AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER15
As soon asSylvie rounded the corner and saw the long line of women waiting in fancy gowns, she regretted the three glasses of champagne.
Resting against a bare spot on the otherwise colorfully painted wall, Sylvie took her cellphone out of the beaded white clutch matching her dress. Updating the bakery’s social media page would distract her from how badly she needed to pee.
“Flutes really don’t get enough love in modern music.”
Sylvie rolled her eyes. Of course Lauren would end up right behind her in line. She’d probably been waiting for her to go just to annoy her captive audience. If Sylvie wasn’t concerned about causing a scandal, she’d skip the line and go to the men’s room.
“Trombones either, I guess,” Lauren continued. “What do you think happened to all those musicians? Do people still get into wind instruments?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Sylvie whirled around.
Somehow, she hadn’t expected Lauren to be so dressed up. She was so used to seeing her hot and sweaty.
But now, her dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in perfectly arranged waves. With her hair gathered on one side by a pearl and crystal clip, her face was on full display.
Lauren’s dimpled smile ignited her dark eyes. She looked even more stunning than she had at the dance all those years ago. A feat Sylvie didn’t think possible.
“What else are we going to do in this line?” Lauren cocked her head to the side, her blinding smile still on display. “We might as well discuss the state of modern Cuban music.” She pointed to the ceiling where an embedded speaker relayed the live music playing in the dance hall.
The moment had all the makings of a trap. Lauren had done this a thousand times before. Started out with some innocuous comment only to burn her in the end. But Sylvie was on-guard. She’d have the last laugh.
Returning the phone to her bag, Sylvie turned her back to the woman in front of her and faced Lauren. She wouldn’t shy away. She wasn’t a coward. And . . . if someone had a crossbow aimed at her skull, she might admit the proximity was not totally unpleasant.
“And how much do you have to say about Cuban music?” Sylvie challenged. Lauren always thought she was too cute by half, but she wouldn’t be prepared for Sylvie to play along. The perfect countermove.
Lauren didn’t hesitate. “Well, we can start by admitting that some of the classics are really messed up. Think about some of the crazy things these people are singing about and we’re all dancing.”
Sylvie raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t following and still wasn’t sure of Lauren’s angle. She waited for her to say more.
“Let’s look at an unquestionable staple at every Cuban party since before we were born.” She paused to shift her weight on her feet. For dramatic effect no doubt. “How about Pedro Navaja? It’s about a man stalking a sex worker to rob her with a knife. That’s a strange thing to dance to, you have to admit.”
Sylvie recalled the song and considered Lauren’s point. “But she shot him with a thirty-eight special before he could get her. So, I’m going to say that ends in a net good.”
Delighted, Lauren laughed. Not her usual antagonizing laugh. It sounded genuine and jovial.
As they shifted closer to the bathroom entrance, Lauren came up with another example. “How about another salsa song about a sex worker? La Jinetera, titled with such a derogatory term, is about a seventeen-year-old child who was left pregnant and alone by her boyfriend. Not only does it glorify her trauma, I’m pretty sure she jumps into the ocean and to her death at the end.”
Sylvie tipped her head and considered the lyrics she hadn’t thought about in years. “She was seventeen?”
Lauren nodded. “Remember, Willy says she’d lived seventeen springs.”
“I think the ending is metaphorical,” Sylvie decided. “She jumps into the ocean, but then he sings about how Cuba is waiting for our return. So I think she gets back out and is totally fine.”
They moved another spot closer to the door.
“Can you defend El Gran Varon?” Lauren moved a strand of hair resting over her exposed collar bone.
Sylvie looked away from where Lauren’s fingertips brushed against her skin. Concentrating on the question, she recalled the song. “It’s a cautionary tale about what happens if you don’t accept your child unconditionally. It was basically Born This Way, decades before Lady Gaga. That’s pretty bold for 1989.”
“Are you kidding?” Lauren’s gleaming eyes widened in horror. “Simón dies from AIDS related complications in the end! As if it were some kind of cosmic punishment! You can’t think that’s okay.”
Sylvie shook her head. As usual, Lauren was looking at things all wrong. “Yeah, but it is supposed to be a punishment for the dad not Simón. It’s about his prejudice and stubbornness robbing him of a lifetime with his child. And the song came out in the late eighties. You can’t pretend AIDS just wasn’t happening. Thanks to unaccepting parents, a lot of people died without the love and comfort of their families.”
As they neared the door, Lauren nodded. “Okay, I grant you that.”
“You know what song I can’t defend?” Sylvie winced. “No le pegue a la negra. I don’t know who can make the case for slavery being a bop.”
