Leyre Oliveras tucked a stray black curl into her kerchief. Her finger brushed the large hoop earring on her left lobe before settling back into tapping a nervous rhythm on her thigh. She had been standing beneath the marquee at 46 North Orange Avenue for almost half an hour, awaiting the arrival of the rest of her crew. Certainly it was difficult to find parking in downtown Orlando on any given night, but the added traffic this night made it impossible.
So she waited. The first 15 minutes Leyre watched the other clubgoers pass. Vampires. Clowns. Witches. Princesses. Darth Maul. Catwoman. Britney Spears. She had to giggle. The woman was a bit lacking in Britney’s body shape. In fact, she looked more like a Catholic school girl than the busty singer. She had seen several others dressed as she was - like a gypsy, in all manner of purples, greens and reds. A couple of nuns and priest walked by just then and the costumes were so real she had to wonder if they were out for trick-or-treating or part of the clergy at St. James.
“Rey!”
Leyre turned toward the direction in which the voice came. “Hey, guys. Happy Halloween!” she greeted her friends - Cary, Jacquie and Ana. Cary was dressed as a medieval barmaid. Jacquie was Marilyn Monroe. Ana looked like she had borrowed the Bride of Frankenstein outfit from the Beetlejuice stage show at Universal Studios.
The foursome gave their names to the usual tall, dark and handsome doorman - who bore a striking resemblance to James Dean - and headed up the red carpeted stairs to Tabu’s VIP area. Daniel checked the ladies’ names off the list and attached aqua wristbands to their right wrists, which allowed them to move freely between the VIP and public parts of the club. They took their seats on the red and blue settees on each side of the candlelit table. Barely a minute passed before their server Cheriee approached the group to register their drink orders.
Leyre’s focus dropped to the dancefloor below. The scene that greeted her eyes reminded her of the story played out in the song “Monster Mash”. A variety of gouls and goblins along with a smattering of French maids and Kid Rock imposters were bouncing and swaying to the rhythm that echoed off the club’s walls. Once her Tabu Blue arrived, she took her glass and went exploring the balcony. She stopped to say hello to some of the employees of the club that she knew from her previous visits including Dwayne, the burly but teddy bear of a bouncer, and Lou, the perpetually busy manager. Finally, she resigned herself to the fact that HE wasn’t there that night either.
HE was Howie Dorough, a member of the successful vocal group called the Backstreet Boys and part-owner of the club. Leyre first came to Tabu because of the latter fact, but returned because of the atmosphere and the people. It was a classy place with its luxurious, Titanic era decor. The music - a mix of progressive house and electronic dance - was always enough to inspire her body to move. The staff treated you like royalty. Tabu was comfortable, like coming home.
Leyre sighed and sipped her drink. Feeling a presence nearby, she realized a young man dressed as Zorro was watching her. He raised his Corona in greeting and she, in turn, reciprocated the gesture with a smile.
Leyre returned to the table. “Good Lord, you guys have to take a look around. There are some really hot guys here tonight. And I didn’t say that just because Andy is working.” The other nodded and laughed. Andy had bussed their table on numerous occasions. All the ladies were fans of his kindness and sense of humor.
A couple more sips of Tabu Blue and a demonstration of what Cary could do with a Corona bottle, Leyre and Cary went downstairs to the dancefloor. They had to work off the first round of drinks prior to ordering another.
The parquet dancefloor was crowded but the duo squeezed in amongst the masses. DJ Cano was true to his art that night spinning his typical progressive house with some pumped up mixed pop tunes scattered throughout. Heavy bass which prevailed in all provided a steady heartbeat. The green laser traced geometric patterns on the wall. Television screens showed abstract images reminding Leyre of the kaleidoscope she had as a child. Dancers - a woman and a man with somewhat complimentary and outrageous white costumes - moved to the beat in elevated “cages”.
Leyre sashayed her hips to the rhythm, gradually waking her body and soul to the emotions of the music. Soon, though, as was normal for Tabu on a Saturday night, feelings of claustrophobia began and she became frustrated with having to fight for space. The two women decided to return to the balcony. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Leyre excused herself to use the rest room while Cary opted to return to their table.
Though the ladies lounge upstairs was smaller, the line always seemed to move more quickly. Leyre washed her hands in the sink - admiring the interior designer’s idea to have a basin filled with pebbles - then reapplied her berry-flavored lip gloss. Walking back toward the balcony entrance, her brown eyes wandered over the sitting area and its decidedly Asian-influenced motif. She always wondered about the cultural fusion that seemed to reign in the decoration of the club. An Asian lounge serving sushi. The main room with its painted ceilings revealing a more Latin theme. The African-influenced down grooves playing in the front lounge. An evening at Tabu was like a trip into all things exotic.
Re-entering the balcony area, she tried her best to squeeze through the throng of people but couldn’t manage to avoid everyone.
“Sorry,” she apologized upon bumping into a body.
“No problem,” came a male voice in reply.
Leyre glanced up to see Zorro standing before her. “I guess I should say perdoneme, senor, instead.”
Zorro smiled bringing her attention away from his soulful eyes to his full lips. “To which I would reply, es no problema, senorita. Really, it was my fault. Common excuse: not paying attention to where I was going.”
“No, common excuse would be too many shots of tequila or in my case, too many Tabu Blues.”
Zorro smiled again. “Might I buy you one of those as part of my apology?”
“It’s not necessary...”
“It’s my pleasure.”
Zorro gestured to one of the waitresses and indicated his order. “She’ll bring them to my table. That is if you’ll join me?” Leyre nodded. After leading her to the entrance of the VIP booth, he made a sweeping gesture with his black cape. “After you, gitana bonita.” (beautiful gypsy)
Her eyes widened with question as she took a seat in the far corner of what was often referred to as the VIP-VIP section. “What makes you so special?” Leyre teased.
“I’m Zorro...” They laughed. “No, seriously?” He hesitated before answering. “I, uh, I know the owners.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, really. One, I know very well in fact.”
“Are any of them here tonight?”
His smile was devilish. “I’ve seen one around.” Yeah, like in the mirror.
Cheriee was the waitress who brought their drinks and Leyre thanked her by name causing her companion to wonder. “Let’s just say I’m pretty much a regular around here.”
“Really?”
“I’ve only lived in Orlando a couple of months. Been here four times. VIP is definitely the way to go.”
“They certainly treat you right,” he said sipping his Corona. “So what brought you to Orlando?”
Leyre told him about her public relations job and how she desperately wanted out of the cold weather Boston offered six months of the year. He told her about his job in real estate and about his travels. Neither thought to formally introduce themselves. The conversation was too comfortable to disturb. For tonight, he was Zorro, and he called her Esmeralda.
Leyre found that the man behind Zorro’s black mask was something out of a dream. Yes, he was handsome. He was charming. He was funny. He was sweet. Not the stereotypical man that usually frequented the clubs. Several times, she was tempted to ask who he was when the mask disappeared, but she refused - not willing to allow reality to interrupt fantasy.
An hour had passed before she returned to her original table and she did so only to tell her friends what had transpired. Zorro met her there and after making small talk, told the others he had been ordered to spirit her into hiding from the evil general.
In truth, he took her downstairs to the body painter. “Hi, Nick,” the two chorused before dissolving into laughter.
“I think you’ve had too much to drink,” Zorro told her. Maybe so, but she didn’t miss the look Nick sent her companion or his in reply. She wondered why.
“So what are we doing tonight and where would you like it?”
Leyre hesitated so Zorro answered for her. “How about something here?” He requested as his finger touched the area left of her collarbone. Her white peasant blouse was off the shoulder leaving plenty of palette for the artist.
“I’ll trust you on the design,” she told Nick. With her permission granted, the paintbrush and imagination worked together. Leyre watched Zorro’s eyes as they followed the paintbrush. Their eyes connected for a moment and the pair exchanged shy smiles.
As Nick finished the color outlines of the design, Zorro whispered some instructions in his ear. The two men shared a grin - a gesture that served to make Leyre nervous. Nick dipped his brush into the paint again before adding one more flourish to the masterpiece. He finished it with some glitter paint accents.
Glancing at the completed design in the mirror, Leyre had to smile and shoot her male companion a mock glare. There in the center of the traditional intricate loops and swirls was a simple “Z” - Zorro’s calling card.
He grasped her hand and gave her an over-exaggerated bow before ushering her toward the dancefloor. They spent the rest of the night there - their bodies pressed close together by the proximity of the crowd.
Leyre just didn’t want to believe the night was over as she and Zorro climbed the stairs to the VIP balcony hand-in-hand. She wasn’t sure how this was all going to end. When the couple reached the bar, he found a napkin and borrowed a pen from one of the waitresses to scribble a note on it.
“If you feel that we can continue this, drop me a note,” he offered placing the napkin in her hand. He leaned closer. The intoxicating musky scent of him made her feel a bit heady as his lips brushed hers for a brief but smoldering kiss. “ I had beautiful time tonight, Esmeralda,” he whispered in her ear.
“Buena noche, Zorro.”
“Buena noche, gitana bonita.”
Leyre met her friends outside the club and they headedtoward Pine Street, where she had parked her car. As she walked, she glanced at the napkin.
“My beautiful gypsy - Una Noche. Zorro”
~ * ~ * ~
Back at Tabu, Zorro sipped from a bottle of Corona at the bar waiting. “Beautiful girl,” the bartender mentioned. “Did you even find out who she was?”“I don’t know...” Zorro reached around his head to untie his mask and set it on the bar. A goulish looking vampire in the style of the Munsters approached him. “Hey, John.”
“Great night, but I’m ready to head home. There’s a cab waiting downstairs. Coming. little brother?”
Howie Dorough sighed. “Coming.”
~ finis ~
