“Yes. You’ll see on Friday. It’s a show made for tourists that presents the country’s dances every Friday, and it’s great, trust me.” After saying this, Felicia raised her head high and looked proud. “Since you asked about flamenco, I must say that on Friday they show the variant of the dance that’s designed for tourists, but on Saturdays, a part of the group has smaller presentations where they dance the real one. It’s beautiful; I’ll try to get you to one of those presentations.”
“Wait, so Toni’s closing the bar to get me to the show? Is that ok? I mean, I’m not here as a tourist, I’m supposed to be working.” “Yes... For him, you’re a friend, not an employee. And he already has his group of loyal clients, so closing the bar shouldn’t affect him too much. Maybe that’ll make Lovina’s revenge less bad. Unless she dislikes you more than we thought.”
“Great.”
“You’ll be fine; Francis survived the bagpipes.”
“But he stayed for a week. I don’t know how long I’m staying.”
“But you didn’t look at us as if trying to determine whether sleeping with us would get you in jail or not.”
“Francis believes the world needs more love,” said Gilbert, grinning, but he was mentally cringing. He considered the possibility that the bagpipe attack hadn’t been payback for making her lose money, but had been, instead, for making her feel disrespected.
“I could tell,” said Felicia, barely suppressing a laugh. “Now go to bed, or you won’t be able to stand tonight. Toño said he’d be here at seven, so you could go somewhere to talk for a while before eating. If he’s cooking, make sure to ask for a potato tortilla. Or paella. He makes great paella.”
“I’ll have that in mind.”
Gilbert took Felicia’s first advice and took a nap, and then took the second advice and asked for paella. She’d been right, Antonio did make good paella. They sat on the living room/dining room at Antonio’s with some beer and talked about everything, and, in an impulse, grabbed Antonio’s laptop and cellphone to contact Francis and feel like he was there too in a way. And Francis opened his laptop, activated the camera and grabbed a bottle of wine, and got drunk along with his friends, and for a few hours they were back at University, dreaming about the future and thinking of ways to make things difficult for poor Arthur Kirkland.
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,” said Francis around 3 in the morning.
“It’s easy, we just have to troll him on Facebook,” said Gilbert laughing.
“Not about Sourcils, Gilbert, about you. You’ll see, you’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know about that, Francis, but I’ll try.”
“You two are my best friends!,” said Antonio as he hugged Gilbert and tried to hug the laptop. “And you’ll be happy! I’ll make sure you’re happy! Los quiero, no se olviden nunca,” and he continued rambling in Spanish, laughing.
Gilbert believed them. Gilbert wanted to believe them, so he said goodnight to Francis, dragged Antonio to his bed and went downstairs to the bar.
Francis had done it.
Antonio had done, with some help, but he’d done it.
Ludwig was going to make it, and Felicia was trying her best to do it too.
And when Gilbert stood in the middle of the bar and looked around, taking in the sight of the place where he’d be working in since the next day, he dared to think that he might get to live the life he wanted too.
His last thought before falling asleep on Antonio’s couch was about the music player in the bar, the young woman who’d played bagpipe music on it, and whether or not someone who looks so angry is living the life she wanted.
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Flamenco, Tango y Tarantella (3d/?)
(Anonymous) 2012-03-31 04:03 am (UTC)(link)“Wait, so Toni’s closing the bar to get me to the show? Is that ok? I mean, I’m not here as a tourist, I’m supposed to be working.”
“Yes... For him, you’re a friend, not an employee. And he already has his group of loyal clients, so closing the bar shouldn’t affect him too much. Maybe that’ll make Lovina’s revenge less bad. Unless she dislikes you more than we thought.”
“Great.”
“You’ll be fine; Francis survived the bagpipes.”
“But he stayed for a week. I don’t know how long I’m staying.”
“But you didn’t look at us as if trying to determine whether sleeping with us would get you in jail or not.”
“Francis believes the world needs more love,” said Gilbert, grinning, but he was mentally cringing. He considered the possibility that the bagpipe attack hadn’t been payback for making her lose money, but had been, instead, for making her feel disrespected.
“I could tell,” said Felicia, barely suppressing a laugh. “Now go to bed, or you won’t be able to stand tonight. Toño said he’d be here at seven, so you could go somewhere to talk for a while before eating. If he’s cooking, make sure to ask for a potato tortilla. Or paella. He makes great paella.”
“I’ll have that in mind.”
Gilbert took Felicia’s first advice and took a nap, and then took the second advice and asked for paella. She’d been right, Antonio did make good paella. They sat on the living room/dining room at Antonio’s with some beer and talked about everything, and, in an impulse, grabbed Antonio’s laptop and cellphone to contact Francis and feel like he was there too in a way. And Francis opened his laptop, activated the camera and grabbed a bottle of wine, and got drunk along with his friends, and for a few hours they were back at University, dreaming about the future and thinking of ways to make things difficult for poor Arthur Kirkland.
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,” said Francis around 3 in the morning.
“It’s easy, we just have to troll him on Facebook,” said Gilbert laughing.
“Not about Sourcils, Gilbert, about you. You’ll see, you’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know about that, Francis, but I’ll try.”
“You two are my best friends!,” said Antonio as he hugged Gilbert and tried to hug the laptop. “And you’ll be happy! I’ll make sure you’re happy! Los quiero, no se olviden nunca,” and he continued rambling in Spanish, laughing.
Gilbert believed them. Gilbert wanted to believe them, so he said goodnight to Francis, dragged Antonio to his bed and went downstairs to the bar.
Francis had done it.
Antonio had done, with some help, but he’d done it.
Ludwig was going to make it, and Felicia was trying her best to do it too.
And when Gilbert stood in the middle of the bar and looked around, taking in the sight of the place where he’d be working in since the next day, he dared to think that he might get to live the life he wanted too.
His last thought before falling asleep on Antonio’s couch was about the music player in the bar, the young woman who’d played bagpipe music on it, and whether or not someone who looks so angry is living the life she wanted.