Page 2 of There Once was a Dancer
I smirked. “Close…but that ain’t my name. All you gotta know is what I’m tellin’ you. Now get outta here and leave this man alone.”
“Come on, Terry, let's go,” one of his friends said, pulling on Terry’s arm to get him moving toward the exit. He gave me a wary up and down glance before looking back at his friend. “We don’t need any trouble from the whore’s big attack dog.”
Terry obviously had other ideas as he yanked his arm away. “Let go of me, Bobby.”
“This one’s too big to fight, especially over that piece of Mexican trash,” Terry's other friend said, throwing an angry glance up at the dancer.
“Soy Boricua Puerto Rican, gavacho!” the dancer shouted defensively. I glanced up at him. He was watching the tug of war playing out between the idiots wearing a mischievous smirk. Though I couldn’t be sure, the expression on his face conveyed humor, as though he was both amused and resigned to the scene, like something similar had happened many times before. His reaction made me admire him even more. I hated the fact that they were throwing barbs and trying to make fun of him. I'd seen enough of that stereotypical crap while growing up to choke a horse. Any kind of bigotry sickened me.
“Let's go, Terry,” his friends urged. “There's plenty of bars in this town.”
“Haven't you had enough to drink?” I was slightly concerned about the drunken assholes driving from bar to bar in their condition. “Why don’t y’all call an Uber and take your friend home? Call it a night…what’d’ya say, fellas?”
“We’re going, but not because we're afraid of you, cowboy,” the one called Bobby shot back, still tugging on his friend’s arm. When Terry finally relented, he let his buddies pull him away. They disappeared from sight as the sea of dancing men and bar patrons swallowed them up. I turned back to the dancer to find him fiddling with something on the side of the cage. I walked around, noticing the small door built into the bars for the first time. When he opened it, I held up a hand. He stared at it for several seconds before finally reaching out to take my offer.
I held on tight as he hopped down onto the ground in front of me. He craned his neck to look up at me. Though most guys were shorter than I was, I practically towered over this man. When I caught sight of the expression on his heart-shaped face my breath caught in my throat. He had to be one of the most beautiful creatures I'd ever seen. His huge, dark eyes were surrounded with black kohl liner. It was impossible to tell exactly what color they were in the dimness of the club, but I did note that his lashes and riotous curls on top of his head were much the same color.
“Gracias,” he said with an accent so thick, it had to be a put on. He smiled at me, making those dimples pop again, and I couldn't help but smile back as electricity shot through my veins. He reached out and laid his palm on my chest, but the moment he did, he yanked it back just as quickly. He stared at his hand for a few seconds before looking up into my eyes again. His expression made me wonder if he'd felt the electricity between us too.
I smiled at him. “What's your name, sugar?”
“You can call me Cachi,” he replied.
I couldn’t help but smile. This time, his accent was lighter as the words rolled off his tongue. “Cachi,” I repeated. “That's a real pretty name.”
He smiled. “Cachi…it mean pacificador.”
I leaned into my limited knowledge of Spanish from growing up in a border town. “Peacemaker?”
He grinned widely as he nodded. “Muy bien, cowboy. You have a name?” He waved at my midsection. “Or I should call you cowboy?”
I laughed. “Name’s Rex.”
He smiled again, making the adorable dimples sink into his smooth cheeks. “Gracias for chasing those guys away, Rex, but I handle them.”
I nodded, shaking my head. He was a real spitfire if I’d ever met one. “I just bet you could.”
He glanced down at his body, waving at his slick skin before glancing up at me under thick lashes. “Well, I think I should change. Nice to meet you, cowboy.”
I don’t know why, but the idea that our brief conversation was coming to an end, made me feel even lonelier than I had earlier. Cachi had been the only man I’d seen all night to hold my interest. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to want to continue the encounter, and it seemed unmannerly to try to force the issue. My mama woulda whupped my ass if she thought I wasn’t being polite. I reached up and grabbed the imaginary brim of my hat and took a bow. “Well, it was surely nice meetin’ you, sugar. Stay away from drunk frat boys.”
“I do.” He giggled.
The tinkling sound filled my belly with butterflies. I watched as he turned and walked away, stopping right before he got to the back hallway to look over his shoulder. When he realized I was still watching him, he winked, gave me another dimpled smile, and went on his way. I felt myself grin and looked down at my boots, unable to get the man out of my mind.
I lifted my chin and glanced out at the dance floor and the men who circled it. All of them paled in comparison to the young, Latino dancer who’d caught my eye. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, but not a single one did anything for me at all. I didn't dance, though several men stopped to chat and ask if they could buy me a drink. I shook my head every time, unable to get the pretty Puerto Rican out of my mind. After half an hour,I finally made up my mind to go. What was the point? The only man who’d inspired me all night, was way out of my league.
Way too young and way too pretty.
Chapter One
CACHI
I’d winked at the tall cowboy and turned, heading down the hallway to the dressing area. I was so glad to have the day off tomorrow, so I could sleep in if I wanted to. It was very late and I was tired. Anyone who thought dancing in a cage was easy work, should try it. Yes, it kept my body toned and the money was good, but those were the only good things I could say about it. Keeping what I did from Mamá wasn’t ideal either. It was bad enough that I’d let her believe I was a bartender at the club. If she knew what I really did here, she’d be very upset.
I punched keys into the keypad when I got to the dressing room door and walked in, relieved to find that none of the other dancers were changing or putting on makeup in front of the mirror. As much as I liked most of them, they were a catty, jealous bunch of guys who were always talking behind each other’s backs. Some of them could be quite vicious when crossed.
I kept to myself, not interested in trying to steal the others’ boyfriends, the main reason they all talked behind each other’s backs. I’d learned my lesson after getting a bloody nose trying to break up a catfight a few months ago. People said women were the biggest gossips, but this nasty bunch of guys had women beat by a mile.
