Читать книгу Cave of Little Faces - Aída Besançon Spencer - Страница 17

The next night, Basil and Star Heitz stood at the entrance to the casino of the Bravado Beach Resort, surveying the layout through the glass.

“Let’s go shopping,” said Basil, pushing the revolving door open for Star to enter. His manners were always gentlemanly in public. You never knew who was watching.

Both of them glanced around the entire room, taking in the present population with practiced eyes, and then centered on Daniela, standing beside Ben, as he played blackjack with fierce abandon. Ben had wasted no time in pursuing his goal. As promised, Daniela had tagged along. This was the first time they had ever seen this part of the city.

Through all the years as children they had been in Barahona, they had mainly stayed in the beach house, frolicking on the long, isolated stretch of beach, playing among the rocky promenades that loomed above it, strolling through the town, discovering. Being children, they could not enter the casino alone as they were underage and their parents had forbidden them to go there. As young adults, their visits to Barahona had become less and less frequent, since their parents had only insisted that Jo visit Uncle Sol. Only every three years were all of them urged very strongly to visit him.

Of course, no one called the Barahona beach “Bravado Beach.” The residents of the small city suspected the hotel had simply invented the name to try to horn in on the reputation of the far more successful and illustrious Bavaro beach resorts on the eastern shore of the country. Admittedly, no one yet had confused them, as far as the hotel administration was aware, but you never knew. Tourists were not that bright. Daniela herself had always wanted to check out the Bravado because the name of the hotel had intrigued her. The beach, she was disappointed to see, was no more lovely than all the beautiful beach that stretched along the coast of Barahona, and the casino was like every other casino she had ever seen, though these, of course, were few. Daniela didn’t like casinos. They were dark and closed in, so she couldn’t be seen, and, besides, she didn’t understand most of the games. Her money always disappeared quickly. She knew she wasn’t clever like Ben, although she noticed his money disappeared as well. Perhaps not so rapidly, but just as irresistibly. This one was like the others. Security guards were everywhere—watching you as you entered—watching you at every game—watching you as you left. Ben breezed right by them, but Daniela found them unnerving, and she crept by, hesitating. Daniela was a social creature and this was all so antisocial. There were no windows, no clocks, just individuals, each of them a tiny island of desperation in a sea of neon-lit darkness.

She and Ben had paused for a moment after they’d entered. They had found themselves emptied into the far right corner of the casino through the same revolving door from the hotel through which Basil and Star would soon come. Daniela didn’t realize it, but the door was wired to stop at the press of a button at any table if a dealer or a guard suspected anything amiss. It was a lot like entering a prison, though this one very plush. It had about the same number of security guards in proportion to inmates. To their left was a cashier’s booth. Ahead were the games.

“Let’s go check out what they’ve got,” urged Ben.

Daniela tagged along.

In front of them was a roulette table. It was automatic.

“Uh huh!” noted Ben.

To its left were slot machines and at the beginning of the line an automatic bingo table. Just beyond it were three blackjack tables presided over by the same number of hard-looking females who flipped each previous card with the edge of the next card.

“Oka-a-ayyy,” murmured Ben.

As the centerpiece of the room, standing in state, was a large, ornate, hand-spun roulette wheel. A half dozen people crouched over it as a slick-looking woman called the numbers.

“Hmmm,” mused Ben.

To its right, to complete the center, were two smaller roulette tables and then the rest of the gaming space was devoted to slot machines. One row had nautical names—“Blackbeard’s Treasure Chest” with a laughing Pirate generously opening his cache of booty toward all and sundry, “Pirate’s Mate” with an image of a scantily clad buccaneer-ess smiling invitingly, and many others of that ilk. The next row was themed to the ancient Near East: “Pharoah’s Daughter”—she was lounging seductively beneath a grape vine, “Rose of the Nile,” “Potipher’s Wife,” all obviously sharing with the “Pirate’s Mate” the same clothier. The third row was devoted to food—“Hot Tamale Sauce” and “Diablo Peppers”—suggesting to Daniela a bad case of indigestion. At two of these machines in the food-oriented row, “Hot Cha Enchiladas” and “Joltin’ Ginger Snaps,” a woman was losing twice as fast, playing two slot machines at the same time—each with one hand.

“Figures,” observed Ben.

To complete the room, on a raised platform next to the cashier’s table and running the entire distance of the right-hand wall until it broke off before a small service entrance, was a bar with a dozen tables scattered in front of it.

“This whole place gives me the creeps,” shuddered Daniela.

“Let’s try the blackjack,” said Ben. “The rest of this is all suckers’ games.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” said Ben, “you never see anybody leaving these machines with a smile on their face, and the same goes for the roulette.”

“You mean they’re rigged?” asked Daniela, shocked.

“Oh, no, no,” Ben countered quickly. “The houses are honest enough. It’s just that they have so many extra chances to win—so many unclaimed numbers and unmatched slot combinations.”

“I thought you came here to win,” wondered Daniela.

“It’s not about winning,” explained Ben. “It’s about how the staff treats you. Whether you have a good time—you’re treated well enough. The house always ends up winning. Only a loser plays these games of chance. Only the skill games are worthwhile.”

“I like roulette,” nearly whimpered Daniela.

“You would,” sneered Ben. “Lemme show you how it’s done. Come on.” He stalked over toward the blackjack tables, pulling her by the hand, as one would a child.

All of this Basil and Star were taking in intently. They couldn’t hear the actual interchanges, of course, but they were watching the facial expressions, the postures: who was talking and who was responding. Star, particularly, was sizing up Daniela—her short but tastefully in-style dark designer dress (a really expensive investment she had actually saved up to buy), her high quality amber jewelry, and her habitually lost girlish look—and said, “I think I’ll go and befriend that little lamb.”

“Lose something at roulette before you head over so you don’t attract attention,” cautioned Basil.

“Of course,” said Star.

While Basil ensconced himself at the bar, she strolled over to the nearer roulette table, played the number seventeen, then waited a bit, pretending to study the table while she watched Daniela and Ben with a well-honed peripheral vision. When Ben seemed absorbed enough in losing at blackjack, she played seventeen again, clucked her disgust, and then, mumbling audibly about trying something else, for the benefit of any guard who might be listening, she wandered over to the blackjack table, sidling up to Daniela. “I’ve been losing at roulette,” Star confided. “How’s your husband doing?”

“He’s not my husband, he’s my brother. He’s losing,” explained Daniela, adding, “He’s got a system.”

Star smiled her most confiding smile. “All men do.” She paused a moment, gauging how deeply Ben was involved. He was obviously in plenty deep. “You gamble yourself?”

“Heavens, no,” exclaimed Daniela. “I hate to lose.”

“So do I. I think I’ve dropped enough for today. Losing gets boring. I’m going to go get a piña colada. You want me to bring you something?”

“No,” said Daniela, “but thanks just the same. I’m really bored too. I think I’ll come over with you.”

“That would be nice.” Star smiled again, radiantly. “I’ll treat you to one.”

“Thank you so much,” said Daniela. “Ben,” she ventured, “I’m going to go get a drink.” It took three times before she could capture his attention enough to hear him mutter, “Whatever!”

Off she went to the bar with Star.

“Oh, here’s my husband,” said Star, perfectly feigning surprise. “Bo, dear, this is a new friend I’m just making. Oh, what is your name, honey?”

“I’m Danny. It’s short for Daniela.”

“What a lovely name,” said Star. “My nickname is ‘Peep.’”

“Oh, that’s cute,” said Daniela, “Bo and Peep.”

“Yes, that’s what all our friends call us.”

“My friends call me Danny.”

Star smiled, sizing her up correctly to herself as “some great displays, but not much inventory in that boutique.” What she said, however, was, “And so, Danny, what brings you down here to the wrong side of the Dominican Republic? I would have thought a snazzy young jet-setter like you would be dancing the night away up at Punta Cana with the rest of the beautiful folks.”

Daniela giggled. “I’ve come here a lot because my uncle lives—lived—nearby. He just died and we’re come down to check out our inheritance.”

An inheritance, do tell? thought Star. “Well, that sounds exciting, dear.”

“I guess. Not really, but it is a nice place.”

“Oh, it’s a house?”

“Well, more like a mansion. It’s a big two-story beach house up the road just around Los Diamantes del Mar Hotel.”

This is too easy, thought Star. Next, she’ll be giving me her bank account numbers. “Oh, my,” Star enthused. “That’s wonderful. Now you’ll have your own place to stay whenever you come here.”

“Oh no,” said Daniela quickly. “We don’t want to keep it—we want to sell it.”

Bingo! “We?” queried Star.

“My brother and two sisters.”

Hmmm, a four way split. The brother was the wastrel throwing his money away at the table. If the sisters were anything like she was. . . . “Well, this is very exciting, Danny. It’s good to have money when you’re young. You can enjoy it then, when you are still new at life, before you move on to deeper things.”

Daniela looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, the things that really count. The deeper meaning of life.”

“What deeper meaning?”

“Why, dear, haven’t you noticed that people seem so disoriented. I mean, people all around us. No offense, dear, but, well, like your dear brother. So absorbed in that game that he doesn’t even have time for you, but what’s the point?”

“You’re telling me!” cried Daniela. “He keeps saying he’s got some kind of stupid system to win at cards and stuff, but he’s always losing. When he gets his part of the inheritance, he’s going to fritter it all away at blackjack!”

Not if we can help it. “I know, I know, sweetie.” Star took her hand. “But, honestly, I have to confess that we were the same way—weren’t we Bo?—before we got oriented.”

“Yes, yes,” Basil hung his head. “It’s true. I’m not blaming anybody who’s still caught in the wasted pursuits of life. There, but for the Pole, we would still be too.”

“The Pole, what Pole?” asked Daniela. Was this about some Polish guy—some motivational speaker people were all watching on the net or something?

“Why, the Magnetic Pole!” said Basil with the awe with which one would describe the discovery of a brand new tax shelter. “You’ve heard of the Pole, no doubt, a woman as well informed as you appear to be—and as obviously spiritually sensitive?”

“Well, no,” said Daniela. “Honestly, I haven’t. But,” she added quickly to preserve the high opinion they obviously held of her, “I’d like to.”

You will, you will, thought Star, saying aloud in her most charitable tone, “Don’t blame yourself, Danny. It’s the best kept secret on the island. It’s on all the maps, but no one pays it any attention. Right now, it’s just a mark in the road, but the fact is that it’s the secret to all human orientation. You see what I mean of course.”

“Sure,” agreed Daniela.

Of course you don’t, you little actress, thought Star, but said, “Well, good. It just so happens that this evening, Bo and I are holding a very small and select ‘orienting service.’” She stopped and checked her watch ostentatiously. “Why, Bo, how the time flies. Did you see what time it is?”

“No, dear, let me check.” Basil flipped back the sleeve of his elegant guayabera shirt to display an elegant, if lower-priced, Rolex watch, once the possession of a gullible real estate agent who unwittingly took it off to wash his hands in a washroom in Newark, New Jersey, and never saw it again. “Why, Peep, my dear, you’re right. Look at the time! It’s nearing the sacred hour.”

“There’s a ‘sacred hour?’” asked Daniela.

“There is indeed,” Basil assured her.

“What’s that?”

“Eleven eleven,” he said confidently. It was ten thirty-five.

“Eleven minutes after eleven o’clock at night is sacred?” asked Daniela.

“It is, Danny, and in the morning too.”

“Why is it sacred?” Daniela was out of her depth, but struggling to surface in all this deluge of information.

Basil swelled himself up in his best southern politician style, and, while keeping his voice down, intoned, “Because that is the symbol of the great orienting poles.”

“What are the poles?”

“You know the poles, dear,” confided Star, “the North Pole and the South Pole. These are at the ends of our world and all that we do and say and live are done within their guiding confines. And right near the center of our globe is the sacred Magnetic Pole, the one nearby here in this sacred land.”

“This land is sacred?” Daniela was astonished. To her it was just the vacation spot she was accustomed to visiting every summer since she was a child.

“This island, known to us as Hispaniola,” lectured Basil, “was once called Quisqueya. It was sacred to the original inhabitants. Its name means ‘the Mother of All Islands.’” And he carefully sounded out the ancient island name with Qs, not Ks, repeating it twice and emphasizing the Qs.

Star looked at him proudly. The five minutes she had insisted on him reading in the guidebook was paying off handsomely. Now, if he just didn’t overdo it. . . .

“I knew that,” said Daniela.

Now it was Star’s turn to be astonished. She really didn’t think this little pigeon knew anything.

“I’ve come here all my life . . .” started Danny, about to give her own lecture.

Quickly, Star headed her off. “How fascinating, dear. But, now we are nearing 11:11 and we must hurry to the beach so we don’t miss out on our orienting service.”

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom first,” worried Daniela.

“Of course, dear, we’ll wait for you, but do hurry,” urged Star. “It’s over there.” Star always reconnoitered the lavatories whenever she entered any public place. One never knew when one needed to duck into a nearby women’s room to avoid someone—especially a powder room with a window that opened on a back alley.

“Quick,” said Basil, as soon as Daniela left, “I gotta call Balenzuela. Get him on the beach—pronto!”

Ismael picked up the call immediately, “Yes, what is it?”

“We got a live one! Can you be down at the beach, right outside the casino by eleven o’clock?”

“That’s pretty good on the 11:11, Bo,” said Star, when he’d hung up.

“Yeah, we’re certainly making this up as we go along.”

“Well, you’re going to have to come up with a fourth pole to fill out the bill.”

“True, but otherwise we would have been stuck waiting until one o’clock, and I don’t know if this sparrow’s got the attention span to last two hours.”

“You’re probably right there.”

Basil looked at her with expectancy. “Star, you came up with this scam. You got any more ideas?”

Star paused a moment. “Well, we gotta keep it on theme. How about the orienting pole within each of us?”

“Good enough. Especially for this peacock. We’re good to go.”

When Daniela returned hurrying, her new friends had taken on a deeper tone of sanctimoniousness.

“Will your brother be all right,” asked Star, appearing to be concerned. And then, “Would he like to come with us?”

“Him? Naw! He’s good for the night.”

“Come then.”

They stepped out into a bright star-covered night. Waves gently played along the shore, driven by the moon and the trade winds.

“I always think Barahona is so beautiful,” said Daniela.

“No prettier place,” said Basil.

“And the perfect place to orient,” said Star, “don’t you agree?”

Of course, Daniela did.

“Oh, look,” said Star. “Here is a deeply spiritual friend we have known for many, many years. He has come with us on our pilgrimage to the pole. Let me introduce you to a friend. He is Spanish, from Spain. This is Daniela.”

“A pleasure to know—you,” said Daniela. She felt a little disconcerted because her new friend, “Peep,” had neglected to tell her his name and she was too embarrassed to ask. But Balenzuela put her immediately at her ease by a heavy application of his most courtly manners.

“The pleasure is mine, dear lady. Any evening I have the delight to meet someone as deeply spiritual as my friends and graced with such beauty as well is a night I am doubly rewarded.”

Daniela felt warm all over and blushed. “Thank you,” she said.

“You know, friends,” Balenzuela continued, still holding Daniela’s hand as he turned to Basil and Star, “I know you won’t believe this, but I have been feeling ‘disoriented’ all day.”

“It’s the place,” said Basil smoothly, “and, of course, the proximity of the pole. It always pulls at us until we orient.”

“How true, how true,” agreed Balenzuela.

“Let’s all assume the sacred position,” suggested Star and, turning towards Daniela’s expected confusion, said, “Have you ever done yoga, dear?”

“Yes,” Daniela brightened.

“It’s similar,” said Star glibly, “but not so directionless. We are not simply involved with the self, but with something greater. We are looking to the poles. Here, let me show you how to adapt it.” She sat down on the sand, speaking as much to Basil and Balenzuela as to Daniela. Lithe and young, Daniela followed her with the grace of a ballet dancer, while Balenzuela, and particularly Basil, lumbered into an approximation of what Star was doing. “Danny, see yoga as one step in the path to enlightenment,” continued Star, keeping Daniela’s attention focused on her so the other two could straighten out.

Balenzuela was smirking, but a frown from Basil cleared the signs off his face.

“Just so, my dear, just so,” murmured Basil.

And then Star began herself to intone in a low and compelling voice, “All people are disoriented sheep. All of our lives we search for balance. May the Pole orient you!”

“May the Pole orient you!” replied Basil and Balenzuela just a half step behind him.

“Daniela,” continued Star, her voice deepening with what suggested a profound and vast solemnity, “May the Pole orient you!”

“May the Pole orient you!” imitated Daniela with great sincerity.

Balenzuela smiled over at Basil.

“Heiress,” Basil mouthed without sound.

Balenzuela’s smile grew even brighter.

“Do you see how I am sitting?” Star asked shifting easily in the same voice to instructions. “I have one arm pointing north toward the North Pole. The other arm is pointing south toward the South Pole. My body is oriented to the Magnetic Pole. I, myself, am the fourth Pole—the Pole to be oriented.”

“I am the fourth pole,” murmured Daniela.

“Now you can know the truth,” confided Star, almost trance-like. “This island is the first stop Columbus made on his voyage of discovery. Do you know why it was first?”

Daniela waited breathlessly, holding her position as exactly as she could.

“It is because he was drawn here—by the Magnetic Pole!”

Balenzuela almost fell over backwards howling. It was all he could do to keep it muffled in. These people were good, he thought to himself, really, really good!

Basil, long in practice at keeping a straight face while his beloved put out one outrageous fable after another, simply nodded, murmuring, “Yes, yes, how true, how true.”

“For us, the Magnetic Pole is not just the center of our world. It is the center of our universe. The Sun to our Earths. It is where all nature meets. The adjusting conduit for all of the natural magnetism of our lives, melding it into one harmonious synchronicity—ordered within us by the natural poles of the earth. The polarities within each of us are reconciled! May the Pole orient you!”

“May the Pole orient you!” said all three in perfect response.

All the while, Star was putting this line out to snag this fish completely, she was wondering, how am I going to cut it off? She opened her eyes and sent a deeply meaningful glance toward Basil. He’d seen it before and was ready for it.

“We are Bo and Peep,” he intoned. “Our mission is to the lost sheep who are wandering about without guidance to direction. We present to them a Pole, a sacred lodestar to orient their path—and their lives!”

Star suppressed a smile. Good ol’ Bo.

“Tonight, as we have passed the sacred hour that symbolizes the orienting poles, and in deference to our new friend, sister, and devotée, I won’t ask you all to join me and sing our great hymn of praise to the pole, ‘O Great Magnetic Pole that Orients our Lives.’ I will simply sing the first verse to close our sacred session.” And then in a deep rich voice Basil sang softly, but loudly enough for anyone listening in to be attracted:

“O great Magnetic Pole that orients our lives,

when all direction’s lost, cut by sorrow’s knives,

O keep us now from wandering like he who only strives,

to know the peace you give us, as you orient our lives.”

“Amen,” said Daniela.

And then, with Star leading once more, they all said in unison, “Let the Pole orient you!” Then they hugged each other individually and altogether.

Through Daniela’s mind seemed to race a dozen thoughts at once. In this one moment she felt her inferiority disappearing. This was it! What she had needed all her life was not to be smarter or more devout or more accomplished—what she needed was orientation. That was all. There was nothing wrong with her. She wasn’t just a pretty face who feared age with the trauma of a sports star. Her life wouldn’t be over when lines began to appear and the deep richness of her hair had to be replaced with that from a bottle. Look at Peep and Bo, she thought. Obviously in their forties, but vibrant and alive. They thought nothing of age. Nothing of money. Nothing of anything but the rich spiritual peace that came from being oriented with the universe at last. Now, she herself, Danny—no not Danny, but Daniela—a new maturer Daniela—could look straight into the eyes of the decisive Ruby, the daring and adventurous Benjamin—why, she gasped, she could even look face to face at the spiritual Josefina and even be more spiritually attuned to the universe than was her sister: the all so venerated “Reverenda” Jo. Oh, it was rich. Rich!

“Dear, one more thing I have to warn you,” Star said leaning toward her, her face full of concern. “You are wearing amber.”

“Yes,” faltered Daniela. “Is that bad?”

“Well, no, not exactly, but the problem is that amber has a great magnetic quality. Oh, it doesn’t affect the masses who are disoriented, but, now that you are beginning on the path to true enlightenment, it could be a serious drawback for you. You see, the magnetism of common things can conflict with the sacred magnetism of the Magnetic Pole. Things like amber can pull you back.”

“I don’t want that,” said Daniela, startled and concerned. “What should I do?”

“I can take them for you, so you won’t be tempted,” said Star kindly.

“Oh, thank you. Here, here,” cried Daniela, hurriedly taking the amber earrings out of her ears. “You are doing so much for me. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Oh, no, dear, we Polarians—for that is what we call ourselves—never ask for money. You saw no collection plate at our brief orienting service, did you?”

Daniela shook her head.

“Eventually, as you deepen in the truth, you may want to share something to help our mission enlighten others, but always remember—and tell everyone who asks—it is a joint mission. We are all in this together.”

“Together,” agreed Basil.

“Yes, yes, together—always,” added Ismael Balenzuela.

As Daniela walked back into the casino, she felt warm and found and oriented altogether. Ben simply waved her away. Los Diamantes del Mar Hotel was not so far away she could not take a taxi or even walk if she wanted to think. It was a beautiful night. It might take her a half hour, but she had so much to think about. One thing she was agreed upon with herself: She would not tell Jo or Ruby anything about this. She would keep this discovery and this secret strictly to herself. What Daniela did not notice, however, as she walked slowly home, was that she had not gotten her promised piña colada.

“Nice earrings,” said Basil approvingly, as he and Star and Ismael went laughing back to their rooms.

“Yes, I thought they’d go great with my green dress,” explained Star.