different today.'

‘I didn't get much sleep.'

‘No, it is not that. It's ...' He squinted and tilted his head to the side. ‘There is something not the same but I do not know what it is.'

Could he sense she was growing more comfortable with wearing pretty clothes? He would be a rare man if he did.

‘I guess sleep escapes you because of the excitement about this angle for your story, yes?' He fiddled with the sugar bowl and said, ‘Diego wants to meet with you again to discuss
La Gringa Magnifica
.'

She had to find a way to use the Argentine's term of endearment for Iris. It sounded rude if she didn't, but she doubted she could say the name without stumbling over the syllables, bursting into tears or wanting to punch something.

‘Why does Diego want to see me? I'm not going to write an exposé on his relationship with ... with
... La Gringa Magnifica
.' There, she said it and not a tear in sight. ‘He understands that, right?' Hadn't he done enough damage?

‘Yes, he is aware of your feelings on the matter.'

‘And he knows if we do find her, I'm not going to tell him where she is.'
Which shouldn't be a problem, as I'm not going to look that hard, if I look at all
.

‘Yes.'

‘Good.' She punctuated this with a nod, happy to have gotten it off her chest.

‘But he would like you to deliver a letter to her.'

‘Oh no, I'm not his detective and mailman. Tell him the deal's off.' She knew he couldn't be trusted.

‘You may tell him this in person when we meet in three hours.'

* * *

The walls of the hotel room crowded in on her. Carlos had done his disappearing act and left Dani to her own devices and now her mind vacillated between telling the truth about Iris and making things worse, and keeping her mouth shut in the hope the whole situation would go away like a skin blemish.

The retro wallpaper she'd loved only a few days ago grated on her now. The room grew stuffy and she had an overwhelming desire to escape, even if it meant sucking in the fumes of the city below. Grabbing her sunglasses and handbag, Dani dashed from the hotel and headed to the Plaza de Mayo, a place she'd read about but hadn't visited.

Weaving through the crowded streets and navigating across cracked and raised paths, Dani found the plaza. The magnificence stopped her in her tracks. Now one of the biggest drawcards in the country, Dani fully expected this plaza to be swarming with backpackers and five-star tourists. Instead, the square held an air of melancholy. In the middle stood the Pirámide de Mayo, the oldest national monument in Buenos Aires. Directly behind the symbol of liberty lay the government house, Casa Rosada, the Pink Palace. She still hadn't decided which explanation sounded most plausible for the rose-coloured building. It grossed her out to think they'd mixed cow's blood into white paint to protect the walls from the humidity of the city. She much preferred the other theory, which said the president in the 1860s, Domingo Faustino Sarmiento, mixed the white of the Liberal party and the red of the radicals to try to defuse political tensions and symbolise Argentina as one nation. Dani gazed at the balconies framed by arches and wondered which one Eva Perón had used when she addressed the Argentine people.

Shuffling feet drew her attention and she spun around to find a group of elderly women marching around the square. White head-scarves shrouded their lowered heads as the women held hands in a strong sign of unity.

‘The Mothers of Plaza de Mayo,' Dani said under her breath.

She'd read an article about these women, who were known the world over as human rights activists. For almost four decades they'd gathered every Thursday to march silently around the plaza with white scarves that bore the names of their missing children— offspring who were stolen by the government during the Dirty War back in the 1970s.

Standing to the side, Dani watched them march, their unity and strength overwhelming. Tears formed in her eyes and she wiped them away. The dedication of these mothers humbled Dani and her thoughts turned to Iris. As far as she knew, Iris had never tried to get in contact, yet here were these mothers, clinging to the hope their child might turn up alive, or at least their body, so they could receive a proper burial. The chances of either, though, were next to impossible. The Argentine government back then ensured that those who disappeared remained that way.

No doubt her mother knew about these women and Dani wondered why their plight hadn't guilted Iris into contacting her. Drawing a deep breath, she contemplated her options again. She could remain angry at Iris for being selfish, especially as she had a living child, unlike most of these women, or she could swallow her resentment and try to reunite with her mother and start afresh. She still had no insight as to why Iris left her, and her fear of asking Carlos about Iris meant she'd never get her answers. Through hot, blurry eyes, Dani watched the women of the
desaparecidos
—the disappeared—and made a decision.

* * *

The large door closed without a sound, blocking out the noise of the traffic puttering along Avenida 9 de Julio. Delicately carved woodwork painted in gold decorated the main hall, and elaborate balconies and columns towered above. Dani gazed at the dome overhead until her neck developed a painful crick.