Grease Monkey Jive (6 page)

Scott swapped legs. “Flowers. How very banal.” And how very right he’d been. Corporate man had all the right moves from all the wrong motivation.

“They’re lovely.”

“Oh, I’m sure they are, but it’s hardly original, is it?”

“Unlike yourself,” said Alex, sitting on the floor to go through her own stretching routine.

Scott had known Alex since she first joined the competition classes at Wallace’s. She was a rebellious fifteen and he was a sophisticated seventeen going on world-weary thirty-five. Within two hours of meeting and dancing a waltz together, he’d cried on Alex’s shoulder about the boy who’d broken his heart. They’d been friends and dance partners ever since and, while the state of Scott’s heart was still a major topic of conversation for them, it wasn’t their only shared interest. Alex shared more of her thoughts with Scott than anyone else in the world and he simply couldn’t imagine how that would ever change.

“Yes, yes, I’m one of a kind and aren’t we grateful for that, hmm,” said Scott, coming to stretch Alex’s hamstring. “Is corporate man coming to the next comp?”

“He’s going to try.”

“Good. He should see what a beautiful dancer you are.”

Alex laughed. “Phil is a man after my mother’s heart. He really couldn’t care less about my dancing. He’s more interested in how well I do at uni.”

“Well, maybe he should marry your mother then.”

“Scott! I never said I was interested in marrying Phil. I don’t think I’m the marrying, forever kind.”

Scott gave Alex a look. It said, superiority, disillusionment, and don’t mess with me, all with the arch of one eyebrow. She swapped legs and Scott stretched her right leg back towards her chest, bringing her foot towards the ground over her shoulder.

Alex said, “Steady, I’m sore. What about client lust man?”

“He has his new logo and website and he’s gone off into the sunset with his wifey and kidlets, so I am currently without a lust object and hence able to pour my whole heart and soul into choreographing our next routine.”

Alex hooted. “Who says hence?”

“Clearly I do.”

“I’m grateful to client lust man.”

“I wish I was. Never mind. I will turn my hopeless pining into ferocious footwork for a passionate Argentine tango and no one will know that our brilliance emerged like a butterfly from the chrysalis of my heartache.”

“You should’ve been a greeting card message writer, not a designer.”

“Hell no, doll! Can’t spell for nuts.”

Two hours later, they had the rudiments of a new routine and another half hour to improve on it before the class they were teaching arrived.

This routine would be their second of eight staged over the next six months. After round one, they were leading the points score, but with so many heats left and the need to perform a fresh routine every three weeks, there was no time to be complacent.

The prize money had attracted the leading dancers in the country so the competition would be fierce, especially once the less expert couples were knocked out and the field narrowed. Alex and Scott planned on staying in that field right till the end and they knew they had an edge as an experienced and established couple with a track record of freestyle championship performances and with Scott’s inventive choreography and music choices.

Scott clicked the track on again and Alex walked into his arms pressing her chest to his, her face so close they would bump noses if one of them turned at the wrong moment. Billie Holiday sang, “Summertime and the living is easy,” in a remix from the famous song from Porgy and Bess and Scott propelled Alex around the floor, one minute in a tight embrace, the next touching her only by his fingertips.

As they re-formed chest to chest he said, “Sizzle, girlfriend,” and Alex knew in Scott’s care she would.

The sting of sunlight directly on his face woke Dan. He’d fallen asleep on a doorstep. At least it was his own doorstep. It hurt to open his eyes and he was incredibly thirsty. He could hear Jeff making snuffling sounds from inside the flat. Useless. Why couldn’t the dog open the damn door? He put his hand in his pocket. No keys. He felt into a crevice in the brickwork and came up with the spare key and let himself into the cool, dark flat.

He felt like crap. He had his phone, but no wallet and no key chain. There was a text message from someone called Izzy saying she had his wallet, so that was lucky. He figured Izzy might also have his other sock and that Fluke had the Valiant. At least his bed was where he’d left it and welcomed him and his two headache tablets as he passed out again.

Extreme thirst and a rumbling hunger woke Dan around midday and he stumbled to the shower and then fumbled around in the kitchen, guzzling water, making himself vegemite toast and plunger coffee. He got no sympathy from Jeff whose tail wagging alone was enough to make him feel nauseous. He took two more headache tablets and was contemplating getting dressed when Fluke showed up at the back door.

“Dan! You decent?”

“No.”

“I’ve got Katie with me.”

“Wait. Stay there.” Dan poked his head out into the hallway, seeing Fluke and Katie at the propped open door. “Let me get dressed.”

“Not on my account,” called Katie. She pushed past Fluke and came up the hallway, before Dan had time to retreat to his bedroom.

He was leaning against the sink with his arms folded over his bare chest and a big, damp, blue towel wrapped around his waist when she arrived, Fluke close on her heels. He was no more undressed than what he would be at the beach and he’d gone swimming and surfing with Katie countless times, but it didn’t feel quite right in his own kitchen.

“Decent enough,” she said, taking a chair at the kitchen table.

Fluke threw Dan’s keys on the table. “I love that car, if you ever want to sell it?”

“You’ll be my first option,” he said.

“You look like you had a big night,” said Katie, head tipped to the side, studying Dan from under lashes darkened with mascara. She pushed a strand of red hair, the same warm coppery colour as Fluke’s that had escaped her messy bun, out of her eyes and grinned. “How sore is your head?”

“Don’t know if I have enough undamaged brain cells left to answer that question,” Dan said, surprised he’d been able to form a complete sensible sentence.

Katie laughed and flashed her perfect white teeth, wrinkling her freckled nose. All of the features that made Fluke look dorky combined in the feminine to make Katie look gorgeous and she knew it. Seven years younger than Fluke and Dan, she’d always treated him as another older brother, someone to tease and hang out with when none of her own friends were around and when Fluke would let her, which wasn’t often.

“Did you go off with the brunette?” asked Fluke.

Dan nodded. “Izzy.”

“Yeah, I believe that,” Fluke laughed.

“No seriously. I left my wallet at her place, she texted, so that’s really her name.”

Katie’s eyes were wide with mock horror. “Dan Maddox, are you telling me you go home with girls and don’t know their names?”

“I’m terrible with names.”

“You’re so not! You know all the names of the most random people, the guy at the car wash, the barista at Sunrise, the newsagent. I bet you know your postman’s name.”

“Sharon.” It slipped out of his mouth before he thought about it being a point in Katie’s favour.

“Your postman’s name is Sharon?”

“Postwoman.”

“See!”

“That’s different, I see those people all the time.”

“That means you just can’t be bothered learning the names of the people you fuck.”

“Katie,” said Fluke. “Don’t be crude.”

“Oh hello, double standard, I’m crude? Not having the courtesy to know the name of the person you sleep with – that’s crude.”

Dan hung his head. “It just doesn’t come up. They probably don’t know my name either.”

“You’re such a liar,” Katie spluttered. “Of course they know.”

Dan stepped forward and sat at the table; he brought the coffee pot and two more mugs with him. “Ok, it’s appalling. I know it’s appalling. But if I don’t know their names, then I don’t have to care about them.”

“Oh my God. Fluke, is he for real?”

Fluke laughed. “There’s a certain logic to that.”

“That’s not logic; that’s being a right bastard,” said Katie, going to the fridge for milk. She poured for herself and Fluke and looked at Jeff, lying half under the table. “You have a right bastard for an owner, Jeff. What do you think about that?” Jeff rolled over on his back, his thick brown tail sweeping the floor like a car window washer. He looked perfectly happy with his state of ownership.

“Jeff loves me,” said Dan, his head still in his hands. “Don’t you boy?” and much to Katie’s amusement Jeff rolled to his feet and came to rest his head on Dan’s knee under the table.

She looked at Fluke. “Ask him.”

“You ask him.”

“Flukey,” she wheedled.

“It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“Ooooh.”

“What do you want to ask me?” Dan looked from Katie to Fluke. Drugs and coffee, he was starting to feel a little more human now.

“I want to buy a car and I could pay for an inspection or I could get you to check it out. And I’d rather you, Dan, please.” Katie put her hand on his arm. They both looked down at it, Katie’s small, pale, freckled hand on the muscular flare of Dan’s tanned forearm.

“When?”

“Now.”

Dan groaned, “Katie, I’d be happy to do it for you, but today?”

“It’s a bargain, it won’t last, the guy who owns it says he has lots of interest.”

Dan looked at Fluke for validation. He nodded. “Yeah, the guy’s got a transfer to Perth and he wants to shift it quick.”

Dan groaned again, “Ok, but I’m still no good to drive.”

Katie bounced in her seat, clapped her hands, and then dove across the table to hug him. He had to hold on to the towel.

Forty minutes later with Fluke driving the Valiant and Katie sitting up front they pulled into the drive of the car owner’s house. Dan went to work on the ten year old VW Golf, under it, over it, around it, inside it, assessing it for undisclosed damage, likely wear and tear faults, and overall value, making the owner mighty nervous and Katie bite her nails. Jeff certainly liked the navy blue car. He christened its near bald driver’s side tyre which more or less inked the deal. Dan put his sunglasses back on with relief and Katie had a new car. She insisted on taking them to dinner, and hair of the dog was as good a way as any to end the day to Dan, given he still didn’t have his wallet.

They had gourmet fish and chips and ice cold white wine in the restaurant next door to Son of a Beach Bar and then it felt like a good idea to have another drink in the bar itself and then Fluke recognised the brunette, Izzy, and she joined them, producing Dan’s wallet, and giving them all to understand she was more than keen to continue where she and Dan had left off.

Dan had other ideas. She was a nice girl, but way too enthusiastic. The fact that she had his mobile number and probably knew his address as well made him uncomfortable. He never gave out his number, so she must have been through his wallet to find something it was written on. He didn’t want to be rude, she’d done the right thing with the wallet and all, but he wanted her gone.

He did the first thing he could think of. He sat back on his bar stool and propped his arm over Katie’s shoulders, like it was often there, like she was his property. After the initial shock of it, Katie played along, dropping her head to his shoulder, putting her hand on his thigh.

Fluke had to excuse himself and left the table to stop from laughing and Izzy got the message and followed suit. Katie got another message altogether and when they were alone she kept hold of his thigh letting her fingers play over his muscle. “You’re a bad boy, Dan Maddox.”

“You know it, Katie Dean.”

“So it ends for you when you learn their names?”

Dan laughed, put his hand down on Katie’s to stop her fingers wandering. “Yeah, that’s where it ends.”

“What about when you already know their names?” She had her face close to his, licking her pink lips.

Later, with Fluke shouting at him, Katie crying, and his head thumping, Dan blamed it on the alcohol. He’d kissed Katie hard, open mouthed, dragging her against his chest, stroking her back, making her whimper. That’s how Fluke found them. That’s how he knew he’d sunk as low as he could bear to, and if he didn’t change, he’d turn out just like Jimmy.

Ant’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw Fluke drop in on the wave right on top of Dan, forcing him to swing his board away or risk a collision. It was an aggressive move and there was normally nothing aggressive about Fluke. Normally, he would never be able to out-surf Dan like that.

“What the fuck was that about?” he said to Mitch.

“Dan screwed up big time. Made out with Katie.”

“Fluke’s Katie?”

“Yep.”

“What’s bad about that? She’s a hot little thing. Too young?”

“Twenty-one, not too young, but she’s Fluke’s baby sister.”

“Still not getting it.”

Mitch floated his board perpendicular to Ant’s. “If it was your sister, Arabella, Dan had his dirty paws on, you’d be ok with that?”

Ant made eye contact. “Shit no. Ok, I’ve got the point.”

When Dan paddled over, there was a strained silence. Mitch broke it by saying. “What were you thinking, mate?”

Dan exhaled, swung his board around to face Ant and Mitch. “Not enough, obviously. I really screwed up. If Fluke could take me out, he would.”

“What happened?” said Ant.

“I’ve got no friggin’ excuse. She was into it too, but I let it happen.” Dan dropped his eyes, “More than let it happen. I don’t know what would’ve gone on if Fluke hadn’t come back when he did. I didn’t force her or anything – she was plenty willing – but I wasn’t going to stop it either.” Dan sighed, “She was the one woman in my life who I had any relationship with that didn’t involve a retail transaction or fucking.”

Ant reached across and grabbed Dan’s board dragged it closer. “It’s a new day, mate. Fluke’ll get over it.”

“I’m not sure he will. I’m not sure I want him to.”