Characters in this post
View character profile for: Dorian Adler
View character profile for: Lyen Giu
View character profile for: Marisol Chavez
Boots, Marisol, and the Cabaret - Part 2 (Day 3 - Late Afternoon)
“La Cabaret de Montagne,” Adler read aloud the large placard which hung from an upper balcony. A poster had been affixed next the heavy wooden doors…’Join us for our Solstice Extravaganza.’ He glanced toward Lyen as he knocked on the door. “Perhaps Ah’ll reserve a table.”
From inside came the sound of locks disengaging. The door pushed open to reveal a tallish man, clean shaven, stylishly dressed in his mid forties. “We open in two hours,” he said. “May I be of service?”
Dorian removed his hat. “This is Sistah Lyen Giu. Ah’m Dorian Adler. We’re friends of Marisol Chavez. May we see her?”
“Marrrisol,” the proprietor offered a subtle smile. “She might be busy, but I’ll be glad to check. Please, come in,” he gestured as the door swung wide. “Where are my manners? My name is Arturo. It is a pleasure to meet friends of our Marrrisol,” he offered a gallant hand to escort the nun inside.
It was difficult not to smile as Arturo took her hand and led her within the Cabaret. “Amituofo, Mr. Arturo, you have a beautiful establishment.” While she spoke, the nun took in her first sights of the Cabaret de Montagne; it’s brightly lit stage, islands of tables and chairs, and a prominent and antique-looking bar coalesced to create an exciting and inviting atmosphere, even with the house lights lit from above. She craned her neck around each corner for a glimpse of Marisol, a knowing glance shot back at Dorian. To Lyen it felt like a last chance to say a proper goodbye, but more than that, a chance for closure and to offer her the heartfelt hug in return she’d been surprised by when they landed.
Arturo made a half bow, his palms pressed together until both hands came down, separating into an open handed welcome. “Amituofo, Sister. Welcome to La Cabaret de Montagne.” The greeting delivered, he scanned the semi darkness of the table seating. “Marrrisol?” he called out. “Marrrisol!”
“Yes?” A familiar silhouette appeared among the tables nearest the stage. Marisol held a tray balanced to one hip as she moved about, placing fresh candles into the centerpieces.
“Put that down a moment!” Arturo’s voice carried through the room. “You have guests.”
Seeing her there against the backdrop of the stage, in the sea of tables and chairs was like seeing a special beast exactly in its element, utterly comfortable and secure. “Well hello there stranger,” Lyen set off down the aisle toward Marisol. When she was close enough, she wrapped the late mechanic of the Lunar Veil in a slightly snowy hug, clasping both slender arms around Marisol’s shoulders. “Just look at you, here, you look so happy!”
Marisol laughed as she threw her arms around the Sister. “Lyen!” she laughed again, eventually giving up the embrace as she pulled back to arm’s length. “I’m okay,” she wiped her eyes, but couldn’t stop smiling. “Working like a dog, but okay. The people here are wonderful,” she grinned broadly at the pair of them. “So good to see you,” she hugged Lyen afresh. “Are you in town for the night? I can reserve a table if you both want.”
“We heard there was a freshly minted act right here in the Cabaret, something about a fiery Spanic woman who has the voice of an angel? You know anything about that?” She brought their embrace to her side so they could view the wide open space of the Montagne, Dorian trading words with Arturo. “What it must be like to perform here. I envy you and your courage. We are definitely staying to see you--and the entire show!” She had no idea what kind of entertainment took place at a cabaret; there was no such entertainment on her side of Athens, or in Santo where she spent much time. She only knew that if Marisol was a part of it, then it was something she wanted to see.
Marisol shook her head. “Fiery Spanic woman? Nope,” she chuckled, “unless you mean Marisol, the singing waitress, toilet scrubber and coat check girl.” After a quick laugh, she said “Arturo and his husband, Remy...they’re the real show. I come up a few times at night to sing while they’re changing costumes for the next number.”
From behind them the two men laughed. After shaking hands with Arturo, Dorian rejoined his friends on the floor. “Yah employah tells me that folk are talkin’ bout tha new waitress,” he smiled. “Ah hate tah tell Paco he’s lost his best help.” He gave her a warm embrace. Yah missed on tha Veil.”
The smile diminished ever so slightly. “There are folk there I miss, too. But you two!” she exclaimed. “Listen, I’ve got to finish my tables before the band arrives,” she offered sheepishly. I’ll hold a table right down front…”
“Ah settled it with Arturo,” Dorian replied. “We’ve got a table. In tha meantime, Sistah?” he asked the nun. “Kindly allow me tah take yah tah suppah?”