In which Moneypenny takes a break
I head towards 9 de Julio, jump into the first taxi I see and head to towards Palermo, where the night was still relatively young.
We arrive in front of the Armenian cultural center, with my mind constantly wandering, taking me back in the events which occurred earlier this evening, I almost forget to pay the driver. “Perdon” I tell him as I dash out.
I run down the stairs and accidentally collide with someone: “Perdon”, I blurt out a second time.
Standing before me is Adrianna. “You really must learn to be careful, you could have hurt one of us!”, she admonishes, “but I guess that’s not important to you is it, as long as you can get downstairs fast enough to get the best tandas!” she adds.
I wish I had run into anyone else but her right now. She is accompanied by Lucia and this little mishap of mine will no doubt give them something to complain about for the rest of the evening.
“I am very sorry, it was reckless of me”, I say apologetically and then turn towards her and say: “Oh, Adrianna, I wanted to tell you, I saw Alvaro at De Querusa the other night” I stare over at Lucia and try to gauge a reaction from her, any sign of discomfort on her part, “and he couldn’t stop talking about you” I add.
“Really!” she responds excitedly in a high-pitched voice like a hyena. “Yes, he’s quite fond of you…..says you’re very kind and elegant. He says you remind him of his mother, which, I’m sure is quite the compliment; you know how these porteños are, everything is about their mothers. Must be why they like breasts so much. Wouldn’t you say Lucia?” I add with a smirk, they’re both going to hate me.
“Our table is ready, we will see you inside” Adrianna responds grabbing Lucia by the shoulder and rushing away from me.
I hadn’t expected them to be here tonight, especially not arriving at this hour. Was La Viruta some sort of secret meeting place for undercover agents? Are Adrianna and Lucia involved in this somehow? Or am I just becoming paranoid.
The smells of fresh coffee and medialunas fills the air; the dance floor is starting to empty out; dancers are slowly removing their shoes to give their aching feet a little break. I sit in the far corner, where Bond usually sits, even in his absence I seem to gravitate towards him. I lean over to put on my shoes and barely manage to tie my left strap when I feel a gently caress on my right shoulder: “Quieres bailar?” He asks, in that porteño accent I could never resist. “Si” I respond without hesitation; not only is he very handsome, but it’s a Troilo tanda.
I gently lean into him as we start to synchronize our bodies and slowly move in-tune with the dos por quatro tango compas. I close my eyes and abandon myself completely to him and to our tanda; I want to empty my mind of everything and just enjoy this moment; enjoy his subtle perfume, his firm support as we move around the dance floor, the feel of his hand almost caressing my back; I want to forget everything else that has happened tonight. After the first tango, we simply stay in close embrace and sway from left to right without saying a word, waiting for the next tango to start.
“Gracias” he says after the tanda is over. “Gracias a vos” I respond, “I want to go I think” I say looking directly into his eyes. “Ok let’s go then” he responds without hesitation. So we leave La Viruta grabbing 2 medialunas on our way out.
I slowly unlock the front door, I’m sure she’s out, it’s market day; she nevers sleeps in on Sundays. I wonder if she noticed my absence this morning. The house is empty, I quickly grab my things from the night before and drop off a note on her bed stand before making my way out.
I need time to think, I’m going to Bolivia to clear my mind. Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine, I’ll be back in 10 days. Don’t tell Bond.
Take care of you
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