The Gigolo

The Before…

Pain.

I don’t know the pain Sophie tells me about, but she’s here with me and I’m not sure why she’s here. I am glad she is though. I wake and Sophie is here; sometimes sleeping but always here.

“Sophie, why are you here?” I ask, looking at her through my own eyes.

“You texted me Alix and I came.” She says, touching my arm softly.

“Sophie why are you here?” I ask.

“I’m here because you need me.” She says.

“Sophie why are you here?” I ask.

“Alix, I love you.” She says.
“Sophie, I love you.” I say and she responds with – “Time to take you home, I think.” And she smiles as only she can.

“Alix it’s time to work hard and get fit for going home.” I’m awake; various tubes attached to me have disappeared while I was sleeping and I could eat a horse now. Instead, I turn to Sophie and ask her…
“How long have you been here and how did you get here? Why am I here? Did I have a car accident?”

“Alix, do you remember your last competition, here, in Italy?”

“Not sure, but I think we lost in the finals. Why?’

“Why did you lose Alix?” Sophie asked gently.

“I think I did a false step. But what has it to do with me being in hospital with you beside me?”

Sophie leaned toward he sister, pausing before the nest question she needed to ask.

“How was Alphonse after your false step?” Sophie asked quietly, touching her sister’s hand softly.

“Alphonse compensated for my false step with no problem.” Alix said. “But he was tense and distracted during our warm up session, and he didn’t come to my dressing room to give me my usual kisses.”

“What were they – the kisses?”

“Oh, the usual, forehead, both eyes, cheeks and chin. Good luck kisses.” Alix shrugged.

“He was superstitious, Huh?” Sophie asked.

“Yes, he was, but I think that was part of his blood; you know. Part Gypsy, part French, part Italian. It did make him very exciting; very passionate too.”

Sophie looked toward her sister, touching and feeling Alix, “lovely girl, I think you need to rest; I’ll be beside you tomorrow and that is a promise, lovely girl.”

Alix smiled weakly at her sister, “ I could use the rest, Sophie. And thanks.

The next day Sophie came, Alix was alert and waiting for her.

“Sophie, I truly understand why I am here, in a hospital in Italy with so many injuries. Many doctors have come, said some things and disappeared. I also think I’ve been over medicated and I’m not happy, in fact, I’m so pissed off I may well sue the lot of them! I just want to go home to some decent treatment!

Sophie settled in to a small, but comfortable chair. She folded her arms and stared at Alix.

“You miserable shit.” Sophie stated quietly. “I should leave you here to rot.” She folded her arms and stared at Alix with cold eyes.

“I’m almost done with you. Time to come home and deal with it, Alix.”

“What am I supposed to deal with Sophie?’ Alix wailed.

“Alphonse, you and me, I think.” Sophie said.

“Get on your bike and start peddling, I guess. I don’t know, but I do know I have two tickets back home. One of them is in your name. You want the ticket or not?



The Gigolo.

"Sophie, I'm not sure," Alix said as she looked across the table to her sister, "I haven't gone to a dance in such a long time." She paused, caught in unhappy memories she sipped her coffee, eyes lowered, unwilling to voice her fears.

"Alix it's only a night out at the Club, there won't be any pressure for you to perform." Sophie coaxed. "There's a good band, a decent waxed floor and the acoustics are good." She reached a hand across the table, encouraging her sister to touch. Memories revived by touch flowed through their finger tips; childlike touching, sibilant whispered secrets under blankets and beneath bushes in the back yard. Whispers of tiny sins and little breathy songs of yearning for the future.

Alix held the elegant, long and caressing fingers of her sister. Warmth flooded through her and she smiled. A first smile of ages, long absent. So far away, so far away from herself, she found it hard to come back. Alix knew she had to come to return, not only for herself, but for her sister. She sighed with the hardness of it. "I will come with you," Alix conceded, "but on my own terms, sister-tormentor, and bane of my life." She blew a light finger kiss toward her sister. Sophie grinned, blowing a fairy kiss back. A moment of understanding passed between the sisters as they drank their coffee.

Alix wasn't back, but she was stepping onto the track, Sophie thought, washing their cups in the sink. She looked out of her kitchen window, watching the blue wrens dart lightly through the grass and flowers. They're us, Alix and me, she mused. We both flit lightly through this world; she with her dancing, and me with my painting. Has the world passed us by? Or have we chosen to pass by the world? We may never know. She wasn't sure which of them was the most practical sister now. Once it was her. Now she wavered, tossing wandering thoughts around as she rinsed the few plates and cutlery.

She sighed as she picked up the tea towel to wipe the dishes, still watching the tiny wrens through the glass. Sophie turned to her sister, still vague in her thoughts, blurting out the most inane thought in her head, "What will you wear tonight?" She wished she had phrased it better, but it was out. Alix had nothing, not even the shirt on her back. For a while, Alix didn’t even have herself until Sophie found her, enfolding Alix in her love and understanding.

“Something of yours.” Alix replied, with a watery smile. Sophie faced the window, hands busy again with the dishes, unable to face her sister for the moment. She wanted to stay looking through the window, watching the wrens. It was safer to leave her sister to her pain. Sophie screwed up the towel, throwing it into the sink, turning swiftly, enfolding Alix in her arms.

“I am so, so sorry,” she mumbled into Alix’s hair, “I should have known, should have been there for you and I wasn’t.” Sophie wrapped her arms around her sister, holding her tight. Hoping to take the pain away, but knowing she couldn’t. Sophie kissed Alix, touching her hair and cupping her face in her hands. “Tea?” Sophie asked as they broke apart. Alix looked slyly at her sister, dimples tinting the corner of her mouth. “Too early for a glass of wine?” she asked. Sophie stared at her smiling; circling her index finger in the air in a long forgotten signal they once shared. Alix’s eyes lit up. “I know!” She laughed, grabbing Sophie quickly, “Somewhere in this world, the sun is over the yardarm.”

“I’ll get the glasses – glass or crystal?” Alix said. “Only the best,” Sophie chirped, “crystal.” Alix retrieved two glasses, turning to Sophie. “Where’s the wine?”
“Oh Alix. There’s red and white,” Sophie laughed, “Chateau Cardboard in the pantry.” Alix grimaced. “Red it is,” she said, “you never remember to chill the white, not even CC.”

Sophie almost said it. It nearly rolled off her tongue; it was at the edge, ready to jump.
The phrase which would have killed their new relationship, one which wouldn’t have mattered years ago but now would have been unforgivable. Miss Hoity-toity star, drinker of the finest wines. Miss Perfection. Sophie was appalled. She shook her head in disbelief. I’ve never thought this before. Where does it come from? She placed her head in her hands, pain from the thought hurting her head. She rubbed her temples, wishing it away.

“Hey Sis, you okay?” Alix said, rubbing her sister’s shoulders. “I know what you’re thinking sweety.” Sophie smiled, looking up, “No you don’t.”

Alix cocked her head, placing the glasses on the table. “I do, and I know I’m a perfectionist. I also know I liked and enjoyed the finest things life could give me,” Alix said, looking in her sister’s eyes, “I also know I can’t have them again.”

Alix sat, taking Sophie’s face in her hands, fingers caressing the soft, round cheeks. “I have lost everything except you,” she whispered, “but there is one thing Alphonse couldn’t take away from me. You - and three World Championships. He took my money, my love, and my self respect. He even took away my ability to dance. But, he couldn’t take you away from me.” Sophie started to speak, but Alix laid a finger across her lips.

“Sophie, I love you. I love you for finding me, accepting my life, helping me leave it. You’ve given me hope and I’m going to take that and rebuild myself somehow, I know it will take time. I need you to guide me. Show me how to dance the steps of life.”

___________________________

“Sophie, you’re sure?” Alix questioned, holding the delicate dress to her body, “this is your wedding dress.” The dress, delicate flowered voile overlaying a body and skirt of fine, lemon lawn, clung to Alix’s arms. Her eyes searched her sister’s.

“I’m sure,” Sophie replied, “it is a beautiful dress. Ben and I chose it together, though he was doubtful about it being a cocktail dress and not full length.” Sophie touched it, remembering. She took it from Alix, “come on, strip and try it on.”

Alix slowly took her clothes off, folding them awkwardly on to the bed. She stood in front of her sister, her eyes lowered.

“Oh my,” Sophie said, viewing her sister, “well, the bra’s got to go, and the knickers.” Alix squirmed, embarrassed. “Come on, Sis, get them off. I think I have some tucked away which will fit you. I’ll be right back.”

Sophie disappeared, soon returning with an armful of lingerie in various colours. She threw them on the bed and grinned.

“Alix, look at me, I’m a tub of lard, I’ll never fit into these in a million years!” Sophie laughed, “Come on, let’s play dress up again.”

“I feel so naked,” Alix said, “not about you seeing me nude, but this,” she pointed to the ugly red scar, running from her right hip to her knee, “how do I hide this?” Sophie ran her index finger slowly down the cruel scar, feeling the knots and hollows, “is it sensitive to touch?” She asked. “It looks like it needs some more work, possibly some cosmetic surgery. Do some ballet points for me.”

Alix tried, but Sophie could see the strain in Alix’s movements. “Alix, you’re right, I don’t think you’ll ever be able to competition dance again, but you are still graceful and balanced.” She touched her sister, stroking her arms in compassion. “Look at your body, it’s still trim, not like mine,” she said, “painters don’t need to be athletes, we run on stillness, that’s our fuel. Come on, pick a bra and pants, we’ll worry about the scar later.”

Sophie fussed over Alix, adjusting bra straps and making Alix cup her breasts into various bras, until she was satisfied with the result.

“Sophie, I can’t wear a midnight blue bra under this dress, it’ll look weird!” Alix protested.
“Trust me, I am a painter,” Sophie soothed, “now put these knickers on.” She handed Alix a flimsy, skin coloured froth of lace. “Put them on.”

Alix sighed as she pulled them on. The shoestring sides slid over her scar, settling on her hip line. “Oh, they’re so comfortable!” Alix exclaimed, turning to her sister. Sophie grinned and handed Alix a pair of medium height bone coloured pumps to put on her feet. Alix stood midnight blue bra, cream knickers and bone pumps. Alix giggled.

“Close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them,” Sophie instructed, Alix nodded, “right then,” Alix said, “I’m going to drop the dress over you, raise your arms, ready?” Sophie dropped the dress swiftly, pulling it down, smoothing it to her sister’s contours. “Eyes still shut?” Sophie asked. Alix nodded, eyes screwed up tight. Sophie turned her, “okay, eyes open!”

“Oh, my!” Alix stared at herself in the long mirror. Sophie watched, tears forming in her eyes. Her sister never looked so beautiful. She wanted cough and clear throat, but the silence was too perfect to break. Alix turned slowly, testing her feet and leg. She paused, and then tried a few dance movements, judging herself in the mirror. She paused, thinking things over, and then tried a few slower movements until she was satisfied.

Alix turned to her sister, her face glowing. “You know, Sis, I think I could manage a few steps on the dance floor,” she grinned, “maybe even cut a rug or two, but – the undies?” Alix shrugged, “aren’t I a bit old for naked below the waist and nukes up the top?”

Sophie collapsed on the bed, roaring with laughter, the tears running freely now, some for Ben, but most for Alix.
“Nuke ’em baby! Every time!” Sophie snorted, between giggles. Alix threw herself on her sister, dragging her on the floor in a play fight.

“Get off me, you great lump!” Alix demanded, still laughing, “Look what you did to my lovely dress.”
Sophie examined it. “Okay, strip off to naked again.” she told her sister. “In the wash with them, and you,” she finger pointed at Alix, “you in the bath, wash your hair and shave under your arms, and don’t forget the bikini line.”

__________________

“Look Sis,” Alix said, “are sure about me – I know you come here a lot, but is this really for me?’ She queried. “There are a lot of people; I thought this was a small club.” Sophie held her sister’s hand, “don’t worry, this is normal, all these people queueing early – it always happens when the gigolo is due.” Alix stopped, looking at her sister in disbelief. “When the gigolo comes?” Alix turned, grabbing her sister, “when the gigolo comes? You have to be kidding!”

Sophie began to wonder if it was a good idea to bring her sister after all. Alix kept chuckling, ‘gigolo’, looking at her sister, then back to ‘gigolo’ again. Sophie folded her arms, her jaw set, staring anywhere but at her sister
.
The club tables filled, the lights became ambient sentinels, lighting the dance floor in slowly circling soft points of light. The band started their opening set. The rich, polished floor lay vacant, waiting the first worshippers to its shrine. No couples danced, men wandered to the bar, bought drinks and wandered back to their table. The mirror ball circled lazily, reflecting the overhead lights and laying soft mosaics around the room.

“This is boring, just sitting here,” Alix whispered to her sister, “is it like this all night? I’d just as soon go home.” Sophie grabbed Alix’s arm, leaning close, “we’re waiting, and it’s our night.” Alix turned, “our night? For what?” She pulled away from Sophie, folding her arms tightly. Sophie leaned into her sister, hissing, “You’ll see Miss Hoity-toity.”

A slight change, nothing you could pinpoint, but a change happened, the mirror ball seemed brighter, the band were clearer; the floor shone more. The people in the club were more alert. Nothing had been said, no rumours spread, and people were still pouring into the club and settling at tables. The club came alive, people started dancing, and groups of friends chattered and laughed. Friends swapped tables, joined tables to make a party. The club breathed.

Sophie put her arm around her sister, whispering in Alix’s ear, “He’s here. The gigolo.” Alix rolled her eyes, sticking out her tongue.

“No, seriously, I’ll point him out to you. Keep your mouth shut while I talk, okay?” Sophie said.

“There he is,” Sophie pointed, “see him sat down with the man in the wheelchair? Now watch him.” Alix followed the tall, slim man with her eyes, as he moved from table to table, sometimes sitting, and more often moving on. She noted he always shook hands, leaving with a smile. Alix was intrigued that he carried a small book, making frequent notes.

“Sophie, he doesn’t look much, he’s dressed in grey slacks, and he’s not in an evening suit or a matching set. He has a blue jacket, a cheap tie and a rich cream shirt. I don’t know what you see in him, he’s not even wearing dancing pumps.”

“Alix, answer me this, who did he talk to, who did he visit?”

Alix shrugged, “a few old men in wheelchairs or with crutches, what does it matter?”

“Just watch who he dances with, okay?” Sophie said.

The band started a new set, encouraging the dancers to the floor. The gigolo presented himself to a partner, smiled at the husband and led her to the floor.

Alix watched him idly at first, then beginning to appreciate his skill. Her mind drew her back to her early days; Alphonse, dark, slim, Portuguese. She switched away, leaving the memories, leaving her pain.

The gigolo was good, he had style, and he compensated for his partner’s lack of skill. Alix reluctantly agreed, yes, the gigolo was good. He could possibly make it as a professional B grade.

“Oh God, here I go again, analysing.” Alix thought, “Oh why do I have to do this?”

“Sis,” Sophie shook her, “Sis, say hello.” She nudged Alix. “What do you think?” Alix looked to her sister, tears filling her eyes, “Oh, Sophie, I’m judging people I shouldn’t judge, picking faults."

Sophie pulled Alix’s hands to her breast, “Love, feel the beat of my heart. I’m a painter and I feel the pulse of the people I paint.” Sophie kissed the tips of her sister’s fingers, “feel this, let yourself feel. ”Alix turned away, her eyes focused on the dance floor
.
“Oh, yes!” Sophie exclaimed, clapping her hands, “I love this bit!” Alix looked at her in surprise, “What?”

“Are you deaf? It’s the ‘Spotlight!” Alix looked at Sophie, confused,

“Spotlight?” Sophie said in some irritation,

“Alix, the MC comes down among the dancers, meanders through and when the band stops, he put his arms out and anyone he can touch is out.” Sophie leaned forward in anticipation, eyes alight. The dance floor flooded with couples. Among them was the gigolo, teamed with a short, round woman. Alix thought they were a mismatched couple, but it was a nonsense dance and a fill for the night. The MC quickly removed couples who good naturedly grumped at him as they left the floor, joining the enthusiastic crowd around the edge.

“Come on Laurie, hurry up and get a winner!” A voice in the crowd shouted. “They’ll close the bar before you’re finished prancing around!” A wave of laughter prompted a rhythmic clapping and a chant, “Come on , Laurie, come on, come on.”

The band played better and faster, prompted by the clapping and soon there were two couples left; a thin, short couple, perspiring as they challenged the other couple – the gigolo and his partner. The tempo changed and the band slid swiftly into a Cha cha. The gigolo faltered slightly and miss timed the intro for he and his partner, and Laurie tapped him on the shoulder. A roar went up from the crowd.

The gigolo spun his partner with skill, executed a long slow bow to her and escorted her from the floor. She spun a deep rose pink on her cheeks as she receive the approbation of the crowd around the dance floor. The gigolo gently guided her back to her table, pulled out her chair, seating her beside her husband. A quick wave of the gigolo’s hand brought a waiter with three flutes of champagne to the table.

The husband, his wife and the gigolo toasted each other. As the gigolo turned to leave, the husband spoke. The gigolo paused as the husband manoeuvred his wheelchair to meet him.

“Thank you.” The gigolo nodded and smiled.