Free Naked in Havana by Colin Falconer Page B

horror. “Hear no evil, see no evil. Now what’s a beautiful girl like you doing sitting here all on your own. Don’t you want to dance?”
    “I don’t like dancing.”
    “But you’re Cuban. You have to like dancing.”
    “My father owns this club, I don’t have to do anything.”
    “I guess you’ve just never danced with someone who knows how.”
    “You perhaps?”
    “I didn’t say “perhaps.””
    He took a cheroot out of his silver case and tapped it twice on the lid. He lit it. The orchestra started to play the “Taxi Libre.”
    “May I ask you something?” he said.
    “I can’t stop you.”
    “Have you ever danced the tango?”
    “I don’t know how.”
    “If you dance with the right man you don’t have to know. But maybe you’re right, you probably couldn’t do it.”
    “I can do anything!”
    “I knew you’d say that. But then, talk is cheap.” He leaned close. “It’s like the piano. You can know every step, every note, but that still won’t make you a great dancer.”
    “Papi would kill me.”
    “Afraid?”
    “I’m not afraid of anything.” It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. He just stood there smiling at me, challenging me with his eyes.
    He held out his hand. He had trapped me. What could I do, if I didn’t want to look a complete fool?
    He led me onto the dance floor. I felt everyone’s eyes on us; Papi would be watching, too.
    “Ready?” Reyes asked.
    “Of course.”
    “All you have to do is let me lead. I’ll tell you what to do.”
    “How?”
    “You’ll feel it.”
    He took my hand, the other slid around my waist. I felt the pressure, but barely, a mere brush of his wrist. He was close but our bodies did not touch in any way, except through the palms of our hands, yet I felt the heat of him everywhere. It felt more intimate than I had ever been with any man, even Angel.
    “Now listen to the music,” he whispered, and somehow I knew when he would take his first paso and I slid back.
    Somehow he guided me the first few steps. “It’s not about knowing the steps,” he murmured, “it’s about knowing the soul.”
    He stopped, and there was a moment of stillness, and I arched back, as I had seen the real tango dancers do, for two beats of the heart.
    “You see? I am not pushing, you are not leaning. No matter what you do or how long you take to do it, I will wait for you. I know your secrets now.”
    “No, you don’t.”
    “I know how you move, that’s all I need to know.”
    Just a line, I thought. But I looked in his eyes and it seemed to me that he meant it.
    “Since the first time I saw you, I knew you’d make love with me like this, one day.”
    “We’re just dancing.”
    “No, we’re not.”
    I could feel everyone in the club watching us. I supposed we did not look like the most expert couple on the dance floor, he just took me through slow, simple steps, but though the dancers around us were more practised, we seemed to draw the most attention.
    One face in particular: Inocencia stood at the bar, and I knew she had not taken her eyes off us from the moment we stepped onto the dance floor. I saw my father whisper something in her ear. It was too much. I sensed the danger, and stopped. “That’s enough of a lesson for now,” I said.
    Reyes glanced around. “ Dios mio . If looks could kill, I’d be ashes on the floor.”
    “You’re used to scandal, I’m not.”
    He took my hand and led me back across the floor. I thanked him for the dance and he bowed like a gentleman.
    “Papi, this is Señor Reyes Garcia,” I said.
    He turned to Papi. “You have a wonderful club here,” Reyes said. “This is my favourite place in Havana.”
    “You’re welcome anytime,” Papi said, but he didn’t smile.
    Reyes turned back to me, took my hand and kissed it. “Thank you again for the dance.”
    He walked away. My heart was pounding. I realised that some time in the last five minutes I had fallen in love with him.
    Papi’s eyes were