The West Wind (2 page)

Xander stepped out of the pub and held the door open for his father.
The streetlights had come on sometime during the last hour, along with the neon
signs of bars, clubs, restaurants and the few stores still open. Across the
wide, pedestrian only boulevard, a bright orange and white sign scrawled
“Hellespont” across the length of a one-story, square building. He wondered if
anyone in the town realized the name had nothing to do with hell. Probably not.
Fake flames flickered behind the sign, so it didn’t really seem like the owner
did either.

A group of people about his age walked through the doors and a
trumpet bugled from inside as they did. The rattle of a snare drum and snap of
a bass beckoned him and he recognized the song from the club before the door
clicked shut. Someone was playing “Wanna Be Like You,” in the style of the Big
Bad Voodoo Daddies.

The hospital lights were cold and the music soft, in spite of its
frenetic energy. Xander held his mother gingerly in his arms, afraid too much
pressure would bring her pain. She leaned into him, her connection softer,
weaker than it had ever been. Her son was surprised at how light and small she
seemed, though he had been taller for years. He shuffled his feet slowly,
barely taking his weight off the floor and danced with her at half the time of
the music. Though the movement obviously tired her, Sara McConnell kept pace
with her son. A content but strained smile rested on her face but she managed
to stay on her feet through the whole song. When it ended she wrapped her arms
around her little boy, though his chest was probably wider and more solid than
even his father’s.
“Promise me one thing, Xander,” she said in a quiet, weary voice.
“Anything, Mom.”
“Don’t stop dancing when I’m gone. It’s part of who you are, don’t deny it
because it makes you think of me.”
“Mom. . .” Xander began.
“Promise me,” she repeated.
“I promise.”

“Hey, Dad,” he began as Zach stepped out onto the street.

His father smiled. He had heard the music too. “Go ahead. Give me
a call if you want a ride later.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Thanks.”

“Of course. Have fun.”

“You know I will.”

Zach walked away down the street, headed toward the parking garage
where they had left the truck. Xander strolled across the boulevard to the
simple red double doors that lead into the club. He took a deep breath, eager for
something familiar in a strange place, even if it did remind him of his mom. He
opened the door and music blasted out, riding the back beat and drowning out
the sound of feet keeping time on the dance floor like a hundred heavy
metronomes. The energy of it lifted Xander’s spirits immediately and the soles
of his feet itched with the urge to dance.

A bouncer sat on a stool at the end of a roped off line, taking
money. Xander waited while a few of the people who had walked in before him
paid and went in. He leaned around to check out the club while he waited. On
the stage was a five piece band and a singer. A short man in his thirties
wearing slacks, a striped vest, and an outrageous tie ran his fingers over the
piano keys like they were in a race. On trumpet was a small giant in an orange
zoot suit. A tiny woman in a flapper dress cradled a stand up bass with
surprising ease while another woman in a sleeveless evening dress played the
drums. Another man, barely out of his teens by the looks of him, slouched over
a jazz guitar almost possessively. At the mic was a woman with dyed red hair
who looked like she’d stepped out of an Elvgren pin-up calendar.

“Ooo, ooo, I wanna be like you-oo-oo,” she sang.

Xander knew them. Knew them well. Hep Catz Alive often played the
Century Ballroom and he had spent time dancing or hanging out with all of them.
Erik, the guitarist, was only a couple of years older than Xander from the same
neighborhood in Seattle. Xander stepped up to the bouncer.

“Hey, I’m with the band,” he said.

“Yeah, right, kid,” the bouncer said. “Fifteen bucks.”

“No, really. Look!” Xander said, showing the man his Washington
driver’s license.

“Nice try,” the bouncer nodded. “Fifteen bucks,” he repeated as
the song came to an end.

Xander leaned past the bouncer and shouted, “Carolyn! Carolyn!
Hey, Carolyn, it’s me! Xander!”

The bouncer stood up, blocking his way bodily. “Come on buddy,
that’s enough. You have to pay or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Carolyn!” Xander shouted again over the man’s shoulder, waving.

On stage, the singer looked out over the crowd to the commotion.
Surprise flashed across her face, then she smiled. “Let him in,” she said into
the mic. “That cat’s with us.”

Xander pushed passed the disappointed looking bouncer, muttering
an apology. He stepped up to the floor, all eyes on him now, many of them
irritated.

“Sorry for the interruption, everybody,” Carolyn apologized.
“Johnny, you take this one. Sometimes a girl’s gotta dance.”

The trumpet player nodded, holding his trumpet at his side as he
slid up to take her place. With a smirk, he spoke into the mic, “Better you
than me, Xan. This one’s for you.” With that, he turned back to the band, said
something quiet and the band began to play Frank Sinatra’s, ‘I Won’t Dance.’

Xander took Carolyn by the right hand, pulled her into a closed
position and began to bounce gently to the music. A few dancers had started to
dance, but those closest to the front waited to see what happened next. Xander
looked at his partner with a twinkle in his eye and she said, “Careful, not too
high, I wasn’t planning on dancing tonight.” He laughed and nodded. No
bloomers. Once they had the beat, his hand pushed out, opening Carolyn to a 90
degree angle before he brought his hand back and pulled her into him. Crouching
down as she came in, he turned his palm to create a support for her. After the
second it took for her to connect and build momentum, he stood and tossed her
into the air and away from him. She landed lightly and immediately dropped into
a swivel step as they began to dance a Lindy Hop.

When the song came to an end they were both breathing heavily.
They gave each other a light hug common among dancers. Carolyn said, “Thanks,
Xander. That was fun.”

“Always is, Carolyn. Good to see you. Vista Bay is the last place
I expected to run into you.”

“We play here about once a year, it’s a good scene. You living
here now?”

“Yeah, we just got in.”

“A good place for you.”

“Thanks. I hope so.”

Carolyn went back to the stage, taking the mic back from the
trumpet player. “Ladies and gentlemen, Johnny Sinatra!” she said to the crowd,
who applauded and whistled. Without missing another beat, they began the next
song, one of their original pieces.

Xander turned to walk off the floor, looking around to see if
anyone caught his eye that he might want to dance with. As he did, a girl about
his own age came out of the bathroom, another two girls in tow. Her hair was
tied in a tight bun beneath a black pinstripe fedora. A matching vest with a
halter neck covered a sleeveless collared white shirt. Black pinstripe slacks
tailored from fit to loose barely covered a pair of sturdy Aris Allen wing
tipped heels. He watched her walk over to a table of guys across from him. Her
stride was confident, her hips rocked from side to side without a catch in her
gait. Two steps in, he knew he had to dance with her. The way she moved told
his dancer’s eye volumes. Even if she wasn’t a very experienced dancer, any
dance with her would be fun.

Hero exited the Lady’s room with Jaimie and another of their
girlfriends, Leana, as the trumpet player finished singing ‘I Won’t Dance’.
Evan, Jeremy, and their friend Brian were waiting for them at a big table near
the hardwood floor. Leana had called a girl’s meeting as soon as she finished
her last dance with a creepy guy who had asked her to dance three times in the
last half hour. Leana was a newer dancer who was still under the impression
that you always had to say yes when someone asked. Hero had spent the last five
minutes trying to convince her otherwise and wasn’t certain it had worked.

“Did you see that guy?” Brian said to the other two as Hero and
the girls joined them.

“Yeah, he’s crazy good. Apparently he’s with the band or
something?” Evan asked rhetorically.

“She probably just made him look good,” Jeremy said.

“What’s going on?” Hero asked as she stood behind her chair with
her back to the dance floor.

“Oh, some guy with the band made a fuss to get in, then danced
with the singer,” Evan told her.

“You said he was good?” Hero asked.

“Yeah, really good,” Brian said.

“I think Brian has a dance crush,” Jeremy joked.

“Was he hot?” Jaimie interrupted. Evan gave her an irritated look.

“Just asking,” she said with a teasing grin before sitting on his
lap and giving him a kiss.

“Oh. Yeah. He’s hot.” Leana answered for them, awe in her voice.

“How would you know?” Hero demanded. All of her friend’s eyes
widened and Jaimie pointed toward the dance floor, nodding her agreement.

Hero’s eyebrows furrowed and she turned to look behind her. There,
on the edge of the dance floor barely three feet away, stood a man about 18
whom she had never seen before. His shoulders stretched the simple black cotton
shirt he wore above deep indigo jeans and it wrapped around his broad chest
like a second skin. She swallowed and her eyes met his, which were almost as
blue in the low light of the club as any cloudless sky. They were riveted on
her, staring from beneath sandy hair gelled to spokes at the front. When she
finished turning he offered her his hand without a word. Normally she would
have made him ask aloud, but before she knew it her hand was in his.

As Xander lead Hero to the dance floor, Carolyn caught his eye and
winked. She gestured to the band and the bass began to pick out the background
of Bill Wither’s ‘Ain’t No Sunshine.’ The crowded floor thinned out as the
dancers less comfortable with the close embrace of Blues dancing slipped off to
the side. Xander looked a Hero and raised his eyebrows in a silent question.
She smiled wryly, a smoldering look in her eye, then nodded. He spun her once
to the right, hands crossed as if shaking hands, then slipped an arm around her
waist as she turned. His arm pulled her close, so close that barely an inch
parted them as she draped the fingers of her other hand over the fingers of
his.

They moved, together, somewhere between tango and swing. Their
motion carried them across the floor, weaving through other pairs of dancers.
Their travel came to a stop and he brought her down into a high crouch with the
barest suggestion of his hands and body, swinging across, up and into an
outside turn. Hero took a moment at the peak of their distance and swayed,
rolling her body in a sensuous S. He gave her the space of a few beats for her
improvisation before pulling her into a free spin that drew them together like
gravity, two stars circling each other until their force became equal and they
stopped again.

Hero lost herself in the dance, perfectly in tune with her
partner. When his firm, gentle lead asked for a roll of her hip, she rolled as
if she had planned it herself. When he dipped her in the middle of the song, it
was if he knew what she wanted as the hand on her back moved to her shoulder
and allowed her to slide up under his arm and away to arm’s length. She was
oblivious as the dancers around them unconsciously formed a circle, then
stopped to watch.

Xander had been dancing since he was a child, but had never danced
with a woman who could move like this one. She was as connected to herself as
she was to him and constantly in motion almost as he thought the lead to the
next move. He swallowed and tried to ignore the surge of hormones rushing
through his blood stream as the next turn brought her whole body in contact
with his. The dance was all that mattered. It was just dancing.

They were two stars flashing through the night sky and quickly
lost track of the the passage of time. For all they knew, they could have been
circling each other for eons, or seconds. It felt like the former. Too soon,
the song began to end, a force stronger than the cosmic magnetism their
movement created. It threatened to rip them away from each other and Xander
knew that such a dance deserved a supernova for a finale, not the exhausted
collapse or awkward uncertainty that marked the end of so many other solar
systems. He drew Hero into a side-by-side cuddle, then spun her away so they
posed, his right hand holding her left while they both faced the band. The
song’s last note resonated through the room: the last breath of the universe
they had brought into being over the last few minutes.