Crime, Thrillers & Mystery / DEADLY DANCE-CHAPTER 4, 5 AND 6
CHAPTER 4 “Cruelty is fed, not weakened, by tears.” -–Publilius Syrus, Maxims
As Angie yanked me into a sitting position, her fingers dug into my shoulders. Then she shoved a glass between my parched lips, and said, “Drink this. Everything is going to be fine. Trust me.”
The odd tasting fluid did ease the ache in my dry throat, but as moments passed a bitter aftertaste burned my tongue and I started to cough. She just stood there staring at me and said nothing.
The blaring of a horn in the street below broke the stillness in the room. Seeming to move in slow motion, Angie bent to untie the ropes that bound my wrists and ankles. I inhaled the sweet aroma of her perfume.
What did I do wrong? Am I being punished?
“Just do what I say and everything will be fine.” A bitter laugh followed her muffled voice.
She bent closer to me and said, “Ya know what? Danny Boy got a hard on the moment he saw you. He said you had a beautiful body…slim, tight, sexy. Angie mimicked Danny’s voice. “Oh, Angie, you should see this kid’s skin. Like fine porcelain. And that coal black hair.”
Danny perked up and added, “Hey, Ang, while you’re at it, don’t forget the part where I said she had the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
She turned around and glared at him, saying something under her breath that I couldn’t understand. Then she moved closer and jabbed her finger at me. “I teased him about just wanting to screw you.”
“Ah, come on, Ang. I’m only human. I mean, look at her. Anyway, you know I was a lot more jazzed about how much johns would pay for her in a classy place like this.” His hands swept the room. “More money than you can imagine, Sandy.”
The words sank in one by one, Money? Johns? Screw me?
By now Angie’s face was just inches from mine. She hissed, “You really did believe that I liked you. That I was your best friend.” Her laugh was hard. “Hell, I’m twenty eight years old. Why would someone like me spend so much time with a messed up kid like you?” She shook her head in mock pity. Her voice was flat. “You poor dope.”
Throwing her head back, she cackled like the witch in The Wizard of Oz. Her blonde hair sparkled in the wash of the ceiling light.
Then she jerked me up from the bed and I was standing. My body screamed in agony as she twisted me around to face the other side of the room and pushed hard sending me stumbling forward. Stabs of pain shot through my arms and legs. I could feel my legs moving in rotation, but they felt like they belonged to someone else. Angie set the pace, her arm firmly around my waist.
“Am…m… I dr…runk, Angie?” My muddled question was met with silence.
Like a puppet without strings, I staggered across the room, finally collapsing into a little red chair at the boudoir table. Angie started to apply makeup and fix my hair as if we were having a girl’s night sleepover. I snapped into reality when she pulled my head up harshly and forced me to look at the mirror. A strange painted face with ruby red lips, gobs of mascara and rouge stared back at me. “Who…who is…?”
“Whadda you mean, who? It’s you my little prize, all fixed up for your gentleman caller.”
I struggled to rise from the chair and Angie pushed hard on my shoulder shouting, “Don’t fight me. You’ll do what I tell you to do, or you’ll wish you’d never set eyes on me. Understand?”
I sank back into the chair and nodded with numb obedience. The blackness descended over me again like a magician’s cape and somewhere in the distance Angie said, “Yeah, you’re gonna be a first class whore, Pavlova.”
CHAPTER 5 “Opportunities are seldom labeled.”—-John A. Shedd, Salt from My Attic.
My head really did hurt and I felt woozy. For some reason I’d been thinking about my first blue ballet bag but now, just barely awake, I turned my head toward the sound of grunting noises. Danny was still sitting in the small floral chair. He was staring at me, saying something I couldn’t make out. I strained to hear him.
And he was doing something really odd. He was grabbing his crotch and acting like he was having a spasm. He called to Angie, “Hey, Ang. What in the Hell is she babbling about…blue, blue what? She’s probably dreamin’ about blue balls cause that’s what she used to give the guys who wanted to hump her!”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I could hear Angie laughing. “No, I’m afraid not, my dear. I doubt that our little Miss Innocence here even has an idea of what blue balls are. And, who the Hell cares what she’s thinking about down in her own little world anyway. Let the kid rest, she’ll need it. She’ll be earning her keep pretty soon.”
<<<>>>
(Authors note: this part is in italics)
Madame Tanya Kasarvina seems to float toward me. I am little, only about four. As I transfer my tiny hand from Mama’s familiar rough grip to Madame’s firm slender one, I pause and pat the new blue leotard and ballet bag.
Mama’s stocky image comes into focus, telling the strange woman, “Madame Kasarvina, I’ve cleaned a lot of houses to pay for these ballet lessons so you take good care of my Sandy.”
The ballet teacher’s mane of rich black hair sprinkled with silver, is pulled into a thick twist at the base of her neck. I can make out her pretty cheekbones and large gray eyes, but everything else looks fuzzy and dreamy. She smiles at both of us and, with some funny accent, says in a rich voice, “Not to worry, Mrs. Barton.” We move toward the rehearsal room. She is limping.. “So, little dancer-to-be, come, come. Wonderful world is about to open up for you. Such pretty little girl.”
Now I am running toward ten girls attempting simple positions with the grace of a group of tiny elephants. Music fills the room. The piano player, Tonio, draws his long fingers across the keys of the ornate carved walnut upright piano.
(end italics)
<<<>>>
As the effect of the drugs slackened, Angie’s sharp voice cut through my daydream. ”Well, Pavlova. Look at you—-you’re a full-fledged whore now.”
“Wh…whore?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, whore. You know, ladies who get screwed for money. Or don’t you know what that is?”
I was speechless.
Angie mused, “You know, Sandy, after tonight I think maybe I’ll go to Florida…I dunno. I just want to be out of this goddamn cold. Wherever I’ll be, at least I’ll be warm. Her deep, throaty laugh filled the room.
Danny was speaking in his high effeminate voice. ”Great job, Angie baby. You’re an artist, you know. A regular Picasso.” A sudden chill crept down my spine as to me when he grabbed Angie and twirled her around. ““So, what do you think of my idea now? Some for me…some for you. Money, baby…real money…get out of town money!”
She kissed him on the cheek as they danced around the room.
Danny snickered, sounding as if he was really enjoying all of it. “Baby, once we’re out of here, who cares how long she lasts?”
I struggled to stay awake. Why were they laughing at me when I was so scared? I wanted this nightmare to end.
Angie’s silky hair circled her head as she swung around to give Danny a big hug. He stepped back. “Man, I hate to say it, but maybe we sold her too cheap.”
Angie said, “No. I don’t think so. We got enough. Guys like Beckwith have so much dough it’s probably like a couple of dollars would be to us. By the way, I saw you check out her tits last night.”
She made a playful grab at his crotch. “Did she give you a hard on, Baby?”
“Hey, go easy, Ang.” Danny protested. “What did you expect? That one could turn on a ninety year old in a fuckin’ rest home, you know.”
Angie laughed and fanned her face. She giggled softly. “Would you believe the kid once told me that she didn’t even undress in front of the other girls in the gym? Wow. What a way to graduate!”
Then she said, “Hey, Danny Boy, whadda ya really think about the makeup? I mean, does she, you know, look a little too much like a pro?”
He squinted at me for a moment and shook his head. ”For anyone else, yeah, maybe…but, um, since Covington gets her tonight, he likes them to look like little tramps. Nah, if you ask me, she’s just about right for him.”
I thought I saw a flash of something in her eyes. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was afraid. After a long while she said, “Yeah, Covington. Kinky bastard, that one. What the hell. Money is money.”
<<<>>>
I tried to focus on the reflection in the mirror again while I listened to Angie and Danny Boy go on and on. What were they arguing about now?
I couldn’t help it. Tears welled in my eyes and slid down my cheeks leaving erratic tracks of mascara. My streaked face looked back at me from the mirror. I’d lost sense of time.
The only thing that looked vaguely familiar was a black velvet ribbon at my neck. One like the Gibson Girls wore in the ancient photographs in an album on the coffee table in the front room of my house in some long-ago distant past.
My eyes were beginning to sting from the mascara mixing with my tears. Angie spat out, “God damn it, Pavlova. Quit the sniveling…hear me? I don’t have any friggin’ time to fix you up again. Now just be a good girl and quit makin’ life hard for me. Tears won’t do you any good.” She grabbed a makeup puff and aimed a swift jab at my streaked cheeks.
I could see Danny Boy holding something in his hand. He reached out and a sharp needle pierced my upper arm. Everything around me became soft and fuzzy again.
Authors note: start italics)
I look in the long mirror on the back of the closet door for one last check. Pink socks peek out over black and white saddle shoes. I wear a loose pink angora sweater and pleated skirt, a birthday present from daddy. The doorbell rings. I rush down the stairs.
“Hi, Pavlova. Ready to go?” Angie crosses the front room, headed for the little telephone table in the narrow back hall. “Say, can I use the telephone? I’ll make one call, and then we’re off to devour some burgers, right?”
I look out of the living room window into the street. My eyes fix on a car parked at the curb. ”You got it! You got the car! Wow! Black convertible. I love it.”
Didn’t wait…didn’t wait for Angie…
(end italics)
<<<>>>
Maude Barton was a wreck. She still couldn’t believe Sandra was actually missing. All through the years of ballet lessons, she had watched what was once a tiny flame turn into a rampant fire consuming her daughter’s every waking moment.
She always dismissed it as so much nonsense until the New York City Ballet Company made the offer last year. Then it became a threat. Maude had stood her ground, flatly refusing to sign the contract Mr. Javitz offered but in the process she destroyed her daughter.
Sandra had not danced since that awful day. Almost a year ago now. When Sandy started getting friendly with Angie, Maude never questioned why a twenty-eight year old would bother to befriend a depressed, sullen teenager.
She dabbed at her eyes with her damp handkerchief. Why? Why? She couldn’t deny it any longer. This was all her fault.
CHAPTER 6 ”There is no little enemy.”—Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanac
I watched as Angie twirled a strand of hair around her finger, released it and then started to twirl it again. Danny checked his watch for the third time in an hour. “Is it seven yet?”
“Yeah. Can’t be too soon for me. I am so sick of this damn cold.”
Danny coughed and sniffled as if he had a cold. He said, ”You need to make an appearance downstairs.”
“Nah, it’s only quarter to. Shit, we got her ready too soon.” He smiled. “What the Hell. We’re almost there, baby. Sunshine here we come.”
Angie left the room first and Danny followed, making sure to close and lock the door behind him.
<<<>>>
When Marty D’Angelo set up his discrete business in the huge stately brownstone mansion just north of the famous Magnificent Mile in the Gold Coast area of Lakeshore Drive, he was rubbing elbows with the upper crust of Chicago society. He even used a high priced interior decorator to insure that his “gentlemen” had only the finest.
From its earliest days the Gold Coast was home to many important Chicago families who contributed to the social, cultural and economic history of the city. The houses were close together on this valuable stretch of land and Marty kept such a low profile that when neighbors saw visitors like a senator or prominent businessman pulling up in a limo, they simply assumed he was well connected and entertained a lot.
Angie headed toward two attractive young women seated on an elegant sofa in the living room of the brownstone.
The one called Marilyn wore a deep green satin gown accented by real emerald jewelry nestled against her throat, brushed by her long auburn hair. Sonia, an exotic beauty from France, sat across from her complaining about money between sips of her usual Tom Collins.
Marilyn cut Sonia off in mid sentence. “You’ve got it better than any of us. Don’t you ever do anything but complain?”
Angie burned with envy. “You tell her, Marilyn. How bad can things be for her? She has a pink Cadillac convertible and a fabulous apartment. Money problems…yeah, right, like blind men can see…wish I had her problems.”
Perched on a deep purple velvet loveseat across from Sonia, Marilyn patted the place next to her, signaling Angie to join them. ”You seem nervous tonight.” Her voice dropped to a tone of confidentiality, “I’m not sure why, but I’ve got a creepy feeling. Like something’s going on.”
Angie shrugged it off as though she didn’t know anything. She glanced at the ornate clock on the marble mantle. A little after seven. Each of the ladies would take their dates to one of the mansion’s bedrooms soon. Then it would be safe to bring Covington up to Sandra’s third floor room on the other side of the huge house.
She tensed at the sound of Marty’s smooth baritone as he greeted Covington in the foyer and led him to the comfortable lounge with its carved walnut bar. He was too early. The women would wonder why he was there. He hadn’t been back to the mansion since roughing up Sonia. Covington gave her the Caddy as an apology, but no one would have anything to do with him now.
Angie reassured herself that it would be okay. Marilyn said, “What’s he doing here?” Then she shrugged, giggled a distinctive tinkling bell laugh and shook her head. “Oh well,” she said, “who cares why he’s here as long as he doesn’t touch me. Maybe he has business with Marty.”
Angie left the room a while later and paused on the stairs to listen to their buzz.
Several months ago, huddled over a gruesome police photo of a battered body plastered across the front page of the Chicago Tribune, they all agreed that it was the pretty blonde teenager they caught a brief glimpse of two days before. Covington had been there that night.
Angie excused herself and headed up the stairs. She pictured a warm tropical place with palm trees and sandy beaches. She deserved to be somewhere else.
I
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well, this was a task to get through…but, i think it is worth noting that it does seem very polished – disregarding what i am taking to be artifacts of html cross-uploading where things did not exactly meet up…there really is nothing to comment on other than the pieces here seem very…well…done…
the room for improvement being very small and very finite…
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Chapters 4 & 5 are written well. They flow good. The fear is there however I think it could be expanded to envoke more.
Chapter 6 offers a lot of backstory and it feels like a hint at what is to come.
Nice job and keep up the good work.
This 29 word review has not been unlocked.
The story has so far from chapter one flowed at a good pace. I can’t tell you to much in the way of mistakes since you’ve done a pretty good job with the writing.
I do have some suggestions and pointers though. The dreams or flashbacks, not sure which they are, can be a bit confusing. They seem like a dream in her drug induced state but I have a hard time telling what they actually are. The fifth chapter was a good length but the fourth was a little to short as some of your other ones have been. You may want to either make the two into one or add more into the fourth chapter.
I can see you are starting to build more of a story here with more characters and events that have happened in the past that could possibly be important in the future, ie: Covington being involved in the murder of the blonde girl. You do this well. You spread it out over a few chapters with only a few at a time which helps to not overwhelm the reader.
Keep up the good work.
February 08, 2007
Deleted User
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