Ch 12 ~ Dancing In The Dark

“Let’s go dancing,” Rachel beseeched, tucking the receipt for her meal in her small handbag. 

Dinner with James had been a pleasant enough event, even if she’d had to practically rip the check from his hand in order to pay for her dinner.  Despite his agreeability to taking her someplace hip and vibrant, it had been difficult to convince him that he wasn’t taking her out to the fabulous Cuban place with an atmosphere as hot and spicy as the menu.  The winning argument had been that it was a business trip and was going on an expense report, anyway, so who paid was of no consequence.

“Dancing?”  James’s handsome face screwed into mask of skepticism as he pushed his own wallet into the back pocket of his pants.

“Yes, dancing!”  Maybe it was the sangria she used to extinguish the food’s fire or maybe it was the influence of her new shoes.  In either case her toes were ready to tap and her heels felt as though they had snakeskin wings on them.  She smoothed the black sheath dress down over her hips and patted her hair to make sure it was still up in its clip, marveling at how one simple pair of shoes made her business attire feel like club-wear.  “You used to be fun, James.  Don’t get old on me now!”

“Old?” he scoffed, holding the restaurant door open wide for Rachel to rumba through.  “I’ll never be too old to keep up with you, lovely lady.”

“Put your dancing shoes where your mouth is, then, buddy.”  She automatically accepted his offered elbow, slipping her hand into the crook of it as she scanned the neon-lit street for the perfect dance spot.   Tiny bars were interspersed with restaurants along the sidewalks, all with their alcoholic beverages and establishment names in varying shades of 1980’s fluorescent pink, green and yellow. 

“How long has it been since you’ve been dancing, Rachel?”

“Too long.  Oooh!  I think I’ve seen this one in a movie!  Let’s go in here.”  She tugged a semi-willing James into the doorway of a club whose walls were thumping with music. 

“On one condition.”  He had to be low and speak in her ear to be heard.

Rachel was so fascinated with the spectrum of color bouncing from the ceiling that she barely paid him attention.  “What?”

The white sofas, curtains, columns and floor reflected the color two-fold, making the club a prismatic haven for dancers.  The only thing more colorful than the moving lights was the array of young women’s clubbing apparel.  Short skirts, long dresses, flouncy blouses, bejeweled jeans and tanks ran from Rachel’s classic black all the way to the luminescent neon shades that had adorned the street outside.  Paired with the loud and lively beat of the music, the sensory overload was...  mesmerizing.

“You have to let me buy you a drink.”

The music taking roost in her soul and the atmosphere seeping into her blood, she laughed back over her shoulder at him.  “Play your cards right and I’ll let you buy me two.”

James was the perfect person to drag along on this quest of hers, Rachel thought.  He was someone she could safely let her hair down with and not have to worry that he’d run off to his ex-wife or that they’d have some big fight which resulted in loud voices and hurtful words.  It was just two people out to have a good time.  She adored that about him.

Her perfect person guided her to the nearest of the bars and spoke to the bartender.  The decibel level was such that Rachel had no idea what he’d ordered until he proudly presented her with the prettiest palm tree etched martini glass.  Assuming that the contents matched the glass style, it was a martini, but she didn’t typically drink martinis so she didn’t know what kind and the concoction’s color was virtually indistinguishable in this lighting.

“What is it?”

“A caramel apple martini,” he proclaimed, beaming.  She noticed that he was drinking his usual gin and tonic.  “Remember when we used to go to the local carnivals?  You loved the caramel apples.”

It had been so many years ago when they dated that she’d almost forgotten about the carnivals that they’d frequented.  He was right, though.  She had loved the caramel apples, so she would give his very thoughtful selection a try. 

Her hips swayed to the beat of a lively Latin tune as her lips touched the rim to find the martini sweet, caramel-y and delicious.  One of those fruity drinks that contained more syrup than liquor, it was the perfect after-dinner/pre-dancing dessert.

“Yum!”  She slid the drink onto the bar, ready to get out on the dance floor.  “Let’s dance, James!”

“Not yet.”  He picked up her drink and steered her toward two bar stools that had just freed up.  “I need more alcohol before I can keep up with that guy.”

She looked in the direction he was pointing and saw a young man spin his partner out, whirl her back in, slide her between his legs and return her to her feet.  It was so fluid that you’d swear it was a single motion. 

Giggling, she settled agreeably on the stool and took another sugary swallow.  “I don’t think there’s enough alcohol in this entire building for me to keep up with that, but I’m going to give it a shot!”

With a dip of his head, he ordered them both a second drink. 

“What’s got you feeling adventurous tonight, if I might be so bold as to ask?”

Adventurous was a good word, Rachel thought.  It had been too long since she’d felt good enough to step outside of her comfort zone for something new and exciting.  That, however, wasn’t something she could effectively explain, nor did she want to dampen her evening trying. 

She spun her bar stool toward him with a grin, kicking one leg over the other and gingerly tapping his shin with the toe of her sandal.  “New shoes.  Don’t they just look like they belong on a dance floor?  How can I deny them the life they’ve been made for?  I mean, really.  It would be a crime against fashion.”

“Well, God forbid we commit a crime against fashion,” he appeased her, pushing another caramel apple martini in her direction.  “But let’s get a little more liquid courage down us first, shall we?”

He lifted his glass in a toast, compelling her to do the same.  “To being law-abiding fashion citizens.”

“Hear, hear!”

“And Rachel...”  Long fingers curled around her wrist and blue eyes that were several shades paler than Jon’s riveted on hers.  “It’s good to see you happy.”

And she knew that he meant it.  James had been a true lifesaver since her less-than-glorious return to the west coast and subsequent plunge into depression.  The night she had refused his dinner invitation because she simply couldn’t face the thought of eating, he’d brought her favorite won ton soup over, anyway.  When he got a look at her red-rimmed and hollow eyes, he’d made arrangements for a psychiatrist buddy of his to see her the very same night.  By morning, she had been admitted into the finest treatment center in the San Francisco area.  

Of course, as with many things California, the term ‘treatment center’ was subject to interpretation.  This particular facility had, in reality, been little more than a high-end spa where massage, yoga, meditation and an assortment of body wraps were said to relieve the body of toxins. 

Despite the spa-like atmosphere, there had been respected professionals there to assist her in dealing with her issues.  ‘Prolonged Complicated Grief’ had been the official diagnosis, said to occur when normal grief and loss processes appear to become 'stuck' and the symptoms continue unresolved for months and/or years.

In essence, Rachel had never worked through her grief from the loss of her family and the situation with Jon had piled itself on top of that, making the load more than her mind and body could continue to bear. It had taken her three weeks to get back to a functional level again and, even then she wasn’t as functional as she needed to be.

Enter James.  Again.

Two days after her release, she was on a plane bound for Hawaii with James by her side, under the pretense of ‘helping’ her get the setup of regional offices underway.  Really, though, he’d done the bulk of the work to ensure Rachel plenty of time to continue her recovery.  He’d even gone so far as to arrange sessions with a Hawaiian holistic healer during her time there.    

Rachel didn’t know what she would’ve done without him. 

“It’s good to be happy, James.  Very good.”

The clink of glasses was lost in the din of the crowd, but it didn’t diminish the sentiment or the sweetness of their connection.  Letting the moment complete itself without additional words, they both silently imbibed their drinks until a slower number found its way over the sound system.

“Now this is something I can handle.”  James’s smile accentuated his attractive features, reminding her why she’d been drawn to him in the first place. 

At one time, there had been a fierce sexual chemistry that simmered between the two of them and, more often than not, it had boiled over and scalded them both with its heat.  James had been her first lover and he had shown infinite patience in sharing his vast experience.  He had taught Rachel everything she knew and accepted about sex at the time and there had been nothing she wouldn’t do for or with him. 

“Dance with me, Rachel.”

She slipped her hand into his outstretched one with a nod and followed him out onto the dance floor.  This was what life was supposed to be about.  Sexy shoes, good food, better drinks, and spending the evening in the company of someone she could relax with. 

There was a peace with James that felt good.  He knew where she came from and what she was about, and still accepted her.  Not just accepted her, but wanted her.  In fact, he wanted all the same things she did, Rachel thought as his hands slid lower down her back.  He might have been a womanizing jerk when they were younger, but age and maturity had mellowed him into a responsible man who was ready for a family.

Her arms slid comfortably around his neck and his hands settled over her hips as the music wrapped around their swaying bodies. 

When she looked into his eyes she didn’t melt like she did with Jon, but she didn’t fight with him the way she did Jon, either.  And when James’ mouth dipped to hers she felt…. something.  

His lips skating across hers reminded Rachel of the passion they used to share.  His imploring tongue possessed a hauntingly familiar taste  – it held the flavor of youth, simplicity and young love.   Things she could never recover, but...  They had something together once.  Maybe they could find it again.  Or something that was a grownup version of it. 

She would like that – a lot.  It would make things so much simpler all the way around if she could fall in love with James again.

You don’t have to fall in love right now.  Enjoy yourself without any pressure.

And enjoy she did.  James, the dance floor and a parade of martinis volleyed for her undivided attention until the wee hours of the morning.  It wouldn’t be a night she would soon forget...