Grease Monkey Jive

by Paton, Ainslie

  “If you’re ready, children,” said Scott, again with the hand clap and they took their places.

  From across the room, Alex squinted at Dan. She could see his unease, his head down, eyes to the floor. She blocked it out. She needed to focus on doing her job and getting through this lesson, and it would be better if he never saw how he’d affected her or understood that she’d read his desire for her. The more clinical and purely professional she was, the easier this would be.

  Scott said, “Dan, follow Trevor. We’ll add your part in now. Forget about Alex for the moment.”

  Dan looked up. Forget about Alex. That was the most sensible thing Scott had said yet, but like pretty much all of his other instructions, he wouldn’t remember it. Alex was watching him from across the room. Was she impatient, pissed off? He couldn’t tell. Earlier she’d been conciliatory, a little wistful, now she was frowning at him. He tried what he hoped was a wry smile in her direction, but she stared through it, frosting his attempt to connect with her with the upward arch of one eyebrow.

  Scott fired the stereo up, Jack Johnson’s Rodeo Clown, the beat slow enough for Dan to cope with the steps he’d just been taught. Trevor was in front of him and calling out the steps by name as he danced them.

  “Four basics, four whisks, turn now, here’s the maypole, then the bota fogoa.”

  It was nonsense to Dan, but he glued his eyes to Trevor’s body and made it through the sequence, aware that Alex had danced her part as well, but this time not conscious of her rearranging his senses as she came close.

  They did it again and again and on the fourth time, Trevor only called the steps and prompted and Dan made it through by himself. He was bathed in sweat, his head full of counts and words that had more meaning in the kitchen or the village green than to his feet.

  “Ok, now we add the hip pop and lock,” said Scott.

  “I’ve just been whisked and now you’re going to do what to my hips?” said Dan, sucking in oxygen, wiping his hand over his brow and brushing sweat into his hair line.

  “Pop and lock,” said Trevor and moved in front of Dan. “Like this.”

  Dan tried following, but knew he wasn’t getting the fluid weight shift and hip lift that Trevor did. He growled with frustration and they tried again. And again. He was no closer to getting it. He was stiff, awkward, and off balance.

  “Shift your weight, use your knees, rock your hips, tilt your pelvis. I’m sure you know how,” Scott said, and even Trevor looked puzzled by his inability to grasp the movement.

  “No. I don’t know how!”

  “Think about it,” Scott fired back and made an exaggerated hip roll movement that looked like something a pole dancer in a strip club might do.

  Dan looked blankly at him and then reeled back. “Fuck, Scott!”

  “Yes, exactly! Exactly how you’d move in the bedroom. Well, maybe not exactly, but I think you get the point now. Loosen up, move your hips!”

  From his position at the side of the room, Fluke felt warmly bathed in Dan’s discomfort. Dan was hot, unsure, and stumbling, and he’d never seen him like that. Now Scott had added embarrassment to the pile of humiliation stacked in Dan’s out-of-comfort zone. Fluke was feeling pretty damn vindicated. This was going to go on for some time: days, weeks, if Dan was ever going to make it to an actual competition event.

  And then there was his reaction to Alex. Something happened out there. When Alex danced around Dan, the air had just about crackled around them. Dan looked like he’d been hit by a train and even Alex, normally so cool, was rattled.

  Fluke didn’t get it, but he’d seen it and so had Mitch – seen Dan knocked for six by a woman who right now was looking at him as though he was an energy sucking, waste of space, try-hard, dumbass nerd.

  Dan and Trevor were trying the thing with the hips again and Dan had it. Down pat. The pop, the lock, the lift, the swing. He was mirroring Trevor, a firm frown of concentration on his face, but his knees, feet, hips, and arms were obedient to the beat.

  Fluke saw Scott and Alex exchange a look of surprise and when Mitch said, “Hah, he’s got it,” in amazement, answered him with, “Bastard,” making Mitch laugh.

  The two of them watched Dan fit the steps together with Alex and there was more stumbling, a bucket full of faltering and tripping, and a salting of frustration. Scott’s attempt at patience was almost comic, Trevor’s movements, flush up behind Dan, his hands on Dan’s hips, guiding him, almost pornographic. It was an orgy of ineptitude and inelegance. A train wreck had more natural symmetry and, like a train wreck, this was so fascinating neither of them could look away.

  But slowly the hard shell of the wreckage was peeled back. Scott stopped yelling, Trevor let go of Dan and backed away, and it was just the survivors, Dan and Alex, blinking hard in the shocking daylight, holding on to each other and dancing together, one fresh born minute of a samba routine.

  And like two people who never expected to stay alive they were laughing.

  23. Critique

  “Are you wearing that?”

  Two pairs of eyes turned on Phil.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Alex said.

  “It’s a Vogue pattern, this year’s,” said Gwen and her tea cup rattled on its saucer as her hand shook.

  “It’s sleeveless. You might get cold.”

  “It’s summer, Phil. The chances of getting cold aren’t exactly high. We’re eating locally right?”

  “Yes. Lucio’s. I just thought you might wear something nicer that’s all.”

  “Nicer! You wouldn’t know nicer in women’s fashion if it slapped you around.”

  “Alex!” said Gwen.

  “Well, he wouldn’t, Gran.”

  “I suppose not,” said Phil. “We’re only eating locally anyway.”

  When Gwen shut the front door behind Alex and Phil, she let it bang just a little bit in a show of annoyance. Alex’s silent agreement lasted til they were seated at Lucio’s. She tried to shake the mood, not that Phil noticed, he was telling a long involved story she struggled to see the significance of.

  There was certainly a villain and Phil was the hero; she just couldn’t work out what they were battling for. It didn’t seem like honour or truth, and it certainly wasn’t justice.

  “You know what that means?” said Phil, leaning over to top up her wine glass.

  Alex knew she was supposed to know, supposed to care. But it had been a very long story, with selected highlights accompanying the entree and a full exposition, including various back stories, during dinner. She’d tried hard to hold on to the details, to remember what people she’d never met said and did, and how that had impacted on Phil, but it was all too hard. Around the time when the quest looked to be won, she’d drifted off, thinking about another quest and another hero and how this other hero had looked at her as she’d danced around him, like he’d slay dragons for her pleasure, ride tournaments for her amusement, and be her champion for life.

  “Have you been listening to me?” said Phil.

  “Yes, but I got lost where you said the budget committee wanted to cancel the product development program and Bruce had to step in.”

  “Right, well you should have said. You see...”

  Alex heard the first part of Phil’s sentence and when it became obvious he was going to repeat the details, she cut him off. “Phil, would you mind if we talked about something else?”

  “Oh, am I boring you? I thought you’d be interested. Office politics is critically important. It can make or break your career you know.”

  He’d talked non-stop since they’d got to the restaurant and, while it was interesting to hear about his work, maybe he could have given her the abridged version? “I am interested. It was just a very long story.”

  Phil laughed and reached for Alex’s hand. “You’re right, it was. I could have left out some of the detail. I guess I was telling it more for me than for you.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Talking about
it helps me think it through. Now I can see Bruce was right to do what he did. He’d have made too many enemies otherwise. You see...”

  And Phil was off again. He barely noticed when Alex waved a waiter over and ordered dessert, something she rarely did. When it arrived, Phil used his coffee spoon to take a bite of her lemon-lime pie and finally changed the topic. “I thought you might like to come over tomorrow night.”

  “I can’t. I have another rehearsal with Dan.”

  Phil closed his eyes and breathed out. Only last night they’d argued about how much time Alex was putting into this – the search for a new partner, ideas for costumes, fabric shopping with Gwen, how unsuitable it was for her to care so much about a silly dance competition in the first place – but Alex knew he wouldn’t want to fight, not in public. He said simply, “He’s the new partner?”

  “Yes.”

  “A friend of Scott’s?”

  “No. Why would you think that?”

  “Oh, you know, the gay mafia.”

  “No. Dan didn’t know Scott til he came for lessons and he’s not gay.”

  “He’s not?” Phil sounded sceptical. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes I’m sure, but what does it matter anyway?”

  “I’d be happier if he was gay.”

  Alex laughed. “You’re not jealous are you?”

  “Of Scott, no.”

  “Of Dan?”

  Phil said, “I don’t know him. How could I be jealous of him?” but he managed to look put out all the same.

  “He’s very handsome. Quite dashing really. Rescues damsels in distress.”

  “He’s not the bloke who had your car towed?”

  “He is.”

  “He’s the mechanic? The grease monkey?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I have nothing to worry about, no matter how good looking he is.”

  “Oh really. What makes you so sure of yourself?” Alex teased, rubbing her bare foot under Phil’s trouser leg.

  Phil leaned forward and captured her hand, squeezing it in his own. “Because you, my darling, are far too smart to ever look at a man who scratches a living fixing beat up cars.”

  Alex looked down at their joined hands lying on the butcher paper that stood in for a tablecloth at Lucio’s. It was true, she would never consider getting mixed up with a man who didn’t wear a suit to work, who didn’t have a degree and career prospects. She would never get involved with Dan outside of the competition and their preparation. Phil was right – he had nothing to worry about. There was nothing wrong with having standards and knowing what you wanted to get from life.

  Lucio’s soft, off-white, butcher paper tablecloth had served them just fine as a covering instead of starched linen, so why did wanting linen instead of paper suddenly feel like paying attention to the wrong things?

  “You’ll come tomorrow night?” said Phil.

  She shook her head. “No, I can’t. I’m not sure how long we’ll rehearse for. There’s so much to do before the next heat. Dan is such a novice.”

  “Alexandra, we’ve talked about this. Put a time limit on it. Dan can work longer with Scott. You don’t need to work so hard.”

  “I do. We have to do it together or we have no chance of pulling it off.”

  “Seriously, this is silly. I want to see you.”

  Alex sighed. It wasn’t just how long their session would take, it was how exhausting they were: anxious, frustrating, and wearing. Afterwards, all she wanted was a shower, something to eat, and to crash into bed, so she could forget about how difficult it all was and not be overwhelmed by how much heart Dan was putting into it. He took every snide remark Scott dished up, he let Trevor manhandle him, prod him, push him, and shove him around the floor, and he met it with one part bull-headed determination, one part humour, and a generous sprinkling of natural ability. She didn’t feel like tromping over to Phil’s place and playing nice girlfriend after that.

  “It’ll be late. I’ll try. I’m not promising, but I’ll try.”

  “Good. Frankly, there’s something dodgy about a grease monkey who wants to learn ballroom dancing anyway. I’ll be glad when Scott gets the all clear.”

  24. Surfer

  Alex spun about and gaped at Scott. “Give us a minute, will you?”

  “Good Lord, caveman, if you can’t get this right, I’m going to have to change the routine,” Scott barked and turned back to the stereo.

  Alex made a growling sound like a cranky kitten and to Dan’s astonishment gave Scott the finger. He gasped and as Scott turned back to them, grabbed her lifted hand, and folded it inside his palm, to hide the gesture. Their eyes met and she grinned up at him and shook her hand free.

  “Something’s not right for you. You’re so close to getting it.” She studied him. She could see he was tired and agitated. His shoulders were slumped forward and his whole body slouched with the burden of all he had to learn.

  “I’m getting the weight change all wrong. I can’t seem to get it in my head. Maybe Scott’s right; I need something simpler.”

  Alex considered Dan, sweeping her eyes over his form, his sweat stained t-shirt hanging loosely from his broad shoulders. Today he had on a pair of surf shorts that cropped just above his knees. They gave her an idea.

  “Show me how you stand when you ride a wave.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it,” she said in teacher mode, so he lay down on the floor, a pretend surfboard under his hands.

  Scott called, “What are you doing?”

  “Shut up, Scott – give us a minute. Go on, Dan.”

  Dan pressed his hands into the floor level with his shoulders as though he was about to do a push-up and then sprang to his feet, his left leg back, his right leg forward, arms braced wide for balance, surfing an imaginary wave.

  “Your left leg is dominant,” said Alex.

  Dan looked down at his feet and then straightened up. “Yeah, I’m goofy footed.”

  “That’s it, then. We need to re-orient around your dominant side.”

  “What?”

  “You clever girl!” called Scott. “Dan, Try the step shifting left rather than right.”

  Dan did and suddenly he could complete the move with ease. He looked shocked and Alex nodded in approval.

  “Wow, that’s much easier,” he said.

  “I should’ve thought of that before,” said Scott.

  But Dan’s victory over his goofy foot was short-lived. Soon it became obvious both Scott and Alex were having trouble suppressing their frustration at his slow progress.

  Dan never had to worry what Scott was thinking. Scott brewed his irritation in the back of his throat and flung it at Dan from the tip of his tongue with a true splattering aim. It was harder to get a read on Alex, but as the session wore on her smile got more frozen, her voice more frosty, and her manner more excessively patient. Dan wished she’d yell at him. It would be a more human response. Robot, cold, professional Alex was so far away from the ethereal girl he’d glimpsed, he was beginning to doubt he’d seen her at all.

  It was after 10pm and the feeling he’d bitten off more than even Jeff could chew on a good day was back. He needed to bury this bone for a while, so he could come back to it with renewed interest.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” he said, before Scott could start their music up again, making Alex blink at him in surprise.

  “I’m sorry. I need a break.”

  “Of course,” said Scott. “Why don’t we have some tea?”

  “I don’t mean that sort of a break. I need some time out.” He noticed the sharp look that passed between Scott and Alex. “I need to get some space, so I can think straight.”

  “Dan, we don’t have time for a break,” said Alex.

  “My blisters have blisters, I’ve lost a nail, and I’ve got a shoe full of blood. I’m sore and I’m so tense about getting it wrong all I’m going to do is get it wrong. I need a break.”

  Alex sighed and looked at Scott
again. She said, “Ok, so you have tomorrow off and come back Sunday morning.”

  “Not just me. Both of us need a break.”

  She shook her head, “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re as frustrated as hell with me and you’re scared I won’t get it together in time.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Alex,” Dan said. “There’d be something wrong if you weren’t.”

  “Alley cat, he’s right,” said Scott.

  “What are you suggesting?” she said.

  “That we both need a break and I’m not just talking about taking time out of lessons. A complete mental and physical break.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Dan thought a moment. He needed to get his balance back. Spending too much time in Alex’s world was mucking with his head. “Ever been surfing?”

  Alex exhaled with frustration. “No, and I’m not about to start now.”

  “Fair enough, but time out for me means my board and a sunrise over the sea, a slow breakfast with the boys, a lazy afternoon, and a night out.”

  “And that works for you?” Alex said.

  “That’s my world.”

  “Ah-hah.”

  Dan heard the sarcasm. “Hey, nothing wrong with it. Don’t knock it till you try it. In fact, that’s exactly what we should do. I’ve been spending all this time in your world – you come and spend a day in mine. Fair trade.”

  “Ah, I don’t think so, Dan. I don’t think I’m made for sitting on the beach and watching you surf.” Alex did a Scott and rolled her eyes.

  “You don’t have to do that. You can swim, just enjoy the weather. It’s beautiful out there. You spend all this time indoors; you could do with some fresh air.”