Grease Monkey Jive (13 page)

He snapped his eyes back to the road, sliding his palm around the wheel, finger itching to flick the blinker on and have her out of the car and on the footpath before she knew what was happening. Instead he felt her hand, cool and light on his shoulder.

“Dan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m worried about Scott. I appreciate your help, I really do. It was a stupid thing to say. I can’t think why I said it.”

It was her wide-eyed look of surprise, her touch, and the sound of genuine regret in her voice that made Dan exhale, re-orient his hands on the wheel, and relax his grip on his temper.

“That’s ok, Alex. I get it. Fluke told us about the competition. He said you were in the lead.”

“We are, but if Scott’s ankle is broken, we’re out of contention.”

“Can’t you find another partner?”

“No. The competition rules say you have to start and finish with the same partner. Even if that wasn’t the rule, every competition grade dancer I know is already partnered up for this. The prize money is so good no one wanted to miss out.”

“You could try again next year.”

“Maybe, but I really needed the prize money this year. You’ve seen the car and I was hoping to support myself through another year of uni.”

“That’s bad luck.”

“But it’s no excuse for me to take it out on you. I am sorry, Dan.”

Dan’s peripheral vision showed him Alex slumped forward in her seat, hiding her face in her hands.

He reached across and touched her shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry about Scott and the comp. There’s nothing I can do to help with that, but at least I can get your car back on the road.”

For a second, before he had to look back at the road again, he caught her eyes as she lifted her head. The frustration and anger had gone, though she was anxious still, and it was suddenly clear why she’d appeared in his early morning inventory.

He’d have been just as surprised to be sideswiped by another car, or to rear end someone, as he was to realise that he wanted Alex to think well of him.

Outside a small circle of people, essentially the boys and Katie, Dan had never worried about what people thought of him. Living with Jimmy knocked that kind of pride out of him, so it was a shock to realise he didn’t want Alex to think he was a bully or a Neanderthal or whatever else it was she thought that would make her bat away his help and assume his intentions were motivated by self-interest.

He didn’t know what it meant to think about kissing her at night and wanting her good regard the next day, but he knew it was trouble.

Alex was quick to jump from the Valiant when Dan pulled up outside the hospital. Much as she was grateful for the lift, and for Dan’s help with the car, she was embarrassed about how she’d reacted to him and wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible.

The more she’d thought about it while they rode along in silence, the more she figured her harsh judgement of Dan was born from the influence of her mother and Belinda.

Belinda had pegged Dan for a player, and from his good looks alone that could be the case. At the bar that night he’d had no shortage of female attention and he’d charmed all the women in class from the married ones to the very shy and socially awkward Carlie. He’d even charmed Trevor. He was self-assured, interesting, and funny, and had a way of looking at you when you talked that told you he was giving you his full attention, and then he demonstrated it by remembering what you said. She’d seen him do it. It was a fine confidence trick.

Her father had been a player, romancing Sylvia as well as several other women at the same time and then disappearing when the result of his affair bore fruit. He’d left no address, no way of contacting him, and when Sylvia enquired at his office, she discovered he’d used a false name. She had no idea who the man she’d hoped to marry was, so it was almost in Alex’s genes to react to Dan the way she did. Sylvia would detest him on sight for his very ability to be charming – that and the fact he was an uneducated mechanic without any ambition.

But nothing he’d done to Alex directly deserved the scorn she’d poured on him just now, and it was a pitiful way to pay back his good-natured attempt to help out. She was dragging her bag out of the car when he said, “How do I contact you about the car?”

“I’ll call you.” She might have been unfair to him, but favours aside, he wasn’t getting her phone number. “I’ve got your number from the student contact details.”

“Ok. Give me till about 11am tomorrow and I’ll have some news for you.”

Alex nodded, gripped her bag, swung the Valiant’s heavy door closed, and rushed through the hospital entrance. She found Scott with Trevor in the orthopaedic ward. They were both huddled over Trevor’s tablet computer.

“Are you allowed to use that in here?” she said, entering the room.

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” said Trevor.

“And what they know about hurt should be good for me when I finally get to talk to someone in charge,” grizzled Scott.

“How do you feel?” Alex sat on the end of the bed away from Scott’s swollen and discoloured ankle.

“Like I could strangle a ranga Neanderthal. He was so busy perving at the sleek lines of my lovely girl, he got under my feet and that was that.”

“The Volvo is a she?”

“Of course,” said Scott. “But the gender of my car isn’t the issue here. Finding you another partner is.”

“We’ve checked the rules,” said Trevor, pulling the tablet out of Scott’s hands and settling it on his lap. “You can only win the comp on points with the partner you enrolled with.”

Alex shrugged, put her hand on Scott’s shin. She’d known it would come to this. “So we gave it our best shot.”

“Are you kidding? We’re still in this,” said Scott.

“You are not thinking of dancing on a broken ankle.” She was aghast Scott would consider it. It’s not like he was doing it for the money either; it was simply about winning for him.

“He was, but he’s not, and there’s to be no discussion about that,” said Trevor.

Scott said, “But...”

“He’s not!” Trevor repeated, glaring at Scott. “Does the expression ‘untold damage’ mean anything to you?”

Scott sighed in an exaggerated fashion. “I’m only out six to eight weeks and Trevor found a rule loophole, so assuming we can find another partner to fill in – we’re still in this.”

“What’s the loophole?” Alex looked from Scott to Trevor. She didn’t know whether to let hope flicker or if this was grasping at straws.

“The rules say you have to finish the competition with the partner you entered with. It doesn’t say anything about having a replacement partner for some of the heats,” said Trevor.

“I’ll be fine to compete in the final rounds and we’re so far ahead by points if we find you a competent replacement partner for three rounds we still have a chance,” said Scott.

“Which leads us to finding some replacement feet,” said Trevor. “We’ve been looking on the registered dancer’s log and we’ve posted a request in the association’s partner request page.”

Alex couldn’t help but smile. Trevor and Scott were giving hope a huge boost, but the likelihood of finding a graded dancer who wasn’t already involved in the competition was slim.

“We’ll find someone, Alley cat,” said Scott, but he was shooting Trevor an agitated look.

“He’s as mad with me as he is with the redhead,” said Trevor. “I can’t dance in this. I’m an association official. We’re not eligible and you can bet if we tried it they’d slap a new rule in place so fast it would crack your other ankle, Scott.”

“It would’ve been the perfect solution,” Scott sighed.

“I think the perfect solution is to let it go,” said Alex. “It’s not meant to be this year.” Winning had been a long shot anyway, but it would have made things much easier all round. She wondered if Dan would be able to get the Mazda back on the road or whether this was the end of the line for the car as well as her competition aspirations.

“Alex, biting your nails won’t help,” Scott carped. “What do we have to lose by trying?”

Alex took her index finger out of her mouth and blushed. Scott simply didn’t have a pause button when it came to embarrassing someone. He was looking at her with both eyebrows in a suspended high jump on his forehead, waiting for a response.

She shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t hurt to see if there’s anyone out there.”

Anyone turned out to be a choice of either sixteen-year-old Cooper Perry or sixty-five-year-old Collin Davis. Anyone else was simply too young, too old, or not available.

A week after the accident, they were due to audition both dancers. For Alex it would be a break from trawling through employment websites, looking for part-time work. Phil was interstate again and, apart from a one long phone call, hadn’t been available to provide moral support. In any case, he had no patience for what he referred to as Alex’s ‘little girl fantasy world’. He was far more supportive of her getting a real job than continuing to teach and compete. It was almost as though he’d colluded with Sylvia. Gwen on the other hand was still sewing and no amount of suggesting it might not be necessary could make her put down her needle and thread.

The one bright spot was getting the Mazda back. Dan had been true to his word, getting it towed, repaired, and back in Alex’s hands in three days and at no cost. She’d yet to work out what to do to thank him or to apologise for her previous bad temper.

When she’d gone to collect the car at the garage, he’d been busy and brushed off any suggestion of her paying for anything. He’d simply tossed her the keys, flashed her a cheeky grin, and called her Teach, as though they’d never had an awkward moment. She wasn’t sure why that bothered her, but it did. Had he really done something for nothing, or did he expect some kind of reward in the long run? If he’d irritated her before, he made her nervous now.

Cooper Perry turned out to be one of those sixteen year olds still waiting for a growth spurt. The height boasted by his bio must have been aspirational because he was shorter than Alex and as slender as she was, his body still stuck in boyhood despite the fact his competence as a dancer was beyond his tender years.

The rumba and pasa doble Alex and Cooper danced was more for politeness than anything else. As a couple they looked poorly matched and while Cooper had excellent technique, he had no sex appeal and no stage presence, so together they were the visual equivalent of a good book with a bad cover.

Collin Davis was another matter altogether. He was the right height, though somewhat portly. He had a full head of silver hair and a neat trimmed beard that made him look distinguished and he danced beautifully. As a couple Collin and Alex looked like a Hollywood romance, the classic older man, younger woman combination.

They danced an Argentine Tango, moving well together, their movements precise and technically adept, and the little audience of beginner students who’d assembled for their class applauded when they came to their end point.

Dan was standing with the group. He wore a pair of loose cotton track pants that hung low on his hips and a singlet that showed off the muscles in his arms, his broad chest, and taunt abdominals. He was barefoot and his dark hair was wet, brushed back from his forehead in soft waves.

Without trying he had a commanding presence. It was impossible not to know he was in the room, though he wasn’t doing anything to attract attention if you discounted the display of his impressive physical attributes. Alex could feel his eyes on her making her feel self-conscious in a way Collin’s over-friendly gestures didn’t.

When they completed the dance, Collin turned to Scott. “I’d like to use my choreography. I think it will give us an edge.”

Scott snapped, “That’s not negotiable. I am the choreographer and, while I will certainly make allowances for the differences between you and me as dancers, we will not require your services in that area.” He was scowling, standing there in his orthopaedic boot, arms jammed in his crutches.

“My darling Alex, is that what you want too?” said Collin, in a loud voice that carried the timbre of a Shakespearean actor.

Alex frowned. Collin was an experienced dancer. This could work, but he wanted more of the share of prize money than they’d counted on – ten thousand dollars – and there was that overly familiar manner and the free use of endearments that made her squirm. Besides, beyond the thrill of winning, the reason Scott wanted to compete was to test his skills as a choreographer. But it was Collin or it was all over.

“Darling, Alex?” Collin repeated.

“Why don’t we have a look at some of your choreography?” said Alex.

“Excellent!” said Collin, clapping his hands for emphasis.

They divided forces, Trevor taking the beginner’s class and Alex, Collin, and Scott retreating to a rehearsal room for Collin to teach her one of his routines. At the end of the hour, Collin had creeped Alex out enough she was ready to face the fact their chance to stay in the competition was over. Collin didn’t stick around.

“Well?” Trevor asked Scott when they came back to main rehearsal room.

“The name Collin Davis has been scribbled between the words mercenary and opportunist in the dictionary,” said Scott, limping to Trevor’s side. “Not only did he refuse to use any choreography but his own, which was remarkably ordinary, he wanted to charge us a five thousand dollar fee for the privilege, regardless of whether we win or not.”

“Oh, and you couldn’t negotiate with him, Scott. You know, compromise, sits somewhere near can-do and no choice in the dictionary?”

Scott huffed. “I’d rather take one of our students and train them up than pay a single cent to that man. Besides he was far too familiar with Alex and I didn’t like that either.”

Trevor said, “Do it.”

“What?” Scott huffed.

“Take one of our students.”

“Have you gone completely mad, Trev?”

“No. You just said you’d rather a student than Collin, and Collin was our last option.”

Scott sighed and closed his eyes. “I was just mouthing off. There is no way that’s possible.”

Alex cocked her head to one side. Part of her was pleased she wouldn’t have to put up with Collin, but knowing they were truly out of options was a low rumble of disappointment in her gut. This was probably the last year she could spare to compete, so this really was the end of their run and her dream of not having to take on a part-time job and do something about the car. She was mentally cycling through their students to see if there was any wild possibility of a candidate.