MYSTERY OF THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER EIGHTY one:

Exodus

Written by Rick Archer 

LIMBO MONTH fifteen
SEPTEMBER 1980

A SERIOUS PROBLEM

The clock was ticking.  Two weeks.  The month I paid for would end on the final Friday, September 26th.  As the rollercoaster began its terrifying downward free fall, I was sick in my stomach.   All my hopes and dreams were plummeting to earth at terrifying speed.  I was furious because I had guessed this day was coming, but failed to take appropriate steps.  Having lost the chance to leave on my own terms, I was ashamed of myself.  Stevens was right... I had grown too big for my own britches.  I had assumed I was so valuable that Stevens would never have the guts to get rid of me.  I was wrong.

My head was spinning over the enormity of the problem.  I had been teaching for three years, but not once did I ever worry about the details.  The cost of renting space, putting up mirrors, putting down floors and buying furniture was intimidating enough.  What about insurance, light bills, and air-conditioning?  What about telephone, music, sound equipment, et al, ad infinitum, ad nauseum?  The pressure was unbearable.  Most painful of all, two weeks would not even remotely be enough time to make a smooth transition to some new place.  This was impossible. 

And Stevens knew it!!  I was sure this had been a set-up.  Stevens wanted to get rid of me and he wanted to provoke me into doing something that he could use as an excuse.  Stevens knew he would face the wrath of his own students.  Stevens knew his Ballroom students enjoyed the energy I brought to the place.  Stevens was pleased because now he could use my angry confrontation to justify giving me the axe.  What bothered me the most was there had been plenty of warning.  Over the past months I could see this rupture was coming.  Now I was in serious trouble.  Where was I going to go?

I spent the weekend on the phone with Victoria and Bob.  Victoria was supportive, but had no answers.  Neither did Bob.  What were the odds of finding a spot with adequate space, adequate parking, instant availability, good location, affordable on short notice?  Good luck with that.  Neither one thought I had a prayer of finding the right space and getting it ready in two weeks.  It was impossible.  Throughout the weekend, my sick feeling would not go away. 

I spent all day Monday on the phone lining up possible real estate venues.  I talked to ten different commercial realtors.  As expected, the news was disheartening.  As one realtor after another pointed out, it wasn't easy finding a place like this with a snap of the finger.  As the day wore on, not one person called back.  Even if someone found something, what about a dance floor and mirrors?  A good dance floor was expensive.  Nor could it be installed overnight.  This was a huge decision, not the kind of decision that can be handled in two weeks.  As it stood, I was facing a disruption of my dance classes for at least a month, possibly even longer.  The loss of income would really sting and the loss of momentum would be equally painful.  The thought of this interruption was intolerable.  Unfortunately, at this point I finally had competition.  Students would be tempted to move to someone else's western program.  Or worse, the 'Western Boredom' problem would kick in.  It would spread like a virus and the disgruntled students would move onto the Next Best Thing in January.  By the time I got my program up and running again, everything I worked for could very easily be gone.  Stevens would definitely have the last laugh.  There was a distinct possibility I would spend all that money to locate my own place only to discover that no one cared anymore.  Western's been fun, but now it's done. 

With my back against the wall, I could see only one possible way to extricate myself from this jam.  Can you guess what I did? 

SEPTEMBER 1980

ROLLING THE DICE

It was time to roll the dice.  Gambles don't always pay off.  For example, I took a huge gamble with Victoria and ended up with the worst mistake of my life.   Stuck in Limbo Captivity, I was still paying dearly for my poor judgment.  However, I had no choice.  With my back to the wall, I had to roll the dice again.  What about Glen and his new studio??

Ever since Glen had moved into his new facility over Labor Day, I had wondered if joining him might be a possibility. Glen's new studio on Bissonnet had twice the space as his previous spot in Westbury Square.  Glen's location had once been a bowling alley.  Later it became a police shooting range.  There was enough space for one large dance room and three large side rooms.  One of those side rooms was being converted into a dance apparel shop, but the other two were empty every night of the week. 

EMPTY!!! 

That word bounced around in my brain non-stop.  Glen had spoken of growing his business and expanding into those spots, but I had a better idea.  Why let those two side rooms go to waste?  Why not ask him to rent those rooms to me instead? 

I had thought this over several times even before my eviction.  However, I never had the nerve to bring up the subject for fear of rejection.  I no longer had any choice.  My dire straits provided the necessary courage.  Maybe, just maybe, I could talk Glen into letting me sub-lease that space.  However, I did not want to phone him.  I preferred to make my pitch face to face.  That way if he turned me down, I could prostrate myself at his feet and plead like a forlorn beggar.  I was prepared to cry if necessary.  As scared as I felt, it would not be difficult to shed tears on demand.

I made my pitch on Tuesday, September 16th.  At the start of my morning private lesson, I wasted no time explaining my eviction problem to Glen.   First I told him what had happened with Stevens. 

I noticed that Glen was listening carefully.  Was Glen thinking what I hoped he was thinking?  Okay, it was time to make my request.  But then I hesitated.  What if he said no? 

Glen and I had become friends over the past year.  However, despite our rapport, asking to move in was asking a lot.  Too fearful of rejection, I took an indirect approach. 

"Glen, I am in a lot of trouble.  Do you know of any place I could go?  Money is not a problem.  I have the money to pay a fair price." 

Glen thought about it for a moment.  I could not read his face, so I had no choice but stand there and tremble.

Suddenly he smiled.

"I have an idea, Rick.  Why not move over here.  You can use our two empty rooms.  What do you think??"

I tried not to appear too anxious, but I was ready to explode with joy.  I didn't care whether Glen was gay or not, I wanted to jump into his arms and kiss him with delirious passion.  Somehow I was able to restrain myself, but I was overcome with relief nonetheless.  And anger too.  Maybe even a touch of glee.  That stupid sonofabitch Lance Stevens was about to discover his cruelty had backfired in a major way.  However, I would save my revenge fantasies for later.  Right now was a time for celebration. 

How long did it take for me to say yes?  Not long.

"Glen, I think that would be awesome!" 

"Hold on, Rick, first I need to clear it with Bill, my business partner.  However I think he'll be okay with it.  Go home and sit by your phone today."

Darn it, I was not home free just yet.  However, things looked pretty good.

SEPTEMBER 1980

GETTING HITCHED

That afternoon I got a call at home from Bill Tucker, Glen's business partner.  We had never met, but I knew who he was.  Bill wanted me to return to Glen's studio and have a talk.  When I arrived, Bill said he was in favor of the move.  However, first he wanted to establish some ground rules.  His requests were more than fair, so I readily agreed to them.  I had been Glen's student for the past two years, so Bill already knew I was a solid bet.  If Glen wanted me here, then so be it.  Bill formally invited me to move over to Dance Arts and sublease their two backrooms.  

It took less than a nanosecond to accept.  And with that, we shook on it.  What an enormous break!  Filled with elation, this was one of the happiest moments of my life. 

Want to know something wonderful?  My new rent was just slightly more than I had been paying Stevens.  I did not object.  The amount was fair, especially under the circumstances.  I wasn't worried; I could easily afford the new amount.  Besides, the chance to avoid the cost of dance floors, mirrors, insurance and furniture would save me several thousands of dollars.  This Lucky Break was quite a bargain.  Best of all, there would be no interruption whatsoever in my dance program.  I was scheduled to begin the first Monday in October. 

I could not wait to tell Bob, Victoria, and all of my students.  This was an amazing stroke of good fortune. 

One thing special about Glen's new studio was its prime location in a fashionable part of town near the Galleria.  With instant access to West Loop 610, a major freeway, my students were going to love how easy it was to get to our new location. 

I knew why Glen had moved here.  By placing himself in the middle of the affluent Bellaire and West University neighborhoods, Glen could draw on a much wider base of school-age students to stock his jazz, tap, and ballet classes.  However, the move had come with a huge risk.  Located in such a prime commercial spot, I was sure that Glen and Bill had gone way out on a limb financially to secure this place. 

How many times had Patsy Swayze said the profit margin running a jazz studio was slim at best?  Given that jazz dance students were few and far between, I had a strong hunch I was just as much an answer to their prayers as they were an answer to mine.  Maybe I was 'Their Lucky Break'.  This move was a clear win-win for both of us. 

Yes, it would be a little weird having a dance studio with grown men in blue jeans ogling pretty teenage girls running around in form-fitting jazz tights.  So what?  Why not take the gamble?  Glen knew from experience that I could be trusted to cooperate.

I could not believe the relief I felt.  The weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders.  Feeling like I had been rescued by a golden parachute, the thought of getting rid of Lance Stevens was a dream come true. 

While Bill and I talked, Glen came in the office with a concerned look.  He wanted to see how Bill and I were getting along.  Once Bill saw Glen's anxiety, he smiled.

"Don't worry, Glen, the deal is done.  Rick has accepted the parameters of our unusual merger.  We are getting hitched!"

Then Bill looked at me and said the nicest thing.

"Glen and I are glad to have you join us as our partner.  You are welcome here.  And if that asshole Stevens gives you any more trouble, you don't have to wait till October.  Tell your students to get in their cars and drive over here.  You can start tonight if necessary.  One more thing.  One of the rooms does not have a dance floor yet.  I have that fixed before October."

And with that, Bill handed me a key.  We were headed to the altar.

SEPTEMBER 1980

THE FINAL DAYS

After my Tuesday afternoon talk with Glen and Bill, that evening I received a welcome dose of dark pleasure.  I watched carefully as Stevens began his new Whip class, the one he had barged through my class to promote.  Stevens had 12 students, a total far below his expectations.  In the old days Stevens would have 30, 40 students.  However, no one was interested in Whip at the moment.   No surprise there; Country-Western was the order of the day.  What pleased me was that only one couple from my TGIS class showed up in his class.  I smiled and waved politely to them.  Hmm, all that ugliness for two new students. 

I was dying to speak to Stevens.  Was it really worth it, Lance?  I wanted to tell the man that if he had just asked, I would have promoted the class for him.  I was fairly certain that if I put my stamp of approval on his class, he would have gotten several more students.  But no, that was not the way Lance Stevens did things.  I noticed Stevens talking to his wife over in the corner.  He was clearly not in a good mood, but I did not care.  This small Whip class was exactly what he deserved.  Like I said, there's a right way and a wrong way.  I understood that his business was suffering.   Yes, I had the hot hand at the moment, so why not ask me to help?  I would have offered to personally hand out his flyers to the students not just in the TGIS class, but in all my classes.  Sure, I disliked the man, but if Stevens would just show me an ounce of respect, we could have dispensed with all this animosity long ago. 

However, Stevens would not dream of doing things the right way.  Stevens was an egotistical jerk.  He would rather bully me around than save his business.  Here is the irony.  I was looking for a way to mend fences with the man and increase my security here.  This would have been the perfect opportunity for me to show good will.  With my help, 600 people would know about his upcoming Whip class.  I would have been glad to do it.  But it didn't happen like that, did it?  Instead, Stevens interrupted our class unnecessarily and bullied his way to the center of the dance floor.  Yes, my students had enjoyed the dance exhibition.  However, they also could see that Stevens was wrong to throw his weight around.  For the umpteenth time, Stevens had been his own worst enemy.  The funny thing is that both Stevens and Cliann had worn black, their favorite color.  When the movie comes out, no one will have trouble identifying the villain. 

Judging by the worried look on his face, I wondered if Stevens was starting to regret tossing me overboard.  Perhaps Stevens saw that small Whip class as a bad omen.  Twelve students, barely worth his time.  Stevens was understandably upset that interest in his favorite dance kept dwindling.  Stevens was committed to teaching a low-energy class for two months that would barely put a dent in his coffers.  Moreover this class had zero potential to become an Intermediate class.  With me gone and interest in Ballroom and Whip at an all-time low, Stevens was staring at the very real possibility that paying his rent was no longer a sure thing.  This was an ominous thought.  Since my arrival three years ago, Stevens had never worried about money.  However, now that Stevens had killed the Golden Goose, those days were over.  As a man in his 60s, I was certain it troubled him to ponder using his savings to make ends meet.  So why didn't Stevens think about this before he evicted me?  Well, I could answer that, but we already know what I would say. 

Later that night after both our classes had ended, Stevens walked by.  He was so preoccupied he did not even notice me standing there.  Perfect time for an ambush.  I smiled at him and said politely, "How did your Whip class go, Mr. Stevens?"

Stevens froze.  He was so preoccupied I caught him completely off guard with my wicked little remark.  Based on his look, I could see his bravado was gone.  Stevens looked like a tired, vulnerable, worried old man.  It is easy to be defiant when someone is angry, but the unpleasant reality of seeing my lucrative rent check walk out the door was beginning to sink in.  By the bewildered way he looked at me, I had to believe if he was having second thoughts. 

However, to his credit, Stevens quickly regained his poise.  Giving me a withering gaze, Stevens growled, "It looks like the curse you put on my Whip class worked.  You have two weeks."  

He stood there awaiting a reply, but I said nothing.  I just smiled.  If it made him feel better, he could threaten me all he wanted.  Hey, just like old times.   The showdown did not last long.  Stevens had nothing further to say, so as usual he just walked away.  Stevens did not know of my good fortune yet.  I would save that particular bombshell for next week.  I did not know it at the time, but this was the last conversation we would ever have. 

SEPTEMBER 1980

EXODUS

In the remaining time, I quietly made plans to transition from Stevens of Hollywood over to Dance Arts Unlimited.  Bob, Victoria and Judy Price, my three part-time instructors, were the only ones who knew.  I did not want to give Stevens the slightest idea what I was up to lest he speed up the time table or do something spiteful.  I wanted to complete my September classes without disruption, then start fresh at Dance Arts in October.  The remaining time worked in my favor.  I had more than enough time to get the word out. 

I took immense satisfaction in drafting my October Newsletter announcement.  In fact, I was downright giddy.  Writing that letter was one of the great pleasures of my life.  Sending it out was even more satisfying.  I mailed the announcement on Monday, September 22, the final week of my September dance semester.  Then I began handing copies to current students in my September classes and made sure to encourage them to continue classes at the new place.  Considering the new location was far easier to reach for 98% of my students, I doubted I would lose a single student. 

I suppose someone passed a copy of the announcement to Stevens, but if so, I never knew.  Stevens did not say a word.  Nor did he lift a finger to interfere.  That allowed me to complete my move in peace.  If Stevens lacked the courtesy to speak to me, then I saw no reason to so say goodbye.  On the final two nights of class I sent Bob Job and Judy Price to substitute teach in my place.  I did not want to give Stevens the chance to say something ugly to ruin my good mood.  At the end of the final class, Bob handed my key to Stevens.  Conspicuously absent was my rent check for October. 

With the Exodus of my program complete, the three year era of Stevens of Hollywood was over.  I was on my own now.  It was time for the next stage of my dance career to begin.