Maybe that was the secret, not to care. Maybe that was the difference between them, because Mitch did care. And he was getting kinda tired of being roadkill when yet another girl he liked left him bleeding, and he was sure tired of standing pit crew while Dan drove another effortless victory lap.
When Fluke came back with the shout, Dan broke off from the girl and came to claim his beer and his fifty bucks, which he transferred from Ant’s hand to Fluke’s saying, “Taxi home, mate, and keep the change.”
See, Dan was alright. Would never dump a mate. Could’ve had a huge ego, he was built, he was smart, he had money, and he had his head screwed on right. He could hold his drink and was a good mate. He was pretty much Fluke’s opposite.
Fluke was a short, wiry, freckled ranga, who became a math and science teacher because he couldn’t think what else to do after school finished. Dan pulled glamours and had instant hot sex with them. Fluke pulled chicks too drunk to know their own names and, when his car wasn’t in Dan’s workshop, drove them home and, when it was, paid for their taxis. He was on a winner tonight; he hadn’t yet had to hold some chick’s hair while she threw up, he had the fifty, and he could walk home.
Mitch looked at Ant, now chatting up some bird in tight black pants and a little top with spaghetti straps that did nothing to hide her implants. Yeah, they were implants, real chicks didn’t look like that, not that Ant would care. He preferred them artificial.
Seeing Ant settle in with the busty bird, he thought about Belinda. He’d been on a losing streak since she’d kicked him to the curb. He had no trouble attracting chicks, but then if he liked them, even a little bit, he somehow got all cop with a radar and stunned the life out of them and even Fluke could see that.
He looked at Dan again. He was holding the babe’s hand and stroking her hair and she was loving it. He wondered what she’d think if she knew she was just a bet between mates, if she knew Dan might neglect to ask her name and would almost certainly have forgotten it by the end of the month.
He sipped his beer. The night was still young and there was time yet to find Cinderella, in fact the sooner Dan took off the better it would be. Some nights Dan was so bright he attracted enough moths that there were leftovers to split among the three of them, but tonight he’d scored the Queen Bee and she was keeping all the other female bees out of her zone.
Birds and bees. That’s what it was all about.
After Dan gave them a mock salute and steered Ms Shrink-wrap to the door, Mitch breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank Christ. I was getting a crick in my neck from watching that.”
Fluke laughed. “He’s charmed.”
“He’s a lucky bastard.”
Fluke angled his glass. “See that blonde over there in the red dress?”
“Yeah.”
“Been checking you out.”
“Yeah?”
Ant had disappeared somewhere and the night was still young, so if Fluke was right about the red dress, there was still half a chance to have a conversation with a girl before things got really sloppy.
He’d go over, check her out, make eye contact, see if eye contact could become a contact sport, knowing that with Dan gone he’d probably score, either the blonde or her brunette mate. Knowing that Saturday morning, when the four of them hit the surf, they’d hardly bother to mention the random hook-ups and that they’d be back here Saturday night trying out the same old routine again and hoping for a different result.
3. Bird
Alex gave Scott a grin, took a deep breath, ran, and dived into his extended arms. He caught her, and in one fluid motion she was suspended above his head, his hands on her hip bones, her body in a long, almost straight position, her head held high, her legs together, her toes pointed, and her arms out to her sides, like wings. She was an exotic bird in flight.
The watching class broke into spontaneous applause.
Simultaneously Alex brought her legs down and Scott folded his elbows. In a flash, he took her hand and spun her out to his side saying, “Tah-dah,” theatrically, and they both took a little bow.
“That’s a Bird.” Alex grinned. “But don’t worry we’ll build up to it by starting with both of you on the floor.”
Eight couples looked uneasily at each other. Alex knew all the women were wondering ‘what if I’m too heavy?’ and all the men were thinking, ‘what if I drop her?’
“It’s got nothing to do with how much you weigh or how strong you are. It’s all about body position, momentum, and trust.” She looked at the anxious faces in the advanced Latin dance class. To date, they’d mastered the advanced level of the core routines, the rumba, samba, cha cha, paso doble, and jive, but now they needed to learn the lift components, especially if they wanted to earn a ranking or compete.
Teaching lifts was harder than teaching the dance steps themselves; students could get hurt more easily and it was a real test of fitness, strength, rhythm, posture, and partnership, but it was Alex’s favourite thing to teach and Scott was in such a good mood, it was going to be a fun class.
Leading up to tonight they’d done various holds and drops, Fish, Scarf, Flag, and a host of other movements, but Bird was the big one everyone was scared of. Tonight it was all they’d do.
“All the boys on the floor. Watch me,” said Scott. He got down on the wooden floor on his back, legs out straight and together, and arms by his side. Then he bent his elbows, lifting his palms and flattening them to the ceiling, lastly extending them straight up.
“This is basic Bird arm and hand position. You’ll have her hip bones resting in your palms. If you don’t keep your palms absolutely flat, you’ll tip her off.”
There was an apprehensive murmuring and Benjie said, “Holy crap,” and looked at his partner whose eyes were wide with fear. She said, “How do I get my hips in his hands?”
“Like this,” said Alex. She stood either side of Scott’s prone body, her feet level with his knees and she leaned forward, body straight, hips thrust out until Scott’s hands were on her hips. She grabbed his wrists and lifted her feet and once again she was a bird flying over his floorbound body.
“Keep hold of his wrists until you have your balance, then you can open your arms to the side. Head up. Don’t look down or you’ll end up going over his head.” That got a laugh, especially as Scott made a move that looked like he was going to pitch Alex over his head and she made a grab for his wrists.
“Once you get to here, boys, I want to see you work,” said Scott, turning his head to look away from Alex and back to the class. “Push-ups.” He bent his elbows back to the floor and then straightened them, taking his Alex bird for a ride as though she was a strange new form of human dumbbell.
That earned more applause and some awed grunting from the male partners.
Over the next hour, the eight couples tried out Bird on the floor and, despite some impressive collapses and quite a few near un-mannings from poorly placed knees, by the end of the session they were all able to hold the Bird position and complete a few push-ups.
“Thanks everyone. Next week we’ll try it from standing,” said Alex and the class gave her and Scott the traditional end-of-class, thank-you handclap.
When the room emptied, she looked at Scott. “You had a good day?”
“I had a completely yummy day.”
She took his hand and dragged him over to a bench adjacent to the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that lined two full walls of Wallace Dance Studios. “Tell me about it because this, just now, was the best part of my day, so I’m jealous.”
“Poor baby. You first, and then I can cheer you up.”
“I missed out on a High Distinction in Business Statistics by two points.”
“Two tiny points?”
“Two. They might as well be Sydney Harbour big, that’s the difference between the HD and an ordinary Distinction.”
“Poor baby,” Scott repeated, but this time voice iced with irony. “An ordinary Distinction in the subject half your class will fai
l because it’s so damn hard.”
“That’s not helping, Scotty.”
“Oh get a grip, Alley cat. It’s two points. Who’s going to care?” Scott rocked his shoulder into hers.
Alex looked at her bare feet. “I care.”
“What about Mommy Dearest? I think this is all about her.”
“It’s not, of course it’s not, but she won’t be pleased.”
“I guess it puts a pimple on your perfect record in Mommy’s big black eyes.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call her that.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “I’m not the one with mommy issues.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Totally girlfriend. As if! Anyway, why does she have to know?”
“She’s my mother and she loves me and I still live at home, so she supports me too.”
“She keeps you tied to her.”
“You really hate my mother.”
Scott sighed. “I don’t hate her. That would require a certain amount of energy I’m simply not willing to expend on her. I just think she has a serious case of living her life through you, and you have a serious case of thinking that’s ok.”
It was possible that Scott had a point. “Since when did you graduate with a psychology degree?”
“Doesn’t take an official qualification to work out you have separation issues to deal with.”
“I don’t think I like you anymore.”
“Oh, such tough talk from such a little bitty girl.”
Alex put her hand over Scott’s face and gave him a little shove. “Now tell me about your day.”
He shifted back away from her hand. “Oh yes, let’s make it all about me – that’s much more interesting. I had a spectacular day. I have a new client and he’s a complete dish and I think I’m in lust with him.”
“Your new client?” Scott was often in a state of lust so that wasn’t surprising, but he usually kept lust and his graphic design work separate.
“Yes. Well, I can dream, can’t I?”
“What does he want?”
“A new logo, a new website, some brochure ware. It’s all very exciting.”
“Does he know you’re in lust with him?”
“Oooh, I should certainly hope not. That would take all the fun out of it. He’s very married and kids by the look of him and I’m not about to corrupt him. I just like looking at him.”
“You’re so easily pleased.” Alex ruffled Scott’s blonde hair, thick with product to keep it sleek and unruffled.
He dodged out from under her hand. “I am not. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different. Are we going to rehearse?”
Alex nodded and got to her feet. Scott sashayed to the CD player singing a lyric from Sneaky Sound System’s We Love. “Keep it under cover, don’t tell your mother, can’t have mine, have to get another.”
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
Scott grinned, “That shoe so fits, girlfriend,” and executed two super quick jump pirouettes before catching Alex’s hand and leading her into the opening steps of their new routine.
They had a week to get this routine perfected before the first heat of the upcoming Australasian Dance Theatre Championship and that meant rehearsing every day between here and there. Not that Alex minded, it was term break and getting her head out of her books would be as good as taking a holiday.
As she concentrated on the sequence of steps and the feel of Scott’s strong hands at her waist and shoulders, she started to relax. It was only two points, it was still a high mark, and her mother could suck it up. And, while she was at it, she could suck up the fact that Alex was competing again as well.
“Oh Alex, two points,” huffed Sylvia.
“But a Distinction, that’s excellent, darling,” said Gwen, vision switching from daughter to granddaughter, trying to read the wind and keep out of the draft.
“It is excellent, Gran. You know lots of people have to repeat Stats, Mum,” said Alex laying heavy emphasis on the word ‘repeat’.
Sylvia sighed. She turned to look out the window at something less disappointing. Alex knew she was already imaging the worst. Those missing points were going to make the difference between a job and a career; that at twenty-four, Alex needed to quit dreaming and get serious.
So the next piece of news was really going to go down well.
“Oh Mum. I’m competing again this year with Scott.”
Sylvia wheeled around. “Competing again? But you said last year was the last time.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Oh, I think that’s lovely, darling. He is such a nice boy, that Scott,” said Gwen, keeping her eyes on her book to avoid Sylvia’s warning look.
“Alex, do you think that’s wise?”
“You think it’s stupid and a huge distraction, don’t you, Mum?”
“Well, yes I do. I think you’ve grown out of all that now, haven’t you?”
“Apparently not.”
The only sound was Gwen using a licked index finger to turn a page. She was re-reading Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights.
“Alexandra, really!” said Sylvia.
“Oh, she must be mad, Gran. She’s dragging out the full name.”
Gwen pursed her lips, looked as if she were going to say something in response, but Alex got in first.
“Look Mum, this year we have a real chance of winning and the prize money has gone up to fifty thousand dollars, that’s twenty-five thousand dollars each. I could buy us a better car with that and have money for books and uni expenses.”
“There is nothing wrong with the Mazda.”
“It’s almost as old as me, Mum. It’s a clunker. We barely got it registered last time.”
“We could do with a better car, Syl,” said Gwen.
“I’d rather get the bus than have you wasting time on this stupidity.”
“Don’t worry; you might still have that privilege. But we’re going to try and I don’t want to hear another thing about it.”
“Really, Alexandra!” Sylvia shook her head in distress and retreated to the kitchen.
“Really, Ally?” echoed Gwen. She abandoned her book. “I think you can win, darling.” She sat forward, contemplating the sewing machine in the corner. “What am I going to make you to wear?”
4. Half the Sky
Dan sat on his board well away from the other early bird surfers in the line up. It was warm enough for a shorty wetsuit and the paddle out had cleared his head.
Not that he’d had too much to drink, not that it’d been too late a night. She’d been fun, Ms Pink Dress. Vanessa, she was a radiologist, a smart girl, a liberated girl. He smiled at the memory of how very liberated, but when he’d looked at her across the gear stick of the Kombie van as he drove her home before hitting the beach, he knew he was in trouble. She was liberated, but she was also husband hunting in a big way, and Maddox men weren’t made of husband material. There was a track record to prove that.
Uncle Max – divorced, twice. Uncle Fred – separated from wife number three. Uncle Kev – still a playboy in his fifties, a master of online dates and revolving girlfriends. Dad – convinced that all women were evil trollops, bent on extracting a toll in blood, sweat, and alimony. So yeah, the Maddox men were probably under a car hood somewhere when the marrying gene was being handed out. Hell, they’d missed out on the relationship gene as well and taken a double dose of the ‘I’m alright just as I am, Jack’ gene instead.
So he wouldn’t be seeing Vanessa again. It kept things simple and simple meant he could focus on work, mates, surfing, and generally enjoying himself. And what was wrong with that?
Mitch was the first of the boys to paddle out to him, yawning and rubbing his eyes. As he drew level, Dan said, “Have a good time?”
“Yeah.” Mitch looked a bit green. Nothing that a good surf wouldn’t fix though.
“You?”
“Struck out.” Mitch yawned again and Dan felt a moment of pai
n for him. He knew Mitch had seen Belinda and she was with some buzz cut military type, probably just a weekend soldier with the army reserve, but a big bloke and it put Mitch off his game.
The two of them floated quietly through a set of sloppy, over full waves, a flock of seagulls screaming as they wheeled above them.
After they’d flapped past, Dan said, “It’s getting old, isn’t it?” He meant the whole going out, getting drunk, picking up random women, and the casual sex thing, and he knew Mitch would know exactly what he meant.
“What else is there?”
“There should be something else.”
“There’s sunshine and cold beer and warm chicks. What else can we want?”
Dan laughed. He could see a good wave building out the back. He lay forward on the board and paddled hard towards it, Mitch taking off a beat behind him. Maybe this was what it was all about, sunshine and surf, good mates and the occasional hot girl in your arms. So why did he feel like he was just drifting aimlessly? Why did the thought he might be just like his old man or any one of his ratbag uncles scare him near witless?
When the wave was on top of him and he could feel the power of its drag, he turned his board and paddled back toward the shore, feeling the swell beneath him until he was riding it. Well before it broke into angry curling foam he was standing, goofy footed, arms open for balance, flying on the crest of untold litres of irritated sea. As it broke, he skipped the board sideways to avoid the churn of the foam and then did it again, the wave bringing him closer to the shore. When it started to close out he flipped the board around so the remainder of the now flattened wave passed underneath him, a near perfect ride.
Maybe this was as good as it got. He stepped off the back of the board and plunged into the water then pulled his body back up onto it, laying face down to begin the long paddle back out to where he’d started.
Ant was there when he arrived, sitting beside Mitch. Ant looked puffy, like he’d been drinking sea water, and he had dark circles under his eyes.
Grease Monkey Jive Page 2