Grease Monkey Jive

by Paton, Ainslie

  “Am I a coward, Jeff? Will she think I’m a coward? Does it matter?”

  Jeff thumped his tail once on the cement floor.

  “Is that one for yes or one for no?”

  Jeff opened one eye and thumped his tail twice.

  “You’re no help.”

  Jeff yawned.

  Dan sat on the milk crate. He sat there for a long while. He watched the sun eat time and he tried not to think about anything and wasn’t successful. He thought about her. This wasn’t remarkable. He always thought about her. When it was late, he called Jeff. The dog roused himself and moseyed over. He held Jeff’s head and looked into his big brown eyes. Jeff whined.

  “Go home.” He pointed out the open door. Jeff barked once and went to the big shutter, but stopped and turned back.

  “Don’t look at me like that. Everyone is looking at me as if I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t take it from you too, mate. Go home. I’ve got things to finish.”

  He pointed again and Jeff took off and Dan was truly flattened and alone.

  Before the Moment

  ∞

  61. Final

  A dancer whose skin looked orange from too much fake tan came past them at a rush. She looked like a Jaffa in a dress.

  “Hard to believe this could get any more whacked out,” Ant said. “I’m gonna miss this.”

  “So is Dan. Did you call him?” Mitch said to Fluke.

  “Yeah, you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He answer?”

  “No.”

  “Fuck!”

  Eyes still on Jaffa girl, Ant said, “If I do my dough on him, I’m going to take it out of his hide.”

  “Keep your pants on,” Mitch grizzled. “It’s early. He’ll be here.”

  “Did he actually tell you he’d come?” said Ant.

  Mitch just kept walking. He had Belinda’s hand in his and he could see Scott and Trevor with Alex’s mum and gran in the stands.

  “Oh God. He has to come,” said Belinda, and Mitch nodded grimly. He tried to lose the grim when he got to Scott. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Big night, you Big Kahuna. Good luck. We’ll be rooting for you.”

  “Neanderthal.” Scott wasn’t sure whether he objected to the being mocked as a surf god or the ironic use of the term ‘rooting’, but he knew Mitch was trying to be funny and he probably did deserve the ribbing. More importantly, he now knew Mitch was aware he’d been to see Dan. “Heard from him?”

  “He’ll be here.”

  Scott thought Mitch sounded confident, but since his eyes were everywhere, taking in the frenetic activity around the arena pre-show, it was hard to know if he was blustering. “What do I tell Alex?”

  Now Mitch locked onto Scott. “Shit. You can’t tell her anything.”

  “She doesn’t even think it’s a possibility. I never told her I spoke to him.”

  “She still doesn’t know you own a wetsuit.”

  “No. And for her sake it would be better if she never did.”

  Mitch was about to turn away when it occurred to him that if Alex thought Dan wasn’t coming and he did, it could be a disaster. The horror of it must’ve been written on his face, because Scott said, “It’ll be fine. They just need to dance together. Nothing else will matter.”

  “You better be right about that.” He turned as Belinda gave his arm a shake. “Babe, I’m going to find Alex.”

  “You can’t tell her.”

  “Geez, I know.”

  Mitch sat down beside Fluke and Carlie. “Sorry, Bel. I’m worried he’s going to fuck it up. He should be here by now.” He gave Belinda’s hand a squeeze and she smiled, their quick spat forgotten.

  If Dan felt anything like what Mitch felt for Bel, he’d be here and he’d make it work with Alex no matter what had gone before. It was Dan who’d inspired him to get Bel back, so the notion that he might seriously screw his own chance up was making Mitch’s gut churn. He watched Belinda go off towards the change rooms. He watched the entrance area and the participants in the open competition warm up. He sent Dan another text and he waited to see what sort of a mess they’d end up in.

  Alex was dressed and ready when Belinda found her. She’d looked in the mirror and was amazed to see no outward sign she was falling apart. She looked like a winner; she felt like glass blown with a fault line.

  “You look so amazing!” said Belinda coming up behind her with a big smile. Then it fell and she shook her head, jamming her hands on her hips. “He’s a frigging tool if he doesn’t front.”

  “I didn’t ask him to come. I virtually told him to stay away.”

  Alex let Belinda turn her away from the mirror so they were face to face. “Give me a break. Since when does Dan need anyone to tell him what to do?”

  Now Alex smiled. She’d told Dan what to do on the dance floor plenty of times, in other places too. She almost blushed at the memory. Belinda was right. Dan didn’t need anyone to tell him what to do.

  “You warned me off him when he first arrived at the studio. I should’ve listened.”

  “I was wrong, Alex. He’s a good guy. They’re all good guys. They need a smack around the head every so often to keep them in line, but...” Belinda trailed off. “Come on. I hear Barry has a new dad joke. We can’t miss that.”

  Even though Alex wanted to hide out in the change rooms, it was better to be back in the arena surrounded by her family and friends. They were a reason to hold it together. They were bravery and courage and a reminder that the only good to come from all this would be to win. And she wanted to win.

  When the open competitors cleared the floor, there was a ripple of excitement. Now it was time for the real show and it was a showdown. There were mere points between her and Scott and Ferdy and Gina, and Brad and Anna.

  “If I have a stroke before the winner is announced, make the ambos treat me here and keep me alive so I can hear the score,” said Trevor. “I don’t care what they do with me after that.”

  Gwen laughed, “I hope I don’t beat you to it. I’m so nervous.”

  Scott eye-rolled. “Everyone needs to remember we’re the underdogs. We need someone to fall over...”

  “Ferdy preferably,” said Fluke.

  Scott revised, “We need Ferdy to fall over and Brad and Anna to have massive fight before we can win.”

  “That could be arranged,” said Ant. “She’s a total babe. I could go for her.”

  Mitch kicked the back of Ant’s chair. “Dream on.”

  The bantering stopped when Barry announced the order of the couples. They drew fourth with Ferdy and Gina dancing last. Brad and Anna went first and a minute into their routine Scott groaned, “I’m going to spew they’re so good.”

  Alex reached for Scott’s hand. “They look like they know the secret to happiness, don’t they?” She closed her eyes against the applause. It almost hurt to look at Brad and Anna.

  Twenty minute later she faced Scott across the dance floor and the opening riff of their song kicked out. She forgot about Brad and Anna, Ferdy and Gina. She forgot nerves, she forgot brittleness. She forgot Dan. She danced her heart out and when they’d finished and she heard stomping and whistling, she knew they’d done nicely for two people who weren’t in love, didn’t have any real secrets, and were still negotiating happiness.

  Four minutes later, when Gina caught her heel on her dress and stumbled, a rookie mistake, a roar of shock from the audience, an obvious temper flare from Ferdy, they were doing even better.

  It was standing room only for latecomers, but he didn’t care. He was beyond late. He’d only made it into the stadium seconds before she went on. He was jammed into a tight corner between the entrance way and the edge of the stadium seating. He didn’t care. He didn’t care that he was dressed inappropriately or that he attracted disapproving looks when he muscled in among the crowd. He only wanted to see her. He’d missed the sight of her like this, alive and fired with joy, so much it shocked him.

  He wasn
’t ready for the wave of desire, hard-coiled and intoxicating, that slammed into him at the flash of her smile. He wasn’t ready for the way his hands shook and his mouth dried out. How had he let this happen? How had he not known how important she was, how much he needed her, or what the right thing to do was?

  Fear flickered; anxiety rumbled. She’d sent him away. She’d said goodbye. She could do it again and then he’d be truly lost, because no one else had ever touched him, made him feel whole like she did.

  There was a kind of safety standing here. Hidden. Unaccounted for. Hesitating. This was the edge of hope, where something good could still happen. Once he quit the corner for the room, there was no shelter.

  He watched while the judges left the stage and dancers flooded it. That song about giving a man a second chance if he could dance started up. He’d need more than fancy footwork, but it was a start.

  62. Dedication

  The straightest line between where Dan was and what he wanted was across the dance floor crowded with couples gearing up for a social dance. And nothing was going to stop him closing that distance. Not the dizzy, milling crowd, streaming onto the floor, not the live band, not the cluster of people at the judges’ dais or any idiot official who tried to bar his way. The only thing that made him falter was Cooper. The kid grabbed his arm as he pushed his way through the dancers. He wore an expression like a surprised cartoon character, pop-eyed and dragging bottom jaw.

  “You came back!”

  “Yep.” Dan stepped left to avoid the practiced tango of an older couple and Cooper came after him. “Are you going to dance?”

  He stopped, the mass of dancers now completely blocking him in. He looked at Cooper. “I hope so.”

  Cooper grinned back, “Are you going after her?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you gonna get her?”

  “I’m gonna die trying.”

  Cooper said, “Way cool,” then he started directing traffic, tapping couples on the shoulder, calling out, “Coming through!” and clearing a pathway for Dan.

  Dan clasped Cooper’s hand in a quick grip, “Thanks, Coop,” and dived through the undulating tangle of limbs. When he could see the area where the Wallace team was sitting, there was no sign of Alex or Scott, but Mitch saw him coming and said something that had the rest of them on their feet shouting. As if he hadn’t already called enough attention to himself. He didn’t care. The performer’s entry way was closed, so he had to vault the barricade between the dance floor and the seating area. That made more people look. He didn’t give a flying fuck. He cared about one thing, getting to Alex, holding her in his arms, feeling her eyes on his, and looking for a way to make things right between them.

  Fluke was the first to do anything but stare at him. “Fucking hell, could you have cut it any finer?” Beside him Ant roared with laughter and Gwen had her hand over her mouth in shock. It was Sylvia who surprised him the most. She stepped forward, hugged him, and whispered in his ear, “Don’t take no for an answer.” The last of the tension he was holding in his shoulders released.

  Trevor was all action. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

  Dan was empty-handed and he couldn’t dance in what he had on. He looked at Mitch and knew he was thinking the same thing. They sprinted for the change rooms, Fluke on their heels. Dan hoped they’d find Scott back there. He took Mitch’s blue jeans, wore his own white singlet: it had seen better days, but it gave him room to move. He went barefoot and had just enough time to scrub his hands and face clean and try to remember the dance steps before they were back in the arena.

  They couldn’t find Scott, but someone told him the performers were using an entrance at the other end of the stadium, Dan had a choice of racing through the backstage corridors to try and find them or going back the way he came and jumping the barricade again.

  “You might as well make a dramatic entrance,” said Mitch, now in Dan’s overalls.

  Dan nodded. “If she knocks me on my arse, I’m holding you and Fluke responsible for keeping me out of the loony bin.”

  Mitch punched his shoulder. “If she knocks you on your arse, get the fuck back up and let her do it again.”

  Dan grabbed Mitch in a quick tight hug, reaching out to ruffle Fluke’s hair. There weren’t words for mates like them.

  As the rhythm and blues soul-beat of Dedication to my Ex rang out, he went to the barrier. He could see Alex and Scott moving onto the floor opposite him. Part of him wanted to screw the dance routine and just grab her and carry her away, but she hadn’t wanted him here and maybe Scott was right. He’d know what she was thinking when she was in his arms and dancing.

  When he jumped the barricade this time, he wanted to be noticed and the cheer that went up told him he’d succeeded. He focused on Alex, moved straight at her, figured Scott would work out how to get out of the way, but he’d walk straight through him anyway if he didn’t. Alex turned and her mouth dropped open, then curled into a brilliant smile. She came hard into his arms, his name on her tongue, and the real world was suspended a second while they took each other in.

  Dan never lifted his eyes from Alex. He followed her lead and his body remembered what to do. He forgot the audience. He was saturated in the sense of her, teasing, touching, gripping, holding. She was air and water, shelter and survival.

  When it got to the part of the routine where he was supposed to break away from her – would have danced with Anna, he kept hold of her. “I’m not letting go.”

  She spun in his arms, said, “Trust me,” and broke his hold. She danced away, spinning and tossing sultry looks over her shoulder. He would have given chase, but she stopped him with a hand, a look, and then she ran at him and in the second before she jumped, he knew what she was going to do, the ultimate sign of her trust.

  She leaped, extending her body out straight, so he caught her hips and lifted her over his head. He turned her once, conscious of the strength in her as she held the position, head high, arms out, back arched, ankles together, an exotic bird in flight.

  When he lowered her against his body, held her limb against limb, she was laughing, stunning him again with her abandon and delight. They danced the end of the song tight and close, never breaking contact at hand or chest, shoulder or back, all the rules about framing and distance dissolved with the story line of the song. This was no lover’s tiff that would leave Dan a sobbing mess, a loony bin candidate. This was his life and he was not letting it go.

  As the track ended and the applause came, somewhat staggered at the unexpectedly personal and steamy connection between the two dancers, they were speechless, both of them breathing heavily from exertion, from the speed of their emotions and the raw need to be properly alone. The start of the next track and the awareness of two new dancers on the floor drove them back into the entrance, hands clasped, not watching where they were going.

  They had no words, just their private language of sighs and sharp-caught breaths, throaty groans, and vibrating hums. Dan dragged Alex into a shadowy corner, but his caution was cursory – he didn’t care who saw. He only wanted to touch and caress, claim and brand, to wrap himself in Alex and never know the end of it, never untangle her from him.

  Her kisses were open and wet and reverberated through his chest, made his muscles throb, his hips thrust. When her hands went to his hair and she laughed to feel it bristle, he ate her mirth and fed it back to her as fire no water could put out.

  On the edge of combusting, knowing he needed to urgently find a new place to be with her he said, “Come with me now.”

  She dropped her head back, sighed, “Yes,” and he sucked on the pulse beating in her neck. She breathed, ‘No, oh, wait,” but she pressed her hips to him.

  He pulled away, panting, eyes heavy lidded with lust. “We’ll wait, but not long. I need you and I won’t wait again.”

  He knew it was probably sensible to be with the boys, Scott and Trevor, Sylvia and Gwen; a dusty corridor wasn’t where he wanted to be with Alex. He w
anted privacy and the uninterrupted time to assure himself he had her back. But being with them all was a trial of another nature. He could hold Alex’s hand, but couldn’t get close enough to her to wipe out the pain of their separation, to dry the seal on their reunion. They couldn’t talk privately, so he didn’t know what she was thinking.

  What he saw reflected in Sylvia and Gwen’s faces told him he’d won. In Scott he saw relief and in Trevor what looked like pride. The boys were loud and laughing about Ant’s bet. It was a bust because none of them had considered he wouldn’t show up.

  He let the conversation wash over him and counted the seconds till he could be alone with Alex. When Scott came to take her back onto the floor for the judges’ final results, he relinquished her hand with regret, with a kiss that tugged at her bottom lip, and with fresh light in his heart and shining from his face.

  Barry Barton was in his element, praising the competition organisers, the administrators, the staging team, his fellow judges, assistants, and the competitors themselves. He got genuine laughs and heartfelt applause and he did a good job of building the tension before announcing the final scores and the winning couple.

  While he talked, Alex stood in the circle of Scott’s arm, the smile never leaving her face, her eyes never leaving the space where Dan stood. Seeing him come towards her on the dance floor, looking so rough, so unmade, jeans that were too loose, a singlet smudged with grease, barefoot, a look of hot determination on his face – he was like something out of her imagination.

  It wasn’t real until she crashed into his arms and felt the hardness of him, heard him exhale in her ear. She’d thought she was sunken and broken and then he was there and every part of her body had strained to respond, to rise to him, to be repaired by him. The craving in her was shocking, unearthly, immediate, and total. She’d surrendered to him in a half-breath, claimed him urgently, and lost herself completely. Only the vaguest sense of where she was and why had stopped her leaving with him. He was entirely too consuming. He made her forget everything. He was utterly dangerous.