“Hey, girls! Girls!” a voice rang out.
“Joe Elvis, it’s been a while,” Cora called to him as he walked their way.
He assumed his signature stance and belted through the entire first verse of “Girls, Girls, Girls,” looking at Cora when he got to the “big and brassy” line and Maggie when he sang the “small and sassy” line, a nod to the height difference between them. He finished and awaited their applause.
“Awesome, as always, buddy.” Maggie laughed and clapped.
He whistled. “Y’all are lookin’fine! Where y’all going tonight?”
“We’re going dancing at Café Fuego. Do you dance?” Maggie asked.
“Nope, nah, I’m a singer. No dancing.” He waved good-bye as they finally hailed a cab.
The block surrounding Café Fuego was packed. Clearly, word had gotten out about the invitation-only party, and throngs of gate crashers and wannabes were attempting to talk their way in. The cab couldn’t even get close because of the Town Cars and Escalades with blacked-out windows idling out front, so the driver dropped Cora and Maggie off on a parallel street. They jumped the long line and walked up to a young woman in a fashionably distressed Santiago Rivera T-shirt near the front door holding a clipboard.
“Cora Bellamy and guest,” she said to the woman, raising her voice over a pounding baseline that seeped through the closed club doors.
The woman scanned the list on the clipboard. “You’re guests of Miss Channing, so here are your VIP passes.” She handed them two hot-pink wristbands. Cora and Maggie looked at each other with wide eyes but played it cool as they affixed the paper bands to their wrists and walked into the club.
The music throbbed around them, making it impossible to hear anything they tried to say to each other. It sounded like hip-hop with a Caribbean flair and Spanish lyrics. “Reggaeton,” Maggie shouted in Cora’s ear. “I love it!”
The lighting was dim, with red spotlights piercing the shadows like torches every few feet. It was so dark and crowded that Cora doubted that she would be able to find Fran to thank her for the invitation. The narrow hallway opened up to a packed room ringed with a balcony. Cora could see the musicians setting up their instruments on a stage across the room, and she strained to see if Santiago Rivera was among them, but couldn’t find his trademark Panama hat in the throng. The dance floor was already crowded with people gyrating against one another. Maggie was right—there was no shortage of sparkle and glitz. Most of the women wore short tight dresses and heels, and the men wore slim-fitting pants and dress shirts. Now that she was here, she was glad Maggie had forced her into a skirt.
Cora pantomimed drinking, and Maggie nodded. As they threaded through the crowd, Cora noticed men making way for them, nodding as they passed. A man grabbed her hand and swayed his hips in an invitation to dance, but she pulled her hand back, smiled, and shook her head no. “Sorry,” she mouthed.
Maggie turned to Cora, pointed to a handsome man standing in front of her, and shouted, “He’s getting us drinks, what do you want?” Cora could always count on Maggie to score them a few rounds of freebies. She drew attention wherever she went, and Cora didn’t mind hanging out in her friend’s shadow. The mix of Maggie’s adorable features—pink cheeks, anime eyes, and button nose—with her shocking white-blond hair, mermaid tattoo, and good-time-girl personality made everyone want to be close to her.
“It’s a party—prosecco!” Cora pretended to hold a champagne flute.
Maggie nodded and cupped her hand by the man’s ear. He draped his arm around her shoulders, and Cora knew that Maggie had already cast her first spell of the evening so she moved away from the crush at the bar and turned to watch the dance floor. The DJ changed the music from the thumping Reggaeton to a more sensual song, and many of the dancers left the floor. The few that remained stood belly to belly, swaying slowly.
Then, as if they all heard a cue in the music that was inaudible to the rest of the room, they began to move in unison, each couple melting together as if they were just moments from stripping off their clothing. The women snaked up and down their partners’ bodies in fluid waves. The dancers alternated between tango-like steps across the floor and hip-hop–influenced body rolls, undulating together from their shoulders to their hips, as if they were missing spines.
Cora’s eyes were drawn to one couple in particular. A beautiful brunette in a microscopic skirt straddled her equally handsome partner’s leg and popped her perfectly round rear from side to side. Her partner flipped her away then twirled her around and around, and her head fell back as if she were exhausted and didn’t have the strength to lift it up. Like most Latin-style dancing, even though the man worked the floor like a panther, he was there only to highlight the sensuality of the woman’s moves. Cora wondered if Charlie knew how to dance.
She felt a hand on her lower back. “Hey,” someone yelled into her ear. She was ready with an apologetic look and a “no, thank you” when she realized Eli was standing beside her. He was wearing jeans and a fitted light pink button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled up, exposing a faint lock-and-key pattern on the inside of the sleeves.
“Hey, Eli, long time no see! Love the pink.” The music was still so loud that they had to lean close together and yell into each other’s ears in order to be heard. Eli smelled good, like sandalwood.
“Thanks! You look really nice. I’ve never seen all of this action before.” He gestured around her hair.
“Thanks, sometimes I let the beast out. So, that photo of Nell you sent! How does she feel about her new look?” Cora had been stunned by how good the little dog looked.
“Molly is a miracle worker, thanks again for helping me get the appointment.”
They stood side by side, watching the soft-core action on the dance floor.
He nodded to the dancers. “Isn’t that amazing? It’s called ‘zouk.’ ”
“How do you know that?”
“Three sisters, remember? Two of them took dance classes until high school. And my parents love to dance, too. I know more about dance than I care to.”
“Can youdothat? Zouk?”
“Oh my god, no way. I could never dance like that with my sister.” He made a face and shuddered.
The music faded, and the DJ broke in. “Muy caliente! Muy muy!Ladies and gentlemen,Tiene un buen momento?Are you having a good time?” Everyone cheered. “Are you ready to welcome the man of the hour?” The crowd roared. “Okay, okay, Mr. Rivera will be on in just a few minutes. You know he’s worth the wait, right?” The entire room screamed in response. “Now back tobailando!” The music swelled again, this time a repetitive three-count beat with a distinct drum pop at the end.
