1963-09-22 - Drinks at the Apollo
Summary: {$summary}
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
roberto dazzler 


It's a great show at the Apollo— really a great one. Roberto is right there with the rest of the crowds, cheering and clapping his hands as the music approaches a crescendo. It's not JUST comedy after all— concerts, dance shows, even musicals once in a while. But Dazzler's show puts them all to shame, with a sound and light display that makes anything else look like kids playing with roman candles.

It comes to a strumming finale and Roberto whoops and cheers, watching Dazzler make her bows, and withdraws from the balcony to the private booth attached to the box seats. It's an extremely posh sitting area, and one Roberto has on reserve for all but the major celebrity box office events. So for now, it's almost empty, and Roberto moves to the valet to get the man's attention. "Hey, you tell Miss Carter than the box booth is open, huh?" he tells the valet, stuffing a $10 in the man's vest. "And that I'd like to buy her a mojito when she gets out of her dressing room." He reaches for a tray of hors d'ouvres and pops one in his mouth, waiting for Alison's reply— or the woman herself to arrive.

*

Alison Blaire, or more appropriately Dazzler, the stage name she was fast gaining fame with, has been on a role. Catching a break at Cafe Wha? a few months back, and has since been able to secure a string of shows from small venues to bigger ones, such as the show tonight at the Apollo.

She found that everything she thoguht was true, music was what she loved doing, and standing on stage, strumming her guitar and singing as she introduced people to her special brand of music made her feel more alive than anything else.

Naturally she had an unseemly edge on other performers, none were able to come up with sucha breathtaking lightshow as she did, some who have partook in LSD has claimed it is a very similar experience. Mind broadening and awe inspiring. For Alison the most important thing was that people came to see her shows, regardless of the reason. For the most part, reviews has been kind with her too. It was mostly the older generation who viewed her as nothing more than a gimmick.

After the show, getting a message that she's invited to the private box, Alison decided to actually take the offer and see who is the person who so enjoyed her show as to ask for a meeting.

It takes her a good twenty minutes before she actually comes out to the box, having freshened up a bit, though still dressed in the same sparkly halter dress she performed with. "Hi, so I was told you wanted to meet me?" She says in an awkward kind of greeting.

*

"Ola, como esta!" Roberto exclaims, leaving the bar. His grin is broad and stands out against his swarthy skin, and he's dressed in the trendiest of fashions— loud paisley shirt, fitted bell-bottom trousers, and alligator hide brogues with a matching belt. "Alison Blaire, I wanted to meet you so I could say I knew her when. Roberto de Costa, at your service," he says. The swarthy fellow bows floridly, without any self-consciousness, and kisses the back of Alison's knuckles like a gesture he's done a thousand times.

"Come, that show was amazing and I wanted you to relax somewhere that's a lil'less of a darkroom than your dressing room," he tells her. "I seen that one, it's— pfft," he says, with a negative slash of his hand. "Your dress is fantastico, me encantadomucho. You like a drink, huh?" he inquires, his accent heavy— something Latin?

"I'm a mojito man myself, but the bartender here, he make something you'll love, I'm sure." He invites her to sit in a low L-shaped couch sectional, then seats himself as well, crossing his legs loosely as he sits on the squared-off cushions.

*

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Spanish," Alison offers with a polite smile at Roberto's greeting, before asking as if to make sure, "it was Spanish, wasn't it?" She does laugh at Roberto's flattering reason for wanting to meet with her, "I do hope you're right about that, been going pretty well for the last couple of months, so there's hope! I take it you enjoyed the show?" She asks, no doubt inviting further flattery. So she's vain, what you gonna do about that?

Alison does seem a bit out of place when she winds up having her knuckles kissed, bringing a slight blush to her cheeks, no doubt unaccustomed to such galant gestures. "Pleased to meet you, but I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, what is your name, sir?" She chuckles at the joking at the expense of her dressing room, though all things told, it's been one of the better ones she's been in lately, "I wouldn't complain, but I'll gladly share a drink, I'll have an apple martini, though I must admit I never had a mojito before. What does that taste like?"

She follows Roberto and sits by his side, all smiles as he did have nice things to say about her show, about her dress, "thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed, I really love performing on stage and I want my audience to have a good time. To witness something magical."

*

"Roberto, Roberto de Costa," the swarthy fellow says, enunciating clearly. "And si, some Spanish— I'm from Brasil, so issa little Spanish, lots of Portugese, some Incan… you know, whole thing," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "But, I will try to stick to Ingles— English," he says, catching himself.

"Hey, amigo—" Roberto snaps his fingers at the waiter standing nearby. "Mojito for me, apple martini for the lady, an' pour her a little mojito sipper in a shot glass," he says, holding thumb and index finger an inch apart.

He turns his attention back to Alison. "I did enjoy the show, si. Was fantastic, I never seen nothin' like it. The lights, the sounds, that trick with the fog machine— wow! They're gonna be ripping your number off for years to come," he tells Alison, shaking his head in admiration. "I seen some incredible fireworks displays in China, but nothing like what you did— and nothing caught fire. That was pretty impressive," he assures her, clapping his hands together softly and grinning broad at her. "Plus, you know, no show's complete without a gorgeous headliner up on stage. My old granddad used to say, rainbows and beautiful women are God's gifts to the world."

*

"Nice to meet you Roberto de Costa, and no, I honestly don't know any of these languages," Alison laughs, "I didn't even know about Portugese or Incan, so I guess you taught me something new."

"Ingles…" she mimics the way Roberto said English while he orders the drink, amusing herself with the taste of the other language, before turning to look his way, "so how did you make it to America all the way from Brazil?" It's rather easy to tell she didn't have much of high school, seeing how she misses on the fact Brazil is also very much in America.

"Thank you, Roberto, it does take a lot of work to set up, but it's entirely worth it, the light seems to dance with the music, doesn't it?" Tilting her head a bit as she considers the sagely words of Roberto's grandfather, she chuckles, "did he really say that, or you flirting with me?"

*

Roberto answers her question with a knowing grin and a sly wink. "Can it be both?" he inquires, laughing softly and his grin, widening.

"Brazil's kind of a funny country, y'know— South America, but it's right on the edge of the continent. Native tribes ruled for centuries, then the Portugese declared it a colony. After Independence, became it's own country, and Rio de Janeiro— right on the coastal waters— biggest trading hub in South America. So, Spanish, Portugese, Dutch, Germans, they all come there, along with slaves from Africa and tribesmen from the jungle. One big melting pot," he tells her.

"But you know, my grandad he was into mines, and made good money doing that, and my padre— my father, he got us into technology right when computers first started being a thing. Lots of silicon in the mines. So, he invests, diversifies, then I come along. I go to Harvard Business School, then get my MBA and now, he's got me travelling in America, getting to know the culture and looking for business opportunities," he says, rolling the world around on his tongue. So— now I am in America on permanent visa, and loving every minute of my freedom." Their drinks arrive, and Roberto passes the apple martini to her, along with the tester shot of the mojito. His, he takes as well, and sips of the strongly mint-smelling beverage."

*

"I guess it could, well, whatever it is, it's a nice thing your granddad said," Alison leans back as she looks to Roberto as he talks of Brazil. "I didn't know that about Brazil, I'm sorry to here about the slaves…so I guess it's a place to meet people from all over the world? Kinda like New York?" She laughs, assuming her views on the matter aren't quite what's in reality, but maybe she'd luck out and seem clever in the process.

"You could make good money in mines?" Alison sounds quite surprised if not outright shocked by the fact, "I thought that's one of the worst jobs, no offense to your grandad or father." With their drinks arriing, she rises her glass of martini, "to freedom! May we always enjoy it!" Certainly a good sentiment seeing how the Soviet threat is always there knocking at the door.

*

5

*

"To freedom!" Roberto agrees, hoisting his glass in toast.

"Oh, yeah, money in mines, but if you own it," Roberto tells her. "Great grandfather, was a farmer, then decided he'd start prospecting. Bought a mine, started looking for gold. Didn't find any— but found one of the biggest bauxite veins in the world," he tells her.

"Aluminum," he clarifies. "So, he borrowed money, and got rich. Found more mines— got richer. Now, we own most of the mines, and what we make with the metals, instead of just selling it."

"Tell me about yourself, senorita— you mind if I call you Alison?" he inquires, convivially. "You do anything besides be beautiful and on stage, or you got hobbies beyond the music world?"

*

"Ah, of course!" Alison laughs, "I guess the owner of the mines does make good money." She shakes her head at having made assumptions. The conversation turning back to herself, Alison stalls with a sample of the mojito shot, taking a moment to adjust, before she notes, "that's really minty!"

But slight stalling done away with, she leans her elbows on her thighs and looks down for a moment, her blonde hair shifting over her face, "well, there's not much to tell really…music, that's pretty much what's beautiful in this world for me, what makes life worth living."

*

"Brasilians, we love music," Roberto assures Alison. "Our cousins in Argentina help us love music with the tango, and our sisters in the tribes teach us the way of moving with the wind and the earth. We live to dance— Brasilian boys and girls start dancing when we walk, and we do not stop until we die," he grins. "But cannot dance without music, and dancing is life so for us, music is life too. Compredes— er, you understand?" he asks, leaning forward to touch her bare knee with slender fingertips. "So music makes the world go around for us, and therefore musicians are at the center of our world, too."

*

Alison closes her eyes and seems to visualize the Brazil that Roberto describes, the people invested in music, dancing in the street, dancing in nature, and it does paint a rather lovely picture. When she opens her eyes again, her face seem to sparkle for a moment, but it might be her stage makeup which she hasn't removed yet, "there we agree wholeheartedly, music is life! I think I should like to dance with you sometime, to see what that might be like."

*

"Si, si, would be my pleasure. Can you dance the tango?" he says, with a lift of his brow. "Is a complicated enough dance, and not for the faint of heart. The motion, it is like swimming— in your arms and legs, but the movement, the core comes from your hips. Must be joined, thigh to thigh, belly to belly. Is a dance too much for most Americans— we might start with something simpler. A swing step, if you like, or a little bit of the salsa, though I find that's not quite caught on on the east coast. What's your step, Alison?" he asks, eyes dancing. "I am quite sure I can lead you through any dance you like."

*

Alison shakes her head, as she takes another sip of her martini, "I'm afraid I mostly dance sound, I let the music move me, haven't really done any proper dancing lessons." She then add as if an afterthought, "I do dance the twist though," only natural, seeing it's the most popular dance around.

*

Roberto moves to the record player in the corner and digs for an LP, and comes up with Chubby Checker's current list of hits. He spins it on his fingertips and sets the needle in place, and a few moments later the speakers start rattling with one of the pop songs of the year playing noisily.

He grins at Alison and starts flinging his left hip out with an easy, boneless motion, toe digging in the soft carpet underfoot. "Like this, huh? I think I saw on American Bandstand a few months ago, si? Am I doing it correctly?" he asks, beckoning her closer to him.

*

"I see the box is fully equipped," Alison says as she notes Roberto even has a record player in there, and as he sets a record she gets up herself, apparently still having some energy even after her show. "Pretty much, bend at the knees, twist the hips, elbows down, and yeah…have fun," she laughs as she joins him, twisting over closer to him, nearly bumping him with her hip, but stopping short of that.

*

"Kitchen downstairs, good bartender, good music— I throw parties here a few times a month," he tells Dazzler. "Small things, you know— fifty people, just the hot up and comers of New York," he says, dancing smoothly around her with the motion all in his hips and little wasted on his knees and elbows. "You should come to the next one, I'll make some introduciones— Johnny Storm, my friend, the Human Torch— Fantastic Four? He comes to them a lot," he advises her. "And a few other peopel, you know, New York royalty— I think you might have heard of Elizabeth Braddock, you know, the fashion model? Seen her at a few of my fancy digs. Could make some, uh, 'hellos' with you two," he tells Allison. He offers her a hand to spin her out, then bring her in for a smooth dip.

*

Alison continues to dance flowingly around Roberto, looking genuinely impressed with his moves, "you weren't joking about Brazillians and dancing," she notes, taking his hand and letting him spin her about before spinning back against him. "I'd love to meet Johnny Storm and Elizabeth Braddock, I don't really hang out in such company, should be exciting! Thank you for inviting me."

*

Roberto dips Alison smoothly and hoists her back up, the music dwindling to a merry end. "And that was the twist. I prefer the tango— is danced much together, eh?" He slips an arm around her waist and draws her /very/ close to him— barely a whisper apart, though not quite touching. "Belly to belly, see? Like two people sharing one skin," he explains.

"But, Americans find it very risque," he grins, inviting her to seat herself again at the sofa. "So, perhapsamente, next time we meet— if there is to be a next time?"

*

The dip in the end, Alison expected, being pulled so close against Roberto later, not so much, leaving her a bit preplexed as she looks at him with surprise, "that is pretty close together, how do you dance like this?" She asks, genuinely wondering if being so close together doesn't hinder mobility. "Isn't it though?" She asks, naturally being American, she finds it quite risque herself. Moving back towards the seat as he lets her go, Alison nods, "I'll give you that I'm curious how this dance works, but next time, yes, I think I should finish getting ready and prepare to leave the dressing room. They do need me out of here at some point, was lovely to meet you Roberto, and I'm looking forward to that pary of yours!"

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License