Dancing with the Devil

By Howard Dando

A novel that uncovers the electrifying excitement, graceful beauty, and dazzling glamor of the ballet world behind the curtain. In the fiercely competitive arena of the stage, passionate dancers engage in heated rivalries for starring roles and the competition for lovers.

 

Alison Fain's insatiable hunger for love and fame propels her from the dazzling spotlight to the shadowy depths of envy and deceit, leaving a trail of broken relationships and betrayed friendships

• Language: English
• Publisher: Howard Dando
• Release date: Mar 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224060429

Howard Dando

Howard Dando is Producer of the Broadway musicals TOMMY and SGT. PEPPER'S LONELY HEART'S CLUB BAND . Director of Stars of American Ballet, New World Ballet, Fusion Dance, Pennsylvania Ballet, Playhouse-in-the-Park, Beacon Theatre, Producer of Philadelphia's American Dance Festival, Producer/Writer for PBS and A&E network, and a Television and Stage Director.For a visual biographical history visit 'Theatre and Dance' (A Life in Theatre) at the new Chronicle app, a storytelling collective photo sharing community at:https://www.onechronicle.com/chronicles/theatre--dance/

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Temple Drake, the prom queen, was surrounded by the Lake High senior class as Jesse McCoy, the star quarterback, danced to the Louisiana anthem 'Born on the Bayou.'

Jesse reeled Temple around the gym floor until beer and bourbon swirled in his head and his eyes whirled from the spinning disco lights. Temple tried to hold on to Jesse, but he slipped and hit the floor.

Rushing in like a charging bull, Otis Mayhew, a hulking linebacker, scooped up Jesse, tossed him over his shoulder, and carried him out of the gym and down to the dock.

Otis propped Jesse at the front of a small white rowboat. He's all broke up all because of you!

No! Temple stiffened. You know I never meant to hurt him. Temple wrapped her white shawl around Jesse. But you always look out for him.

It’s what guards do for their quarterback.  Otis took Temple's slender hand and stepped out of the wobbling boat. You be careful, girl.

Temple was taken aback by the warning, Otis, I’ve run the backwaters all my life.

No. Otis waved his hand to the sky. I mean, up in New York. They got more gators there than this here swamp.

Temple watched Otis walk back to the gym and vanish into the crowd. She listened to the closing notes of the traditional last dance, ‘This Magic Moment,’ then pushed an oar against the dock and headed towards the yellow moon that shined above the black swamp. 

She reached a bend in the channel and stopped rowing, knowing the current would take her home. With her eyes shut, she breathed in the enchanting scent of the Jasmine blossoms.

The only sound now was water gently lapping the boat; and with a soft mist of clouds curling over the water and the stars above, Temple felt aloft on a celestial raft.

Temple straightened her crumpled satin gown that took weeks to make, but worth it, even if only for a few hours. She had chosen a dark green color to highlight her green eyes and, with the contrast of her blond hair, was transformed into a beguiling Cajun Queen.

A sultry June night could have conjured up a homebrew potion of Louisiana lust, but Jesse was passed out, sprawled at the front of the boat. Temple held a lantern over his head; the glow on his face surrounded by her white shawl made him look ghostly.

She had known Jesse since grade school when he delighted in pulling juvenile pranks, stealing her homework, or putting lady bugs in her sandwich; but in her senior year, Temple took more notice of his good looks, especially the Elvis Presley curl of his upper lip when he smiled. A month before graduation, Jesse signed to play quarterback for the Louisiana University, the ‘Ragin Cajuns,’ and it was common speculation that he would play for the pros. 

Jesse’s ancestors were farmers before oil had gushed from their land. Jesse was the catch of the county. Every girl in town knew that marrying him was a ticket to the good life; and celebrity status if he signed with the NFL. But a faithful spouse cheering from the sidelines was not enough for Temple.

Temple did not need a crystal ball to foretell a future with Jesse. He did nothing that was not predictable. If he had, perhaps there might have been a long shot chance, a ‘Hail Mary Pass,’ that Temple might have given up her dream, fallen into his arms, and stayed.

But it was unthinkable that Jesse would give up a football scholarship and move with her to New York. He was born and bred to be a good old country boy. His ancestors lived in Louisiana before the Civil War; and were like the mangrove trees that lined the bayou, with roots dug deep into the mud.

But Temple was a river, full of twists and turns, that led to the inlet of her most valued aspiration.

Jesse woke, rubbed his face, and peered through hazy eyes at Temple. Damn, but you make a beautiful princess.

Temple unpinned her tiara and placed it on the bench. Thanks, but Cinderella left the Ball.  

Sorry, babe! I really tied one on! Jesse tried to stand, but staggered, causing the boat to wobble. 

Jesse, careful! Sit down! Instead, Jesse struggled to get down on one knee; reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box, and opened it. 

By the light of the lantern, a diamond ring flickered like a swarm of fireflies. You’re the only one for me, sugar. Make me the luckiest man on earth! And you’ll never have to work in some damn grocery store again. My family’s rich and after college, I’ll get into the NFL. I’ll be a celebrity and you’ll always be on my arm!

And Jesse, you’ll always be in my heart. Temple could hardly breathe but found resolve, and gently touched his cheek, But please understand that I have to try. If it doesn't work, I promise to come back.

Temple hated lying and knew this was not a little white lie, but a whopper. She had no plan to come back, even if she had to sweep the sidewalks in Times Square.

She desperately needed more than the weekly regimen of Friday night High School Football, all day Saturday College Football, Monday Night Football, Thursday Night Football, all day Sunday Football, and endless playoffs.

Temple forced the box back into Jesse’s hand. I’m sorry, but no!  She turned to look into the darkness.

Damn! Jesse stood and turned his back. Then let the Bayou have it. Jesse brought his arm back. Temple quickly grabbed his arm. Jesse! For God’s sake! The boat swayed wildly as they struggled. 

Jesse loosened his arm from Temple’s grip and threw the box far into the swamp, but then lost his footing. He grabbed onto Temple, but his fingers slipped from her silky dress and he plunged into the swamp.

After a few seconds, Jesse's laughing head bobbed to the surface. 

Temple put a hand over her mouth, amazed. I never thought you’d ever do something so crazy!

Because I’m crazy for you! Jesse yelled.

Temple heard another splash in the water. She screamed, Jesse, get in! Hurry!

Jesse heard the fear in her voice and immediately understood the danger. In a panic, he frantically swam towards the boat, desperately gripping the side, and got one leg on board. Temple struggled to haul Jesse’s other leg into the boat as the gator was closing.

Temple grabbed an oar and swung madly, splashing the water with enough distraction for Jesse to fling his other leg into the boat.

Gasping for breath, Temple clutched the oar to stop her hands from shaking. When her pulse stopped racing, she dropped the oar, exhaled and collapsed on the bench.

Jesse took her in his arms. It's all right, babe.

Temple still struggling to breathe. That was stupid, so damn reckless!  

Babe, I’ve been swimming in this bayou all my life. Really, no big deal! Jesse placed his hand softly on her face, But damn romantic! Yeah? So, come on, marry me!

‘You really think I would now that I know you’re a dumb ass! Temple shook her head and forced a snide smile. Besides, now there's no ring."

I’m smarter than you think!  Jesse reached into a pocket and pulled out the ring. Presto!

The smile left Temple’s face. You threw the box and kept the ring!

I might be drunk, but I’m sure not dumb!  Jesse tried to slide the ring on Temple’s finger.  

No, no, please! No!  Temple pushed back Jesse’s hand, but Jesse pushed the ring onto her finger. 

Temple looked at the ring, felt the strings tugging at her heart, but was resolved not to let the roots of the mangrove trees drag her dreams down into the mud of the Bayou.

The boat nudged at her dock. Temple took off her shoes, tossed them onto the deck, then planted her feet on the splintered wooden ladder.

Jesse cupped his arms around Temple’s waist and kissed her lightly on her neck. Temple whimpered slightly. Jesse then softly slid a dress strap off her shoulder. Temple recoiled; the sudden movement caused the boat to wobble underneath Jesse’s feet.

Jesse forced his arm more firmly around Temple and applied his charm. One last kiss, baby? Remember?  

As if I could forget? Temple smiled, A kiss in front of the entire school for our ‘Bye Bye, Birdie’ production. You played the Elvis character, and I was your swooning teenager.

Jesse grinned. That kiss got more cheers than when I scored a touchdown.

Jesse slurred an Elvis impersonation, slightly mangling the lyrics, Give me one last kiss. Ugh, Ugh, Come on, baby, why do you have to go? Gimme one last kiss. His lips gently brushed Temple's mouth.

Temple pulled back, entangling her arms around the ladder, and with both feet pushed the boat. Elvis has left the dock!  

Jesse realized the battle was lost. There was nothing left to be said. He dropped the oars in the water and accepted the formality of surrender like a southern general, breaking a sword over his knee.

Jesse shouted. You could have had it all, babe. I just don't get you.

Temple raised her arm to wave goodbye, then realized she still had the ring on her finger. Jesse! The ring!

Keep the damn thing. How in the hell could I ever put it on anyone else? Jesse yelled. It would be a bad luck for me, but maybe a lucky charm for you.

Temple stood on the dock, silhouetted by the yellow moon.

She blew one last kiss as Jesse vanished into the fog and haze of flickering moonbeams.

CHAPTER 2

Temple arrived at La Guardia Airport and somehow navigated the labyrinth of complicated connections to find the New York City subway system.  She had done her research, and could afford an OMNY card that would cost $2.90 to transport her to Manhattan, an Uber, or a taxi could cost $100 or more. On her budget, she should get used to public transportation as soon as possible.

She ran to the first car, hoping to get her first view of the city. She had not known that most of the ride would be underground. Regardless, she walked to the window and gripped the metal bars as the train careened back and forth on the twisting tracks that snaked through dark tunnels, illuminated every few seconds by the sparks from the train's steel wheels. Most of the ride was concrete pillars in grimy, murky water, not at all like the cordgrass or mangrove trees in the bayou.

Inside the train was nothing close to the scent of jasmine; but some unidentifiable, unpleasant odors. She reproached herself for making any comparison. She was warned of the proverbial concrete jungle, the very opposite of the earthy, primordial habitat of the Bayou, but she would learn to live with it. 

Eventually, the train rose out of the darkness and revealed her first glimpse of the city. But it was not the shimmering skyscrapers she imagined, but miles of the moderate housing of Queens.

Eventually, the train arrived in Manhattan.  A voice from the loudspeaker crackled, Spring Street! Let 'em out. Let ‘em out.

The double doors opened, and Temple was sucked out of the train, jammed shoulder to shoulder with a crowd that whisked her up several flights of stairs until she was deposited on the sidewalk.

Coming out of darkness, the sunlight was blinding. She shaded her eyes to read the subway map, but it was an incomprehensible jumble of tiny boxes and squiggly colored lines running amuck. 

She was about to ask a stranger for directions, but stopped when she heard her aunt’s voice warning of the dangers of the big city. New York is the city of the devil. They seduce and kidnap young girls, then the devil will eat your soul and you’ll never be heard of again.

Temple shrugged off the warning as ridiculous nonsense, especially since her aunt had never been to New York, and not even been fifty miles outside of Chenier, Louisiana. So how would she know? But playing it safe, Temple walked straight ahead, and if Spring Street did not intersect Mercer Street in a block or two, then she was going in the wrong direction and would just turn around.

Temple rolled her luggage through a bazaar of sidewalk vendors hawking Yankee baseball caps, fake Rolex watches, sunglasses, toys, belts, and plastic jewelry.

She walked by the black wrought iron doors of the La Grille cafe. A handsome young server in a crisp white shirt with a red bowtie and red suspenders smiled and nodded for her to come inside. Temple smiled, but shook her head, thinking it improper to flirt with the first good-looking man she saw in New York.

A few stores later, she peaked through the window of a boutique where a gaggle of schoolgirls rifled through racks of the latest tops and shorts. At the entrance, a shop assistant leaned against a wall, taking a break and puffing on a cigarette. She had vibrant orange hair, tattoos on both arms and donning fashionable ripped jeans, and a T-shirt featuring the iconic AC/DC logo.  She looked at Temple, shook her head and smirked.

In contrast, Temple felt like a junior high school girl - all she needed was a spiral notebook and a number 2 pencil to complete the image.

Temple promised herself that in a short time she would be hip, but certainly not so hip as to have tattoos, especially for a ballet dancer.

She stopped to look at a pair of earrings. The vendor, a ruddy-faced man with a missing tooth, and spoke from the side of his mouth, Genuine gold, little girl. Make you look real good!

There was a genuine insincerity in his voice, and Temple returned the earrings, fairly certain it was just gold color; and continued to ignore the street vendors until she reached a corner; where before her was a wide-brimmed straw hat with a band of brown and white polka dots, that looked similar to the hat Julia Roberts wore in 'Pretty Woman.'  

Temple tried it on the hat and looked at herself in a mirror. The hat made her feel more sophisticated as the New Yorker she wanted to be.

How much? she asked.

Forty bucks.

Ouch!  However, she would negotiate the same way she haggled at the fish market in Louisiana.

But I just landed in New York this morning, and haven’t been to a bank. Cash is all I got.

Then you ain't got a hat, Miss.

Relentless, Temple poured on the sweet syrup of her Southern accent, Please sir, truly, is there any way you could part with this hat for a twenty?

Truly, I can have you arrested if you don't put back the hat back on the rack.

From another angle, Temple admired herself in the mirror, and then advanced negotiations with an extra dollop of Southern syrup. But I could just die of this heat without the shade of this lovely hat. Please sir, is there any way could you find it in your heart to help a hatless visitor to your lovely city?

A hatless visitor! Oh, you’re good! The vendor could not help but laugh. You must be an actress.

Temple resolutely shook her head, Oh, no, a dancer.

A dancer in New York City? What are the odds? he shook his head. OK, for a budding ballerina and giving me a good laugh, thirty bucks.

Oh, thank you, but how about twenty-five?  Temple pleaded.

We’re not negotiating world peace here! The vendor sighed, then surrendered to the sweeter than sweet southern accent. OK! Consider it a ‘Welcome to New York’ gift. I’ll make it Twenty-five!

Thank you so much! Temple felt she won the negotiation and immediately handed over the money. 

Temple walked away, but stopped, reached into her purse and pulled out a five-dollar bill, and returned. Here!

The vendor tilted his head. What's this?

Temple held out the bill. I took advantage of your kindness, sir. Please... take the money.

The vendor's head tilted slightly in a mix of surprise and admiration, his smile spreading across his face. Sorry Miss, all sales are final.

Temple urged again. No really. Please?

The vendor gently closed Temple’s hand, Listen, kid, when I was your age, I played guitar, not good enough to play for Led Zeppelin, but enough to do studio backup. Then I met a girl, and then came a little one, and then another. So now I play local clubs at night and sell trinkets during the day. You got a dream to shine under the bright lights, yeah? Temple nodded. Then go for it! And get out of here before I change my mind.

Temple found Mercer Street; and in the middle of the block stood St. Mary's Residence, a double-width brownstone with two brown columns framing a flight of cracked cement steps. 

Temple opened the double-framed glass doors and trotted gently across creaking oak floorboards to the reception desk. She was eyed through the bifocals of Miss Haig, a gray-haired woman with an oval face. Good morning. May I help you?  

Good morning, I’m Temple Drake.

Ah yes, welcome, Miss Drake.  

Miss Haig looked with approval at Temple's appropriate attire, I am Miss Haig. Miss Haig reached underneath the counter for a sheet of paper and handed to Temple. These are our House rules. Breakfast is at eight. Dinner is at six. You’re on your own for lunch. No drugs, no alcohol, no boys allowed in the rooms. Loud music is prohibited at all times. Curfew is midnight.

Miss Haig looked at the application agreement. Oh, I see you are on a financial scholarship. Congratulations! But be aware the slightest deviation from the rules could cause the loss of your scholarship.

Oh, yes.  Temple nodded. I understand.

Excellent!  And I wish you luck!  Miss Haig handed Temple a key. Room Three Hundred and Five. The elevator is just ahead to your right.

Temple strapped her luggage around her shoulders.

And by the way! Miss Haig smiled, It's lovely to see young ladies wearing proper hats again."

CHAPTER 3

Ataxi screeched to a jarring stop, then jammed hard into reverse to stop in front of St. Mary's residence. Both passengers lurched forwards and backward.

Ruth Fain shouted. For God's sake, driver, you could have broken our necks,

Yeah, but nobody died, Miss! The driver looked through his mirror at Ruth Fain, a woman with a Roman nose, full lips, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair that was cropped around the ears; she wore a light blue blouse with a dark blue dress.

The driver turned around to look at her. Fifty bucks.

Fifty dollars for a ride from the train station twenty blocks away!  

He laughed. New York traffic, Miss. Complain to the Mayor.

Ruth Fain begrudgingly handed him the cash. You drive like a lunatic!

The driver had not the slightest interest in Ruth’s opinion, but fixed his eyes through the mirror at the other passenger.

Alison Fain, Ruth’s only child, inherited her mother's Italian features of ivory skin in sharp contrast to her jet-black hair that she wore loose, falling over the collar of a fashionable metal studded denim jacket. The driver smiled at Alison. Hey, this is that place for dancers. You a dancer, Miss?

Ruth Fain took the question, delighted that her daughter was recognized as a dancer. Why yes, she is. Do you like ballet?

Are you kidding? No friggin' way.

Ruth quickly lost her smile as Alison hopped out of the cab. The driver pulled suitcases out of the trunk. Ruth picked up a bag.

Mom, it's not necessary for you to come up.

Ruth began walking up the stairs. Nonsense, I don't mind.

Alison reminded , Don’t you have a train to catch?  

I can catch a later train, dear. They run all day.

Mom, it’s not my first day of kindergarten. I’m eighteen, legally an adult. I can handle myself.

Well, I hope so. Ruth dropped luggage on the landing. I'll call tonight to make sure everything went well.  She kissed Alison on both cheeks.

The taxi driver bought two more suitcases on the landing, providing another opportunity for him to leer at Alison. I can take these bags inside, Miss!  

Ruth intercepted,