Read Online Swedish Tango / the Rhythm of Memory by Alyson Richman - Free Book Online Page B

having, he was beginning to be annoyed at himself for leaving his writing. His coffee would soon be cold and his paper still half-done.
    “I’m sorry I haven’t the time for a conversation. I am trying to work and you were distracting me.”
    “Please accept my apology,” Juan Francisco said, his teeth flashing white. “It was just that you’ve intrigued me and it is my business to find faces such as yours.”
    He reached into his jacket pocket, the inside lined in mustard-colored satin, and withdrew his card.
    Octavio gazed upon his fastidiously manicured fingernails as they pushed the small, professionally typed business card in his direction.
    Juan Francisco de Bourbon
    Artistic Manager
    4 59 3765
    “I have no background in acting,” Octavio told him. “I am a student of literature and poetry, not of cinema or the stage.”
    “It’s your face I am interested in,” the man said flatly. “Your high cheekbones, your large eyes…your face has all the angles we look for in the film business.”
    “My girlfriend is far more beautiful,” Octavio insisted.
    “We have too many girls who want to be actresses. The studios want me to find actors who can match the beauty of the female leads.” The man grinned again at Octavio. “You, I believe, have star-quality assets. With a little more polish, we could probably make you the Cary Grant of Chile.”
    Octavio shook his head. What this man was telling him seemed ridiculous and rather far-fetched. After all, he had never considered himself handsome, believing that his mind was his most valuable possession.
    “Take my card and think about it, son,” Juan Francisco told him in a well-practiced voice that almost seemed paternal. “Call me if you’re interested.” He leaned over to Octavio, swallowing his last sip of sherry. “I assure you, the money is well worth seeing if you have any talent.”
    Octavio visited Salomé that evening. Her belly was beginning to show, and in a few weeks she would have increasing difficulty in disguising her pregnancy.
    “Have you any luck finding a job, darling?” she asked him as he sat beside her, his hand resting between her small fingers. Hecould tell that she was becoming nervous about their situation and the promise he had made some months earlier to her father.
    “None of the local schools have responded to my applications,” he replied quietly, his eyes fixating on her swelling abdomen.
    “Something will open up,” she said, trying to sound hopeful.
    “I had a strange thing happen to me this afternoon, though. A man approached me and gave me his card.” Octavio reached into his trouser pocket and fumbled to retrieve Juan Francisco’s card.
    He handed it to Salomé.
    “What’s this?” she asked, obviously perplexed. “Artistic manager? I don’t understand.”
    “He thinks I should take a screen test.”
    “Screen test!” Salomé couldn’t contain her laughter. “He thinks you should make movies?”
    “Salomé’s reaction only increased Octavio’s embarrassment. “I know it sounds ridiculous. I know I have no experience, nor really any great interest in the movies, but he said the money would be well worth my time.”
    “But what about your books, your poetry…your teaching?” she asked gently. “Would you want to give that up?”
    Octavio didn’t reply. He was feeling the weight of responsibility mounting on his shoulders.
    “Perhaps I will be able to return to that, but now I must think about your condition and the promise I made to your father. We will need to get married shortly or it will become uncomfortable for everyone.”
    Salomé clasped Octavio’s hand over her lap. She giggled once again to herself. “To think, I thought I was going to marry a poor, starving poet and now my future husband might become a screen star!”
    Octavio shook his head. “Star? No, perhaps just a small role ortwo so we can make ends meet. And who knows even how this screen test will go…I doubt I have any