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Rick Archer's Note:
I found it very
ironic that Victoria had chosen 'Belle of the Ball'
as her catch phrase for the upcoming Christmas Party.
There was no doubt in my mind that
Victoria thought of herself when she created that poster.
She fully expected to be the focus of everyone's attention,
the cynosure of all eyes. Victoria craved
the limelight. During her high school years she had
modeled and entered beauty contests. She fully
expected to be praised for her beauty and poise at the
upcoming party. Considering the immense effort she had
made to ensure the success of the party, I thought Victoria
deserved any and all acclaim accrued to her.
Likewise, I
wondered if Patricia, another woman accustomed to
considerable attention, was
gunning for a rematch. Patricia had been infuriated by
Victoria's rude behavior at the Halloween Party.
Victoria had apologized later, probably because
Michael forced her to, but everyone under the sun knew her
words were insincere. Patricia and Victoria were both stunning women, but to me
Patricia had a small edge. Knowing how bitter Patricia had
been over Victoria's hostility at the Halloween Party, I
wondered if she intended to use her considerable beauty
to steal the show at the Christmas Party. Curious, I
asked Patricia if she had ever entered a Beauty Contest.
"Are you out
of your mind? There is no way on earth I would
ever demean myself to stoop that low. While I
appreciate the gift that has been bestowed
upon me, I derive my pride from hard work and the
knowledge that I have performed each task to the best my
ability."
In other words,
Patricia claimed her beauty was of no importance to
her. I smiled with amusement. Nonsense. My
gut told me Patricia fully intended to use her stunning good
looks as a way to scratch Victoria's eyes out. Let's
show Victoria who is the reigning beauty of the night.
By the way, I
can read your mind. You think I am making this stuff
up. Wrong. It is all true.
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NOVEMBER 1978,
the disco years
Victoria's
master stroke
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Victoria was
determined to make her December Pistachio Party the biggest thing
since the Star of Bethlehem. She called it her 'Christmas
Party', but I pointed out that December 2nd was not
exactly the Holiday Season.
Victoria
grinned. "It's my party and I'll call it what I want
to!"
Deciding
Victoria had earned the right to name her own party, I
played along. Christmas Party it is. Right now
everyone was talking about it. It did not take
long to see Victoria had been right about that mailing list
she had created. By mailing out my January-February schedule and adding the
blurb about Victoria's party, the announcement had
quite an effect. It announced to the world that my
dance program was special (thanks, of course, to Victoria).
Not only did we help people learn to dance, we helped them
meet people as well. That was a major incentive to
continue taking lessons. As for Victoria's party, the mailing list announcement helped build anticipation to
phenomenal heights. There was so much buzz I could sense this
event was going to be quite a
hit. However, there was one
thing that bothered me. I could not believe the manager was giving us the Pistachio Club for free on a
Saturday night.
"How the heck did
you pull that off, Victoria? Are they really going to
close the club for us on a Saturday night for free??
Saturday is their biggest night of the week. I would assume the
Pistachio Club would charge a fortune for such a
privilege."
"I got lucky,
Rick. I saw an opening and jumped at it."
I raised an
eyebrow. "What
opening? What did you
see?"
"I noticed the Pistachio Club
is trying to sell private club memberships like élan.
They need to sell those memberships to someone, so I
pointed out that the well-heeled students at our studio offered the perfect target
for their sales campaign."
I half-smiled,
half-frowned. There she goes with 'our studio'
again.
However, I was too impressed with Victoria's ingenuity to be in a quibbling mood.
The
Pistachio Club was trying to copycat élan. Monkey see,
monkey do. There was a
trend afoot to turn the most popular Discos into private clubs.
élan was rumored to be making a fortune
selling these private memberships and I believed the rumor.
Heck, I spent $400 a year to be a member at
élan. To me, that was a king's ransom.
Recently another
club, Ciao, had also gone exclusive.
Ciao was owned by McFaddin-Kendrick, a company that
specialized in operating the most elaborate Discos.
They were the same people who ran élan.
Now apparently McFaddin-Kendrick had used the same 'private
membership' technique with Ciao. The only
reason I knew was Joanne had told me. Ciao
was her favorite Disco because it was located on Westheimer.
Joanne had gone
in one night only to be stopped at the door.
A
skeptical woman behind a desk took one look at Joanne's modest
clothing and reflexively elevated her nose 10 degrees in the
air. With a stare of practiced disdain, the woman
issued a challenge. "Ma'am, excuse me, are you a
member of Ciao?"
"No."
"Then my reply
to you is 'Ciao'."
"I don't
even know what 'Ciao' means."
The woman
pointed to the door and said, "It means see you later."
The woman did
not say 'Get Lost', but the tone of her voice got the
message across. Joanne had been
understandably bitter at the woman's treatment. A polite explanation was called
for, not a cursory dismissal. The woman's rudeness was
inexcusable. However, nastiness was a McFaddin-Kendrick
trademark. The people at élan were also known
for their disdain. I had witnessed it on several
occasions. Apparently, the value of their
clubs was enhanced by the number of people they could turn
away as
unsuitable. Catering
to Houston's wealthy Elite, the staff of elan
consistently turned away people they deemed undesirable
at the door. God forbid they should allow riff-raff to
rub elbows with their Patrician guests.
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Now the
Pistachio Club wanted to become 'Exclusive'.
To me, the word
'Exclusive' was code for 'snooty'. Or maybe
the word was 'snotty'. Or maybe the word was
'snobby'. Or 'stuffy'. By writing the book on
snotty,
snooty, snobby, and stuffy,
elan had out-classed the Pistachio
Club.
I viewed 'Exclusive' as a nasty
game I wanted no part of. Recently elan had infuriated me
by turning
away two of my student guests for not meeting their
un-posted dress code standards. I had invited this
couple
to join me for an evening of dancing. Furious, I
stood up for them. With a practiced sneer, the
gatekeeper replied, "elan's dress code, demands
appropriate attire." Unable to tolerate this
self-appointed arbiter of standards, I gave up and left
with my friends. Seething at how my
friends had been treated, I hated this stupid
snobbery game.
Now the
Pistachio Club hoped to become stuffy,
snooty, snotty and
snobby just like elan.
Revolving around the
perception of status, it rubbed me the wrong way.
I had issues with wealth and elitism dating back to my
days as the poor kid at a rich kid's school. Theoretically, by keeping undesirable people out,
the people who did get in were supposed to feel special
and important.
Oh really? I
suppose Patricia could have explained it to me. As
a lifetime member of the Upper Class, Patricia understood the value of social climbing better than I
did.
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Personally I thought
the Pistachio gambit was ill-advised. To me this felt like bad business. For
example, a prostitute has every right to decide to become
respectable, but her customers are not going to
automatically erase their memories.
Once a certain reputation is established, it's tough to earn an upgrade. The
Pistachio Club was an attractive place, but no one in
my crowd was going to pay money to go there after getting in for free
all year long. This idea to become 'Exclusive'
struck me as pretentious nonsense that could easily backfire.
But it wasn't my call, was it? I thought it
best to keep my opinion to myself.
"I have another
question, Victoria. How is the Pistachio Club going to
recoup the loss of drink sales by closing to the public?"
Victoria laughed.
"No one said the drinks were going to be free. If I fill
the club to capacity, what difference does it make? The
club will still sell an equivalent amount of booze."
Oh. Good
point. What impressed me
was that Victoria had sensed an opening I never knew existed.
Victoria convinced management that she could bring new
customers through the door by throwing a special Preview event.
Victoria promised to fill the building with all sorts of snooty
invitation-only guests. Now if I had tried
this argument, they would have laughed me out the door.
But they listened to Victoria. Charisma is a funny thing.
Victoria had it. I didn't. It blew my mind that
Victoria could charm an old grouch like Lance Stevens, Lancey-poo to her. How did she
do that? Thank goodness Victoria was on my side. I
shuddered to think the alternative.
Larry the manager
could see Victoria was popular. Starting with the Halloween Graduation
Party in late October, he noticed her Friday Night dance
group was filled with prosperous-looking professionals. No
doubt Victoria pointed out the same thing. I suspected Victoria
had pulled Larry
aside and pointed out the pedigree of every guest in her Private
Class group. Impressed by Victoria's ability to lure affluent professionals to his club,
Larry decided this vivacious woman was an asset to be
cultivated. Larry was sick of lower class customers
always looking for half-priced drinks and free buffets at Happy Hour.
It was depressing to spend so much money on ways to entice
people through the door. On the other hand, Victoria's
people never asked for free drinks nor were their credit cards
ever declined. Indeed, Victoria
had masterfully parlayed her credibility. She pointed out the members of her group were
exactly
the kind of people the
Pistachio Club wanted to target. Convinced
that Victoria represented a well-heeled group with money and class,
Larry was hypnotized by her sales pitch. Victoria spoke his language.
Larry knew
closing the Disco on a Saturday night was risky, but not
really. After all, Victoria's guests would still be paying for
their drinks. The only real risk was irritating regular
patrons who would be barred without invitations. On the
other,
this would give the club valuable practice at being
snooty. Nevertheless, Larry hesitated.
There were a lot of patrons he preferred not to offend. Victoria
smiled and offered a compromise... let the manager target 150
regulars to invite and she would invite the other 250.
Larry
immediately objected. He pointed out the club could only hold 300
people. Victoria just smiled. She had prepared for this.
"Larry, you have
nothing to worry about. Amy Vanderbilt's rules on
invitations estimate only 65 to 80% of the people who say
they are coming actually show up. Invite 400, expect
300. That's 75% which falls directly within
well-researched parameters. Besides, even if a higher
percentage decide to come, they won't all come at the same
time while others
will only stay awhile."
Larry was bedazzled.
Obviously Victoria was a master. He nodded as if
he understood guest mathematics as well as she did. Larry's next objection
was the disparity in numbers. Victoria pointed out our
mailing list had risen to 400, but she would stick to the top
250. Since her well-heeled
friends were sure to invite other well-heeled friends, it stood
to reason that Larry would wish to cater to all these prime
prospects. When Victoria referred to them as 'prime
prospects', Larry nodded. It made sense to him.
Oozing with credibility, Victoria could speak 'Snooty and
Snobby'
with the best of them. With a wink, she suggested her
friends would love to be first in line to be members of such a
fine establishment. Show them a good time, ply them with
flattery, expect a grand reward for what amounted to a low-risk
gamble.
Larry said, "Should
we make this party RSVP?"
"No, Larry, that
is inviting a huge headache. All you have to do is
give me 250 attractive invitations and I will hand-deliver
them to the best people. The personal touch will make
a huge difference."
Larry nodded again.
He admired Victoria.
She was quite the negotiator. Consequently Victoria got
everything she asked for. She took
advantage of the growing rapport to suggest Larry print
elaborate invitations to the event... at his expense of course.
She reminded him to make the invitations look extremely classy,
i.e. snooty.
Victoria would distribute 250 invitations and the club would distribute the other
150 to their preferred
customers. Victoria
was so persuasive, it didn't take Larry long to say okay. The club
would close to the public that night and dedicate the entire
evening to selling memberships to 'preferred' guests.
Two days later he handed Victoria 250 invitations to distribute as
she pleased. I laughed when I saw how gaudy the invitations
were. This definitely made the event seem ultra-'Exclusive'.
If I didn't know better, we were headed to the President's Inaugural Ball.
I have a confession
to make. I was so disgusted with the word 'Exclusive'
and the pomp and circumstance surrounding this party that my evil streak
surfaced. Out of sheer perverseness, I reminded Victoria
about the Jet Set people. "Let's not forget to invite
them!" Mentioning they would definitely
be interested, I asked her to give me
30 invitations to distribute to the Jet Set wife swappers.
I thought Victoria was going to have a heart
attack. When I grinned, she realized I was kidding.
"You are
terrible!! I am trying so hard to make this party
special and all you do is torment me. Besides, let's not give Michael any ideas about
swapping me for another woman.
He's getting testy enough about this Disco stuff as it
is."
Considering
Michael's wife was gone two, sometimes three nights a week, who could blame
him?
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NOVEMBER 1978, the disco years
QUITTIN' TIME
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Throughout the Magic
Carpet Ride of 1978, I
had
kept my day job investigating child neglect. I had
worked at Child Welfare
since 1974. These past four
years were frustrating to say the
least. In the beginning I tried as
hard as I could to make the world a better
place. However,
I was not very effective. I did
not have the power to
force another
human being
to take better care of their children. Nor did I have the
ability to persuade these people to shake off their
apathy and make changes to improve their lives.
Forced to accept
I was powerless to make
any significant dent in
their downtrodden lives,
I threw in the towel. My youthful idealism was replaced by the
cynical conclusion
I had
accomplished very little in four years.
Once
my dance adventure kicked in, I wanted to quit my day job in
the worst way. However, since I was always teetering on the edge of being
fired by Stevens or exposed as a fraud, quitting my day job
didn't seem too prudent. So I worked both jobs for an
entire year.
I put in
8-5 as a social worker, came to the dance studio for
classes 6-10, and
often went out dancing afterwards. I was young
with lots of energy, but
I had my limits. Burning the candle at both
ends had taken its toll.
As December approached, I
was exhausted.
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Shortly
before Thanksgiving, I had met a dance teacher named
Glen Hunsucker. One look at his sensational
dancing was all I needed to know this was the man who
would take me to the next stage of my development as a
dancer and a dance teacher. I took
Glen's unexpected appearance in my life as a powerful
good omen. I had been thinking about quitting my day
job for a long time. Thanks to Victoria, recently
I had begun to earn the same amount of money teaching dance
as I made at Child Welfare.
Since I could survive on my Disco salary just fine, money was not an issue. Mostly I yearned to
see what I could accomplish if I put all my energy into my
dance career.
Nevertheless
I hesitated. The Welfare job
represented security while the Dance job struck me as a
serious gamble. Believe it or not, something my
mother once said had begun to haunt me unmercifully.
My mother and I had butted heads since the day I was
born. However, on one of those rare moments when we were
on speaking terms, I told my mother of my plan to teach
dance as a career. This took place back in
February at a time when I was surfing Saturday
Night Fever to great success,
My
mother had looked at me skeptically. "Are you sure
you have the talent to make a career out of this?"
When I said
yes, of course, Mom replied, "Do you know how to
cha-cha?"
I shrugged.
"Sure."
"Okay,
then prove it."
The next
thing I know, here I am dancing with my mother for the first
time in my life. Mind you, at this point I had a
one-hour lesson in cha-cha to rely on. I was pretty rusty, so I stuck
to the basic step.
Apparently I did not make a very good impression.
Mom pulled away and gave me a hard look.
"You
might recall, Richard, that when I was first
divorced, I used dancing as a way to meet men at
clubs. I have danced with countless men who
are better dancers than you. You might want to
re-think that idea about a career as a dance
teacher."
Ouch! Try as I
might, I never was quite able to erase my mother's blunt
criticism from my mind. That was nine months ago
and I had made a lot of progress as a dancer since then.
Nevertheless, now that I was serious about quitting my
day job, the memory of her sharp rebuke
cast serious doubt in my mind.
And of course Patricia did not help. Just when I
was wavering, naturally Patricia decided to pitch in
with a dire prediction of her own. Patricia was
constantly warning me that Disco could be gone tomorrow
only to be
replaced by square dancing, hula dancing or no dancing
at all. Then what? Why not just quit
both jobs? Why not go to law
school before the bubble bursts? Patricia's words
of doom eroded my confidence so badly that I agonized
over my decision to quit the Child Welfare job at the
end of the year. Her negativity explains why I was
so happy
when
Glen Hunsucker came along. With the
appearance of my new dance instructor, I
immediately felt safer putting all my eggs in one basket.
The day
after Thanksgiving, I called Glen to set up our first
private lesson. He told me he could only teach on
Saturdays. Glen was unavailable this week, but
he could give us a morning lesson the following Saturday, December 2nd.
I smiled. By coincidence, our first
private lesson would take place the same day as
Victoria's big
Christmas Party later that night. Good omen or bad
omen? Who could say, but just the fact that Glen was on
board was enough boost to make my
decision final. After
hanging up the phone,
I screwed up my
courage and walked into my supervisor's office.
I told Verna I would resign at the end of December.
This gave her a month to find a suitable
replacement. Considering how burned out I was,
anyone would be an upgrade over me. Returning to my own office,
I
did not feel an ounce of regret. Instead I was filled with
relief that this disappointing phase of my life would
soon be over. Starting in January I could concentrate
fully on
doing what I truly enjoyed.
Now that I finally had a teacher to give my dancing
the much-needed polish I yearned for, I hoped to become a true dance
professional. As I left Verna's office,
I said a
silent prayer that Disco
would last forever. As we know, not all prayers
are answered the way we want them to. Had I know
how difficult things would be, I might have kept my day
job. Instead, it would be sink or swim.
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NOVEMBER 1978, the disco years
SPIDER WEB
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My upcoming private
lesson with Glen created all sorts of
headaches. I did not know which woman I was more
worried about. For fear of being murdered in my sleep, I
dared not tell Patricia about my decision to
make Victoria my dance partner. For that matter,
Victoria carried different risks.
So what's new? Taking risks was all I
ever did in 1978. The entire year had been one
crisis after another. I spent the first half of the
year masquerading as a dance instructor. I spent the second half of
the year developing my own dance program under the hostile
nose of Lance Stevens. Fortunately he had not caught
on. However, when he did figure it out, I expected the sky to
fall.
My riskiest move was trusting
Victoria to skyrocket my fortunes. My gut warned me
this bold move could backfire at any time.
Lately, Patricia had warned me that Victoria had a major
crush. I hated to admit it, but I was starting
to agree. Considering Joanne suspected the same thing,
I worried about where this was headed.
If the two women
were right, did
Victoria have the sense to keep her feelings under control? I did not have a
similar crush on Victoria.
Victoria was married and I was not
the type to pursue affairs. I liked Victoria, but not
romantically. I wondered if I had the skill necessary to tell
her I was not interested and still keep her as a friend. So far Victoria had
not crossed any lines.
However,
I had a hunch the woman was deliberately making me dependent
on her. Like spider to the fly, with each
move I felt myself more deeply ensnared by the silk
strands of Victoria's web.
By accepting her
offer to be my dance partner, Victoria had further deepened my
dependence on her. In other words, I worried that Victoria
was intentionally making it difficult for me to say no to an
inappropriate suggestion.
I shuddered at the thought. As long as the sun shined, all was
well and good. However, if Victoria ever decided to bring
her crush out in the open, my dance career was in serious trouble.
For that matter, so was I. Did I have the
strength to resist a determined woman like Victoria?
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Wednesday,
November 29
breaking the bad
news
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Sooner or later
I would be forced to tell Patricia I had made Victoria my dance
partner. Patricia hated
Victoria with a passion. If there anything Patricia
could do to sabotage Victoria, she was willing to try. She suspected Victoria was
the main reason I clung so desperately to my dance dreams.
If Patricia could get rid of Victoria, my dance career would
bottom out and she would finally have me cornered. Law
school here I come. For this reason, Victoria was
Public Enemy #1 on Patricia's Shit List. Well aware
that Patricia was sharpening her knives as we spoke, was
there some way to tell the truth about Glen and live to talk about it?
Prior to the
ill-fated Thanksgiving trip, my instincts said Patricia and
I had reached a natural breaking point. Here in
November we had argued 80% of the time. Since I
doubted our relationship would survive much longer, why bother telling Patricia about Glen?
Hence my procrastination. By all rights, the
Thanksgiving fireworks should
have ended our relationship and spared me the trouble. However, when the smoke cleared, I
was incredulous to find we were still together. Now I had
no choice but to break the bad news about Victoria to Patricia.
This spelled trouble.
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I postponed the
inevitable
as long as I could. However, with my
first private lesson only three days away, I could not
postpone it any longer. Knowing full well Patricia would hit
the roof, I dreaded the confrontation. With
a sick feeling in my stomach, I was not feeling very
brave. After all
the criticism Patricia had thrown at me during the trip to Austin, I
remained
mystified as to why she was still
hanging on. Based on the hurtful things she said, I
suspected Patricia saw me as a loser. I might add
that is exactly how I felt these days. The combination of
Victoria's constant superiority and Patricia's withering
criticism had reduced my self-esteem to mush.
During the Halloween
Party, I had noticed how Patricia attracted men in droves.
During our difficult November, I assumed there
were men who were asking
Patricia
out behind my back. Maybe they were the types who took off
their wedding rings first. Oddly enough, as long as we avoided those awful conversations about our
future, she enjoyed my company. Yes, I was different, but
not necessarily in a bad way. Besides, her mother had a
point. When we weren't arguing, there was a warm side to me
that Patricia found attractive.
It all boiled down
to my dance career. If I would just agree to a more
sensible career path, Patricia was willing to overlook my other
quirks and start dreaming about wedding dresses. Yes, she
had failed to change my mind at Thanksgiving, but tomorrow was
another day. The thing to
understand about Patricia is that she was extremely
intelligent. As painful as our long ride to Austin had
been, I took note of her ability to express each point
succinctly. Patricia was the one who should have been the
lawyer. I had never in my life met a woman who could
present a case like she could. Patricia was a
formidable woman indeed.
However, so far
Patricia had not been able to break me. Yes, she had me on the
ropes during the Austin trip, but I refused to give in to her
arguments. In a begrudging way, Patricia
realized I was one the few men who could go toe
to toe with her. Not that I was winning, mind you. I
was on defense the entire time, but I refused to
give in. Frustrated, Patricia began to
hint at a willingness to support me if I entered law school.
I thanked her for the offer, then added it was more important to
see where this dancing gig took me. Although it
infuriated her that I resisted, Patricia respected me
for standing my ground. Patricia knew full well she could
be a bully. In fact, Patricia confessed most men were
wimps around her. That comment actually amused me.
Gee, what a surprising admission! Based on my
Balance of Power theory, I knew I had to stand my ground.
Although Patricia intimidated me, so far I had
kept my fear well hidden.
That said, this
could be it. This private lesson issue might just be the
Breaking Point.
I had two strong reasons to be afraid. First, the entry
of Glen Hunsucker into my life signaled my deeper commitment
to the dance career. This would pose a serious threat to
Patricia's law school campaign. Second, by choosing
Victoria over her, Patricia would rightly see how this
strengthened Victoria's influence over me. As Patricia was
fond of saying, Victoria was a cunning, manipulative snake who
could not be trusted. Well aware the pot was calling the
kettle black, I kept that thought to myself. But there was
one secret I could not keep any longer. Knowing how bitter
Patricia was, I expected the worse when I revealed Victoria was
going to be my dance partner.
As expected, Patricia went absolutely
ballistic.
"Rick,
you are a complete and utter idiot. What
the hell is wrong with you!? I deserved the right to
be consulted first!"
"Look,
Patricia, Victoria
was sitting at the table waiting for an answer. What did
you expect me to do, say that her hard work meant nothing?"
"Yes, as a
matter of fact, that is exactly what you should have done.
You should have told her that you had already promised your
girlfriend she would be your dance partner."
"Now why would I do
that, Patricia? You have never shown the slightest
interest in my dance career."
Patricia was
livid. "That is not
correct! If I remember, we spoke of taking dance
lessons together. Did you deliberately overlook this?"
It was true I had brought up the subject a few times back in the
beginning, but Patricia had said she was too busy at work to bother.
Besides, it was all hypothetical. I did not have a
prospective dance
teacher at the time. Besides, what kind of dancer was Patricia?
Average at best, mostly
because she never took it seriously. Patricia had joined
me at Pistachio one time in November. She went on a Friday
and we sat with Victoria's large group of friends.
Victoria had been cordial, so there was no repeat of the Clash
of Titans. All three of us knew the feigned camaraderie
was nonsense, but as long as they weren't scratching skin off each other's
face, I was content to pretend all was well. During our
visit I had observed Patricia from afar several times. Whenever I asked a student to dance,
men swarmed to her the moment I was gone. Patricia was so damn good looking
the men could care less if she
could dance or not. Although Patricia's dancing had improved
somewhat thanks to practicing with me, her lackadaisical
attitude was duly noted.
In the beginning, I believed any
woman who loved me would show interest in my career and wish to
get further involved. Now that I knew better, I wouldn't
put it past Patricia to break my leg if it meant
forcing me to go to Law School. To hell with Patricia.
Not in my wildest dreams would I
ask her to be my dance partner.
However, I dared not tell her that for fear of my life.
"Like I said,
Patricia, Victoria was sitting there waiting for an answer."
"What difference
does that make? Proper respect dictates you ask
me to be your partner first."
"I have great respect
for you, but this was a business decision, not personal.
Victoria is involved at the dance studio, not you. Be
objective. Surely
you can see how this would influence my choice."
Seeing
Patricia's rage twist her face into a contorted death mask,
I was positive she was about to break up with me.
Instead, she peppered me with questions.
"How long
have you known this? And why
have you waited till the last minute to tell me?
Obviously you are a coward. You knew damn well this would upset
me, so you deliberately procrastinated, didn't you?"
Ouch. Damn her
for guessing the truth so effortlessly. Fortunately, I was
smart enough not to reply.
I had been through this same ordeal during the trip to Austin a
week ago.
Once Patricia got wound up, she did not stop. But this
time my
silence failed to work. Patricia picked up right where she
left off over Thanksgiving. She berated me relentlessly
for the next five minutes. At that point, I decided enough was enough. I screwed up my courage and laid
it on the line.
"Look, Patricia, you have not been involved in my
dance classes. Victoria on the other hand has been instrumental in
helping my program take a significant leap forward.
She has put in countless hours of work strictly on a volunteer
basis. Now for the first time, she has asked me for something in
return. I owe this woman my gratitude for doubling my
business. If anyone
has earned the right to be my dance partner, it would be
her. I understand that you do not like Victoria. I
also understand that you distrust her motives. Be that as it
may, I owe Victoria this favor. I
hope you can
understand that and be willing to accept my decision with
equanimity."
It didn't work.
"Rick
Archer, you are a serious asshole. You are such a jerk
that you actually deserve a woman like Victoria. In addition, you might possibly
be the biggest hypocrite I have ever met. You have just spent
the past month asking me to support you in your
dance career. Now the opportunity comes along where I
could improve my dance skills enough to help you, but
instead you insult me by making a major decision without
running it by me first."
Okay, those were
fighting words. If Patricia wanted to pick a fight, this
time I
wasn't backing down. Let's get this over with.
"Patricia, actions speak louder than words.
Victoria has helped me. You have not.
Nor have you offered. That's fine, I don't need your help. But
what gives you the right to expect to become my dance partner when
it suits you? First you expect me to give up dance and become a lawyer.
Fine. I understand where you are coming from. But
then you turn around and expect to be my dance partner.
Make up your mind. You say I'm the
hypocrite? What about you? One day you want me to drop the dance career, the next day
you want to be the Disco Star. Which is
it
going to be? Had I known you
were this interested, yes, I might have thought twice.
However, Victoria was in the right place at the right time.
And the reason she was in the right place is that she is
involved in my career and you are not. I
wasn't about to slam the door in her face simply on the remote
chance that you might care more than your actions have shown to
date."
Patricia stared at
me in genuine surprise. She would never admit it, but my
rebuttal was superior to her argument. In addition, I
had caught her off-guard. After watching me cower throughout her Thanksgiving harangue, I
guess she expected me to crawl inside my turtle shell again. Nope. Not
this time. This issue was too important. Now that my
defiance had pinned her to a losing cause, the argument was over.
Patricia was very
upset. In fact I think she was on the verge of crying.
To date, she had never cried in my presence and I don't think
she wanted to start now. I prayed this was the moment she
broke up with me. No such luck.
"Rick,
I need to calm down, so you need to
leave. We will talk about
this later after I have given it some thought."
|
November
1978, the disco years
the grand
entrance fantasy
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I left Patricia's
apartment in a huff. We did not talk on Thursday, the following
day. Nor did Patricia show up for her final Thursday dance
class. Not a good sign.
Victoria was helping
me fulfill my
ambition of a dance career and Patricia was sabotaging it.
How could it possibly be more clear than that? Considering I had
finally
decided to call it quits with Patricia, one might wonder
why I didn't get it over with right then and there while we were
face to face.
Good question.
During the argument, I had indeed
decided the time had come. However, I wanted to do it
on my terms. I wanted to
keep Patricia around just a little bit longer for the most immature reason imaginable.
Vanity!
Recalling the
sensation Patricia and I had made during our Grand Entrance at
the Halloween Party, my ego
craved a glorious replay of our triumphant debut. I
envisioned a Grand Entrance to Victoria's Christmas Party
with the most beautiful woman in creation at my side. That would serve as our Swan Song. As far as I was
concerned, once we made our Grand Entrance, Patricia was welcome
to pursue her own agenda.
Let's face it, I had
a Blind Spot when it came to women. Always the underdog,
for some bizarre reason I had been handed an entire month with a truly
beautiful woman. I accepted the relationship was
hopeless, but perhaps some good could come of it. Maybe the attention
gained from our Entrance would attract a secret admirer watching from the shadows.
|
With the much-anticipated
Christmas Gala around the corner, not a day passed when I did not read
the headline to Victoria's promotional flyer and give it
some
thought. I was certain there was an opportunity here.
'Texas
Girls have always known how to be the Belle of the
Ball.'
Victoria clearly
had herself in mind, but I suspected Patricia did too.
I visualized the scheming, self-absorbed Patricia as the
reincarnation of Scarlett O'Hara. Recalling the huge
impact she had made with her grand entrance with her Venus
outfit at the Halloween
Party, I could tell Patricia was determined to do it again. Blessed with a sizable income, Patricia
had purchased an expensive red dress at Neiman Marcus to ensure the Eyes
of Texas would be upon her. The moment I saw that dress, I
knew what she was up to. That dress was meant to
upstage Victoria. More than likely, it was also meant
as a bold advertisement
for a new boyfriend.
"Attention! Beautiful woman
available at the right price to man seeking Trophy Wife.
Paupers need not apply."
So what?
Let Patricia be Patricia. Meanwhile, nothing prevented
me from using her red dress to hitch one final moment of glory
as we entered. In Victoria's flyer, there was a picture of a man wearing a
tuxedo as he danced with a beautiful woman.
Unbeknownst to Patricia, that picture persuaded me to
rent a tuxedo for the occasion. This was a first for
me. I intended to
maximize my appearance
at Patricia's side as we entered arm in arm.
Patricia had been a
giant thorn throughout November.
The good times were few, the bad times a near
constant. Still reeling with bitterness over
Patricia's Thanksgiving onslaught, her recent selfish attitude
regarding the private lesson issue was the last straw. Since
I wanted a clean slate for the coming new year, it was time to move on.
Candace Gray had shown me that beauty isn't
everything, kindness is more important.
Patricia's
criticism had evoked my mean streak. Given how much I
disliked her, why not use Patricia as a springboard to
someone better? Victoria said there would be 300
people at this party, maybe more. That meant there
would be roughly 150 women in attendance, many of them
single and looking. I liked those odds. Why not
leverage Patricia's beauty to draw their eyes to me?
Later in the party, maybe a girl would would remember me in a
favorable way and smile. Or maybe a girl would smile
as I walked by and I would remember her.
Chafing over Patricia's prolonged abuse, there
was considerable justice in the thought of using my tormentor's
glamour to line up my next romance. As 'Beau of
the Ball', I would give my best Rhett Butler
impersonation with
Patricia acting as decoration Scarlett-style. While the men ogled her, I
would note the smile of any woman who tracked my progress.
Over the past year, I had learned how to use my dancing
skill as a superpower. Hopefully I would see one I liked and ask her to dance
during the party. I liked this fantasy. I also liked my
chances. Slow dance leads to Romance. Before the
night was through, I could exchange Patricia for someone
new.
My plan had another
angle. I needed a girlfriend who
would not antagonize Victoria. I would introduce my new
sweetheart to Michael
and Victoria. With a curtsy and smile of innocence, my
ingénue would kiss the Queen's ring and vow to
protect Victoria's Disco Kingdom with her life. If Victoria liked
my new girl, perhaps she would ditch the crush and
start paying better attention to the man she was married to.
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