Grease Monkey Jive

by Paton, Ainslie

  Dan had a rolled up towel wrapped around his neck and was holding the two ends as though they were an anchor. “I started thinking again.”

  “That first time, were you showing off?” said Alex, ice in her eyes, fire in her voice. “You were trying to impress Phil and stamp your ownership on me.”

  Dan pulled the towel from his neck and flung it on the bench. It made a snapping sound in the air, fighting its flight before it landed limply.

  “And when I called you on it, told you to cool it, you folded like a house of cards.”

  Dan looked confused, but there was also anger narrowing his eyes and hunching his shoulders.

  “Alley cat, are you mad with Dan for showing off or for folding?” asked Scott.

  Alex exhaled a hard puff of air. “Both.”

  “Then I can’t win, can I?” Dan’s voice crackled with restraint. Maybe that’s what had happened? All he knew was the first run through had felt extraordinary like the gut busting exhilaration of big wave surfing. But somewhere between the first and second run, he’d been attacked by nerves, wiped out.

  He’d known this whole thing would be physically hard, but he’d never counted on it being so mentally tough. Just looking at Alex had him doing cerebral gymnastics. Did she laugh because she hated him, ruffle his hair because she tolerated him, meet his eyes because she was annoyed by him? Why had the wanker boyfriend suddenly shown up, why now, when he’d never bothered before?

  At no time in his life had Dan had trouble interpreting what women wanted, but with Alex he was surfing without a fin and sharks were circling.

  He looked at Scott. “What do we do now?” He figured Scott would drill them, keep them working till he was ready to drop.

  “I want you to go, eat, talk,” said Scott.

  “What do you mean?” Alex said.

  “Exactly what I said. Get out of here. I need you to talk this through. I don’t know what’s going on, but you guys need to sort it out or we’re going nowhere fast.”

  “We don’t need to talk about it,” Alex said. “You do.”

  “No.”

  “Would you rather I tell you what I think is going on, hmm?”

  She said, “Why not, Scott? You’re the relationship expert.”

  “I’m glad you used that word.”

  “Expert?”

  “Relationship.”

  “There is no relationship,” Alex snapped. “This is temporary partnership.”

  “Ok, a partnership – whatever, but your partner here is confused as all get out, girlfriend, and unless you want him to fall apart in the heat, you need to step up here. He has. Now it’s your turn.”

  Alex rounded on Dan, breathing fire. “Are you confused, Dan?”

  “I...”

  She cut him off. “What is there to be confused about?”

  Dan tried again. “Alex, I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with you. I’ve told you I think I annoy you...”

  “And I’ve told you, you don’t.”

  “Yeah and last night you hugged me and we just had this amazing experience dancing and you tell me to cool it and I don’t know what I’ve done to annoy you again. So yeah, I’m confused.”

  “None of that has anything to do with how we dance.”

  “Alley cat, it has everything to do with it,” said Scott. “And you know it.”

  Alex glared at Scott, who quirked one shoulder at her, his mouth turned down. She looked at Dan – now he was meeting her eyes. Wherever his self-confidence had gone, out the back for a smoke, it was back now and jacked up. “I’m not hungry.”

  Dan said, “Tough luck. I am, so if you want a ride home, you’ll have to watch me eat first.”

  “Scott will take me home.”

  “Scott won’t do anything of the sort,” said Scott.

  “I can get a taxi. I don’t need either of you.”

  Dan’s voice was caffeine laced with hard liquor. “Yeah, Alex, you do. Or I wouldn’t be here. I’d have cut out long before now if I didn’t think you and Scott needed me. I don’t like punishment quite this much. But now I need you to do what Scott said. One hour for me. That’s not a lot to ask for.”

  It was too much to ask for. It was everything to ask for. It was nothing at all. Dan and Scott were both watching her intently. Scott would know exactly what she was feeling: contrary, strung tight, twanging with tension. She was an emotional time bomb and Scott was worried she might detonate.

  “I could go for a Thai beef salad,” she said, and when she looked at Scott she saw his relief, as though she’d just stepped away from the tripwire, as if now they were all safe from the explosion.

  They were quiet in the Valiant, both of them anxious, both of them thinking they should start the conversation, neither of them making a move. Dan hid behind driving, traffic, choosing a restaurant, finding a space to park, things he normally did almost on automatic. He tried not to think about Alex, but he ran an orange and he gave a kid on a bike a fright while reverse parking, so he knew he was distracted and unfocused.

  The silence between them was worse than the arguing, but he had no idea what to say to break it. Fortunately Alex did. Before he’d shut off the engine, she blurted, “I’m sorry. I was a real bitch. I didn’t mean to screw with you.”

  He turned in his seat, hands still on the wheel. “Were you screwing with me?”

  “I was sending you confusing signals, like hugging you last night. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I thought that was just being friendly. I thought you were trying to make me feel better.”

  She sighed. “I was, but it probably crosses the line.”

  “You have to tell me where the line is. That’s the thing. We’re touching all the time. I didn’t think you hugging me was anything different to what we’re doing when we’re dancing.” Dan moved his hands on the wheel, threading it through the tunnel he made between fingers and palm. That was such a lie, black and withered. He’d figured the hug was something altogether different and he’d wanted it to mean something way more than their choreographed contact did.

  “When you did that thing with your knuckles on my cheek, what were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t thinking. I was just doing. It felt right. Was it wrong?”

  “No, no, it was right, but it’s confusing. I’m confused too.”

  “Do we need to draw a line?”

  “Maybe. I’ve danced with Scott so long. It’s never been an issue. It was always clear that intimate touches were just professional.”

  “But Scott touches you as a friend. I’ve seen him hug you, even kiss you. Trevor too.”

  Alex frowned. “We’re old friends. It’s not the same thing.”

  “So it would be better if I was gay,” Dan grumped, but he saw Alex smile.

  “You’d really disappoint my Gran.”

  “This is a problem because we’re attracted to each other, right?” There, he said it. No more friggin’ fencing around it. She could deny it and it would be done with and then there’d be no more issue.

  “Are you attracted to me, Dan?”

  Shit, she was going to draw it all out. No point ducking it now. “I think you’re gorgeous, Alex.” He held her eyes. He wanted to reach for her hand, but that would be too much. He wasn’t trying to seduce her, and he didn’t want to give her any false impressions.

  “I think you’re gorgeous too,” she said and her voice was small and soft. “But I’m in a relationship with Phil and that’s the end to it.”

  “Do you love him?”

  Alex hesitated. This was none of Dan’s business, but they were doing what Scott wanted and it was working, so she was inclined to answer him. She just wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe she loved Phil. Sometimes she definitely didn’t.

  Dan cut into her thoughts. He was rolling his forefinger around the steering wheel rim. “I think he’s a douche.”

  “You’ve met him once and you were both in a pissing contest.”

  He
turned and grinned at her. “I guess we were.”

  “Why do you think he’s a douche?” It was laughable. What could Dan possibly have gotten from a handshake to take that impression away?

  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because he thinks he owns you.”

  “How did you get that from thirty seconds of meeting him?”

  Dan wasn’t going to tell her what Phil said, the word ‘mine’ vibrating on his tongue, or what he meant by it, possession, control, ownership – all the things Mitch had learned turned a great girlfriend into a non girlfriend. “It’s a guy thing.”

  He thought Alex might prod him further, but she shook her head and let it go and the only sound in the car was the tick, sigh, tick as the engine cooled. Dan didn’t want the conversation to cool. “What happens now? We have this mutual attraction that we can’t–” he corrected, “–won’t act on. What do we do about it?”

  “I think we make use of it.”

  “What?” Dan’s knee came up and his thigh whacked the steering wheel.

  “Not like that. I mean, if we can enjoy each other’s bodies...”

  “Alex!” he said, turning to look back out the front windscreen. What was he supposed to do if she suggested they should take their attraction to the next level? There was no way he could say no, but if he did it’d be a new low, another man’s girl, and an altogether weird arrangement.

  She sighed softly. “Not like that. Let me finish. If we can enjoy dancing together and play it up, then we’ve got a much better chance of scoring higher marks.”

  “You mean keep it simmering on the dance floor?”

  “I guess,” she said, now sounding less certain. There was still an issue of the line and what crossed it off the dance floor. “Look Dan, I’m physically attracted to you, but it doesn’t go any further than that. I think you’re a player. I’m sorry, but I do. I think you probably have it easy with women and you’d never commit. There is no circumstance – Phil or no otherwise – where I’d ever agree to be one of your conquests, so there’s a line. You’re not like Scott is to me. We’re not friends. When we’re not dancing, we don’t touch. When we’re not working, we don’t see each other, ok?”

  “And when we are?” Dan didn’t try to deny Alex’s accusation. He eyeballed her evenly.

  She said, “Then the only thing we have to worry about is that it’s a family show.”

  30. Shadows

  Scott was ready to vote Thai beef salad a Nobel Peace Prize. Whatever happened when Alex and Dan went to dinner was a miracle.

  All Dan’s hesitancy and fear dropped away and Alex stopped holding back. Now they danced like a couple who’d been together a long time, like a couple who were wedded together with more than what they did on the dance floor. Scott couldn’t care less what they were doing to get this liquid, teasing, sexed-up effect – he loved it. He was a mastermind to send them off to talk, eat, whatever it was they did. If there was a prize for that kind brilliance he’d stand in line and push.

  And he knew it wasn’t just his own view. Trevor was making goldfish faces at him. The last rehearsal Trevor had seen was a fractured fumbling affair, not too far short of disastrous. This was comparatively smooth like melted chocolate dripped over ice cream.

  That’s not to say they were going to score well. They were going to get savaged. The routine was nowhere near the usual competition standard, but if Alex and Dan could dance like they were doing now, it would keep them in the game for another round at least.

  When Trevor presented his question mark face, Scott said, “Don’t know. Don’t want to know. Don’t want to jinx it. Shut up about it,” and that was enough to get Trevor to go sit down with Mitch and Fluke.

  “He looks a bit less stupid,” said Mitch. “A bit more like he knows what he’s doing.”

  “A lot less...” Trevor paused, “stupid. He’s picked it up quickly.”

  “Figures,” said Fluke. “We should’ve had money on this. A side bet.”

  “We’re still going to need a lot of luck to pull this off, and then we have to turn around and do it again twice more. It’s a big ask. You guys got any idea why he agreed to do it?” said Trevor.

  “Hero complex,” said Fluke.

  “He’s his own song,” said Mitch enigmatically.

  Dan looked like he loved the girl. No one had to tell him to look up or to smile or invest his attention in his partner. He was doing all those things and making it look natural. And the girl looked like she loved him. The way Alex tossed her hair, arched her body, and trailed her hands down Dan’s arms was several pay grades above the job description of flirty.

  “That’s what he looks like when he’s surfing,” said Mitch. “When he’s spotted a good ride, when he knows he can own it and it won’t churn him under and spit him out. He’s happy.”

  “They’re ready,” said Trevor.

  When Scott called a break, Dan joined the boys and Trevor on the bench seat. He said, “Well?”

  “Less stupid than when you started,” said Mitch.

  “But you still look stupid,” said Fluke.

  “Harsh critics,” said Trevor. “Good practice for the official judging. They won’t use the word stupid, they’ll put a number on it. We need to score above a four to stay in the comp and we need to hope no other couple scores a ten.

  Dan didn’t respond. He’d been watching Alex on her phone, saw her frown, clench her free fist, and close her eyes. The fact that he wasn’t the reason for her reaction made him glad; the fact that he didn’t know what was had him on his feet.

  “You ok?” he said, walking towards her.

  “Fine.” It was said with a tight jaw and a quick spiteful curl of her top lip.

  “Just glad it’s not me put that expression on your face.”

  Alex shook her head, “Must be your lucky day.”

  “Want to vent.”

  “No.”

  “Ok then.”

  “I do need a ride though. Would you mind dropping me to Phil’s?”

  In the Valiant, Alex said, “What is it with men?” and Dan was smart enough to know that wasn’t the end of her sentence though she said nothing further and turned her head to look out the passenger side window. He waited for it. It came just as a P-plater in a beat up Commodore cut in front of them.

  “Why is it that I’m supposed to be ok about coming second?” She said it to the passing street and the row of takeaway shops on Bondi Road and he responded by changing gears and braking at the Penkival Street lights.

  “Why is it that my concerns are never serious enough or real enough or important enough to take precedent?”

  Dan figured the best response would be to let the clutch out and flick the blinker on. He did that and turned right. Alex didn’t say anything through two more sets of lights and a roundabout. Then, in a far less strident and demanding voice, she said, “It must be me.”

  Dan snuck a look across at her. She had her eyes to her hands in her lap and she was twisting a ring on her middle finger. “It’s not you.”

  “How would you know?”

  “You’re right, I don’t know. You might be a bitch on wheels.”

  Alex kept twisting.

  “Are you?”

  She sighed, “I don’t think so. But it must be me. He’s a good man and he loves me. I must bring this on somehow.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing serious. Nothing you need to worry about. I think it must be a guy thing.”

  Dan laughed. “You know that’s what guys say when we don’t want to explain ourselves.”

  “No.” Alex shot him an open-mouthed look. “But that makes sense.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s nothing. I don’t know why I’m upset.”

  “But you are. You might as well tell me. I’ll buy you a milkshake.”

  Alex squirmed a little in her seat. “That’s over the line.”

  “Th
is is over the line.” Dan took both hands off the wheel momentarily to indicate the fact they were together in his car.

  “You’ll make me late.”

  “Do you care?”

  She grinned suddenly, “No.”

  At Bronte Beach they sat on the lip of cement that separated the sand from the walkway still busy with joggers and walkers. They dangled their legs, sipping on chocolate malted milkshakes, and watched the sky turn pale pink.

  Alex told Dan how on a good day Phil was disdainful of her dancing and almost entirely dismissive of the competition. He thought it demeaned her, wasn’t a serious occupation for someone who wanted a career in business, so he didn’t ever consider how much time she needed to put in to it or how tired she got.

  She told him how she’d considered giving up after Scott’s accident, how annoyed Phil had been they’d started up again, and how tonight he’d cancelled on picking her up and suggested she might like to cook for them, the night before the heat. And as to the heat itself, well, Phil never went to competitions.

  “Why didn’t you give it up?” Dan asked when she’d been silent for a few minutes.

  Alex looked out at the horizon, blue on blue on pink. There were still some little kids in the bogey hole, splashing about, squealing in delight.

  “Because I love it. What I don’t understand is why that’s not good enough for Phil. Why he feels he has to have control over what I like and what I do. Some days it feels like I have to fight him just to be myself. Why do men do that?”

  Dan left his legs dangling, but lay back on the still warm cement and looked at the pinking sky. “Not sure I’m the best person to ask about that.”

  “Why?”

  He laughed, “It’s a guy thing.”

  “That’s not funny. I’ve just spilled my heart out to you – I have no idea why I did that – and now you won’t play.”

  “I’ll play. I’m just saying I don’t know the answer to that one.”

  “Take a wild stab.”

  He sighed, “Ego.”

  “That’s it. That’s your whole answer?”

  “Yep.”

  Alex lay back beside Dan. “So, it’s about male pride and a whole bunch of other macho crap like that?”