Tequila Nights

by Melissa Jane

  Without knocking, Cassie turned a sharp right through the end door and I had little option but to follow. Ten sets of eyes fell on us, unimpressed that on the first day we were already late. The group of students sat in a circle on high stools used for painting at easels, and a man who looked to be in his late thirties was positioned between them.

  “Bonjour Mademoiselles.” His face was expressionless, eyes drilling holes into us both.

  With a small smile and nod, I greeted him, taking a seat at one of the free stools.

  “Where are you from?” I heard him ask while I dug through my handbag for a notepad and pen. When no one responded, I looked up.

  “Me?” I asked, meeting his eyes.

  “Where…are…you…from?” he asked again, this time pausing between words.

  “Australia.”

  His lips pouted as if he was lost in thought. “Tell me. In Australia, is it normal to not verbally respond to a greeting?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Sucking in a sharp breath, he looked at me exasperated. “Mademoiselle, if you insist on making me repeat my questions to you so frequently, then we may run into a problem.”

  Swallowing hard, I nodded, feeling my cheeks heat from embarrassment. I hadn’t intended to be rude. It was merely an attempt to cause as little disruption as possible.

  Throwing a hardened glance around the group, he looked as if we were an inconvenience to his life. “Let us continue. As a student of Lafayette, you are required to commit to select hours of production. If you live and breathe studio time, you are still not doing enough. You must have ready in your folio all preliminary drawings of your work before you put paint to canvas. The next step is to seek my approval. Every six months we hold an exhibition. All your work must be up to standard and if it’s not, consider yourself on the next flight home. I have expectations. Our commissioners have expectations and most of all, you should have high expectations of yourself. Limit your social time, and do not allow romanticism to go to your heads. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  In unison we all agreed, being careful to actually verbalise our acknowledgment.

  After handing out our timetables which consisted of many long hours we all stood to leave, a tour next on the agenda.

  “I don’t know if you’re a master artist in the making, but you certainly are a master at first impressions,” Cassie whispered as we squeezed through the door at the same time.

  “I was trying to be quiet. You know, trying to remain less of a disturbance since we were late.”

  “Well, let’s just assume that Monsieur Bordeaux is old fashioned.”

  “I guess so.” I hated the fact I had made such a poor first impression, especially since this was my home for the next two years. The next hour passed quickly as we navigated the second floor of the studios. One side of the building was for sculpture, the middle for drawing, and the end for painting. Every department had a spectacular view of the River Seine and I just knew it would play a heavy influence for many of us. Entering the painting studios, I wandered the aisle until I came across the easel with my name. My designated space was a lot larger than the one at home, and I was almost fully closed in which allowed more hanging space for works in progress.

  We weren’t expected to start at Lafayette for two days. That would allow us enough time to go back in and set up in preparation. I had a sneaky suspicion we would all be watched like hawks, and I was keen to change the lousy first impression everyone in the group had of me.

  “Great isn’t it?” Cassie walked in looking mighty pleased with her new artist in residence location.

  “It is beautiful here.”

  “How about we go out tonight and celebrate and you know, get to know each other.”

  Despite the overwhelming urge to cry myself to sleep, I agreed.

  CHAPTER 31

  “Where are we going?” I asked Cassie as she led me by the hand down an alley off the main street. The road was cobblestoned and my heels were not agreeing with the uneven ground, and the speed in which we were traveling.

  “I found this place last time I was here a few years back, but I’m not sure if it’s still there.”

  We passed a few closed storefronts on either side of the road before making another left hand turn. As soon as we did so, the muffled sounds of music filtered down the street.

  It was house music, the type that had no sing-along lyrics and carried an incessant, headache inspired beat.

  Two heavily set, suit-wearing security guards stood by the door, their faces an expressionless mask. Only when we appeared in front of them did they break from their statue-like character.

  “Bonsoir,” the man on the right greeted in a deep baritone voice.

  Following Cassie’s lead, I handed over my identification and waited until he finished scanning it. Handing them back, he stood aside granting us access.

  “How on earth did you find this place?” I asked Cassie. The door opened automatically for us and the muffled music from the outside soon was rattling our bones with the pounding beat. Taking the worn, dingy flight of stairs, I watched my step as the strobe lights assaulted my eyes.

  “It’s not the type of place that’s advertised,” she yelled to be heard.

  “I can see why.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  At the top of the stairs with one hand raised in the air moving in time to the beat, Cassie took off toward the bar, her tiny body disappearing amongst the crowd.

  Dodging the dancers, I followed suit. I watched as she kissed two other women on each cheek before she introduced us. I didn’t catch their names over the music, but I smiled and mouthed hello.

  Leaving Cassie to mingle with her friends, I ordered a vodka and lemon and stood awkwardly listening to the music that carried no rhythm. Biding time, I pulled out my phone to see the blue light flashing. Swiping to unlock, Leo’s name appeared as a missed call. Immediately and without reason my eyes welled with a flood of tears, and my heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest. Earlier, while I was getting ready to go out, I had rung his number three times, all going to voicemail. Now it seemed we were playing phone tag. It felt like a lifetime since we’d last spoken and I was missing him terribly.

  Putting my drink back on the bar top, now totally disinterested in drinking it, I cut a line through the crowd and made my way back down the stairs. The cold air bit into my skin as I passed the bouncers. I needed peace and quiet and I desperately needed to hear the sound of Leo’s voice.

  Responding to the missed call, I hit dial and listened with a hurting heart as the ringing rang out.

  “Shit,” I muttered, ending the call.

  Attempting again, I received the same result.

  Inhaling deeply to stop my heart from hurting, I realised just how homesick I already was. I missed seeing Nicole’s face. I missed my classes with Marge, but most of all, I missed everything about Leo.

  Needing to be anywhere but the techno club, I headed down the cobblestone road now completely immune to the cold. I was numb inside and out. It wasn’t long after the awful sounds of house music faded that my ears were struck with the rhythmic beats I’d come to love. With my curiosity piqued, my feet picked up pace as the music grew louder. At the complete opposite end of the street stood another club. One that filled my soul with a little bit of hope.

  Salsa.

  Without a second thought, I pulled open the door that wasn’t guarded by bouncers and took to the wooden staircase. On the second floor, I was greeted by people moving to the beat. Women being led by their partners who moved them effortlessly across the dance floor.

  “Bonsoir, Mademoiselle.” A man approached sensing my unfamiliarity with the place.

  “Bonsoir,” I greeted back. He was a good looking man, slightly older than Leo, fit and toned.

  Before I could stop him, the French man rattled off a string of dialogue in his own language, not that I could understand.

  “I’m
sorry,” I said, raising my hands. “My French is limited and I have no idea what you said.”

  A smile spread across his face as he listened, his eyes openly assessing in a curious manner.

  “From Australia?” he finally asked, his eyes humoured.

  “Yes, I arrived late yesterday.”

  “Well then, welcome to France! I am François and this is my club.”

  “Josie,” I said, smiling back.

  “Please, come in, put your bag in the cloak room and join us on the floor.”

  I couldn’t think of anything better. A part of me felt like this side of my life belonged to Leo, my teacher, the love of my life. Yet, the other part argued that it was a way of filling the void.

  Before checking in my clutch which was totally impractical for Latin dancing, I messaged Cassie and let her know where I was and asked if she was okay. It was girl code to never leave one behind, but she had friends in the club and I was only down the street. I waited for a minute and just as I’d hoped she text messaged back saying we would meet at 2:00 a.m. and cab it back. Happy with how my night had turned out, I took the number handed to me and stuffed it in my bra.

  Strobe lights from earlier had been replaced with a massive chandelier that hung from the middle of the roof. It was dimly lit and reflected the coloured lights positioned around the room.

  “Dance?” asked a young man who appeared at my side.

  Taking his hand, he guided me to the dance floor where he immediately led me into a series of moves. He wasn’t as strong a leader as Leo and his style was different. After half the song passed we had finally fallen into a rhythm and the steps were no longer awkward.

  By the time the night was drawing to a close and my watch read 1:45 a.m., I was well and truly tired. Still jetlagged and now with throbbing feet due to a full night of dancing on impractical shoes, I could hear my uncomfortable dorm style bed calling my name.

  I’d met some wonderful people who made the effort to speak as much English to me as possible, and I’d shared many dances with François. His sense of humor was the comedic relief I desperately needed, and when he wasn’t tallying my fits of giggles, he was introducing me to women of my own age. He was typically French, all smiles and flirted with everyone but incredibly harmless.

  Farewelling my new friends and engaging the traditional kisses on both cheeks, I collected my purse and made tracks back down to the club Cassie was in. I found her standing at the entry talking a drunken slur to the bouncers. My blood ran cold, but not just from the night’s air. Slowing down, I assessed what was happening. The bouncer who couldn’t have cared less about our sober presence when we entered now seemed to be eyeing Cassie like she was a small, vulnerable field animal and he was the bird of prey. He had her by both wrists trying to pull her closer.

  She was drunk.

  He was not.

  She was trying to fight off his advances.

  He wasn’t taking the hint.

  Her words were of slurred protest.

  His were coercive and crude.

  Cassie turned her head, her footing giving out beneath her, but not before she caught my eyes. Even in her inebriated state she was pleading for help, registering that she was unsafe.

  Picking up the pace, my heels fumbled over the cobblestone until I leaped over the gutter. Failing all martial art, self-defense knowledge, I clutched Cassie’s arm and tried to pry her away from the bouncer. She didn’t move an inch, and all I effectively achieved was pissing off the gorilla sized man accosting my new friend slash roommate.

  “Let her go!” I demanded in my most authoritative sober voice.

  Irritated by my interference, his left arm shot up from underneath mine, knocking them away from Cassie’s arm. Thrown off balance by the force of it, I stumbled back, my heel getting wedged between the two damned cobblestones that had it out for me from the very beginning. Unable to save myself, I fell landing heavily on my right hand. There was an immediate sharp pain that shot agonisingly up my wrist, it’s throbbing was incessant, my groans audible but unheard by those around me.

  Amidst it all, Cassie screamed but it was cut short. Looking up in alarm, I saw that she was being held in the protective arms of the friends she’d been with up in the club. Half were men who still possessed the protective gene and the other half were women who, with the banshee cries, were threatening to call the police.

  The bouncer, clearly cutting his losses backed away and allowed the others to pass. Two hands hooked under my arms and before I could see who it was, I was lifted off the cold and damp street.

  “The gutter is not where a lady belongs,” came the familiar voice that had made me smile all night.

  Turning to François, I thanked him, grateful for his chivalry. My smile was cut short as my hand felt like it was going to spontaneously explode.

  “Are you hurt?” His brows creased together in concern.

  “Yes. I fell on my hand and think I’ve sprained it.”

  Following his gaze over my shoulder, we watched while Cassie was guided away from the drama in a huddle of friends.

  “I have to go,” I said, bending to retrieve my clutch.

  “They can ensure she makes it home safely. You’re coming with me.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t need to be dealing with her when you have an injured wrist. Come, you need ice and a bandage.”

  “That’s okay, you don’t have to do that. It’s not your problem to have to deal with at 2:00 a.m.” Truth was, he was harmless and deeply considerate, but I still felt uncomfortable about imposing.

  “Josie…” The way he said my name with his thick French accent always made me giggle. “There is only medical emergency open and that will cost you your left lung so please, let me help.”

  Looking back to the group disappearing around the corner, I nodded. I did need to seek some attention for it. I was putting on a brave face in front of François, but my eyes were brimming with tears.

  With a hand on my shoulder, he guided me back down to the salsa club which was now empty of all patrons. Sitting me on a stool at the bar, I watched as he scooped ice into a tea-towel. Gently lifting my hand, he placed the wrapped coldness underneath and then repeated the process by laying another on top.

  “I don’t have any tablets to give you for pain, but my remedy works far better,” he said plonking a bottle of tequila on the bar top.

  My heart instantly skipped a few beats causing a severe shooting pain through my chest. The label quickly became blurred, my throat gripped by something tight.

  “Josie?”

  Biting my bottom lip, I stopped the trembling before it got out of control.

  “Josie?”

  “Yes?” I barely managed.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t like tequila?”

  “Only when it’s with a certain someone.”

  “Bad memories?”

  My watery eyes shot to his. “No,” I smiled weakly through the pain. “Not at all. I left the love of my life back in Australia. He was a Latin teacher also and would always give me a shot of tequila to conquer my nerves.”

  “You didn’t need tequila tonight.”

  “No. I could blend in here. Go unnoticed.”

  “You are far from going unnoticed. I guarantee you hold every eye in the room.”

  “Don’t say that,” I groaned jokingly. “That thought alone makes me feel sick.”

  “Why did you leave him?”

  “Leo?”

  “If that’s his name.”

  “Because I believed this to be a once in a lifetime opportunity. One that was important to my late mother and me.”

  “You don’t think this Leo person was also a once in a lifetime opportunity?”

  That was a good point. “I guess I hadn’t quite thought of it like that. I mean, I knew what we had was special and once in a lifetime with him, but I never thought about choosing the opportunity that wasn�
��t necessarily a part of my plan. Perhaps, I was too fixated on what I thought was right.”

  “How long are you here?”

  “Two years.”

  François released a low whistle. “That’s a long time. Perhaps since you’re in a foreign country, you should choose your friends a little more wisely. After all, it seemed…”

  “Cassie.”

  “It seemed Cassie had a posse of friends who can look out for her. But you? If she is like that every time you go out, I wouldn’t rely on her.”

  “I know.” What he said was very true and wise. I did have to be careful, and I needed to surround myself with those who had my best interests at heart as much as I had theirs.

  “Especially, since now your hand will be out of action for a good week.”

  This time, my breath caught in my throat. “A week? I have to start my collection the day after tomorrow.”

  “You won’t be starting anything. Now come, lift that hand.”

  I did as he said, trying to quell my raging panic. Removing the ice, my skin glowed red, my right wrist now notably fatter than the left.

  I watched as François wrapped my hand tight in a bandage before tucking the loose end in. Bringing it up to his lips, he kissed it gently.

  “Josie, trust in yourself and your decisions. Live without regret.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Closing the door of the taxi, I made my way upstairs. I stopped off at the local twenty-four hour food store and found some pain relief. I doubted its ability to block the continual throbbing, but I had little choice. In hindsight, I should have had a few shots of tequila just to take the edge off.

  Once inside, I cracked the window open and twisted the cap off the bottle of water. Taking two more than directed, I prayed the pain would start to ebb.

  Checking in on Cassie, I found her lying on her stomach, mouth wide open, the room swimming in the fumes of alcohol. Grateful to see my own bed, I collapsed on it with a heavy sigh. Propping my hand on one of the pillows, I checked my phone with the other.

  Another two missed calls from Leo. This time, with no one around, I allowed the cries to escape my mouth in a choked like fashion, my chest heaving as I struggled for air. I missed Leo more than life itself and every second that passed had me questioning whether I was in the right place.