The Salsa Queen

Catalina frowned at her reflection, smoothing her red dress.  Her glossy black curls were pulled back with a red orchid, her eyes smoky above her heavily rouged cheekbones and painted lips.  Grinning at the dancer in the mirror, she tossed her hair, her eyes snapping with confidence.  After tonight, she wouldn’t have to spend her nights watching old movies, dancing on her carpet between her bed and desk.  After tonight, she wouldn’t have to stare at her silver heels, wrapped in tissue without a scuff on the sole.

Because after tonight, she would be a Salsa Queen.

Grabbing her purse, she ducked out the door and sashayed down the street, soaking in the admiring glances and whistles.

“Catalina, where are you going?” her neighbor called, pausing as she swept her doorstep.  “You look so pretty, like a flower!”

“I’m going to be a Salsa Queen.”  Catalina posed, excepting her neighbor to gasp or look appropriately amazed.  Instead, the old woman wrinkled her brow.

“You?  A Salsa Queen?”  She shook her head.  “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Catalina narrowed her heavily shadowed eyes.  “We’ll see about that.”  Determined, she marched down the sidewalk, her steps taking her to the old theater.  Pushing through the stage door, she posed in the doorway, knowing the sunset behind her made for a stunning backdrop.  “Hello.  I’m here to be a Salsa Queen.”

“A Salsa Queen?”  The old director scratched his head, leaving a large ink smear.  “We have no Salsa Queens here.  Just salsa dancers.”

“Special salsa dancers or ordinary ones?”  Catalina paused.

He shrugged.  “Just our regular salsa dancers.  No troupe, just whatever girls we need on stage.”  He eyed her.  “Would you like to try out?  My dance instructor is next door at the tacqueria…Lourdes is her name.  You should ask for her.”

Catalina gnawed on her lower lip.  “I wanted to be a Salsa Queen.”

“A Salsa Queen?”  One of the actors looked up from where he’d been studying a sandwich.  “Oh, I know all about the Salsa Queens!  My mom is one.”

“Really?”  Catalina’s heart fluttered.  “Where do I find her?”

“La Gato Blanco Cafe, three doors down.  Ask for Rosa.”

With a smile as brilliant as the golden rays behind her, Catalina turned and rushed down to the bright pink cafe.  Fluffing her curls, she strode inside and marched to the counter.  Lowering her voice, she glanced around.

“I’m here for Rosa.”  She couldn’t resist beaming as she added, “About the Salsa Queens.”

“You want to be a Salsa Queen?”  The boy behind the counter raised a dark brow.  “Really?”

Catalina nodded.  “I’ve wanted it forever.”

The boy blinked.  “Really?  Why?”

Catalina frowned.  “How can you ask that?  Don’t I look like the perfect Salsa Queen?”

The boy thought for a moment, then shook his head.  “No, no, you don’t look like a Salsa Queen at all.”  He shrugged.  “I’ll go get Rosa.”

As he disappeared  into the back, Catalina felt her confidence seep through her silver sandals.  What more did she have to do?  Perhaps she should throw out a few turns, a few steps?  If only she had brought her music!  The boy returned, dragging a extremely large woman wearing a white apron splattered with red juice who smelled like a onion.

“This is Rosa.”  The boy shook his head.  “The Salsa Queen.”

Flinging out her arms, Catalina cried, “Rosa, I’m Catalina.  I’m your new Salsa Queen.”  She stuck out a perfectly toned leg, preening.  “I can do salsa, meringue, rumba, tango…I trained at Senora Mata’s.  I’ve been dreaming of performing for years.  I’m a hard worker and a good dancer.”    Tossing her hair, she wiggled her hips and stomped her feet, trilling as she spun.

The woman bit back a smile.  “You want to be a Salsa Queen?”

“Of course.”  Catalina’s dark eyes snapped.  “It’s what I was meant to do.”

The old woman shrugged, glancing at the boy.  “Come back to the kitchen.  You can meet the other ladies.”  She eyed Catalina’s dress.  “You may have to change.”

Tugging the hem of her short dress, Catalina hurried after her, weaving around waiters and smoldering fajita plates whizzing above her head.  Ducking through the door, she skidded to a stop.

A line of old ladies sat at a wooden table, chopping and chattering.  Several metal jugs filled with different types of salsa lay scattered around the kitchen, bits of tomato and peppers stuck like confetti to the walls and floor.

“These are the Salsa Queens,” Rosa announced, holding her arm out.  “Ladies, this is Catalina.”

Catalina stepped back, her head spinning.  “But, but, I thought….”  Her cheeks flushed, and she felt tears sting her eyes.  Several of the women cooed and she dabbed at her heavy lids, trembling with tears and fake lashes.   “It’s just the onions.”

Hiding a grin, Rosa stepped forward and handed her a jar.  “Go take this to Lourdes two doors down.  Tell her Rosa sent you for an audition.”  She winked.  “You can be our little salsa queen.”

Catalina felt hope surge through her.  Tossing her hair, she clutched the jar in one slim hand and marched out of the restaurant without a backward glance.

There was more than one way to be a salsa queen.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a recap of the Babies’ birthday tomorrow and a new Christmas Ballerina Wednesday!

More