MYSTERY OF THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT:

LANCE STEVENS

Written by Rick Archer 

LIMBO MONTH seven
TUESDAY MORNING, JANUARY 8, 1980
BALLROOM DANCING
 

It was Tuesday morning, January 8.  Following last night's Evolution epiphany at Cowboy, I was excited about today's private lesson.  The moment I saw Glen, I told him about my revelation.

"Last night it crossed my mind that any Twostep move can be converted to Polka by altering the footwork."

Glen replied, "Show me what you are talking about."

First I demonstrated how the Foxtrot Zigzag move seemed to also work to Polka.  Then I asked him to dance the pattern with me.  Glen confirmed this move did work to Polka music.  In short order he agreed the Foxtrot Promenade, Crossover and Conversation could also be converted to Polka as well.  Glen received my discoveries with a bemused look.   

"Good for you, Rick.  You are definitely correct.  It makes sense that Twostep and Polka can share patterns by reworking the footwork.  So now you have four new moves to teach.  Congratulations!"

Then with a wink, he said, "Maybe I underestimated you.  You might just make just make a go of this Country-Western adventure."

I smiled broadly at Glen's confirmation.  I now had a reservoir of new Western patterns to teach worth at least five hours of teaching time, maybe more.  All I needed was one, maybe two more patterns to complete the Intermediate Western class.   Using my classic 'One Step Ahead Strategy', I could invent what was needed as we went along.  I was proud of myself because my Now or Never gamble to offer an Intermediate level despite serious reservations had paid off so handsomely. 

"Glen, there is something I want to talk with you about.  Last week you were pessimistic about Western dancing because all a guy needed to learn was how to make the girl dance backwards.  However, if you had gone to Cowboy instead of your gay kicker club, you would see about half the men dance Western using the Transitions."

"Okay, I believe you, but what is your point?"

"I don't know why, but there seems to be two dance styles out there.  For lack of a better description, I call it Old Country and New Country.  Joanne's theory is the New Country style was started by the Aggies.  Now it is starting to catch on with people who are new to the scene and not quite so closed-minded."

"That makes sense.  That's how Disco evolved back in 1978."

"Right!  The partner dancing was very limited in the early stages, but grew more sophisticated as the year progressed.  So what's stopping Western dancing from doing the same thing?"

"You tell me.  You know more about this than I do."

"Last night I stood at the railing at Cowboy watching the dancing.  After a solid hour of watching couples dance I became convinced I had seen everything the old-style Western had to offer.  What I am getting at is there were no more moves out there waiting to be discovered.  But then I accidentally discovered moves on my own.  That gave me an idea.  If Western dancing remains in its current state of development, there is no future for me.  Standing pat offers absolutely NO HOPE.  For me to make it as a Western dance teacher, Western dancing has to evolve."

Glen smiled.  "I see what you are getting at, but tell me anyway."

"Whoever said 'Necessity is the Mother of Invention' certainly knew what they were talking about.  I think my only chance to overcome the lack of Western material is to come up with my own ideas.  Back in the Disco Era, anytime I needed a new move, all I had to do was head over to the Pistachio Club and watch for a while.  But that won't work this time.  If I wait around for John Travolta to show some new moves in Urban Cowboy, that will take too long.  The movie is six months away and I need new moves now.  I want to teach an Advanced course in March, so from now I will concentrate more on inventing new patterns for Western dancing."

"You talk like you are determined to transform Western dancing singlehandedly."

"I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I guess it's true.  I gave it some serious thought last night.  I decided if ever there was a style of dancing that could use some improvement, that would be Twostep and Polka."

Glen laughed.  "You can say that again."   Then he grew quiet.  By his expression, Glen had something important to say.

"Your interest in Foxtrot has given me an idea.  Your Disco Days are over, so why not begin learning Ballroom?  In addition, you and I can begin to work on the Whip."

I frowned at the Ballroom aspect, but I liked Glen's Whip suggestion immediately.  I especially liked the sexy Rhythm and Blues music that accompanied the dance.  The Whip was an unusual partner dance which was similar to Disco partner dancing, but more complicated.  I had enjoyed learning the Whip from Lance Stevens two years earlier.  However, once Disco came along, I had to put Whip lessons on hold because I taught Disco classes at the same time Stevens offered his Whip classes. 

I let out a long sigh when Glen mentioned Ballroom.  Despite last night's revelations, I still had serious prejudices against Ballroom Dancing.  I had been watching Lance Stevens teach Ballroom for two years.  To be honest, I felt nothing but disgust.  Lance Stevens told everyone he was the best Ballroom instructor in Houston and it was probably true.  No matter how grouchy he was, I could see Stevens had a loyal following. 

The problem was that practically every one of his students seemed to be 60 years or older.  One day a buddy of mine named Mike came in half an hour early for his 7 pm dance class.  Mike and I were sitting on a bench watching Stevens teach a private Ballroom lesson to two elderly people in their 70s.  Mike's face wrinkled in disgust.  Shaking his head, he was upset about something. 

"Rick, what are those people doing?"

I replied that was Ballroom Dancing, probably Foxtrot.  

"Ballroom Dancing?  That is Ballroom Dancing?  Oh my God, that looks more like Dancing for Dead People.  Those people are barely moving!"

I smiled and frowned at the same time.  I was amused by Mike's sarcasm, but I could not get rid of the nasty comparison in my mind.  Mike's comment was sheer poison because it stayed with me.  From that moment on, every time I saw someone dance Ballroom, Mike's 'Dancing for Dead People' phrase popped in. 

Mike created a stigma I could not seem to shake.  It was upsetting to admit I was almost as prejudiced against Ballroom as I had been towards Western dancing.  I didn't mind trying the Whip, but I was dead set against learning Ballroom. 

"Glen, I am really bad at Ballroom dancing.  I definitely want to learn any more Foxtrot patterns if you have some, but I am not sure about the rest.  Every time I think of Ballroom, all I do is recall how badly I failed at my two previous attempts to learn Ballroom dancing.  Why do I need to learn Tango, Waltz, Samba, Rumba, Swing, and Cha-Cha?  What good will that do me?" 

Glen frowned, but said nothing.  So I continued to explain why I disliked Ballroom. 

"Glen, no one my age wants to learn Ballroom dancing.  In two years, I have never had a single student ask if I offered Ballroom lessons.  I watch Lance Stevens teach Ballroom every night I walk in his studio.  Not once have I seen Stevens teach Ballroom to someone my age.  Besides that, I am full of prejudice.  I don't like the music and I can't see myself wearing one of those weird skin-tight costumes with the open chest.  That's just not me.  I am much too modest for that.  Furthermore, performing does not come naturally.  I was not born for the spotlight."

I was about to say the flamboyant gay instructors over at Melody Lane might be able to wear those revealing Ballroom costumes.  However, just then I noticed Glen was wearing his beloved skin-tight jazz pants.  Oops.  I bit my tongue at the last second. 

When Glen smiled, I think he guessed what I was about to say.  Fortunately, rather than be offended, Glen understood my discomfort.

"Well, Rick, I think you can probably sidestep the Ballroom costumes if you dislike them that much.  And no one expects you to perform.  What bothers me is that you don't seem to understand the importance of Ballroom dancing. 

I understand that you are trying to make this Western dancing work.  And I applaud your ingenuity.  However, over the long run, if you intend to make a career out of teaching social dance, sooner or later you will need to learn how to teach Ballroom dancing.  Ballroom dancing is the foundation of all types of social dance including Disco and Western."

"What does Ballroom dancing have to do with Disco?  I've never heard you say that before."

"The Latin Hustle is a form of East Coast Swing.  You didn't know that?"

"No, the two dances don't feel anything alike."

"Swing and the Latin Hustle have identical footwork and identical slow-slow-quick-quick timing.  If you dance East Coast Swing to extremely fast music, you will start to see the connection."

"Really?  Prove it."

Glen put on a Glen Miller recording of 'Sing Sing Sing' and made me dance with him.  Sure enough, it did sort of feel like Hustle.   Curious, I counted the beats to the song.  216 beats per minute.  At that speed the Swing footwork began to resemble Hustle.

"I don't get it.  Boogie Oogie Oogie is 114 beats per minute and Sing Sing Sing is 216.  How can the two dances be the same?"

"Because 114 doubled is 228.  228 is roughly the same speed as 216.  When you count music, you have to double or halve the speed to compare songs.  In your case, you counted 114 'Slow' beats to the Disco song and 216 'Quick' beats to the Swing song.  They don't sound the same, but mathematically the two songs are basically the same speed."

I groaned.  Good grief, there was so much about dancing that I still did not know.  I felt so frustrated because I was afraid Glen was right.  Maybe I should learn to Ballroom dance.  However, all I could think about was Dancing for Dead People. 

"I don't know, Glen, no one my age dances Ballroom.  All my students talk about is Western dancing and Disco dancing.  Wouldn't my time be better served by experimenting with potential Western moves?"

Glen smiled patiently, then continued.  "I don't mind helping you with Western moves like we did today, but don't expect much.  As I have said repeatedly, I don't have a single western step I can teach you.  If you want help with a move, you will have to bring it to me and let me polish it."

I was getting desperate.  Anything but Ballroom!   "Well, what about Disco?  Aren't there any Disco moves left you can teach me?"

"Of course there is more Disco, but you would be wasting your time.  To be honest, Rick, I don't understand why Disco disappeared here in Houston any better than you do.  But it is gone.  It is gone gone gone and you need to accept it.  I never get a phone call anymore.  It's over.  I believe that any more time spent on the Latin Hustle would be a waste of your time and money.  The time has come for you to move on and I say Ballroom is your obvious next step."

Glen paused to see if I had anything to interject, but I just stared at him with a dejected, worried look on my face.  This was kind of like having a parent tell me I had to take Ballroom lessons for my own good.  Yuck. 

"So my question to you is whether you wish to continue our weekly private lesson or not."

"Yes, I want to continue our lessons, but I am going to have give learning Ballroom some thought.  Can I give you my answer next Tuesday?"

"Yes, of course."

SOMEONE ISN'T HAPPY
 

On Tuesday night I got to Stevens of Hollywood earlier than usual.  I had come specifically to watch Lance Stevens in action and meditate on my resistance to Ballroom Dancing.  The reception area faced the large dance floor where Stevens held his Ballroom parties.  Lance Stevens preferred to teach his private lessons in this large open area because it allowed him to keep tabs on the front door.  Stevens had a 6-7 pm private lesson with someone virtually every weekday.  From experience, I knew 95% of the time he would be teaching Ballroom dance.   

I took a seat in the far corner and watched as Stevens took an elderly couple through their paces to Waltz.  I hated what I was seeing.  The man was about 75 and could barely walk, much less Waltz.  Meanwhile his lovely wife, 60, was showing exquisite patience.  I admired the way she tolerated her husband's labored movements. 

To me, Waltz rhymed with 'Schmaltz'.  'Schmaltz' was a Yiddish word I had learned from Buddy, an older man who was my friend on the nights I played volleyball at the Jewish Community Center.  One day some man complained over and over that a ball Buddy had hit should be declared 'out'.  This guy was wrong, but he was so insistent about getting his way that he started to whine.

Buddy picked up a towel and threw it at him.  "Okay, you alte cocker [old man], that's enough schmaltz for now.  The ball was in.  Accept it, dry your tears, and let's play."

Everyone laughed and the argument was over.  Afterwards I asked Buddy what 'schmaltz' meant.  Buddy laughed. "Schmaltz is all about playing the violin and looking for sympathy.  Schmaltz is about weepy sadness and syrupy sentiment." 

The memory of Buddy's words rang in my ears as I winced at the music.  This awful music was pure Waltz Schmaltz.  I could barely stand to listen to it.  Nor could I bear to watch this old couple dance.  The man was considerably older than his wife and having serious trouble keeping up with the fast pace of the music.  Embarrassed, the old man stopped and stepped away from his wife. 

"Lance, why don't you take over?"

So that is what Stevens did.  Suddenly the Waltz came alive and so did this woman.  Stevens moved the lady around the floor a rapid clip.  They were beautiful together, just like I remembered Jack dancing the Waltz with Katie at Melody Lane five years ago.  In Stevens' arms, the lady seemed to floating.  When I saw the delighted look on her face, I could tell she was secretly pleased to be dancing with her instructor instead of her aging husband. 

Watching her smile, I had a wistful pang of sadness.  Katie had the same smile on her face as she moved around the floor with Jack.  Katie was so beautiful and such a warm person.  As I watched this lady enjoy her Waltz, my memory of Jack using his dance ability to take Katie away from me was very upsetting. 

I took a long, deep breath to clear the pain away.  As much as I disliked Lance Stevens, I had to admit he was a heck of a dancer.  As I watched, I took note that the Waltz was very graceful and fluid.  I begrudgingly admitted I wished I could look like that.  Then I remembered why I hated the Waltz in the first place... I had really struggled to learn this dance in the past.

I did not have the heart to tell Glen this, but my other objection to learning to Ballroom dance was that I fully expected to struggle again.  When it came to dance, I was a slow learner and right now I did not know if I could handle another challenge.  My life had been in perpetual crisis for over a year.  In addition, I had taken a trip to Rock Bottom thanks to Jennifer.  Nor was there any guarantee I was out of the woods regarding this Western project.  I was so tired of stress that I wasn't sure I was willing to voluntarily take on yet another difficult task.  Right now I was fully invested in creating Western dance patterns.  Why bother learning a form of dancing I had so little interest in?  With a frown, I returned to my typical 'Death of Disco' pity party.  Why did Disco have to die?  I had spent two solid years learning to Disco dance and now all that training was being wasted.  I missed Disco so much I could cry. 

Just then something happened to distract Stevens from his Waltz.  He stopped dancing and stared at the front door.  Curious, I looked for an explanation.  In an instant I had my answer.  At 6:40 pm, a dozen people had walked through the door.  Stevens could not help but notice the throng.  He watched them make their way past me through the reception area.  They had no idea I was their new instructor.  Minutes later there was another wave of students.  Stevens stared at them, then inadvertently turned his gaze to me.  Noticing me watching him, a look of sheer hate crossed his face.  He quickly turned his back, but I knew what he was thinking.  Stevens was horrified at this legion of unexplained students pouring into the building.  He was not happy. 

As for me, I was thrilled.  This scenario was a repeat of last night.  New students were coming through the door so fast it looked like the great migration across the vast plain of the Serengeti.  What a bizarre turn of events.  As recent as this past weekend I thought I was the world's biggest fool for thinking Western Dancing had potential.  Now look!  Unbelievable.  Throughout the latter part of 1979, the newspapers and evening news channels had been breathlessly hyping Urban Cowboy.  Seeing this horde of students walk in, I was astonished at the power of the Houston media to whip the populace into western frenzy.  TV personalities always tried their best to scare us whenever a hurricane lurked in the Caribbean.  This was a different kind of hurricane.  It was named 'John'. 

Gushing newswomen proclaimed John Travolta as the biggest thing to hit Houston since the Astrodome, the so-called Eighth Wonder of the World.  The hype was so intense, someone called Travolta the Ninth Wonder.  As the debut of the movie drew closer, here at the start of the New Year some sort of herd instinct must have kicked in.   Thanks to this dramatic influx, the 1980 Western Magic matched the 1978 Disco Magic

Mind you, C&W was not happening anywhere else in the USA.  Only in Houston.  While Urban Cowboy was being filmed here, that's all the local TV personalities could talk about.  Morning news, midday news, evening news, late night news, every day on every channel someone would bound to mention John and how brilliant the movie was going to be.  Brainwashed by a full year of hype, the anticipation was unbelievable.  Christmas was over, so now it was time to jump on the C&W bandwagon.

I had been a rookie in the Disco Era.  I barely knew what I was doing.  This time I was in position to cash in.  Like a bear standing in the river where the salmon swim upstream, I gobbled up my new students with open arms.  Yum yum.  Every night for a solid week, 30 to 50 students streamed in at 7 pm, then 20 to 30 more arrived at 8 pm.  The sum total approached 200.  If this continued, in February I might have to add 9-10 pm classes to meet the demand.  I was astounded.  During the dark days of December, I never imagined this would happen.  Just three phone calls about Western dancing over the Christmas Holidays.  Otherwise complete silence.  Given the lack of warning, I had not foreseen this sudden January development.  Nor had anyone else.  Two weeks into January, I still had yet to hear of another instructor.  Weird. 

There could be only one explanation for this avalanche.  By some miracle, I had gotten there first.  Lucky me.  However, I was unnerved by the hostile expression on Lance Stevens' face.  He watched in horror as an endless stream of new students filed past.  Like a person morbidly staring at an accident, Stevens was having trouble dealing with the implications.  As the horde of students poured into his studio I could see why he was upset.  He stood to gain his $15 an hour pittance as rent, but otherwise he was not going cash in on this phenomenon he had labeled "a waste of time". 

If Stevens had 10 people coming to his 7 pm Ballroom group class, I would be surprised.  Meanwhile in the space of 15 minutes over 40 people had walked past him headed for my classroom.  Stevens was no dummy.  He knew I was making a killing.  I was paying him $15 for a room that was generating $200 an hour for me.  Based on his expression, my unexpected success had really gotten under his skin.  In Stevens' mind, the world had flipped upside down.  This was his studio.  That was his name on the door.  This was not supposed to happen.  My sudden success had taken Stevens totally off guard.  Me too for that matter.  Watching me as I ushered each new student into my back room, it had to bother Stevens that not one single person would be writing a check to him tonight. 

This situation was a complete flip-flop from January 1978.  Back then Stevens was on top of the world as countless Saturday Night Fever Disco students flocked through his doors.   Stevens was making $200 an hour while paying me a salary of $15 an hour. 

Now, two years later, the situation was the exact opposite.  Now I was on top.  What could possibly account for this bizarre reversal of fortune? 

Class Factory was the answer.  In July 1978 I met Deborah Gordon one afternoon at the studio.  Deborah was there to watch Stevens teach a Class Factory class.  Once she what a grouch he was, Deborah was very upset.  However she did like me.  The moment she discovered I taught Disco, she said she had been looking for a Disco teacher.  Would I like to advertise in her catalogue?  That was the start of a beautiful friendship.

However, one thing was missing.  Where would I teach my class?  After Deborah left the building, I asked Stevens if I could rent a side room to teach a class of my own.  Without hesitation, Stevens said, "Sure. Pay me $15 an hour and the room is yours."  Then he walked away.

He had just made the single worst business decision of his life and the sad thing is that he was totally blind.  I understood the implications of this deal loud and clear, but not Stevens.  In his mind, he thought a class meant four or five, not forty or fifty. 

My business arrangement with Stevens went into effect in September of 1978.  That is when Deborah started sending her Class Factory Disco students to me.  For the first time, I had students I could call my own.  The result was sheer magic.  Deborah's steady supply of Disco students allowed me to begin working for myself in addition to working for Stevens.  During the final four months of 1978, my Disco program doubled in size.   Stevens had long wanted to get rid of me, but he liked my sizable rent checks too much.  Since I had the sense to stay out of his way, a hostile Cold War became the status quo.

Consider the absurdity.  You own a business.  Some kid you barely respect works for you.  Then one day you allow the kid to grow his own business under your roof.  Would you permit it?  Of course not!  But that is exactly what happened.  As of January 1979 there were now two equal-sized businesses under the same roof.  However, while an endless supply of Class Factory students kept coming to me, no one bothered to call Stevens any more for Disco classes.  Those calls came to me instead.  Pretty soon my days of teaching Disco for Stevens ended.  Now I was working strictly for myself.  Stevens disliked Disco so much, he just let it happen.  As a result, my program doubled again in the Spring of 1979 while Stevens' program atrophied.  By summertime I had more Disco students than Stevens had Ballroom and Whip students.  As one can imagine, Stevens was outraged.  There were several times when he was angry enough to kick me out.  However, just when he was about to pull the trigger, something saved me.  Can you guess? 

Urban Cowboy.  Stevens was so happy to see Mr. Too Big for his Britches taken down a peg, he kept me around specifically so he could gloat over my downfall.  You have no idea the smile on his face during the final days of Disco.  Indeed, the demise of Disco warmed his heart no end.   Not only was Stevens was back on top, he expected the Country-Western threat would get rid of me for good.  So imagine his surprise when I rose from the dead in January 1980.  Stevens was still technically my boss, but not really.  Now that Disco was gone, I did not teach a single class for him.  Since my dance program was completely independent from him, all I did was rent rooms.  In other words, although I continued act like Stevens was my boss, in reality he was my landlord.  However, he was not a very smart landlord.  I was getting incredibly rich while paying bread crumbs in rent. 

He who laughs last, right?  Thanks to January 1980, I was back on top and Stevens was NOT HAPPY.  But now for the strange part.  At some point over the past 16 months, Stevens must have realized he made an incredibly bad deal back in July 1978.  What prevented him from renegotiating?  I had no lease, I had nothing written down.  As my landlord he had the power to say, "Rick, we need to raise your rent significantly."

Did Stevens do that?  NO!  For reasons I will never understand, for 16 months Stevens had abided by his original lousy agreement.  Not one word to me about it.  However, now that I was teaching 30 to 60 Western students per night, this reversal of fortune had to be intolerable.  Well aware of how upset he was, I worried that Stevens would demand to renegotiate.  Do you want to know something?  He should have renegotiated!  And I would have paid.  But not Stevens.  I never met a more thick-headed man in my life. 

This strange development marked a dangerous turning point in our relationship.  Consequently I was very careful not to openly gloat.  I continued to let Stevens pretend he was my boss to smooth waters.  By feigning inferiority, I tried to avoid stepping on his tender ego.  However, I knew someday there would be conflict.  The only question was when.  Like the San Andreas fault line, sooner or later there would be an earthquake.  It was inevitable.

SOMEONE ELSE ISN'T HAPPY
 

Victoria returned to town on Tuesday, January 8.  I anticipated trouble.  Why?  Because there was two nasty surprises awaiting her.  One was Miss Moneypenny.  The other was my decision to tell her this boyfriend-girlfriend charade had to end.  Sure enough, Victoria bristled the moment she saw Miss Moneypenny doing Registration.  This had been Victoria's job throughout 1979.  Not any more. 

Victoria whirled to confront me.  "What is this woman doing here!?"

I had expected her reaction, so I had my spiel ready.

"Ease up, Victoria.  I hired Penny to do registration because my January classes are huge and you have a Disco class to teach.  You do not have the ability to register all these people for your classes, my classes and teach at the same time.  I can't do this by myself, so Penny has agreed to be here every night this week and next.  For the sake of continuity, I handed the responsibility to her."

Victoria was not happy.  However, what could she say with all these people watching us speak?  Besides, I had the perfect excuse to enact this change.  Due to her lawyer's orders, she was hog-tied to her house every night but Tuesday.  As for Thursday, we would find out if her class made or not.   If there was no longer a class for her teach on Thursday, Victoria had no reason to be here except on Tuesday night.  I smiled.  So far, so good.  I hoped to escape my 'Captivity' tonight.  However, I dared not count my eggs just yet.  After all, let's not forget who I was dealing with.

There were four classes tonight, two for me and two for her.  I doubted her 8 pm Intermediate class would make, but Victoria's 7 pm Beginning Disco class did.  It was not a large class, but Victoria had 8 students to keep her busy.  The economics were lousy.  After paying Victoria her salary and Stevens his rent, I was losing $100 in the bargain.  That irritated me, but it was a small price to show good will and do something to appease her.  In the side room next to Victoria's, I taught a small 7 pm Advanced Disco class to 10 students.  As always, it was fun to teach the Latin Hustle.  I was pleased to see Disco was not completely dead after all.

At 8 pm, a new avalanche of Western students walked through the door.  This was the second of five hustling, bustling Beginning-level Western classes I would teach this week.  With Victoria nearby, I thought it best not to repeat my 'Unlucky in Love' exorcism from Monday night.  To Victoria's dismay, her 8 pm Intermediate Disco class did not make.  Only two people showed up.  Victoria looked ready to murder me when I persuaded them to join my new Western class.  Angry at me, angry about Penny and angry at seeing her second class not make, Victoria was ready to leave.  However, when Victoria saw all those Western students stroll in for my 8 pm Western class, she did a serious double-take.  Stopping in her tracks, this was the first time Victoria realized that Western dancing might have potential after all.  She was just as perplexed as Stevens had been.  Where did all these students come from?

I was highly amused by her reaction.  Seeing Victoria gape at the mountain of checks piling up in Miss Moneypenny's cash box, Victoria's eyeballs rolled like a Vegas slot machine hitting the jackpot.  On the spur of the moment Victoria decided to stick around.  When it came to Victoria, Money talks.  I morbidly wondered if Victoria was about to resume inquiring if I could support her.  Yes, if Western continued to pan out like this, I probably could support her.  But good luck getting through my front door a second time.  Victoria had not repeated her Blackmail Threat since Michael moved out in November.  However, I knew the threat always lurked in the background.  For that reason I was beyond grateful for this unexpected landslide of Western students.  Their arrival gave me a unique chance to break Victoria's stranglehold once and for all. 

During the lonely days of December, I had thought this through carefully.  The simultaneous death of Disco and birth of Western gave me a blank slate.  This is where Miss Moneypenny came in.  She was my ace in the hole.  Penny was a former Disco student who went all the way back to the glory Days of Camelot.  Penny had often noticed my long face whenever Victoria was up to no good.  One night when Victoria was not around, Penny asked what was bothering me.  I did not completely bare my soul for fear of gossip, but gave her some partial insight.  Penny had rewarded my trust with discretion, so I believed I could count on her.  When Deborah phoned last week to announce the impending arrival of countless students, I asked Penny if she would do registration.  Penny said count her in.  She was more than happy to help me win my freedom plus the extra money from her part-time job helped pay the bills.

There were now TWO mailing lists.  One was Disco.  That was the old list.  The new list was Western.  In addition to collecting tuition, Penny was in charge of getting addresses to build the new Western mailing list.  Penny understood that under no circumstances was she to release this second list to Victoria.  Since Penny was fiercely loyal to me, I no longer had much to worry about in regards to Victoria's poison pen letter.  The Disco students loyal to Victoria were mostly gone.  Now that her giant fan club had gone with the wind, Victoria's poison pen power was considerably reduced.  Who was she going to call?  Who was she going to write?  Who was she going approach to win some sympathy?  These people were 95% gone.  The presence of all these new students plus Miss Moneypenny was all it took for Victoria to grasp the changing of the guard.  

Victoria could write her letter, but unless she had the address of these 200 strangers, what difference did it make?  Victoria would not only make a fool of herself, she might just give Michael the edge he needed to pry Stephanie away.  Victoria had little choice but to comply for the time being.  To avoid embarrassment, she did not ask to receive a copy of the updated registration lists.  But she did decide to stick around for my Tuesday Western class.  Unlike the old days, Victoria made no attempt to gain recognition.  She was content to blend into the crowd and learn the secrets of Twostep and Polka right along with everyone else.  Victoria said nothing, but I think she was impressed.  I enjoyed watching her negative opinion of Western dancing being challenged in much the same way as I had been prior to my first visit to Cowboy. 

After class Victoria gestured to me, "We need to talk."

Whoopee, Car Talk!  Just like old times.  Reluctantly I trudged out to her car.  It was chilly outside, so Victoria turned on the engine to warm things a bit.  I was hoping for a compliment on my Western success, but none was forthcoming. 

"So what's going on, Victoria?"

"We just got back into town this morning, so Stephanie is spending the night with Michael.  I enjoyed staying at my parents' house for two weeks.  It was wonderful to escape all that stress.  However, Michael has informed me he is definitely going to file for divorce.  He hasn't done it yet, but he enjoys threatening me.  He knows I am afraid of the divorce, so he scares me as a way to enact his revenge."

Victoria had no idea where to go from here.  Should she ask Michael to change his mind?  The two of them were officially separated, but they managed to continue the Bitter Argument phase of their relationship practically every night.  Despite the fact that I only got to hear Victoria's woeful side of it, the bulk of my sympathy went to Michael.  Victoria complained that he yelled at her.  Oh really?  What a surprise.  I would have yelled at her too.  No matter how Victoria tried to paint it, I thought Michael had gotten a raw deal.  Michael had every right to be furious with his strong-willed wife.  Her actions had left their young daughter terrified and confused.  In addition, Victoria had betrayed her husband, so naturally he felt jealous and hurt.  And for what?  To pursue her life as the Dancing Queen?  Disco was dead on arrival.  Its demise made Victoria look like a total fool.  She knew the end was coming all the back in September, so why knock on my door in the first place?  Was Disco really worth sacrificing her marriage?  Victoria was forced to accept she had made the worst mistake of her entire life.  Her insane decision had to rankle her no end.

The facts were undeniable.  Throughout 1979, Victoria had ignored her marriage to pursue me.  In October Victoria had made the dubious decision to leave her home with the full knowledge of her husband.  No one asked her to do it.  No one made her do it.  It was an impulsive act of desperation born of jealousy over losing me to Madame X.  For the life of me, her behavior had never made any sense.  She was warned!  Now that my prediction had come true, Victoria had no right to complain (but she complained anyway).  As the Ghost of Disco Past watched our conversation from the back seat, her Doorstep Night decision had never seemed more absurd.  I suppose there were a few Realistic reasons to explain why Victoria was so self-destructive.  However, in my opinion, the theory of 'Cosmic Stupidity' was still the best explanation.

What did Victoria have to show for her dramatic move?  Nothing but misery!  Yes, she had me.  Oh boy, so what?  Ever since Doorstep Night she had treated me as little better than an old sweater in the closet that didn't fit anymore.  Seriously, Victoria could care less about me romantically.   The recent movie Kramer versus Kramer had finally opened her eyes to just how insane her behavior had been.  Now that the dust had settled, the verdict was in:  Victoria had thrown away a perfectly good husband for absolutely nothing in return.   That realization had to hurt like hell.  Of course Victoria admitted her regret.  Okay, I could understand that, but a person can't just say, "oops, I'm sorry" and expect to be forgiven for such a senseless mistake.  Forced to face the consequences of her actions, she was reeling.  Kramer versus Kramer had cut Victoria to shreds with guilt.  Nevertheless, life imitates art.  Keeping her daughter was what mattered most to Victoria, so she was determined to follow in the footsteps of the Meryl Streep character and seek sole custody. 

Victoria launched into a well-rehearsed rant on how I had ruined her life.  I was about to object, but decided to hear her out.  I had learned long ago the less said around this woman, the better.  "So how exactly did I ruin your life, Victoria?"

"To begin with, you encouraged me to move in with you.  You knew I was in love with you and you used my feelings to persuade me to leave my husband."

Interesting spin.  Her father did not like me.  During Victoria's previous visit home last year, he persuaded his daughter that I was a gigolo intent on exploiting her.  No doubt her father had resumed bashing me during her Christmas visit.  Her father's acid words probably had something to do with her decision to blame everything on the gigolo.  So now this Affair was my fault.  Hmm.  Sure, why not?  I was a convenient target. 

"Victoria, as I recall, you touched my hand and said you were in love with me.  You said Michael had lost interest in you.  You said your marriage was empty and Michael had given you permission to seek a European Arrangement.  Have you forgotten those words?"

"I was lonely.  I was confused.  If you had slammed the door shut like you should have, I would have come to my senses."

"Aren't you forgetting something?  Throughout September I told you I was willing to back off.  I pointed out that our dance accidents were the worst possible omens.  Instead of listening to reason, you turned around and threatened to destroy my studio.  I think you have your facts mixed up."

"You had no business tempting me to leave Michael in the first place.  Thanks to you, I jeopardized my marriage to the point that Michael was practically pushing me out the door.  And then you said forget about it, you found another woman, go back to Michael.  Well, it was it too late for that.  We had a committed relationship.  How did you expect me to react when you threw our relationship away for another woman?"

"I disagree.  Have you forgotten the Husband List?  You know what I am referring to, the List where you explained to me how I was second-best to Michael in every possible meaningful way.  Why would you draw up that List, then refuse to follow your own advice?  And what about those dance accidents?  I told you to your face that God was warning us to stay apart.  Every omen in the book suggested we throw in the towel, but no, you refused to pay attention when I warned you.  So don't go blaming me."

"Those horrible dance accidents were not my fault, so stop throwing that in my face.  I made it very obvious that I was in love with you and that I needed time to sort things out.  All you had to do was give me some more time like I asked.  But no, you had to start cheating on me with that damn Madame X.  Take some responsibility, Rick, you caused this whole mess by not waiting like I asked you to!  I was sorting things out and then you had to go off firing ultimatums.  You drove me insane.  I didn't want to lose you and I panicked.  Thanks to you, you made me leave my home and ruin my marriage.  Thanks to you, I am an adulteress!   And you are my accomplice!   If Michael ever wanted to sue you for alienation of affection, I'm sure he wouldn't have much trouble finding a lawyer to take his case.  Michael could leave you penniless!"

This threat, that threat, always more threats.  "Victoria, don't you ever get tired of threatening me?  Does it give you some kind of twisted satisfaction to bend me to your will?  You say you love me.  Is that what Love means to you?"

"You always seem to forget that without my help, you would have nowhere near the program you have now.  When I met you, you were a lousy dancer, an average teacher, and a guy with the social skills of a lizard.  Thanks to me, you received training from Glen, you learned how to use a mailing list, and how to make your program become professional.  Thanks to me, I networked, I promoted classes, I phoned students, and organized events that propelled this dance program far beyond any level you could have reached on your own.  Or have you conveniently forgotten all of this?

"Victoria, we had been through all of this before.  Of course I appreciate how you helped me get started.  But then you turned around and practically put the studio out of business!  First you killed off Sunday night at Annabelles.  Then you killed off Friday nights at Pistachio.  The studio became a ghost town without you.  So thanks a lot for deserting me in a crisis."

"That wasn't my fault.  Disco was dying anyway.  There wasn't a damn thing I could have done to turn it around.  Like my father said, it is fairly obvious you are a fair-weather friend.  I could tell you were chomping at the bit to cut ties.  Well, it doesn't work like that.  I made you what you are today and if I have to threaten you in order to get the respect I deserve, then that is what I'll do."

"Victoria, I have long acknowledged your contribution to the dance studio.  I don't see why you feel the need to compel my loyalty when I give it to you willingly.  I have no desire to chase you from the studio." 

"All right then, tell me what the hell is Penny doing here?  I know exactly what you are trying to pull.  You are deliberately isolating me at the studio!  I cannot believe you have the nerve to make this move without discussing it with me first."

"I beg your pardon.  You've been gone for three weeks and I could not wait.  You are welcome at the studio anytime you wish, but since you are tied to your home these days by the custody threat, I have to take steps to run my business as I see fit."

"My father told me you would pull a stunt like this.  You are trying to get rid of me."

"No, I am not trying to get rid of you.  But what I don't understand is why you continue to insist that I remain your boyfriend.  We were a failure back in October and you have ignored me ever since.  Isn't it time to cut our losses?  Don't you think those days have come and gone?"

As I expected, Victoria lost her temper.  Raising her voice, it was the return of the Snarling Tiger Woman.

"Damn it, Rick!  There you go again.  You have the least patience of any man I have ever met.  The moment there are problems, you want to turn and run.  Listen to me.  You signed up for the duration when you invited me into your house.  We became lovers and you cost me my marriage.  It is unfair to say we were failures.  We did not have enough time to work it out.  Now that I am in serious trouble, the least you can do is stand by me while I sort things out."

Victoria paused for a moment, then added, "Or did you spend Christmas by the fireplace cracking chestnuts with your little Madame X honey?"

I shook my head.  "No, Victoria, thanks to you, Madame X has moved on."

"Oh, like I believe that.  You are such a liar."

"Okay, Victoria, believe whatever you want.  I'm not going to argue with you."

In the dark, Victoria studied my face carefully for signs of deception.  Realizing I was telling the truth, Victoria started to cry softly.  I think she had feared the worst.  I stayed silent and waited.  After a while, she composed herself.

"I am sorry I yelled at you.  I am scared of what Michael is going to do to me and right now you are the only person I can talk to about these things.  I know your life would so much easier if I were to simply go away, but I need you.  I mean that.  Right now you are the only friend I have, so please don't threaten to leave.  Just give me a month.  Once I know what I am dealing with, then I will be stronger.  The time will come when we can talk about parting ways or hopefully starting over, but right now I want you to help me get through this.  I cannot face this alone." 

Her words had caught me off guard, so I did not reply immediately.  I was so used to being bullied, this was the first time I ever realized just how defenseless Victoria had become.  When she said I was her only friend, I think she was sincere.  Victoria had countless girlfriends for chitchat and gossip.  Some she knew well enough to complain about Michael's mistreatment.  However, there was no one she trusted well enough to reveal how she had ruined her life.  Victoria had never completely bared her soul with me either.  However, she had come very close on the Kramer versus Kramer night.  I suppose I knew her better than anyone else other than Michael.  And obviously she trusted me more than I realized.  Victoria had just asked me to take care of her.  What should I say?

As I mulled things over, something Victoria had said greatly affected me.  "The least you can do is stand by me while I sort things out..."  You know what?  That was a good point.  This was the woman who had spent countless days and months helping me grow the program and how to run it properly.  Given that I owed her so much more than gratitude, Victoria had just shown me a way I could repay her.  In addition, my lingering guilt regarding Joanne played a role in my decision.  Joanne had given so much to me, but I had given her so little in return.  I did not want to feel the same way about Victoria.  Realizing she deserved my help, with a deep sigh I promised to stick around. 

"All right, Victoria, I will help you get through this."

"No, I need more than that.  No more Madame X's, please.  I just can't take you chasing another woman right now."

Oh please, not this again.  The thought of Lynette flashed through my mind.  But she had a boyfriend and Jennifer was gone.  So what difference did it make?  Victoria had asked for a month.  I suppose I could do that, maybe even two months if necessary.  After that, we would talk again.   

"Okay," I replied.  "No more Madame X's."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes, Victoria, I promise."  Oh well, there goes my long-awaited Freedom.  Feeling sick, I wordlessly got out of the car.  As I drove home, I knew the day would come when I would regret this promise.