else would have made a move to pay even a part of the bill.
As they left Slo Joe’s they met three more of Mariella’s friends. Isabel had never met any of them before, but they looked like all of Mariella’s friends-too made up, too dressed up and with an air that they were above everyone else. When Mariella said they were going dancing, Isabel got the sense the new girls already knew it. She realized Mariella must have text messaged them from inside Slo Joe’s. So their party of five grew to a party of eight, with Larry being the presumed master when in fact he was just a patsy in a grander scheme.
There is only one place in the district for dancing-the Rumba Room, just a block off Fields on a parallel street. It wasn’t a go-go bar and there were no girls to bar fine, but that didn’t mean there weren’t girls to hook up with. Freelancers and off-duty dancers enjoying a night out were often perfectly willing to go with the right guy for the right price.
Inside, there were three stories-tiers, really-surrounding a large, open central space. The dance floor was in the middle of the ground floor, so that’s where most of the people were. The higher you went, the more likely you would find a space for more intimate action. Theatrical lights illuminated the dance floor, and on some nights, special dance groups would come in to perform. Male dancers mostly, and in an odd twist, it would be the girls of Fields lining the stage, urging the guys along.
That night there was no show, only a house full of girls and guys in various stages of inebriation, some dancing, some lounging, some scamming, and a few passed out where they sat. The music was the same contemporary dance remix crap they played in most of the bars, and it was almost as loud as it was at Slo Joe’s. The difference was that the Rumba Room was big enough to absorb some of the noise and allow partial conversation.
All the tables were already full, so they found a space against the wall to squeeze into for the time being. After ordering a bottle of champagne from a waitress, Mariella, Bibianna and one of the new girls headed for the dance floor. Mariella tried to drag Larry with them, but he resisted, saying, “Maybe later.”
Every time Isabel wanted to lean over and whisper to Larry, “Take me home,” she’d catch sight of Mariella looking at her from the dance floor. It was as if her cousin knew her every move.
“Do you want to dance?” Larry asked her.
She didn’t, but she said okay anyway. Anything to make Larry happy.
Once they were on the floor, she closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. For a little while it was all gone: Mariella, the bars, the guys, Angeles, even Larry. There was nothing but darkness and the music in her head. She could feel the bodies around her as they brushed against her, but they registered only as unknowable sensations, guiding her, caressing her, keeping her safe.
When a hand slipped into hers, she knew it was Larry, so she opened her eyes and reentered the world. He leaned into her. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said.
They danced continuously for three songs. At the end of the third song, she leaned against him and felt sweat on his shirt.
“Rest?” he asked.
She smiled and nodded.
Putting his arm around her, he led her off the dance floor and back to their spot along the wall. No one else was there, and for a moment Isabel hoped the others had left. But then someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned to find Elena standing behind her.
“We found a table,” Elena told them. “This way.”
They followed her up the stairs to a table on the second level where Mariella and her other friends were seated. They had already worked their way through a bottle of champagne, and a waitress was setting a second bottle on the table. When Mariella saw Isabel and Larry, she jumped up.
“Where did you go?” she asked, her voice playful yet scolding.
“I wanted to dance,” Larry said.
“Isabel is so lucky to have a man who likes to dance,” Mariella told him. “Here. Sit down. We’ve poured you some champagne.”
She maneuvered it so that she was sitting next to Larry again. They toasted and drank, and toasted and drank again. Isabel, though, only had a sip. She could feel that she was on the verge of losing control. She was pretty sure Larry was, too, at that point, but he didn’t drink for a living and hadn’t learned the tricks.
There was laughter and singing and drinking, and at some point Mariella put her hand on Larry’s thigh. It stayed there for several seconds before Larry looked down. He seemed confused for a moment, as if expecting to see Isabel’s hand, not her cousin’s. He then pushed it off, and turned to Mariella, opening his mouth to say something.
“I think I want to go back to the hotel,” Isabel whispered quickly in his ear. She didn’t want to cause a scene, but she didn’t want to stay any longer. “I’m not feeling very well.”
Larry turned back to her. “Another headache?” he asked, worried.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some money for the drinks, handing it to Mariella. “This should cover everything.”
“You can’t go,” Mariella said.
“Isabel isn’t feeling well.”
“What’s wrong, Isabel?” Mariella’s voice dripped with insincere concern.
Isabel knew if she looked at her cousin she would get another one of Mariella’s withering looks, so she kept her eyes downcast. “I have a bad headache.”
“Oh, baby,” Mariella said. “Come here and I’ll give you a massage and maybe that will help.”
“Thank you, but I think I just need to rest,” Isabel said, still avoiding looking at her cousin.
As Larry and Isabel stood up to leave, Mariella also stood.
“I hope you feel better,” Mariella said, then hugged Isabel.
Caught off guard, Isabel glanced up and saw in Mariella’s eyes anger and disappointment. Isabel’s stomach churned as she accepted her cousin’s hug and kiss on the cheek.
When Mariella turned to Larry, she said, “Thank you for letting us join you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said.
“Maybe after Isabel’s asleep, you can come back out and join us?” she suggested.
Isabel tensed, but Larry said, “Thanks, but I’m pretty tired myself.”
“I understand,” she said, as she reached out and gave him a hug.
She started to kiss him on his cheek, but instead her lips brushed past and landed on his. Before he could even react, she pulled away.
“Good night,” she said. “Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night,” Larry mumbled.
Isabel, not trusting her own voice, said nothing until the next morning.
The sun was fully down by the time she’d told me all of this. And the breeze had cooled the air enough so that it became another pleasant Boracay evening.
“What did you say to him?” I asked her.
“What could I say?” She looked at me. “It wasn’t his fault. He loved me. I knew that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”
“But Mariella was hurting you,” I countered.
Isabel sighed. “It’s not that easy. I thought she was trying to teach me a lesson. I would have done anything for her then. She was everything I could never be,
“You’d both have been better off if you hadn’t met,” I said.
“Back then I didn’t think that,” she said.
“And now?”
She was quiet for a long time.
