Chapter 21

Hiding behind a golden curtain backstage, Malena peeked at the Madreselva’s grand salon as it filled up with guests. The rundown place from a few days ago no longer existed. The chandeliers, now clean and polished, shone like gold. Velvet curtains framed the long windows at the end of the room. The dance floor had been varnished and waxed. The rose centerpieces had finally arrived, adding an elegant touch to the tables. And Amanda’s pride, a quartet of violinists, a pianist, and a bandoneón player, were performing the most popular tangos.

Amanda looked stunning in a sleeveless long black dress, her back exposed and a slit in her skirt. The tight dress enhanced every curve of her body and a red rose accentuated her fancy chignon. The last touch was a diamond necklace and matching earrings.

She crossed the room to greet Javier and Alejandra as they entered. She hugged each one and led them to the best table.

When Alejandra handed her coat to a waiter, Malena couldn’t believe her eyes. The woman wore a long evening gown. A white lace bodice with sequins wrapped around Alejandra’s surprisingly generous bosom and her small waist was enhanced by a pink satin sheath ending in a bell-shaped skirt. It was surreal to see her in something other than trousers.

Malena searched for the rest of the family throughout the parlor, but apparently—and fortunately—only the two of them had showed up.

After they sat, Bernardo, in an immaculate black tuxedo, served them champagne, then whispered something into Amanda’s ear. She walked to the center of the stage.

Malena let go of the curtain, frightened. She could still escape. The back door was close enough. She could easily squeeze by the busy waiters and disappear without anybody taking notice, spare herself the agony of standing half-naked in front of strangers. She pulled up the straps of Rebecca’s red dress, glancing at her deep cleavage. Por Dios, this was even worse than Claudia’s dress! This dress was so short she could feel the cold air slapping her legs.

She took a step toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

It was Leonardo. She turned and stared at the red rose on his lapel.

“Nowhere.”

Amanda’s voice through the microphone welcomed the audience to the club; it was a painful reminder that she was counting on Malena. If she left, Amanda would never forgive her. And she didn’t think she could live with Amanda’s resentment.

Leonardo picked up her hand. “Ready?”

“No, please. Can’t someone else do it?”

“Listen, nena, stage fright is the last thing I need.” He softened his voice and squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. Just follow my lead.”

A violin solo played the first notes of “El Tango de Malena.” It was their cue—a distressing irony. Of all the popular tangos, they had picked the one that bore her name. Hearing it aloud made her feel more naked, if such thing were possible.

Leonardo pulled her to the center of the stage. Malena’s legs stiffened as she reached the dance floor. All eyes were focused on her, on her body. Worse yet, Claudia’s fiancé, Sebastian, walked into the club in a black tuxedo. Malena searched for Claudia behind him, in front of him, somewhere among the watchful eyes in the audience. She couldn’t find her.

Sebastian sat alone at a table near the stage. His eyes widened as he recognized her. She only hoped he wouldn’t tell Claudia.

Leonardo embraced her, resting a hand on her back. She was rigid and didn’t follow properly. The dancer stared into her eyes and lifted one eyebrow. She knew exactly what that meant—she’d better respond before the whole opening went to hell. Malena focused on the music and the steps she’d learned. Leonardo made up for her awkwardness with his poise, confidence, and grace.

As the song progressed, Malena grew more confident. She concentrated on the singer’s voice, a tenor similar to Juan Carlos Miranda, one of the original singers of this tango. The intensity of his voice transported her for an instant to her living room, to her father singing this song to her. Even though he hadn’t been much of a singer, he’d performed with true emotion. He had to be in the mood, though, usually after a couple of puros.

For a moment, she forgot that a hundred people were watching her and that she hadn’t tangoed in years. But her father’s memory faded when she turned in Sebastian’s direction. Dim lights or not, he could still see her. And her skimpy dress left very little to the imagination.

He shifted forward.

She could feel Sebastian’s gaze upon her. Knowing he was there was enough for her body to tense up, for her dress to stick to her damp back, for her knees to falter. It would be so unbecoming if her makeup melted, too.

When the song ended, Malena let go of Leonardo’s grip. Two more songs and this will all be over. She searched for Amanda, standing tall backstage. The woman offered her the proud look of a lioness admiring her cub’s prowess, and it was all worth it. She’d made Amanda happy. The audience burst into applause. It was exhilarating, the idea of performing in front of a public, of having people’s attention and approval. It was one of the reasons she’d wanted to be an actress.

As the first chords of “El Choclo” started, Leonardo’s wife entered the parlor. A man in a gray suit walked behind her, holding her hand. Leonardo took a step forward, but Malena grasped his sleeve to stop him.

She rested her hand on his shoulder and danced. Somehow—miraculously—he responded. Leonardo started the routine as he’d done it with his wife, though he was moving faster than usual. He was stiff, mechanical, and would not meet Malena’s eyes; his full attention was on Rebecca and her man friend.

As the tempo picked up, Malena had difficulty following Leonardo’s lead. She searched his eyes, trying to get his attention, but he was in a trance, oblivious to her limitations. She tapped his shoulder and called his name, but Leonardo didn’t respond and led her into complicated steps she hadn’t perfected yet: the sacada, the gancho. She turned backstage for assistance. Amanda and Bernardo were frowning. Malena was not crazy or hallucinating; Leonardo was truly out of control, crazy with jealousy.

Leonardo attempted to lead a colgada. She had seen him do it with Rebecca before, but Malena was not ready for it—she had never attempted it herself. Leonardo, however, didn’t remember or care. He placed his foot between hers, leaning her to the side. He turned quickly. Malena felt her body dangling at a precarious angle, her foot slipping. She grabbed for Leonardo, but it was too late. They both fell hard on the floor. The polished wood felt cold and slippery on her backside. Her tight red skirt had rolled up, exposing her panties and girdle to all who cared to see. Laughter and booing burst from the audience as she tugged her dress down. They were so loud that the music was no longer audible.

“Nice ass!” a man yelled.

A ruckus erupted from the direction of Sebastian’s table. Standing, Malena spotted Sebastian holding a man in a headlock. Meanwhile, Leonardo jumped to his feet and plunged himself toward the man sitting with Rebecca, tackling him and knocking him off the chair.

A brawl broke out. Waiters and customers tried to separate the fighting men. The musicians stopped playing. Other more dignified citizens headed toward the door, and in the center of the stage, Amanda watched the evening crumble in front of her eyes.