Read Online What We Become by Arturo Pérez-Reverte - Free Book Online Page B

speak.”
    Max smiled at the word modern .
    â€œOf course. That is the kind everyone asks for. And the one I know. I never danced the old-style tango in Buenos Aires. I was too young. Although I saw it danced often enough. . . . Ironically, I learned the tango I dance in Paris.”
    â€œHow did you end up there?”
    â€œThat’s a long story. It would bore you.”
    De Troeye had beckoned the waiter, and was ordering another round, ignoring Max’s protests. Ordering drinks without consulting anyone seemed to come naturally to him. Apparently he was the sort of fellow who behaved like a host even when he was a guest at someone else’s table.
    â€œBore me? On the contrary. You cannot imagine how fascinatedI am by what you’re saying. . . . Are there still people in Buenos Aires who play the old way? . . . Pure tango, as it were?”
    Max thought about it for a moment and finally shook his head, doubtfully.
    â€œThere is nothing pure. But there are still a few places. Not in the fashionable dance halls, obviously.”
    De Troeye examined his own hands. Broad, strong hands. Not tapered, the way Max imagined those of a famous composer would be. Clipped, shiny nails, he noticed. He wore the gold signet ring with the blue lozenge on the same finger as his wedding band.
    â€œI am going to ask a favor of you, Mr. Costa. Something that means a lot to me.”
    The fresh drinks had arrived. Max did not touch his. De Troeye was grinning, sure of himself.
    â€œI’d like to invite you to lunch,” he went on, “so that we can discuss this in more detail.”
    Max concealed his surprise beneath an awkward smile.
    â€œI appreciate the gesture, but as an employee I am not allowed in the first-class dining room . . .”
    â€œYou’re right.” The composer frowned, thoughtful, as though wondering to what extent he could change the ship’s regulations. “That is an unfortunate inconvenience. We could eat together in second class . . . but I have an even better idea. My wife and I have a double stateroom that can easily accommodate a table for three. . . . Would you do us the honor?”
    Max hesitated, still taken aback.
    â€œThat is very kind of you, but I’m not sure that I should. . . .”
    â€œDon’t worry. I will arrange it with the steward.” De Troeye took a last sip before placing his glass firmly on the table, as if the matter was decided. “So you accept, then?”
    Any qualms Max still had were simply because he was cautious. It was true that nothing was going the way he had imagined. Or was it? he wondered after reflecting for a moment. He needed alittle more time and information to be able to weigh the pros and cons. Armando de Troeye’s entrance was a new, unforeseen element in the game.
    â€œPerhaps your wife—” he began to say.
    â€œMecha will be delighted,” de Troeye declared, raising his eyebrows as he signaled to the waiter to bring the bill. “She says you are the best ballroom dancer she has ever met. It will be a pleasure for her as well.”
    Without glancing at the total, de Troeye signed with his room number, tipped the waiter with a banknote, and rose to his feet. Out of courtesy Max made to do likewise, but de Troeye detained him, placing a hand on his shoulder. A hand stronger than he would have imagined for a musician.
    â€œIn a manner of speaking, I want your advice.” De Troeye had slipped his gold fob watch out of his pocket and was checking the time with a nonchalant air. “Until midday, then . . . Cabin 3A. We shall be expecting you.”
    Without waiting for a reply, Armando de Troeye left the bar, taking for granted that Max would keep the appointment. After he had gone, Max sat staring at the door through which he had just disappeared. He reflected on the surprising turn this gave, or might give,