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Rick Archer's Note:
Unfortunately,
Joanne kept her promise to permanently ditch Camelot. What a
shame. Joanne's great dancing ability was about to go
to waste. There would be no more chances to use Joanne
to impress my students. The loss of Joanne on Friday
night was
deeply painful.
I
imagined Joanne felt as miserable as I did. She would never have me as her boyfriend.
She would never be the Disco
Star again. Victoria and Patricia had seen to that. I was
ashamed of myself for letting the Divas run roughshod over
my gentle friend. But I did have a business to
protect.
That was not all
I was upset about. Joanne had said, "I hear Country dancing is the next big thing."
Joanne's
decision to go Country brought on a serious sinking feeling. With
one Disco after another converting to Kicker clubs, I was
going through some serious C&W-related panic. It was hard for
me to be open-minded. One year ago I had seen my boss
Lance Stevens teach a pathetic partner dance called the
Texas Twostep. The Twostep was easy to
pick up. 'Step-touch, Step-touch, Walk Walk'.
Good grief, any 5 year old could learn this in minutes. Due to the simplicity
of the footwork,
this explained why no one had ever bothered to ask me for a
C&W dance lesson.
It was
inconceivable that the finest Disco dancer I had
ever met would trade Disco for something as primitive and
repetitive as Step-Touch Twostep.
However,
it wasn't right to tell Joanne what I really thought, so I said nothing.
If dancing with cowboys made Joanne happy, then so be it.
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APRIL 1979, the disco years
TED THE DREAD
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In April 1979, I
ran into Ted Weisgal over at the Class Factory.
This was the third time Ted had crossed my path. Or
should I say I crossed his path?
Ted's importance will not come till later in our story.
Nevertheless, this is a good time to introduce
him.
The story of my dance career weaved like a thread
through five adult education programs during the
Seventies. At some point, Ted was involved in all five
programs.
•
Sundry School
•
Courses a la Carte
•
Jewish Community
Center
•
Class Factory
•
Leisure Learning
In
1974 a suggestion
in the mysterious Mistress Book claimed dancing
was the easiest way known to man to meet women.
Desperate for any kind of hope to solve my fear of rejection, I foolishly believed the
author when he promised dancing was pretty easy to learn.
Maybe so for normal people, but I was insanely slow.
Due to my mediocrity I was always scrounging for new
dance classes. During the Lost Years of
1974-1977 I used
Sundry School,
Courses a la Carte, and the Jewish Community
Center as a way to find dance classes to take.
Little did I know, but lessons learned during these years were secretly preparing me to become a dance teacher.
I used my relationship with
Rosalyn Lively at the Jewish
Community Center to become a part-time dance teacher in 1977.
To my surprise, on the day Saturday Night Fever hit town in
December 1977, I knew just enough about dance to play a game
called 'Fake it till you Make it'.
Throughout 1978 I used Courses a
la Carte and Class Factory as valuable
ways
to acquire new Disco
students. Thanks to these programs, I owned the
largest Disco program in Houston.
I often wondered why I kept running into Ted
Weisgal. As it turned out, there was an easy
explanation. By hitching our wagons to adult education
programs, our careers ran parallel. Ted created the Sundry School
in 1974 through the University of Houston. That is
where I first met him. Four years later, after an
argument with his boss at Sundry School, Ted came to work for
Nicholas at Courses a la Carte (CALC).
That is where I met him for the second time.
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Ted and Nicholas were
a bad mismatch.
Nicholas was the grasshopper boss who sweet-talked pretty St.
Thomas University coeds all day long. Meanwhile Ted was the busy
worker ant who kept CALC running. After a short stay
in 1978, I noticed Ted was gone. Since Nicholas
was pretty grouchy about it when I brought Ted's name up,
I did not pry. However I was not surprised.
Knowing how Ted had been
exploited and taken for granted, who could blame him for
leaving?
Lo and behold,
Ted reappeared a year later at the Class Factory.
Readers may recall I received an unbelievable lucky break
when I met Deborah Gordon. This took place during a
July 1978 C&W class taught by Lance Stevens.
Taking an instant liking to me, Deborah had hired me as
her Disco teacher on the spot. This chance meeting had skyrocketed my dance
career. Starting in September 1978, new students sent
by the Class Factory on a monthly basis formed the backbone
of my burgeoning program.
What I did not know was that Ted
Weisgal had been working for Deborah during this time.
Ted left CALC in the spring
of 1978 for a career opportunity at Class Factory.
Although this program was Deborah's brainchild, I imagined
she benefitted from Ted's experience. Ted had spent
five years running complicated adult
education programs.
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Deborah's office was pretty far from my home, so we
communicated by phone and mail. Then one day I
discovered
Deborah's
office was right across
the street from Glen Hunsucker's Westbury Square
dance studio.
However, I had
been unable to take advantage. Her office was
closed on Saturdays, the day I had my lessons with
Glen. That changed in April
1979 when Glen switched my lessons to Tuesday.
The
proximity allowed me
to visit Deborah in
much the same way I used to visit Nicholas over at
Courses a la Carte.
Sometimes I give the
wrong impression about myself. While it was
true that Victoria danced circles around me in
business acumen, not a
moment passed when I was not analyzing any aspect
of my profession that might give me an edge. A
good example was Class Factory. I knew from
the moment I met Deborah that her Class Factory
program was the key to my future. For that reason,
I
thought it was important to make occasional
social calls. I believed the better Deborah
got to know me, the more likely she was to expand
my presence in her catalogue. I
am pleased to report that hunch paid off handsomely.
Impressed by my dedication, Deborah gave me
everything I asked for. As well she should.
Once I got rolling, my Disco classes became the
second largest money-maker after computer
programming.
When I visited the Class
Factory office for the first time in April,
I was surprised to see Ted Weisgal worked there.
His position at Class Factory marked
the third job where I had spotted him (Sundry School 1975,
Courses a la Carte 1978, Class
Factory 1979). With his back turned, Ted did not know I was there.
He looked so busy, I decided to let him be.
I thought about Ted on the way
home. To be honest, back when he worked
for CALC, Ted was not the easiest guy to approach.
For this reason I had limited myself to admiring his
diligence from afar. In the process I developed a
fascination for his prodigious work ethic. Knowing how drawn
I was to this hard-working guy, I decided to
introduce myself the next time I dropped by
Deborah's office.
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On my next
visit to Class Factory a few weeks
later, I engaged Ted in a friendly conversation.
I asked what had brought
him
here. Fortunately Ted
was more outgoing than he had been at CALC. He replied, "I got
tired of doing all the work at
Courses a la Carte. I made little
money and got no credit. Deborah promised
me better pay and more responsibility. Moving
here was a no-brainer."
I believed him. "That makes sense. What are your duties?"
"I am in
charge of distributing catalogues and recruiting
new teachers. Deborah needed some help
starting her business, so I jumped at the
opportunity to get on board with her new program."
The phone rang,
so Ted turned his back and answered the call.
That was the end of our talk. Our brief
conversation served to
reinforce my previous impression. Although Ted
was not much of a schmoozer, he was a
relentless worker. I thought Deborah had made a smart move hiring Ted.
I continued to
keep my eye on Ted.
The man never stopped
working! Although Deborah said nothing about him, I
had a hunch Ted was extremely valuable to her. I
took note that the Class Factory program was thriving.
Ever since I had allied with Class Factory, my
Disco classes were consistently large. In addition,
lately
I had noticed a
considerable slump in enrollments coming from
Courses a la
Carte.
The seesaw effect was so obvious I had a strong
hunch Ted's defection to Class
Factory was directly related to the curious rise
of one program and fall of the other.
Whenever I visited the Class Factory office, I made
sure to let Deborah know I was there. She
always managed to give me ten minutes or so.
Deborah and her counterpart Nicholas from CALC had a
lot in common. They were both attractive,
well-spoken individuals with excellent social
skills. That said, unlike lazy Nicholas, Deborah
was a very hard worker. I admired Deborah due
to her charm and talent. However, it
did not take long to notice Deborah did not like
Ted any more than Nicholas had. Given my
hidden respect for Ted, I was curious to know what the problem was.
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One day when
Ted was out of the office, Deborah let off some
steam by confiding in me.
"I swear,
Ted Weisgal has to the most humorless man on the
planet.
The guy gives me the creeps. I call him 'Ted
the Dread'."
Realizing I had
guessed right about the tension, I replied, "I've noticed
that Ted is a pretty intense guy."
"Oh my God, Rick,
you don't know the half of it. Ted trudges in here
in the morning and immediately complains about
something I am doing wrong with the catalogue. Then he grumbles about
the registration system.
Then he has a negative comment about one his
co-workers. Every day there is something he isn't happy about with
the way I run things."
"What makes him
think he can speak to you that way?"
"That
is a
very good question. Ted does not take
orders very well. My theory is because he ran
Sundry School for four years, he's used to being
the boss. I respect his knowledge, but I
don't appreciate his attitude. My husband and I took out a huge loan on our
house to get this program started. I pay
the bills, I design the catalogue, I got
everything started from scratch. Now
Ted waltzes in and thinks because he has so much
more experience, he can tell me how to run the
place. Listening to him lecture me, you
would wonder who built this program and who is
the employee. Thank God Ted is out of the
office most of the time. The only reason I
keep him around is because the man lives to
distribute catalogues. He spends all day
at it. Distribution is good for the
business plus it gets Ted out of my hair so I can do
my work in peace."
"How often is
Ted here at the office?"
"As
little as possible. For my own sanity, I
look for errands to send him on. I
can only tolerate having Ted here in the office for part of
each day. I don't know why I
let him get under my skin. The guy works
his butt off, but I can't stand him."
"Why do you keep him around if he aggravates you so
much?"
"I read a
book in business school that said if a person is
a valuable contributor, find a way to overlook
their idiosyncrasies. The art of good
management is the ability to keep people around
despite their imperfections. In my case, the
moment I begin to lose my temper, I suggest some place that
needs more catalogues and send him there. Seriously, you would not believe this guy.
He lives and breathes catalogue distribution.
Next time you are here, you should take a look
at Ted's station wagon. You can't miss it.
Just look for a giant, beat-up station wagon with stacks
upon stacks
of catalogues. Front seat, middle seat,
back seat, endless catalogues stacked to the roof.
I don't think he can even see out his rear
view mirror."
"What's the
point of all those catalogues?"
"Ted tells me the more
catalogues he distributes, the better the
business will be. His theory is there is
at least one class in every catalogue someone is
interested in. The important thing is to
put catalogues where people will see them and
pick them up. Once someone signs up for a
class, now we have them on our mailing
list. I appreciate what Ted is doing, but
his know-it-all attitude irritates me no end.
I say let him distribute to his heart's content.
The less he's around, the happier I am."
I was taken
aback by Deborah's lack of appreciation. This was a
side to her I had not seen before. I wanted to
point out that maybe she should be more grateful to
have a workaholic on her side. However, I did not think it
was my place to say anything. Instead, I
decide to indulge my pet theory that Ted was
responsible for the declining fortunes of Courses a la Carte, his former employer.
"I heard a
rumor that Courses a la Carte, Ted's former program, is
going downhill. Do you know anything about
that?"
"Not
really, but I am always happy when a competitor
bites the dust. Making a profit running an
adult education program isn't as easy as you
might think. There is a mountain of details to
keep track of, but most of all the customers drive me crazy. I swear
I spend half my time on the phone dealing with unhappy
customers. There are times when I just
want to tell the person to shut up and leave me
alone. You have no idea. There are
nights when I wake up screaming "Refund?
Refund? Are you out of your mind? No
Refund!" I get so upset I can't
get back to sleep."
The frustration
in her voice worried me. "Are you
thinking of quitting?"
"On my
worst days, yes. I call it 'Death by a
1,000 paper cuts'. Each individual
complaint by itself is no big deal. But
when there are scads of complaints, I get
overwhelmed. There's only one of me and
thousands of complaints. The students complain
about everything. This teacher wasn't
very good, that class wasn't what they were
looking for, they want a credit, they want a refund.
Then someone else calls. They
missed their class and want a make-up class,
they got tickets to a baseball game and want to
reschedule their class for another month, you name it.
Someone says the drive was too far, can we open
a section closer to their home. Or a teacher quits and leaves me hanging.
Ring ring ring! Every call takes up a
piece of my time. Every
change generates more paperwork. I
am losing my hair keeping track of it all. I can't make
any money because I have to keep hiring more
paper pushers. They make mistakes
and then I have to clean it up. And then Ted
walks in and begins telling me what I am doing
wrong. Oh my God, there are times when I just want to
scream."
Whoa, talk about
having a bad day! When I glanced at my
watch, Deborah gave me a dirty look. She knew
full well why I was ducking out earlier than I
needed to. Just as I opened the door, Ted drove
into the parking lot. Curious, I walked over and said a
polite hello. What I really wanted was to
take a peek at his car. Deborah was right.
Ted had so many catalogues, there wasn't a
spare inch left in his giant station wagon. As Ted got out
of the car, I decided to get his side of the story.
"Gosh, Ted, what are all those
catalogues for?"
Ted seemed pleased
that I had taken notice.
"Those catalogues are
the lifeblood of our business. I saturate
places where people are bound to visit. That
includes grocery stores, restaurants, coffee shops, movie theaters,
convenience stores, drug stores,
etc. The
idea is that people will
pick one up and take a look. In your case for example, someone
sees Saturday Night Fever and picks
up a catalogue as they are leaving. They see a Disco dance class.
Sounds like fun, so they sign up. We make money, you
make money, the customer lands on our mailing list
and automatically gets a new catalogue every two
months from
that point on.
This is how we grow our business. I keep statistics
that prove registration totals and distribution
totals are directly correlated."
Sensing his
pride, I nodded. "I have a question, Ted.
Doesn't this get old? It sounds kind of
boring. Don't you get tired of it?"
Ted looked at
me curiously.
"Of course I get tired of it.
Driving around in traffic all day in this hot car is not my idea of
fun. I listen to talk radio all day
long. But whether I like it or not, someone
has to do this job because it is so crucial to our
success. The worst part is knowing I can
never possibly keep all the prime spots stocked.
Houston is so big, I could do this all week long and
still not get to every good location. I keep
this large stock of catalogues with me just in case I see a
new spot or old spot that needs refilling."
Yuck!
Ted's job would drive me crazy. Yet at
the same time I could not help but admire his
commitment. "I have to tell
you something, I'm impressed. I could not do your job. You must have a lot of
willpower to continue to do such a draining job."
Ted actually
smiled. "Thanks, Rick. Most people don't
appreciate what I do."
I shook his
hand and we parted. This was our longest
conversation to date. Ted
the Dread was a serious, dour man by nature,
but at the same time, I was in awe of the guy. His
work ethic was off the charts. At the same
time, I saw
Deborah's point. Ted was a tough guy to
warm up to. Ted had left Sundry
School under a cloud, Nicholas couldn't
stand him at
Courses a la Carte and now Deborah was fed up
with him. If
these people disliked Ted so much, how come this
controversial
guy kept getting hired? Because he was
invaluable.
Two months later, I dropped by and noticed someone new
at Ted's desk. Knowing how
important he was to Class Factory, I was
suddenly worried. Based on our April conversation, I
had a hunch Ted was gone because he and Deborah had butted heads
one time too many. Fearful of angering Deborah, I
asked someone else. "Does Ted Weisgal still work
here?"
"Oh, Ted?
No, he's gone. Ted
quit a couple weeks ago."
An instant foreboding came over me. Losing Ted was not
good news. I could not help
but recall the precipitous drop in fortunes over at the
Sundry School and
Courses a la Carte
following Ted's departure. For the umpteenth time I
wondered if Ted was responsible for the shifting fortunes of
these programs. Would the loss of Ted cripple the
Class Factory? Considering Class
Factory was the life blood of my dance
program, this was a critical question. I knew Deborah was the
main
reason Class Factory was thriving, but how
much credit did Ted deserve?
Now I would find out. Ted's departure should answer the question of
who was more valuable, Ted or Deborah.
Stevens,
Victoria, Cowboy, Joanne, Patricia.
Add Ted to
the growing list of things I worried about in the
Year of Living Dangerously.
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APRIL 1979, the disco years
LA MADELEINE
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Having
lost a key corner of my Temptation Triangle, I
wondered how this would affect my relationship with
the two Divas.
Joanne had asked why I stayed
attached to women like Victoria and Patricia. You know
what? That was a damn good question. Lately I
had been asking myself the same thing.
I did not even
like Victoria any more. Ever since
the January
Tirade that initiated Victoria's endless hostility
towards Joanne, she had turned into a very dislikable woman. I have always despised bullies and that is
exactly what
Victoria had become. I had no hard evidence, but I
strongly suspected she had orchestrated Joanne's
demise through rumors, nasty comments and
deceit. Now that her nemesis was
finally eliminated, I
expected things would get much worse.
However, I was completely
wrong.
Things got better.
To my
surprise, once Joanne disappeared from Camelot, my relationship with Victoria
improved dramatically. The improvement in our friendship
began when
Glen informed me
that he was no longer available to teach
private lessons on Saturdays starting in April. He had become too busy
with Saturday rehearsals for his dance company to see me on the weekend.
Fortunately, Glen said he was available during the daytime on weekdays.
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I
groaned.
This was very bad news. Throughout January,
February and March, I had rotated through four different women for my
Saturday lessons. Glen's
insistence on weekday lessons automatically eliminated
three of these women because they worked during the day.
Guess who was my only remaining option? The very thought of it
sickened me. First of all, I could barely stand Victoria
anymore. Second, having her as my official dance partner would
serve to tighten her stranglehold. There was not one
part of my business... and love life... where she did not interfere.
However
I did not have much choice. It was impossible to learn acrobatics without
a partner.
After much hand-wringing and
soul-searching anxiety, I gave in and asked her to join me.
Predictably, Victoria was
thrilled at the news. Now that we would meet on a weekly
basis, we could enough to perform!
How about Tuesday morning? Victoria said she
was free on Tuesdays when her young daughter Stephanie was at
Mother's Day Out.
I said okay, but felt a sense of dread
over this new slice of bad news. Victoria was more
important to the students than I was. She was my only
other teacher and I did not have a replacement for her.
She was the lifeblood of Camelot. With Joanne gone,
Victoria assumed the role as my dance partner on Fridays. Nor
would there be another dance partner. Now
that she had secured her role as my private lesson partner, there was no way I could train another woman behind
her back. Which is why I felt like Victoria had just wrapped another giant tentacle around my neck. I fully expected this arrangement
would backfire... and it did...
but not for the reasons I imagined.
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To my surprise,
the
new arrangement worked out perfectly. Victoria and I began
to click as dance partners.
I had not
realized it until now, but Victoria was nearly as good at
acrobatics as Joanne. Starting in April,
we met every Tuesday morning at Glen's dance
studio for our weekly private lesson. Under Glen's
watchful eye, we learned advanced Hustle patterns and difficult
acrobatics.
As we worked on the
Latin Hustle, I developed footwork and leads that
far transcended my previous knowledge. Gone was the
primitive New Yorker from my first year of
teaching. Finally able to teach people how to be
become top-flight Disco dancers in their own right, I
was becoming the professional that Lance Stevens
had insisted was totally beyond my ability.
As for Victoria, she improved so rapidly, her dreams of
performing were coming sharply into focus.
When Victoria
explained to Glen her desire to learn the toughest
acrobatics, Glen smiled. He was all for it. And so we learned every acrobatic move in Glen's
arsenal. One day I asked Glen where he had learned all these
dramatic patterns. He explained that lifts were a major
part of every ballet and jazz performance. Glen was the
same size as me and equally strong, so he had received a great
deal of training in acrobatics. I was astonished at the
difficulty of some of the moves he showed us. Several of
those moves were spectacular, but they were also
dangerous. I have to hand it to Victoria, she showed a
lot of courage.
Despite all sorts of
bumps and bruises, Victoria trusted me a lot. I was
impressed with her toughness and athletic ability.
Victoria loved learning these moves and her enthusiasm was
infectious. Add Victoria's
fearlessness and dedication to my long list of reasons to
admire her good side. As I have said, Victoria
was a modern Jekyll and Hyde. There was Victoria Sunshine and
Victoria Vicious. I saw nothing but Sunshine during our
lessons.
So this was a good thing, yes? Well,
yes. But also no. No, this was not a good thing.
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There was a very disturbing aspect to these acrobatics.
Can you guess? Victoria was constantly in my arms. I liked having her
there and she liked being there. In fact, I liked
holding her a lot more than I cared to admit. For some
reason, she always wore a dress without leggings. With my hands sometimes high on her
bare thigh, sometimes at the very edge of her breast, the intimacy unleashed a
potent chemistry inside me. Feeling the urgency in my
loins, I worried about losing control and 'accidentally'
touch her the wrong way. I was even more worried how
she would react. I had a hunch she would not object.
In that case I was in a world of trouble.
After each
lesson, Victoria and I would go to lunch at La
Madeleine
across the street. We would find a table in a dark
corner and enjoy total privacy. Alone and free of
prying eyes in the darkness of
this candlelit room, we would chat. And chat
some more. Maybe drink some wine. Each week our
lunches lasted longer. What's the hurry?
Stephanie did not need to be picked up for several hours.
We grew close. Dangerously close. No touch, but
barely out of reach. The growing sexual tension was
obvious.
This continued every Tuesday for a month. Late
in the month, Tuesday, April 24, Victoria inquired about
Joanne.
"I haven't
seen Joanne at all in April. What's up?"
When I said Joanne had a boyfriend and decided to take a break,
Victoria allowed the most evil smile to cross her
face. I was reminded of the witch Maleficent and her evil smirk after
her curse rendered Sleeping Beauty unconscious.
Was it my imagination or did I really hear Victoria whisper,
"Now you belong to me!"
Victoria caught herself and replaced her evil smirk with an alluring
smile. From that point on, Victoria turned on the
charm. She reminded me of Circe, the celebrated femme
fatale who used her beauty to enchant men, lure them closer,
then turn them into swine. Falling under Victoria's
spell, I felt myself weakening. How much longer could
I resist?
I wondered if I
had just seen the real Victoria. Perhaps she had been
secretly waiting for the right time to begin the seduction.
Right now
the memory of touching her bare thighs in acrobatics class was killing me.
Even more dangerous was meeting this married beauty in a
darkened room for lunch.
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FRIDAY,
APRIL
20, 1979, the disco years
THE ROYAL SNUB
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Lost in the
fireworks over Joanne at the Backgammon table was the fact
that Patricia had felt distinctly unwelcome among Victoria's
Roundtable replacements. Lost without
her former Medical Center friends, the frosty reception from
the newcomers had
put Patricia in a distinctly bad mood shortly before her temper tantrum.
Once she calmed down, later that week Patricia brought
up the subject of the cold shoulder that had
contributed to her outburst. I did not see it happen.
However, based on what Patricia
told me, this sounded way too similar to the suspected rumor
campaign that had caused Joanne's demise back at the March
Pistachio Party.
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I suspected Victoria had used her phone skills to create a
gossip campaign aimed at eliminating Victoria's other rival.
I have no proof, but what if I was right? Here is what
my imagination suggested. Victoria knew she would out
of town on Friday the 13th. On the first Friday, April
6, Victoria may have warned her new
girlfriends about Patricia's man-hunting ways.
"I will be
gone this coming Friday, but be sure to keep a close eye when Patricia is around. I know
from experience that Patricia cannot be trusted
around men. She collects men for sport.
Keep your eyes open and see for yourselves how Patricia behaves
around
your men. Draw your own conclusions and tell me
what you think when I return."
The following Friday
was Backgammon Night. Patricia attempted to renew her rapport
with the three men from the previous week. The
three
women saw exactly what Victoria had prompted them to see.
Entertaining men came as easily to Patricia as breathing. Patricia was laughing, joking, inviting
their men to dance. Noting Patricia's extensive circle of
male admirers in addition to the boyfriend and the two husbands, the three women nodded. Victoria was
right about Patricia, so the ladies reacted accordingly.
The women whispered amongst each other.
"Beware the Manhunter!"
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Since the three
women were new to Camelot, this second rumor
campaign was not as powerful as the one that ruined
Joanne. That said, the women were able to get
inside Patricia's head. Halfway through
the evening of April 13, the three women turned frosty
towards Patricia. When Patricia left the area to
dance, I imagine they declared Patricia off limits. Mysteriously, the same men who had
been happy to see Patricia earlier in the evening turned
cold when Patricia returned. Due to the awkwardness,
all six left soon after.
Patricia was baffled at the
sudden change of heart. Something had
happened, but what? Victoria was out of town, so she was conveniently unavailable for questioning.
However, having seen the exact same thing happen to Joanne,
Patricia suspected a rat. Of course I had no idea what
was going on. This was the same night I was trying to
patch things up with Joanne. Feeling her mood turn ugly,
Patricia took her anger out on me. Upset by the
mysterious snub from Victoria's new friends, when Patricia
saw me playing backgammon with Joanne, she threw an ugly temper
tantrum. Joanne was furious.
Patricia's disrespect to
Joanne was intolerable, so she left the club in a huff.
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This would prove
to be a pivotal moment. Not only would Joanne refuse
to return to the Pistachio Club,
Patricia's tantrum backfired on her. Few
women liked Patricia to begin with, so rumors of her
Backgammon blowup gave them
more reason to feel that way. When word of the tantrum got
back to Victoria, more than likely she worked
the phones the following week. I say this because Patricia's
isolation problem
became
decidedly more pronounced the following Friday, April 20.
Back from her trip, Victoria gathered her flock close by
rearranging the table to make room for six only. When Patricia
and I arrived together, we got the non-verbal message.
Sit somewhere else. When I pulled Victoria aside, she
was quite candid.
"My new
friends told me they do not feel comfortable around
Patricia. Can we leave it at that? I would
rather avoid a scene."
I was certain
Victoria's hidden hand was involved. Unfortunately I
had no evidence, so I was unable to confront Victoria. The newest Round Table was loyal
to Victoria, but not to me.
Irritated, Patricia and I found seats at a nearby table.
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Victoria's
friends did not pay a bit of attention to Patricia or me.
Since Patricia was sitting at most six feet away from the three men, common courtesy would
suggest they make an offer to dance or chat, but none was
forthcoming. Instead the men turned their backs and
talked amongst themselves. Patricia was completely frozen out.
Sensing an eerie replay of what happened to Joanne, I concluded
this could not be a coincidence. However, if Victoria
was guilty of something, she never showed it. She was
friendly to Patricia's face and flitted around chatting with
people like always when she wasn't dancing.
Frozen out by
Victoria's friends, Patricia was forced to sit by herself or prowl
around the dance club whenever I danced. Noting that Patricia had the same
'abandoned look', I decided she was getting the Joanne
Treatment. Although she chatted with various male admirers in the crowd
and danced a few times,
it wasn't the same. Patricia's stardom was in definite
eclipse. Feeling snubbed, Patricia asked if we could
leave. Given my suspicions, I agreed to take her home
early. During the
ensuing week, Patricia and I discussed the unexpected snub. Convinced Victoria was up to no
good, Patricia's resentment festered. In a threatening
situation, some resist while others run
away. Joanne disappeared, but not Patricia. She was a fighter.
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