Dance With Me

by Heidi Cullinan

  So he drank. He drank until he was a fucking mess and had to lean on Liam just to hold himself upright. When Liam made a joke about how he wasn't going to bed with him no matter how he groped his thigh, Ed laughed along with the rest of them, then slurred something about Laurie in his tights, which no one would have understood the meaning of even if he had used consonants.

  But then he remembered. Laurie. Dance class. The last dance class.

  Last dance with Laurie.

  He pulled out his phone, squinted at it, then finally asked Liam to tell him what the fuck time it was. It turned out to be a quarter to eight.

  Ed stared down at his phone as if it had betrayed him and not the pitcher of beer. He'd missed it. Even if he was sober enough to drive to Eden Prairie—which he so was not—he'd never make it in time even to catch Laurie for a tango after. And he realized he didn't even have Laurie's number to call him and apologize.

  His depression, already voluminous, became so acute he thought for a minute he was having a heart attack.

  Excusing himself, he pushed back from the table and went to the jukebox at the window by the door, where he had a prayer of getting reception, though it was still even odds if he'd be able to hear. At first he just stood there staring at the album selection in front of him, sad and lost and drunk, and then he pulled out his phone again, stabbing at buttons until somehow he managed to pull up the number he wanted.

  “Vic,” he said when she answered. “Vic. Vic. I need help. Please. Help.”

  “Ed? Is this—Ed, what happened?” she asked.

  The floor was listing like a ship, making it hard for Ed to stand up on it. He gripped the jukebox for support and focused on a Steely Dan album cover. “Need favor, Vic. Need Laurie's number.” That was what he tried to say, anyway.

  “You need lumber? What?”

  “LAUR-EES NUM-BER,” Ed said, forcing his tongue into compliance with consonants.

  “Ed, are you drunk?”

  “Fuck yes!” Ed shut his eyes to try to stop the jukebox from moving on him, but that only made things worse. “Missed class. Need to call him. Say sorry.” His chest began to hurt again. “Real sorry.”

  “You want to call Laurie?” Vicky repeated. She sounded highly suspicious. “Why?”

  Hadn't he just said? “Need to say sorry!”

  “Ed, I'm not giving you Laurie's number so you can harass him under normal circumstances, but I'm absolutely not going to let you call him when you're hammered!”

  Ed gripped the phone tightly with his fingers. “I'm not gonna harass him! Told you I missed dance class. Wanted to say sorry!”

  “Ed, you aren't making any sense.”

  Vicky sounded exasperated, and Ed empathized. Obviously this wasn't going to work. And really, it wouldn't work even if he had Laurie's number. He'd just sound like an idiot. Again. And right now he felt like one. What, like Laurie was going to make him feel better?

  Yes.

  Ed reached up with his free hand and pinched his nose. “Never mind,” he said, giving up.

  “Ed, are you okay?”

  No. He wasn't okay. He'd thought he was, but he was just kidding himself, wasn't he? Fucking around with weight classes and dancing with Laurie like it mattered. Nothing mattered. He'd never feel that high again, never feel the rush like he had in a game. It was just monotony from now until the day he keeled over dead. A half life.

  Fuck.

  Ed didn't even say good-bye. He just hung up, shoved his phone back into his pocket, and pressed his head against the wall.

  He stood there until a waitress came by and asked him, with suspicion, if he was all right. She looked like she was going to kick him out, but then Liam came over, and she smiled.

  “Oh, if you're with the Lumberjacks, that's different,” she said.

  Her words creating a heaviness like lead in his chest, Ed followed Liam back to the table and vowed to himself that he would keep drinking until he didn't know what football was anymore.

  But he wasn't halfway through his next beer before his phone rang again. Ed tried to ignore it, but Butch, who was sitting next to him, hollered at him to make the thing shut up, so he pulled it out to turn it off. He glanced at the caller ID out of habit, though, paused, and drew it closer to his face. Then he pulled it even closer, squinting against his beer-blurred vision. He didn't know the number.

  Ed hit “answer” and put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Ed? Is this—Ed? Ed Maurer?”

  Laurie. “Hi,” Ed said brightly. Then he remembered why he'd wanted to talk to Laurie. “Sorry, Laurie.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Ed, are you okay?”

  I'm just drunk, Ed tried to say. But then he looked out at the guys and said, “No.”

  Laurie sounded panicked now. “What happened? Where are you? Were you in an accident?”

  “At Matt's,” Ed said.

  “Matt who?”

  “Matt the bar,” Ed said. When Laurie said nothing, he added, “Jucy Lucy.”

  Another pause. “Ed—is anyone there with you? Anyone sober enough to talk to me on the phone?”

  Ed glanced around the tables, drunkenly trying to assess the men around him. He gave up and turned to Liam. “Hey, Liam,” he said, handing him the phone. “Laurie wants to talk to you.”

  Liam raised an eyebrow at Ed, but he took the phone, and Ed watched as the quarterback spoke into it. Ed watched his lips and his jaw, not hearing the words, just looking. Because Liam had a really nice jaw. And nice lips too.

  All of a sudden Liam was handing him his phone. Ed picked it up and put it back to his ear. “Laurie?” he said, but there was no one there.

  Liam was studying Ed carefully now. “You okay, buddy?”

  Ed tried to nod, but man, did that make the room spin around. “Yeah,” he slurred instead. Then he frowned down at the phone. “Why did Laurie hang up?”

  “Who's Laurie?” Butch asked and snickered. “You finally give up and admit pussy's the way to go?”

  Ed gave him his best withering look. “Fuck no!”

  He became the butt of the jokes for a while, but that actually was good, because it was like old times. Ed tried to make his usual wisecrack that he'd be happy to show them what a real blowjob was, but it was getting really hard to make the words in his brain come out of his mouth. Liam noticed this too.

  “I think it's time for you to switch to soda, buddy,” he declared, taking Ed's beer away.

  Ed tried to protest, but it was too much work, so he just gave up and sank back in his chair. A Coke was placed in front of him, and he stared at it glumly. After a while, he decided he should brave the trip to the bathrooms downstairs, which he did manage, but he used the women's by accident and got lost in storage for several minutes before he found his way back to the stairs again. When he squeezed his way into his seat in the back of the booth, somebody put a glass of water in front of him next to the Coke, and he sipped at it reluctantly.

  He was starting to feel really tired. He caught himself nodding off twice and straightened, blinking himself back into as much alertness as he could manage with that much alcohol in him. But the third time, he just plain went under, and it wasn't until someone was shaking his arm that he woke, and he grunted and lifted his head to tell Liam to fuck off and let him sleep.

  Except it wasn't Liam shaking him. It was Laurie.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  Chapter Six

  ocho: follower's step in tango whose name comes from the figure eights women tango dancers would make while doing the step. Leaders should note that the more relaxed they are, they better they may instigate an ocho.

  Ed blinked. Then he beamed. Laurie! Laurie was here!

  “Hi, boss!” he said. And then he fell forward onto Laurie.

  Laurie pushed him carefully upright, but his hands stayed on Ed's shoulder, holding him in place. Ed grinned at him. Laurie was here. And he wasn't mad at him! He di
d look worried, though.

  Ed stopped smiling. “Are you okay?” He tried to reach out and touch Laurie's shoulder, but he missed and fell forward again.

  Laurie caught him before he fell out of the booth. “What did you give him?” he asked the other guys at the table. “Grain alcohol?”

  Butch gave a large belch before turning to look Laurie up and down. “You the wife?”

  Beside Ed, Laurie went rigid. Ed tried to explain to Laurie that this was just Butch and not to mind him, and he tried to give Butch a look that said knock it the fuck off, asswipe, but mostly he just swayed in his seat. It was possible, he acknowledged to himself, that he'd gotten a bit too drunk.

  Where Ed had failed, Liam recovered, as usual. “Hey, butthead,” he said to Butch, “how about you be nice to Ed's friend who doesn't know you blew out all your brain cells bashing into guys on the field?”

  Butch murmured “sorry” and retreated into his beer.

  Liam reached across Ed and extended a hand to Laurie. “Hi. I'm Liam Nelson. We spoke on the phone.”

  “I'm Laurie Parker,” Laurie said and shook his hand. He glanced at Ed. “Is he okay? Should I take him to a hospital?”

  At this comment Ed reared back, alarmed, but Liam shook his head and held up a hand to calm him. “Easy, big guy. He's just worried, like I am, that maybe you went a bit too heavy on the beer. How many Lucys did you pack in?”

  “One.” Ed made a face. “Not training. Not like you. Can't burn it off.”

  Understanding dawned on Liam's face, and Ed hated it. “Shit. I should have figured it out sooner.”

  “What,” Laurie asked, “is a Lucy?”

  The Lumberjacks erupted into spontaneous outbursts of disbelief and outrage, and two guys who were new to the team this year got up to hunt down a waitress. Laurie looked nervous, so Ed tried to explain for him.

  “Jucy Lucy,” he said and held up an imaginary burger. “Hamburger with cheese in the middle.”

  “They're exclusive to Minneapolis-St. Paul, but Matt's is now verified by public contest as the best in the Cities,” Liam said, pointing to a banner along the wall. “They're cheeseburgers, but the cheese is inside the meat. It becomes a sort of molten cheddar center. And fair warning: don't eat them right away. Give them a minute to cool off so you don't burn off your tongue with the liquid cheese.”

  Laurie seemed to relax a little. “I was a little worried, when Ed mentioned them, that I was coming to collect him at some seedy strip club.”

  “We meet there on Fridays,” somebody called out from the other side of the table, and everyone laughed. Everyone but Laurie, who looked a little nervous still.

  Ed didn't laugh either. He was too busy trying to work out what Laurie had said. “Collect me?” he repeated.

  “Well—” Laurie glanced around the table again. “Vicky called me and told me you called and asked to talk to me. She was worried about you. And then when I called—” He stopped, looking uncertain.

  Remembering his infraction from earlier in the evening, Ed sobered, as much as possible, anyway. “I missed class. I got drunk. I'm sorry, Laurie.”

  “It's—” Laurie looked hesitant. “You didn't—I mean, I appreciate it, but—”

  Ed sensed that his point was not being made. He tried again. “I wanted to dance with you again. But it was a bad day, and then—” The emotions hit him in the center of the chest, and he looked away. But that just brought the team back into his focus again—the team that did not include him anymore—and he swore and tried to reach for Liam's beer.

  Liam deftly moved it out of his reach. “Easy, buddy. You're on water and Coke now. And you're having another Lucy whether you think you can work it off or not. Something's got to soak up all that booze.”

  “We ordered some,” Jared the fullback called out. “For Ed and his date.”

  This seemed to upset Laurie, and frankly, it made Ed feel a little awkward too, because Laurie was not his date. He glared at Jared and opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off when Laurie spoke. “Oh, I wasn't going to stay. If Ed's all right—”

  Ed forgot Jared and turned to Laurie. “You can't leave! You just got here!”

  “You have to try a Lucy!” somebody called out, and the whole team hooted out their agreement in a rough chant. “Lu-cy! Lu-cy! Lu-cy!”

  Ed put his hand on Laurie's thigh. “You have to stay. Please?”

  It was clear Laurie did not want to stay. But he bit his lip, then sighed and threw up his hands. “Would someone order a Diet Pepsi for me, then?”

  “Diet Coke,” Butch corrected.

  Ed leaned a little harder into Laurie. “I'm glad you came,” he said in a whisper that, belatedly, he realized carried across the whole table.

  “Yes. Well.” Laurie patted Ed's hand, and when Ed didn't lift it from Laurie's thigh, Laurie picked it up and moved it himself.

  Ed put it on Laurie's arm instead. “I'm sorry I wasn't at dancing,” Ed went on. “I wanted to come. A lot.”

  Laurie lifted Ed's hand and squeezed it before putting it carefully on Ed's own leg. “It's all right. Don't worry about it.”

  But Laurie just didn't understand. Ed wasn't sure he did anymore either. He frowned. And then, as he looked into Laurie's eyes, he knew what he wanted to say. He leaned forward, determined this time to actually whisper.

  “I missed you,” he said.

  Eyes wide, Laurie just stared at him. And then his eyes softened, and his brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something.

  “Lucys are here!” Jared crowed, and the next thing Ed knew, somebody was shoving a burger basket under his nose.

  It was fun to watch Laurie try a Jucy Lucy. After poking at it a bit dubiously, he took a bite, and the whole table hooted and cheered when the greasy cheese squirted out the side of the burger and ran down his chin. “He's a gusher!” they called out and laughed and made more jokes, and Ed liked it, because he liked that the guys liked Laurie. But Laurie still looked nervous.

  He also had some cheese still on his chin, so Ed leaned forward and swiped it with his thumb. But his aim was still off, and his thumb ended up brushing against Laurie's bottom lip too.

  Jesus, his lip was soft.

  A little dazed, Ed drew back and reached for his own burger. He wasn't really hungry, but he ate it anyway, and as he did, he settled in to listen to the conversation. Liam kept talking to Laurie, drawing him in, and Laurie began to relax. He was leaning a little toward Ed, too—or Ed was leaning toward him. He got confused. Anyway, he ended up settled against Laurie's shoulder, and it felt so nice that Ed put his arm around him, letting his hand rest on Laurie's opposite hip.

  After the hellish last two days, after the layoffs and his neck and his feeling outcast among the guys—all this made a huge, hollow space inside him that not even a keg of beer could have filled. But Laurie, somehow, just by sitting beside Ed, seemed to make that space feel so much less important, less like it was going to suck him down. He still didn't understand why, exactly, Laurie had come to Matt's. He just knew he was glad he had.

  Sliding his hand beneath Laurie's arm, he anchored himself more firmly to his side and smiled as he reached for his glass of water, willing to believe for the first time in two days that things might actually somehow work out to be okay after all.

  Laurie felt vaguely like a fool for rushing across the city only to find himself rescuing not an Ed drunk and in trouble but an Ed simply drunk. He wanted to blame this Liam for not reassuring him on the phone, for giving him directions instead, but it was hard to hate Liam. He was courteous and thoughtful, always trying to keep Laurie involved in the conversation. He asked what Laurie did, and he seemed very pleased when he heard that Laurie was a dance instructor. In fact, for some reason this made his eyes light up. Clearly he too believed Laurie and Ed were some sort of item, and he not only approved of that idea but also wanted the relationship encouraged.

  Also, Liam looked vaguely like Brad Pitt, which Laurie found highly distra
cting.

  But the quarterback wasn't the only one at the table who thought Laurie and Ed were a couple; everyone seemed to assume they were. At first Laurie had thought they were making fun of him, but he'd slowly come to realize that their bawdy jokes were some sort of nod of acceptance. The thought baffled Laurie. Gay-friendly football players? Wasn't that an oxymoron? Though as the evening progressed, as the men around the table grew more and more intoxicated and more and more gregarious, and as he watched how they interacted not just with Laurie but with Ed, Laurie began to understand that it wasn't so much that the football players were gay advocates. They were simply Ed advocates.

  The bar itself was as mystifying as the men. From the outside it looked like a real dive, and to be honest, it did a little from the inside too. But Laurie hadn't found bikers and brawlers here; instead, he'd seen mostly couples and small groups of friends. The football crew was the largest group there, and from the way the other tables rotated in and out, Laurie got the idea that they were monopolizing their tables more than was generally encouraged. Of course, given the number of burgers and fries and pitchers of beer Laurie saw being consumed even now and knowing they'd been here some time before he'd arrived, he suspected their lingering wasn't just overlooked but welcomed.

  Laurie just couldn't understand why a bar that was clearly successful didn't even have ice. Or plates. Just soda in cans and wax paper around the burgers and lining the baskets.

  Ed turned to Laurie with a drunken, sleepy grin. “You like the Lucy?” he asked.

  This was the burger with the cheese inside. The “Jucy Lucy.” The sandwich that, while delicious, was already hardening Laurie's arteries and threatening, even only half-consumed, to make his leotards snug-fitting. “Yes,” Laurie said to Ed. “But I'm full.”

  Ed beamed at him, and his hand slid over Laurie's thigh. “I'm glad you're here.”

  This was at least the fourth time Ed had told Laurie so. While the declaration was amusing at this point, it was still disarming. Laurie put his hand on Ed's, keeping it from straying higher. “Maybe you should have some more water?”