Come Dancing

by Leslie Wells

  “I was just curious,” I said, wishing I hadn’t asked.

  “I’ve been a … pretty good boy this week. Maybe not so much with the stimulants, but I didn’t have you here to stimulate me,” he added. “In fact, I’m probably the only one who didn’t fuck her.”

  I winced.

  “Well, you asked. This one’s definitely on the bizarre end of the spectrum, even for Patrick’s ladies. It always amazes me how many nutters you run into out here,” he said musingly. “I was talking to this guy at a party; his company’s developing a phone you carry with you everywhere. Can you imagine that?” Jack looked aghast. “I just want to get away from my phone. Imagine wanting people to be able to get hold of you, wherever you are.”

  “You’d never be able to stop working. Harvey could reach me at lunch, dinner, all weekend.”

  Jack did a mock-shudder. “Ridiculous.”

  The waiter knocked and put our food on the balcony table. I glanced down at the pool; the only signs of last night’s bacchanal were several scattered wineglasses.

  “What’s the plan for today?” Gratefully I took a sip of my coffee. I wanted to run over to Book Soup, a bookstore Erin had said was fantastic, but I knew there might not be enough time.

  “I’m supposed to do some interviews with Patrick at noon. I’ll come back here, give you some more of Jack’s special sauce, and we’ll hang out until it’s time to go to the stadium. The first concert’s at seven; second one’s at ten. Same for tomorrow night.”

  I didn’t point out that it was already quarter past twelve. Jack ate some toast, took a leisurely shower, strummed his guitar naked for a while, eventually put on a crumpled shirt and jeans and went to meet Patrick. I figured the reporters were used to being kept waiting.

  There came a brisk rap on the door and Mary Jo stepped inside. She didn’t look the least bit glad to see me.

  “I heard you got in last night. Patrick wanted me to give these to Jack, so he can review the lyrics before they go onstage.” She handed me an envelope. “I’ve reserved seats for us. And whatever dimbos Patrick brings along.”

  “I can’t wait to see the show.”

  “Julia.” Mary Jo paused as if deciding whether to say something. “I wanted to warn you about Jack.”

  My mood dipped.

  “He likes you. Quite a bit. I’m sure you know that.”

  “I assume so. He invited me here.”

  “I would just watch yourself around him. I’ve seen him really get into someone, and then get distracted by something new. He even thought Nicole hung the moon for a while, before she showed her stripes. He’s not a bad person, but he’s very impulsive.” She frowned. “It seems like every woman in town has been trying to get into his pants this week. I don’t know that he’s been entirely successful at fending them off.”

  She left, and I went to sit on the balcony, feeling numb. Was Jack with someone else earlier this week? He seemed so glad to see me last night. But according to her, he can turn on a dime. I gazed down at the pool, wondering if I should have come.

  There was a thumping at the door; Jack must have forgotten his room key. Surprised the interview was already over, I went to open it and found three bedraggled teenaged girls, fists raised to knock again. They looked all of fifteen.

  “Oh! We thought … someone told us this was Jack Kipling’s room.”

  My god, has he been fooling around with a bunch of teenagers? “Who are you?”

  “We hitched down from Sacramento,” the freckled one said.

  “Do you know Jack?”

  “Not personally. We just wanted to meet him.”

  That was a relief. I took a closer look at the girls; they seemed like they were about to keel over. The chubby dark-haired one was very pale, mascara streaked down her cheek. The third was propped against the wall, halter-top askew. “Could we sit down for a minute? We aren’t feeling too great,” she said.

  “I guess for a minute.” They trooped in behind me and flopped onto the couch. “What are your names?”

  “I’m Tanya,” freckles said. “This is Nell,” indicating the chubby girl, “and Free. We’re so wasted; we haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday. Do you have any candy bars in your fridge?”

  I didn’t want them passing out on me. “Would you like some sandwiches?”

  Eagerly they nodded, and I ordered room service as they whispered among themselves. “After you eat, I want you to call your parents and go home. I’ll give you money for bus tickets.” Jack had a big stash of cash in his luggage.

  “We wanted to try to get into the concert,” whined Free.

  “It’s sold out. What are you doing, hitchhiking all this way on the off-chance you’ll meet him? For one thing, he’s way too old for you.”

  “But we love him,” Nell said tearily.

  “You don’t love him; you don’t even know him. You should spend time with boys your own age. Something really bad could happen if you showed up at the wrong guy’s hotel room.”

  The food came, and the girls fell on it as if they were starving. I rounded up the cash, making them promise to use it for bus tickets, which I doubted they’d do. I heard a key in the lock.

  “What’s this?” Jack stopped abruptly in the doorway.

  “These girls hitched down here to meet you. I was just giving them some lunch.”

  Jack backed out into the hall and glared at me. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “They’re pathetic. They were about to collapse.”

  “I don’t care. Get ‘em out. I’ll be in Sammy’s room.”

  He went rapidly down the hall, and sheepishly the girls left. I phoned Jack to let him know they’d gone.

  “Did they take any pictures?” he asked when he returned.

  “No. They just sat on the couch and gobbled up the food.”

  Jack gave me a stern look. “That could have gotten me in a lot of hot water.”

  “Why?” I didn’t see the problem.

  “Underage girls in my room? You’re kidding.”

  “But I was there.”

  “Julia. They could say you were helping me seduce them.”

  I stared at him. “That’s disgusting.”

  “I’m just telling you. I have to be careful. A lawyer gets hold of one of them, and the next thing you know, you’re in court.”

  “I assume you don’t have firsthand knowledge of that kind of thing.”

  “You think I’d do that?”

  “No … but it was disturbing to see such young girls at your door. I promise I won’t invite anyone else in. How was the interview?”

  “All right.” He opened a beer and gestured with the bottle. “You?”

  “I’ll get one later. Mary Jo dropped off these lyrics.”

  “Patrick always sends them over. You can imagine how helpful they’ve been to me in the past.”

  “Want me to read them to you?”

  “Do you mind? I’m a bit rusty on some of the older ones.”

  “Actually I did a little research at the library,” I said, unsure how he’d react. “On what you said about it being hard to read.”

  Jack looked at me expectantly.

  “I think it might be dyslexia.”

  “I’ve heard of that. Does that mean I’m retarded?”

  “Not at all. You just use the right side of your brain instead of the left. It makes it harder to read longer words or fine print,” I said quickly.

  “Weird.” Jack frowned.

  “A lot of scientists, inventors, and artists are dyslexic. Albert Einstein probably was.”

  “Einstein, huh. I always wondered if something was wrong with me. The teachers just stuck me in the slow classes,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s why playing the guitar was so great; it was something I could be the best at.”

  “It’s a shame they didn’t help you, especially when so many people with dyslexia are brilliant. It could be considered a sign of genius.”

  Jack’s mouth twi
tched into a smile. “That’s the first time I’ve been called that.”

  “There’s no doubt you’re a musical genius.”

  “Thank you. Is there any way to get over it?”

  I recalled what I’d read. “I think there are tutors that teach people using a certain method.”

  “Maybe I’ll have Mary Jo look into that.”

  We sat on the balcony as I read him the lyrics. I was fascinated to see the mix of their early stuff and brand new material, and quizzed Jack about how they decided which songs to play. Jack wasn’t acting cagey or distant, as Mary Jo had suggested. Maybe she was hoping to create a rift between us to prevent me from running up big bills on his tab.

  After a while Jack had had enough of the review. He stood up and stretched. “The concert gear’s in the closet. Pick out something for me to wear tonight.”

  “Great, I get to dress you.” I hopped up, went inside and unzipped the hanging wardrobe. A dozen sparkly tops took up one half, pants on the other. I pulled out a shirt that shimmered with red rhinestones. “What about this? You look so good in that color.”

  Jack slipped out of his clothes and into the shirt, his ass bare. “I might cause a sensation if I came out like this,” he said, nudging me.

  “You could do the first-ever X-rated rock concert. How about these pants?” I showed him a pair with vertical stripes.

  “I like ‘em, but I’ve worn them a million times. Maybe I’ll just wear jeans.” He removed the shirt, his chain catching on a button.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you where that necklace comes from.” I assumed it was special, since he never took it off.

  “When our first album came out, this big-shot critic said we were just a flash in the pan,” Jack replied, fingering the lightning bolt. “Mum had this made for me. She told me, ‘Ignore that wanker. You’re going to be a flash of lightning across the music world.’ I’ve worn it ever since; it’s me good luck charm,” he concluded in his adorable accent. “Let’s get in the shower, I’m sweaty again. They interviewed us on Patrick’s patio.”

  We went into the bathroom and I started stripping off my clothes. All at once, a memory came to me. “When I was a kid, I used to love Saturday nights,” I said, unhooking my bra. “Dot took a job as a cocktail waitress, so Dad and I were home alone together. I’d get into my pajamas and he’d put me on a stool and wash my hair in the sink. It’s one of the nicest memories I have of growing up.”

  “Why don’t I wash your hair?” Jack offered.

  “Oh, that’s okay. I don’t know why I thought of it.”

  “C’mon, it’ll be relaxing.” He wound a towel around his hips and left the room, returning with a bottle of champagne and two flutes. I wrapped a towel around my waist as he popped the cork.

  “I guess we have to get you wet first.” He motioned me over to the sink and ran a stream over my head. I sat in a chair facing the mirror, water dripping down my back, amused by how much he was getting into it. “The front desk sent up all this goop,” he said, rummaging in a basket filled with various vials and soaps. I sipped my champagne as he poured a puddle of shampoo and massaged it into my hair.

  “That’s a lot of bubbles,” I said, laughing.

  “You want to get a good lather going.” He looked at the suds foaming down my shoulders. “Maybe I did use a little too much.”

  “Is that bubble bath or shampoo?”

  Jack squinted at the label. “Whoops. Oh well, we can start over in the shower. Wait a minute though.” He regarded me in the mirror. “Let’s see.” He took two big batons of bubbles and shaped them in a bouffant. “Marilyn.”

  I stood and tried to strike a Seven Year Itch pose. “How’s this?”

  “Very nice with your bare tits.”

  “Now your turn. What do you remind me of …” I pushed him down in the chair, took handfuls of suds and shaped them into points on either side of his head. “Devil.”

  Jack looked in the mirror and grinned. “That fits. I’ve got one for you.” He carefully dabbed at my nipples, then leaned back in his seat. “Stripper.”

  I took a scoop and modeled it on his forehead. “Unicorn.”

  “Bunny.” He tried to shape tall ears on me, but they flopped. We giggled as I filled our glasses again.

  “All right, I have one.” I cupped my hands in the lather and fashioned it on his chin. “Santa.”

  “You can be Santa’s helper,” Jack said, reaching for me. “Santa needs some help with this.” He tugged my towel off, yanked his open and pulled me onto his lap facing him.

  “Ohh, you feel good,” I whispered. “Ohhh …”

  After we finally made it out of the shower, we lay in bed and passed the bottle of champagne between us.

  “God, Julia. You really make my water boil.”

  “You do the same to me. Especially when you had those horns on your head.”

  “I’m sure you think I’m just a sex fiend,” he said.

  “The thought may have crossed my mind.”

  “Well, I do have a reputation to uphold. Hang on, I’ve got an idea.”

  Jack went to get the garters out of my bag, drew the stockings up my legs and expertly hooked them to the belt. He settled in between and lifted a thigh over each of his shoulders. “Now that’s a beautiful view. Deserves a little special something.” He pulled a garter back and released it, snapping it against my backside. I gave a sharp intake of breath.

  “You like that? I’m going to do that again, but you won’t know when it’s coming.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Kind of adds an element of suspense, if you know what I mean. Now hand me the bottle. Hold still, this might tickle a bit.” He held me open and poured a small trickle. “Stop laughing, you’re gonna make it spill. Lemme see how this tastes.” He put his lips on me and slurped. “Mmm, nice … a top note of fruit with an undertone of funky,” he said in a plummy voice. “Okay, stop wiggling. I’m gonna get down to business.”

  Chapter 25

  Fame

  By the time we got to the arena, I was groggy from all the sex and champagne. He doesn’t seem bored with me yet, I thought defiantly of his manager’s warning. We were directed down a long hall to a dressing room, where Jack put on the shimmery red shirt over his jeans. We emerged into a brightly lit room lined with mirrors, sundry people milling around, Mary Jo patrolling the flow. A hard-looking woman grasped Jack’s arm. “There’s a pile of toot in Patrick’s dressing room. It’s going fast.”

  Jack glanced at me. “Want some?”

  I shook my head. If pot made me out of it, I could just imagine what coke would do.

  “I’ll pass,” Jack said.

  The woman gave him a skeptical look. “You’re kidding. You never turn down blow.”

  “I’ll nab some before we go on.”

  A thin man in a tight lavender tee-shirt motioned Jack over to the makeup chair. “Now I’ve got to get pretty,” Jack said to me. “How’s it going, Gary? This is my friend Julia.”

  “What incredible forget-me-not blues,” Gary said to me. “I’m going to give your hair a little trim,” he added to Jack, brandishing scissors.

  “Needs it,” Jack said. He shut his eyes as Gary clipped, then pinned curlers on top and sprayed liberally.

  “I bet you didn’t know you’re really going out with a woman,” Jack said to me as Gary dabbed on eye shadow and blush.

  “All in the name of show biz,” I said. “You do look luscious.” His face had an exotic quality with the makeup, lending a trace of femininity that was extremely erotic.

  “You still have to come out dancing with me sometime, Jack,” Gary said flirtatiously as he undid the rollers.

  “Sure, if it’s not too much of a Crisco disco. Can I bring Julia, or is it guys only?”

  “Oh, there are lots of ladies. I think you’re all set now. With those eyelashes, he never needs mascara,” he said to me.

  Suzanne came into the room in a bright green jacket and capris, as dramatically made up as if she
herself was going onstage.

  “We need to take Julia shopping at some point,” she said, smiling at me. I was wearing one of his silk shirts, which I’d thought looked nice except for being long.

  “Yeah, good luck getting her to go.” Jack got out of the chair. “Your turn,” he said to me, and went to talk to Mark.

  “Go on,” Suzanne said, seeing me hesitate. “Let Gary do his magic. We can’t let the guys outshine us.”

  “First time? Don’t worry, I won’t do anything that doesn’t come off in the wash,” Gary reassured me. As Suzanne watched, offering suggestions, Gary put large rollers in my hair and began dabbing on various creams and powders. When he was done, I felt like I had two pounds of paint dragging my face down. He spun the chair around so I could see in the mirror; a wild biker chick with high cheekbones and bee-stung lips stared back at me.

  “Hey, I kind of like this look,” Jack observed as Gary teased my hair. He examined me as they went to touch up Mark. “He’s done you like a loose woman,” Jack said with raised eyebrow. “We’ll have to explore that concept later.”

  Just then Patrick made his entrance in a long velvet robe, a miniskirted model on each arm. The trio surrounded Jack.

  “I brought one along for you,” Patrick said with a grin. “Oh, I forgot she got in last night,” he added, seeming only then to notice me.

  I felt like sinking into the floor at his withering gaze. I would have to let these suggestive remarks by Patrick, Mary Jo, and women who seemed to know Jack from before, slide off me for now or the trip would be ruined. I’d have plenty of time to mull things over later.

  The room cleared out as the booming drums of the opening act resounded. “We’d better take our seats,” Mary Jo said.

  Jack gave my waist a squeeze. “See you out there.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  Suzanne, Mary Jo and I followed a guard down the hall. We passed the open door of a large dressing room. Patrick was lying on his back on the floor, eyes closed, as a woman pranced circles around him, ringing little bells on her fingers. “Deep cleansing breaths,” she crooned.

  “That’s the astrologer Patrick hired to get his stars aligned,” Mary Jo said as we continued down the corridor. “To the tune of three thousand dollars.”