Act 3. Part 1.  "... a proud moment."

Act 3. Part 1. "... a proud moment."

A Chapter by B MacGregor
"

Ladies, Gentlemen… I now give you Act 3. It’s the last one in this three act performance with a very limited engagement.

"

ACT 3.  Velvet’s Dance.

 

Ladies, Gentlemen… 

 

I now give you Act 3.  It’s the last one in this three act performance with a very limited engagement.

 

Without any reservation, and for your entertainment pleasure… 

 

I present the last dance. My dance.  Velvet’s Dance.


Act 3. Part 1.

“… a proud moment.”

 

 

After Shadow left me.  I became despondent.  I was a dancer without a partner. 

 

I was determined to make it work without him.  I could dance for both of us.  Frankly, it was easy.  I wanted to show the audience what I was made of without someone else holding me back. 

 

I was free.  That’s how I like to dance.  Free.

 

I didn’t realize someone else was watching.  Someone was paying attention to how I moved on stage. They watched me steal the show.  They studied me from every angle… especially a financial angle.

 

You guessed it, the producer, the junior one, he watched me�"intimately.  He had me in his eye the entire time.  I just didn’t know it. 

 

I should have.  I should have paid attention.  Because he was quite cute.  A beautiful face, smooth body, finely sculpted from marble. 

 

Shadow, who? 

 

Yeah, that cute.

 

It was in Vegas when he had the courage to approach me.  The disco revival made a small showing on the strip.  The producer, asked me out for a drink after one of the shows.  We ended up in the lounge. It was one of the proudest moments in my life.

 

“Have you ever thought about your own show, Velvet?  You’re good. Real good.  I could watch you dance for hours.”

 

This where the tango begins. The piano strikes the chord.  Two people stare at each other from across the dance floor.  They’re drawn to each other, an unknown reason. The orchestra begins. The male raises his arms.  He waits for his lover to approach. 

 

The producer and I began our tango. Everyone should know how to tango, but it takes a skilled dancer to conquer it.

 

The Tango should be danced like it’s the first disagreement between a couple deeply in love, their first inspiring argument.  It’s a war of ways.

 

At heart of the dance is a delicate negotiation over pride.  Whose pride wins?  Loses?

 

The tango is one of those dances where it’s not about the people dancing.  It’s about the actual dance.  It can overpower a couple.  The vanity of the dance has a nasty tendency to overwhelm dancers.  Let’s just say the pride of the dance can be overwhelming. Pride always wins.

 

The couple is confronted with overshadowing the conflict in order to conquer the Tango.  It can be unforgiving and cruel… totally sleek by design and jealous by nature. It’s not a dance for just anyone. 

 

Sure, people can be taught the dance steps, but you have to be really special for the audience to notice you, the dancer, during the Tango.  The music, the orchestra, the conductor, the feet, the hands, it all draws the audience away from noticing the dancer. 

 

It’s the most difficult dance to master. 

 

The producer knew lots of people. He bragged about it as he guzzled his whiskey.  He knew people with money to burn. 

 

It was perfect.  They wanted to invest in me.  Make a Las Vegas showing of my talent. 

 

At times I felt like a sideshow, the way he paraded me to one investor after another.  He was eager and zealous.  He saw me and only hoped someone with money saw me in the same way.    

 

I was moved by his generosity.  People like me don’t deserve such generosity.  This young producer was willing to stake his reputation on my dancing talents.  He put his own sense of failure in my feet.  He was willing to risk his pride… and his love. 

 

It didn’t take me long to figure out that he loved me.  

 

Nobody in show business is willing to be so generous, especially to a new comer without a crippling emotion to motivate them. He was proud of me, but why? If not for love.

 

I kept it small in Vegas.  I still lived in my suitcase world.  It was comforting.  I didn’t allow him to make the show too extravagant or untimely.  He produced it with all good intentions. 

 

I was proud of what he did.  It was a mediocre small-stage production�"alluring and one of a kind. One of those productions that border on taste.  It made us a lot of money. Not tons, but enough to live well.  Vegas well. 

 

We had everything we wanted.

 

Then he ruined it.

 

“Marry me, Velvet.”

 

What?  It was quick and fleeting.  The proudest moments in our lives are always so temporary, they move so quickly.  You blink and it’s over.

 

He spoke it like a meaningful command, a precious and a beautiful poem.  It’s what I waited to hear all of my young life and now… well, it scared me.  Was I worthy?  Was I worth him? I could only wonder.

 

I never had so much self doubt and confusion. What happened to all the confidence I built over the past twelve years?  What happened to all of my broken hearts?  The ones I sacrificed to protect the real one, my real heart�"the one I saved for falling in love. My army of soldiers abandoned me. 

 

Why couldn’t I answer his question? Speak!  Damn-it, say something!

 

“Yes?” 

 

He smiled, ignoring me… the real me, the one that held a shred of doubt.  I doubted him and he ignored me.   He left his judgments for more critical things, “I know you’re happy Velvet.  I know you want this just as badly as I do.”

 

He looked at me.  The inside me, the one I hid from everyone else.  “What?  What is it?”

 

“Before I marry you, there’s something I have to do. I need to see someone…

 

You don’t mind, do you Angel?”

 

I couldn’t marry him without first acknowledging who I am.  I couldn’t abandon myself in another person’s pride. I needed to address the beginning.  The burning bed, it all had to do with the burning bed. 

 

I had to dance with the devil.  

 

I had to confront the one person who tried to kill my love story�"Diablo�"my father. 

 

I had to show him, the love story wasn’t destroyed.  It just wasn’t finished.  It’s not over.  



© 2010 B MacGregor


Author's Note

B MacGregor
The end, the mystery, is near now.

"Don't look away," said the sideshow barker.

Arf. Arf.

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Added on September 19, 2010
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