The Walrus
Zorah was surprised when after dinner was cleared away and the hotel staff restored the balcony, Icaro held his hand out to her.
“What are you doing?”
“Dance with me,” he touched a button on his phone and music drifted from it. “The staff cleared us space, we may as well make use of it.”
She bit her lip, “I don’t know how to dance. I’ve never danced.”
“You’ve never danced.” He appeared horrified by her comment.
“No.”
“You didn’t have dances at school?”
“I went to an all-girls Catholic school. They weren’t going to encourage us to dance with each other.”
“You and Sidonia have never been dancing in a nightclub?”
“No!” she pulled her head back. “Do you know what would have happened to us if we’d been caught in a nightclub?”
He stopped the music on his phone, and he dialed out a number, his forehead creased in concentration. Zorah wondered why he was so bent out of shape and who he was calling. When Vodingo answered the phone on speaker, Zorah was even more confused.
“Did you finish dinner?” Icaro asked him.
“The staff is clearing it now.”
“Zorah just revealed a travesty to me.”
“What? Please tell me it’s something we can use as a damn good reason to kill a bunch of people in Rhode Island?” Vodingo griped clearly unaware he was on speaker phone. “I’m still pissed off about the scar on my wife’s hip.”
“Did you know the girls have never been dancing? Not ever. Ask Sidonia if she’s ever danced before.”
“Sid,” Vodingo called out, “Icaro is saying Zorah has never danced before. Have you ever danced? Gone to a club?”
“No.” Sidonia’s giggle floated over the airwaves. “Do you know the punishment we got from simply going to a fair on a Saturday afternoon? Imagine what we’d have gotten from dancing, especially in a nightclub.”
Zorah threw her hands up in the air, “see! I told you so.”
“You don’t know how to dance?” Vodingo’s voice took on a high pitch as he almost squealed with his indignation. “Icaro. We need to fix this!”
“Agreed.” Icaro nodded excitedly. “Il Trichecho?”
Zorah scrunched her nose up, “did you call us walruses?”
Vodingo laughed and Icaro shook his finger at her.
“I did not call you walruses. It is the name of a nightclub here in Rome. It is run by a friend of ours. Growing up he used to say he wanted to be like those American Fat Cats we would see on television and being the assholes we were, we called him a walrus. He’s a giant of a man but he owns it. He opened a bunch of clubs and the one here which is most popular is il Trichecho, which means The Walrus.”
“I’m so confused,” Sidonia’s voice rang out. “Why are we talking about dancing walruses?”
Vodingo’s laugh was loud over the phone and Zorah shrugged at Icaro who appeared as giddy as his friend. “The girls don’t have dresses.”
“On it,” Icaro was texting furiously on his phone. “Keturah was with her mother when they met the plane. She always packs like she’s going away for six months.” He waited for an answer, “she said she’s got perfect dresses for the girls, but we have to bring her with us. She doesn’t want to hang with us, but she wants to avoid the line ups.”
“What is going on?”
“We’re going to a nightclub, Zorah. I’m going to take you dancing. We’re going to teach you how to dance.”
“It’s a Sunday night!” she was perplexed by his excitement as he pulled his suitcase and started rummaging through it. “Icaro, we can’t go to a club on a Sunday night.”
“Yes, we can. In fact, we’re going to. Vodingo, Keturah will bring the dresses to my room. Bring Sidonia up here and the girls can get ready together.” He hung up on his friend and faced her, grabbed her by the waist and began twisting and turning her at the hips, “I am taking my bride dancing. I am very excited.”
She noted his eyes were wide and she could tell his excitement without him even needing to say it. Incapable of holding back her own smile at his exuberance she let him twist her around, “you’re being very impulsive and a bit crazy.”
He kissed her nose. “Are you kidding? I’ve spent the last hour or so wondering how we were going to fill the hours until we’re ready for bed. We could sit and drink more wine and talk but when I was packing for our trip back home, it was before I realized how much damage I’d done. I didn’t pack card games or plan for anything other than having you in bed like most honeymooners.”
“Do you really think all people on a honeymoon do is have sex?”
“They don’t?”
She smacked his chest as he grinned unabashedly at her. “No. They don’t. Some people go to shows and the theatre and visit vineyards.”
“Ah, well, if the truth be told, I have many of those things planned for us when we’re in Catania. Tonight, however I wasn’t planning on anything other than taking you to bed. I was dreading the blue balls which were going to plague me until dawn.”
She leaned away from him, her lips pursed as she struggled not to laugh at his silly antics. “So really then this is about saving yourself some discomfort then.”
“Absolutely.” He was teasing her boldly now.
“Fine but,” she held up her finger and put it to his lips. “I’ve never gone dancing before. Ever.”
“I’m aware.”
“I want to dance with other men.”
His smile fell off. “What?”
“I want to dance with other men in the club.”
“Zorah,” he started to protest.
“For every Italian lothario I dance with tonight which doesn’t result in someone being shot,” she was giggling on her own now as his eyebrows met in the middle, “you can reduce your thirty-day sentence by one day.” She caught herself, “and I don’t mean a group dance either. I want to sexy dance with very handsome men.”
“You have got to be kidding me!”
She shook her head vigorously, “no. I’ve never been to a nightclub before, but I’ve seen them in movies and on television. I bet you’ve gone to these clubs and danced with lots of women, right? It’s my turn. I can’t go have sex, but I can at least dance.”
“Sexy dance?”
“Sexy dance,” she was emphatic.
“And for each sexy dance you do with a so-called sexy man, I get a night off my thirty days?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to take days off, Zorah,” he kissed her forehead. “If you want to dance with every man in the club tonight, then you do it. It is the least of the punishments I would deserve for the things I’ve done in the past. Can you promise me one thing?”
“What?”
“Save me at least one dance?”
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