Chapter 30: Céleste

“The competition has two parts, the Ballroom dances and the Latin dances. You get to choose two of each. There’s the Waltz, Tango, Quickstep, Foxtrot, and the Viennese Waltz for ballroom and the Cha-Cha, the Samba, the Rumba, the Paso Doble, and the Jive in the Latin dances,” she explained. “We have to determine which ones are your strongest and work on them. We don’t have much time as the qualifier is in three weeks.”

“Whoa! Hang on there! What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and me dancing in the Senior division of the World Ballroom Championships. The next qualifying competition is in three weeks. If we win there, we go to Blackpool,” she explained some more.

“Who said I was going to dance in a competition?” I asked.

“Cynthiana said you might if I asked you real nice,” she replied as she stepped into my personal space.

I just stood there thinking. Did I want to take on something this time consuming and physically demanding right now?

Jeanne raised her eyes to look at me with a hopeful expression on her face.

“Why don’t we have something to eat and you can tell me some more about you?” I suggested.

“It’s just nine o’clock. We can’t eat lunch this early,” she said.

“I was referring to breakfast. I haven’t had anything to eat today, and I need the energy,” I countered.

“Well, okay then. But I ate breakfast already,” she replied.

“Then drink some juice while you tell me about this dance stuff. How long have you been dancing?” I asked as I led her to the kitchen. Somebody saw me and soon there was coffee in front of me and breakfast on the way. Meanwhile, Jeanne told me about dancing.

“I started dancing when I was five and loved it. Mostly ballet and tap and stuff. Recitals and a few talent shows each year. When I was twelve, I started studying ballroom, but it was hard without a partner. We only got to dance with someone else at class once a week, and then it was usually other girls.

Then when I started ninth grade, we moved to Fort Lauderdale, and I found this retired ballroom dancer to give me private lessons.”

“Fort Lauderdale?”

“Yeah. I’ve lived all over Florida. I was born in Orlando, moved to Miami, then Fort Lauderdale, and then to Jacksonville. My dad’s company builds stuff for big ships. He used to do stuff for the Navy, but now it’s mostly for mega yachts,” she said.

“How did you end up in Paris?” I asked.

“My dad is originally from here, but he met and fell in love with my mom at the French Open and then followed her back to Florida. They had me and then got a divorce so she could travel around and play tennis. My dad’s the one who raised me,” she supplied. “Then when I was fourteen, dad sold his company and we moved here so he could work with Cynthiana. Some top secret stuff for the French Navy. Cynthiana helped dad get the contract.”

“So tell me about winning this Junior World title,” I said.

“Well, when we moved here, Daddy was working these really long hours, so Cynthiana helped me to find someone to teach me ballroom. Roberto is the one who paired me up with Marcus and he coached both of us through the Junior Worlds and we won. Then Marcus cracked his spine goofing off on his neighbors dirt bike last Thanksgiving and I lost my partner. I’ve been looking for one ever since.”

She stopped and looked at me with a gleam in her eye.

“Until yesterday. That’s when I found you. You are the first boy that has ever been able to keep up with me. And I have auditioned dozens. I called Roberto last night and he said if you would do it, he and Giselle would coach us. Daddy will pay for it; all you have to do is say you’ll try.”

“Cynthiana!” I called out loudly. The girl from the kitchen came out.

“I will call her, Monsieur,” she said and disappeared back into the kitchen.

While we waited I looked at Jeanne. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail again. This time she had a cloth headband encircling her head to catch the sweat. She wore a thin summer top with spaghetti straps that didn’t reveal much except for two small raised points. And white short-shorts that showed off her long tanned legs. I decided that she had an athletic build and was in great physical shape, probably from all the dancing. She wore the same dancing shoes from yesterday.

“Why was my heart beating so hard?” I wondered to myself.

The most captivating thing about Jeanne was her face. It lit up when she was happy, and she was happiest when she was dancing. I didn’t know how she ranked, talent-wise, but her drive and her enthusiasm had to account for a great deal.

“You need me, Alex?” Cynthiana asked when she came in the room.

“Tell her,” I motioned to Jeanne. Then I got up to get more coffee from the sideboard. I also brought Cynthiana a cup.

When Jeanne finished, Cynthiana looked at me.

“Go study your sailing books, Alex. Jeanne and I have to talk.”

And that’s what I did.

I was lying on my bed with three different books spread out around me and a piece of line in my hands trying to tie all the different sail hitches, when someone knocked on the open door.

“Come in,” I told Jeanne

“Cynthiana and Isabella said I should kiss you before I make up my mind about dancing with you,” she said. “But I don’t understand why.”

“I could try to explain, but it would be simpler to show you,” I replied.

“You’re not going to shock me or something,” she asked.

I couldn’t help it, I laughed.

“No, Jeanne. I will not hurt you. In fact if you don’t like it, you can walk out at any time.”

“Do I have to like it to get you to dance with me?” she asked.

“Jeanne, I’m going to dance with you regardless of whether you like my kiss. This is just Cynthiana playing at being a scientist. Like seeing what happens when you put two complex compounds together just to see what kind of reaction there is.”

“I’m sorry, did you say you’d dance with me?” she asked. I just nodded my head.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” she cried as she crossed the room in two steps and flung herself at me. “I can’t believe it. I’m going to dance again,” she said softly to herself. “I’m going to dance again!” Then she looked up in to my eyes and kissed me on the lips.

It wasn’t an experienced kiss, yet there was nothing tentative about it. Graceful. That’s what it was. Jeanne was graceful even when she kissed. I returned her kiss gently, allowing her to break off the kiss whenever she wanted. But as the seconds ticked by and turned into minutes, and as Jeanne squirmed to get further into my arms and my heart. I couldn’t help it and opened my heart to the young girl.

“Just as I thought,” Cynthiana said softly from the doorway as she stared at the bright, shining light.

“You’re going to have to call it quits, for now. I need Alex to help me,” Cynthiana told the young girl before she could start another dance. “Larry is going to take you home. Why don’t you ask your dad about just staying here until the competition?” she asked. “It would save you two hours a day and free up your dad a little.”

“Okay. I’ll ask. But you know him. He can be a little possessive at times,” Jeanne replied.

“Also, I got Maria next door to start work on designing three outfits for the two of you to perform in so you’ll need to be measured sometime tomorrow,” Cynthiana told her.

“Maria?”

“Maria Grazia Chiuri, the creative director at Dior,” Cynthiana repeated. “She lives next door.”

“Ohmygod! Ohmygod!” she chanted as she jumped up and down before pausing to hug Cynthiana’s neck.

It was just Cynthiana and me again for supper.

“Where are Isabella and Sofía?” I asked. “I haven’t seen them since Saturday.”

“I sent them home for a few days,” she replied.

“What did they do?”

“They didn’t do anything. Their step-mother needed them. It’s their father’s birthday Thursday. They will be back before the ball on Saturday night,” she told me. “And speaking of the ball, you need to get fitted for your tux tomorrow. I guess we could do it while you’re being fitted for your ballroom outfits.”

“What’s the story with Jeanne and the ballroom dancing? That seems a little far out there for you to be having me do,” I asked.

“Did she tell you who her father is?” Cynthiana asked.

“She said he was French and sold his company and moved back here to work for you,” I replied, trying to recall what Jeanne had told me.

“You do know that I fibbed to your folks. You’ve never signed any kind of employment agreement with me,” she said.

“I know. I also know that you had your reasons for saying what you said.”

“I don’t want you to be bound by legalities, Alex. I want your loyalty and I want to earn it. So now I’m going to tell you one of my plans. It’s been years in the making and it may be many more to fruition.”

Her eyes took on a faraway look as she began her story.

“In the Southern Caribbean, there is a small island, not too far from Martinique. The island is very old and has almost two thousand inhabitants. It has no government as such. It is purely a Matriarchal Monarchy, where the women are revered and the land passes from mother to daughter. The island was able to avoid the early Spanish explorers and most of the explorers since then by the simple expedient of the island disappearing when necessary. It is said the queen has the power to make this happen and has passed that trait on to her female children for almost five centuries.

“They are agrarian by nature with coconuts and cocoa as their main cash crops. They also produce about 120 other crops, both cultivated and wild, including corn, beans, root crops, palm, coffee, medicinal plants, commercial and construction lumber and more. As you can imagine they suffer mostly in the areas of education and health care.

“What they cannot make or grow themselves, they trade for. One small area around the island’s only port is considered a free trade zone and is visited by traders frequently. However, if a military or commercial ship approaches uninvited, the island clouds over. Even the new weather satellites can’t penetrate the clouds.

“The problem is that the queen’s health is failing. It’s been failing for over a decade. She has a daughter but unfortunately, her daughter decided to leave the island twenty years ago. She wanted to be a professional tennis player. She ended up pregnant so she married the father, but after the baby was born, she spent a year getting her figure and her game back in shape, then deserted father and baby for life on the tennis circuit,” Cynthiana said. “As of a few months ago, she was quoted as saying she would never go back to the island.”

“That sucks,” I told her.

“According to my sources on the island, the queen is desperate. I do not know if she is aware of the child, so I am waiting. Waiting for the opportunity to introduce the queen to her granddaughter.

“What’s this granddaughter’s name?” I asked.

“Jeanne Mauresmo.”

“And the island?”

“Céleste,” she said softly. “It is the French word for ... Heaven.”

“Get up! Get up! Get up!,” the wild cat screeched as she tried to claw me to death. At least that was how my dream ended when I felt someone jumping on my bed.

“I’m awake!”

“Well, act like it!” she yelled excitedly. “Get up!”

I didn’t see the point in arguing. I was getting up whether I was ready or not. So I threw off the covers and stood.

“YOU’RE NAKED!” she screamed as her eyes traveled up and down my body.

“You said to get up,” I told her as I headed for the en suite bathroom.

“You didn’t tell me you were naked!” she said as she followed me to the bathroom door.

“Funny, I don’t remember you asking,” I replied. I just left the bathroom door open and climbed into the shower. The shower was a glass enclosure in the corner of the bathroom, large enough for two or three and even had a marble bench. But it offered no privacy from prying eyes. I just shrugged as I poured some body wash into my hand and began washing my hair. Then using the body wash again, I washed the rest of me and then rinsed off.

Stepping out of the shower, she was still there.

“You shouldn’t use body wash on your hair,” she critiqued.

“What would your daddy say if he knew you were critiquing my shower habits?”

At least she blushed at that one, but she didn’t close her eyes and she didn’t turn around. I just hung the towel back on the rack and stepped to the sink to shave and brush my teeth. She didn’t move a muscle or say a word. Finally, I turned and walked past her to the bedroom and began to get dressed.

“I’ve never seen a boy naked,” she offered conversationally.

“Before yesterday, had you ever kissed a boy?” I asked.

“Uh-huh,” she said shaking her head side-to-side.

“Well now you’ve done two new things with a boy,” I told her. “Want to know what comes next?”

“What?” she asked, almost eagerly.

“Babies!” I cried as I lunged for her.

She gracefully sidestepped me and ran for the hall, screeching.

I laughed as I finished dressing and followed her to the kitchen. Coffee! I need Coffee!

“You’re mean!” she said as she slapped at my arm. “You actually had me going there for a minute,” she chided me.

“For a minute?” I asked.

“Yeah. Until I remembered I’m on the pill,” she explained. “I can’t have babies!”

“Well, now that I’ve educated you, how about you educating me some more about this dance contest?”

Okay,” she replied and away she went. She kept talking until the maid came to announce they were here to fit us for our dancing outfits.

“You tired and hurting?” Cynthiana asked. We were the only ones at supper again. I would be missing everyone else if I wasn’t so tired.

“Yeah. Five hours was a little over-kill. Especially when she threw in the lifts. I never knew that ballroom had lifts.”

“It’s the Latin and Contemporary that have the lifts. Don’t you watch ’Dancing with the Stars’?”

I just looked at her and hung my head.

“How about another massage? I can call Bernadette,” she said.

“I’ll pass. I’ve already used up my quota of listening to young girls for the day.”

“It’s up to you.”

I was standing in the shower allowing the hot water to cascade over my sore, tired muscles and debating whether I hurt bad enough to listen to Bernadette again for an hour when she spoke.

“You don’t look so good,” Jeanne said.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Larry took me home, but daddy said I could stay here until the competition is over, so I packed a bag and Larry just brought me back,” she explained. I remembered something about Cynthiana inviting her to stay so I just closed my eyes and continued to let the water run. When I found myself wondering what size of water heater rich people used, it was time to get out. I dried myself off and brushed my teeth and then walked into the bedroom.

There she was again, this time eating a sandwich on my bed.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t want to eat alone,” she said.

“And miss the show...” I added.

“It’s not a bad show,” she zinged back.

“It could be better,” I teased. “You could join me.”

“Will you put on some clothes?” she asked.

Well ... ah, sure,” I replied and reach for my boxers.

“Be right back!” she said as she zipped out of the room. Five minutes later she was back in a long t-shirt that came to just below her butt cheeks. Then she stopped and did a turn and a waltz pose. “How do I look?” she giggled.

“Last one in the bed has to turn out the light,” I said as I lifted the covers for her. The bedside light was still on so I could see the emotions on her face. Fear and joy all at the same time. I wished I had a picture of her face right that instant.

It was a queen-sized bed and there was plenty of room for both of us. But Jeanne lay stiffly on her back, trying not to move or to touch me.

“You’ll never get to sleep if you’re that tense,” I told her. “C’mere.” And I lifted my arm so she could come closer. She eased over enough to be touching me, but just barely.

“Look, Jeanne. I will not do anything to you that you don’t ask me to do,” I told the girl. “Now scoot over here and put your head on my shoulder.”

She did and I let my arm down to where my fingers were loosely touching her arm. After a while, she began to relax and turned a little more towards me. Shortly she was running her fingers through the sparse hair of my chest.

“Alex. You promise you won’t do anything unless I ask you?” she asked.

“I told you I wouldn’t,” I said.

A few minutes later, she spoke again.

“Alex? Would you tell me a story?”

“Once upon a time there was a young girl that loved to dance...”

“Alex? Would you kiss me again? Like you did yesterday?”