Grease Monkey Jive

by Paton, Ainslie

  “What about the garage?”

  “Move it somewhere off the main drag – it doesn’t need to be so central and it could do with more space. I want to start classes there for kids to learn basic mechanics like I did.”

  “Whoa, whoa. Slow down.” Mitch stop-signed a hand at him. “I’m still coming to terms with you as a property baron and now you’re going to be a friggin’ teacher? I know the money you made mining was stupid good, but I thought you just had the block of flats.”

  “I did at first. But I got lucky, bought in when prices were low. I took a big risk on the garage and I’m still running a bunch of loans, but we could make some serious fuck-off money if we get this property development idea up.”

  Mitch’s jumping eyebrows registered ‘fuck-off money’ and ‘we’. “Us?”

  “Yeah, that’s what this is about. I want you and me to do this. You build it.”

  “You’ve got to be joking. I do renovations, the occasional house from the ground up. You need proper development experience.”

  “I want to do this with you. We’ll learn what we need. We’ll hire the expertise. We don’t have to do anything quickly. McMurty wants two more years of income from the garage before he retires, and what I get out of that helps with the loans. We’ve got two years to work out what we need and get ready.”

  “You’re serious?”

  Dan shook his head, amused at the way Mitch’s voice kicked up an octave. “Maybe not. I didn’t think you were this dense.”

  “Not dense. Rocked, you know. A month ago Ant and Fluke were convinced you were going to top yourself.”

  “You weren’t?”

  Mitch’s face broke into a wreath of smile. “Nah. You’re the toughest bastard I know. And now you’re a property developer.”

  “I’m not anything yet. I need to go learn a heap of stuff before I know what I can do, and I need to keep paying the loans off. But I’d rather do this and fail with you than anything else I can think of.”

  “Holy fuck, you are serious.” Mitch started laughing, banging his hand on the steering wheel, some joke only he got. He glanced across at Dan and laughed again. “You know what’s funny? Hmm, no you don’t. Ah, fuck it. Alex thinks you’re a blue collar loser with no ambition.”

  Dan turned his head to watch out the passenger window and an awkward silence filled the cabin of the Charger, making the throaty purr of the engine all the more pronounced. If she thought that, she’d moved way past blaming herself. That was a good thing, but it stung like a bluebottle to hear it, an electric buzz that bit into his still raw emotions.

  “Have you seen her?”

  “Nope. Mate, I’d tell you if I had. Got it from Bel.”

  “I guess she’s over me then.” He kept his face turned to the window. He’d wanted the wheel back a moment ago, but now all he wanted was something he couldn’t have.

  “Sounds like it.” Mitch played the brake, pressing down, backing off, pressing down, backing off, sending the driver behind them into advanced road rage.

  “Don’t tell anyone about this McMurty’s thing. It’s just you and me til we know what we’re doing.”

  Mitch grinned though he knew Dan was in a funk now. The idea of building something seriously big with Dan was out-of-this-world huge. “Got it. Don’t want to jinx it,” then he added, “still think you might be using,” and when Dan responded with, “Fuck off,” he knew he’d done the right thing telling him about Alex.

  Alex knew they’d danced beautifully. She also knew they’d faced a wave of disappointment from the female fans that Dan wasn’t in the arena. She had to keep reminding herself it wasn’t a popularity contest. Ferdy and Gina had danced superbly. They’d appeared flawless, but cold and unlikable in their perfection. Brad and Anna were simply darling: bright, engaging, fun, and so obviously wrapped up with each other. They were behind Ferdy and Gina on points, but the new favourites.

  “Brad and Anna are getting better every time we see them. They deserve to win this,” said Scott, taking the words out of her mouth.

  “It’s like watching magic.”

  Gran reached for her hand. “You and Scott were terrific too.”

  “But not like them. You can see how much they enjoy being together.”

  “Like you and Dan.”

  “Gran,” said Alex. It was a caution, the repeat of a much issued ‘don’t go there’ instruction.

  “I’m not about to forget how terrific you both were together, even if you are. And I know you miss him.”

  “I don’t miss him anymore.”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  “A hopeless romantic.”

  “Not hopeless. Never hopeless. Tell me what was wrong with him again?”

  Alex sighed and ticked off the list. “He’s a player. He uses women. He used me. He never finished school. He has no career and no ambition. His father is a drunk and killed two people in a smash, orphaned two kids. He’s in gaol now for all I know. His family are users, drinkers, brawlers, and womanisers. Let me know when you want me to stop.”

  Gran hmmed between closed lips. “I never thought you’d penalise someone for their family or look down on them for their lack of education. You must think I’m terrible. I never finished school. I never had a career. My husband was a drug addict, alcoholic, wife beater. I suffered terrible depression and couldn’t even look after myself. And my daughter is an unmarried mother.”

  Alex inhaled sharply, and on her other side, Scott said, “Smack!”

  “He dumped me remember,” she said defensively, but her voice cracked and she felt her cheeks flush the purple of deep embarrassment.

  “I love you, Alex, but I think you’re being very silly.”

  As Alex hastily excused herself, her hand over her mouth, Gwen looked at Scott. “Too much?”

  Scott shook his head. “Just right.”

  Gwen turned in her seat to see if she could find Alex. “She’s so stubborn.”

  “I wonder where she gets that from,” said Scott, getting to his feet to go find her.

  Alex was sitting in the empty back row of the stadium. Huddled into herself, she should’ve brought a cardigan. She was icy at the thought of the judgements she’d been making. She’d penalised Dan for his family and his lack of schooling and that was unfair, grossly unfair, but what did it matter? He’d called it off. It’s not like she’d had a choice or had seen it coming. All was fair in love and war, wasn’t it?

  So what if she was unfair to him?

  But he was making a liar out of her, and that wasn’t something she was proud of. Because she did miss him, more than she missed sleeping through the night without waking, or food she could keep down, or enough air to breathe.

  Missed the sight of him, that unruly hair, those deep blue eyes, the feel of his hands, calloused from his work but so gentle, and the sound of his hot coffee voice, laughing, whispering, teasing. She missed him asking questions and really listening to the answers, remembering what she’d said. She missed his attention and his humour and his kindness. She missed the way he made her feel, like she was the centre of his universe.

  The feeling had sharpened as their time apart grew. It felt like hunger, a gut awful emptiness, a slight nausea, and a metallic taste stamped on her tongue.

  When she looked up from her misery, Scott was coming up the stairs two at a time. He threw himself into the plastic chair beside her.

  “If I had a grandma like Gwen, I’d probably be straight and married with three kids by now.”

  That made Alex smile. “She’s right. I’m being too hard on Dan.”

  “He did the dumping, Alley cat.”

  “Don’t you go soft on me. You told me to go fight for him.”

  Scott propped his feet on the back of the seat in front. “I took him for a Neanderthal, then I changed my mind, but he hurt you and I don’t like that, so I’m just as confused as you are.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Ho
w would I know? See me holding down any significant relationships besides the one with you?”

  “Trevor.”

  “Blood doesn’t count.”

  Alex reached for Scott’s hand and he took it. “We’re a fine pair, aren’t we? I’m miserable still. I thought it would fade. It’s getting worse. I miss him so much. I thought maybe he might realise and... Shit, tell me I’m a silly fool.”

  “Maybe you should go see him. Aversion therapy. You might see him again and think, oh God, how did I ever go there?”

  “Do you think that might work?” It couldn’t be worse than this gnawing wondering.

  “Who knows?”

  “I’m tempted.”

  Scott closed his eyes and said on a groan, “God, you are a silly fool.”

  “I feel like one.”

  “Come on then, fool, we need to get our score. Then who knows? We could go out and celebrate my return to the dance floor. I can think of somewhere we could go; we might even know some people.”

  Alex didn’t try to keep pathetically hopeful from her voice. “Do you think he still goes there?”

  “I’m willing to go find out if you are.”

  57. Son of a Bitch

  The door bitch must’ve been cold. She was only half dressed, a bit of leather, a bit of lace, a lot of attitude. Maybe that kept her warm. She made Alex feel like she was wearing a shroud in her long-sleeved, high-necked sheath dress, and now that they were at the top of the queue getting waved in, she panicked.

  “Scott, I want to go home.”

  “Girlfriend, we’ve been in this queue for twenty minutes. You couldn’t have thought of that earlier? I need in to thaw out.”

  “I can’t.” She didn’t want to see Dan. The smart thing would’ve been to check the streets for one of his cars, but she’d thought of that too late. What was she supposed to say to him if he was in there?

  “You coward. What do you have to be scared of?”

  “Me. I’m scared of me.” She was scared she might take one look at him and forget the reason why it was smarter to stay apart.

  The door bitch was chewing gum; it snapped in her over-whitened teeth. Maybe chewing was keeping her warm? “In or out? Decide now.”

  “Out,” said Alex.

  “In,” said Scott, and Alex felt his hand on her back pushing her through the doorway.

  Inside it was muggy and dark and loud. It would thaw Scott out and prevent him from griping at her. It might be possible to stand somewhere and hide until he gave up the plan. Why had she agreed to this? It was a bad idea to the power of three. If Dan wasn’t here, she’d feel cheated somehow. If he was, and he was with someone else, she’d feel gutted. But if he was here and alone with the boys, what was she supposed to do then?

  The logic of Scott’s aversion therapy plan was that any of these outcomes were good. They’d all serve to help work out what to do next. The reality of Scott’s aversion therapy plan was scattered wits, liquid knees, and hyper-vigilant peering into the near dark. If Dan was here, Alex didn’t want to be surprised by him.

  She parked in a corner by the bar and sipped a coke. In this crowd he might be here and she’d never see him anyway. Maybe they could have a drink, pretend to enjoy themselves, and leave. There was probably some rule about the proportion of time you should spend in a club after twenty minutes in a queue, but screw that.

  When Scott left her to go ‘exploring’, she almost fled for the ladies room, but since that would mean leaving her safe, dark corner and moving halfway across the room, she decided against it. She twirled a bar coaster and tried not to make eye contact with anyone. She tried to think about their performance, their score, their next routine, and the assignments due this week – anything but what seeing Dan might do to her.

  The look on Scott’s face when he returned was a map of bad ideas.

  “He’s here, isn’t he?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Did he see you?”

  Scott hesitated. “No.”

  “No what?”

  “He’s kind of busy.”

  Alex closed her eyes and felt the hot pulse of the music under her lids. Busy, a player’s euphemism, it could cover a lot of sins.

  “Do you want to see?”

  No. Yes. No. A fear and courage arm wrestle, a strong desire to run instead of dealing with this.

  “Alley?”

  She nodded. She needed to see him, needed to know. She took Scott’s hand and followed behind him as he snaked through tables, shadowed the wall, and skirted the dance floor. When he came to a stop they were close to the DJ and the sound was blistering. All she could see was a mass of shifting bodies.

  “There,” Scott shouted in her ear, pointing to an area of tables raised above the pit of the dance floor.

  A group of people, women fluttering about with drinks, hands waved in shouted conversation, Fluke with his arm across a chair Carlie was sitting in, Mitch with Belinda by his side, Ant chatting to a surgically enhanced blonde in leopard skin. No Dan. Maybe Scott had been mistaken.

  “Wait,” he said in her ear.

  Then Ant moved and she saw him. His head bent to catch something a tall dark-haired woman said. He looked different. Honed, his body stripped down and even more defined, all his lovely hair gone, clipped close. He looked older and harder. Now he was laughing at something another woman said as she leaned in to him, tapping his chest. He accepted a drink accompanied by a kiss on the cheek from a third woman.

  “Enough,” Scott shouted.

  But she couldn’t look away. She was fascinated by this vision of him, the player in his office, tending to his business. She watched until a redhead grabbed him in a hug, almost pushing him over in her enthusiastic attack. He stumbled backwards, laughing, and his arms went around her to steady them both. She saw the ripple of annoyance pass among the other competitors as the girl made her claim on him.

  “Alex!” Scott pulled at her arm and, in a daze, she followed him in the near dark, back though clumps of people, furniture, and fixtures towards the lit-up exit doorway. It would be good to be in the cold again; it might help take the burn away, the sting of seeing him in his natural habitat.

  Just before they reached the exit foyer she was grabbed from behind. Strong arms, big calloused hands, a hard body lifting her backwards, and the sharp edged thrill that he’d come after her ripped through her, until a brush of hair against her cheek. Mitch. He was turning her around and grinning madly, expectantly. He rattled questions at her with puppy dog enthusiasm. Did they compete, what was the score, why were they here? He hugged her again when he learned they’d made it into the final five and then with an insistent drag on her hand said, “Come say hello.”

  “No, no. Mitch, I’m really tired. I need to go.”

  Mitch frowned, “Five minutes.”

  She shook her head, looked to Scott, arms folded, leaning back against the hallway wall, not buying in – the ratfink.

  “You should talk to him.”

  “He looked busy.”

  “Busy,” Mitch repeated, as if the word was foreign. “He’s just hanging out. I’m sure he’d like to see you.”

  “He dumped me, Mitch, and he didn’t look starved for attention.”

  “Alex, he...God, you have to know...”

  “I know, I saw.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Please Mitch, I need to go.” She looked to Scott again. “We should never have come here.”

  “You don’t know how he’s been. You think...”

  “I know a player when I see one.”

  “Alex,” Mitch protested.

  “Let it go, Mitch. This is a woman who knows her own mind.”

  Alex felt her whole body tighten, a spasm of fright at the splash of hot coffee from his voice, a sharp kick of lust at the sight of him up close. He was harder and leaner and more compelling than ever.

  Dan gave Mitch a good natured shove, but he was looking at her with an intense express
ion.

  She closed her eyes to block him out, but he stepped closer. She could sense his warmth, smell the salt tang of his skin.

  “Alex, are you alright?”

  She blinked up at him, blue-blue eyes, tearing at the fabric of her resolve to hate him. “I’m fine.” He made her a liar ten times over.

  “Is it going to be like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Avoiding each other, never talking again?”

  Yes. No. Yes. What was the therapeutic response? Just his voice was mashing her senses, shredding her thoughts. It hurt. It hurt. “We have nothing to talk about.”

  A smile teased at his lips, but his brows drew down and, without the hair to shade his forehead, she saw his confusion magnified. How could he be confused? He made this happen.

  “Did you think I’d join your harem and dance attendance on you with the other happy slave girls?”

  His frown intensified, “Slave girls?”

  “Slave to your charm. Ignorant to your intentions. Interchangeable. Disposable.”

  “Alley cat.” Scott had pushed off the wall and eased in beside her.

  “Come away, Dan,” Mitch growled.

  “Is your father in gaol?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t hesitate. Neither did she. She pushed past Scott and felt him follow. She flung herself at the door and the shock of cold night air as it hit her body was enough to snap freeze her tears before they could gather, and frost over the pain of seeing Dan again.

  Back inside the small foyer Mitch thumped the wall with an open hand. “Shit.”

  “Yeah, that went real well,” Dan sighed. “Why did you chase after her?”

  “Because you wouldn’t.”

  “For a good reason, dickhead.” Though right now Dan couldn’t remember what that reason was, just that it was important he didn’t barrel through the door to find Alex and beg her not to leave. He opened and closed his fists and rocked his neck side-to-side to try to clear his vision of her face, pale with distress.

  “I don’t know why you don’t defend yourself. Have you touched another woman since Alex?” Mitch caught his flinch. “Ah see, I didn’t think so. But you’re happy to let her think the worst of you.”