Moneypenny
I head towards 9 de Julio, jump into the first taxi I see and head
to towards Palermo, where the night was still relatively young.
We
arrive in front of the Armenian cultural center, with my mind constantly
wandering, taking me back in the events which occurred earlier this evening, I
almost forget to pay the driver. “Perdon” I tell him as I dash out.
I run down the stairs and accidentally collide with someone: “Perdon”, I blurt out a second
time.
Standing
before me is Adrianna. “You really must learn to be careful, you could have
hurt one of us!”, she admonishes, “but I guess that’s not important to you is
it, as long as you can get downstairs fast enough to get the best tandas!” she
adds.
I
wish I had run into anyone else but her right now. She is accompanied by Lucia
and this little mishap of mine will no doubt give them something to complain
about for the rest of the evening.
“I
am very sorry, it was reckless of me”, I say apologetically and then turn towards her and say: “Oh, Adrianna, I
wanted to tell you, I saw Alvaro at De Querusa the other night” I stare over at
Lucia and try to gauge a reaction from her, any sign of discomfort on her part,
“and he couldn’t stop talking about you” I add.
“Really!”
she responds excitedly in a high-pitched voice like a hyena. “Yes, he’s
quite fond of you…..says you’re very kind and elegant. He says you remind him
of his mother, which, I’m sure is quite the compliment; you know how these
porteños are, everything is about their mothers. Must be why they like
breasts so much. Wouldn’t you say Lucia?” I add with a smirk, they’re
both going to hate me.
“Our
table is ready, we will see you inside” Adrianna responds grabbing Lucia by the
shoulder and rushing away from me.
I
hadn’t expected them to be here tonight, especially not arriving at this hour.
Was La Viruta some sort of secret meeting place for undercover agents?
Are Adrianna and Lucia involved in this somehow? Or am I just becoming paranoid.
The
smells of fresh coffee and medialunas fills the air; the dance floor is
starting to empty out; dancers are slowly removing their shoes to give their
aching feet a little break. I sit in the far corner, where Bond usually
sits, even in his absence I seem to gravitate towards him. I lean over to put on my shoes and barely
manage to tie my left strap when I feel a gently caress on my right shoulder:
“Quieres bailar?” He asks, in that porteño accent I could never resist. “Si” I
respond without hesitation; not only is he very handsome, but it’s a
Troilo tanda.
I
gently lean into him as we start to synchronize our bodies and slowly move in-tune with the dos por quatro
tango compas. I close my eyes and abandon myself completely to him and to our
tanda; I want to empty my mind of everything and just enjoy this moment;
enjoy his subtle perfume, his firm support as we move around the dance floor,
the feel of his hand almost caressing my back; I want to forget everything else
that has happened tonight. After the first tango, we simply stay in close
embrace and sway from left to right without saying a word, waiting for the next
tango to start.
“Gracias”
he says after the tanda is over. “Gracias a vos” I respond, “I want to go I
think” I say looking directly into his eyes. “Ok let’s go then” he responds without hesitation. So we leave
La Viruta grabbing 2 medialunas on our way out.
-----------------------------------------
I
slowly unlock the front door, I’m sure she’s out, it’s market day; she nevers
sleeps in on Sundays. I wonder if she noticed my absence this
morning. The house is empty, I quickly
grab my things from the night before and drop off a note on her bed stand before making
my way out.
I
need time to think, I’m going to Bolivia to clear my mind. Don’t worry about me
I’ll be fine, I’ll be back in 10 days. Don’t tell Bond.
Take
care of you
Love
MP
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