Bear Necessity

by James Gould-Bourn

  Danny looked at Krystal. “I think you can answer that one,” he said.

  “He poured it over his head.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s an idiot.”

  “Krystal tried to mace me,” said Danny.

  “Did you really?” said Will with more enthusiasm than Danny was comfortable with.

  “Sort of,” she said.

  “Cool,” said Will, digging into his arid cereal. “He probably deserved it.”

  “I like him,” said Krystal, nodding at Will.

  Danny rolled his eyes.

  “How do you know my dad anyway?” said Will through a mouthful of dry Coco Pops.

  “God hates me, so he sent Danny as punishment,” said Krystal.

  “Because you’re a stripper?”

  “Who said I was a stripper?”

  Will pointed at Danny. Danny squirmed.

  “The panda told him you were a stripper, actually,” he said. “Blame him.”

  “Well, the panda’s talking out of his furry arsehole, because I’m not a stripper. I’m a pole dancer, Will, and there’s a massive difference. See, anybody can be a stripper, it’s easy. All you gotta do is take off your clothes and wiggle your bits in somebody’s face—”

  “Yeah, see, I don’t think Will needs to know about—”

  “—But pole dancing? That’s a different thing altogether. Pole dancing is a skill. It takes a lot of hard work and practice. Pole dancers aren’t just dancers. They’re artists, mate. Us lot, we’re like the Leonardo da Vincis of the entertainment industry, but we’re better, because even he couldn’t do what we do.”

  “Why?” said Will.

  Krystal shrugged. “Not flexible enough.”

  “And on that note, we should probably get going,” said Danny, keen to bring the conversation to an end.

  “Going where?” said Krystal.

  “The club. To practice.”

  “No chance, mate. I’ve got an appointment for a Hollywood at noon.”

  “What’s a Hollywood?” said Will.

  “It’s like a Brazilian, but more painful.”

  “What’s a Brazilian?”

  “Ask your dad,” said Krystal.

  “I’m not talking to him.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Can’t it wait?” said Danny. “The competition’s in four days!”

  “Yeah, which is why I was ready at eight o’clock this morning while you were still tucked up in your jimjams.”

  “I told you already, I was looking for Will!”

  “And my regulars’ll be looking for new places to stuff their money if I miss this appointment, and appointments with Fernando are not easy to come by. He’s amazing. He’s like the Mr. Miyagi of the waxing world.”

  “You were looking for me?” said Will, his stonewall crumbling beneath the weight of his curiosity. This time it was Danny’s turn to remain silent.

  “Are you going to tell him or am I?” said Krystal.

  “Tell me what?” said Will.

  Danny slumped in his chair like a boxer whose trainer had just thrown in the towel. “I thought you’d run away,” he said. “I came home yesterday and you weren’t here and, well, I thought you’d taken off because you were still angry with me about the whole panda thing.”

  “He called the police and everything,” said Krystal.

  “Is that true?” said Will.

  Danny nodded. “I didn’t know what else to do. Losing your mum was bad enough, but the thought of losing you…” His hand trembled as he absently circled a rogue Coco Pop with his finger. Krystal put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re my best friend, Will. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you, mate.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me about the panda thing?”

  “Because I was embarrassed, that’s why. I thought you’d be ashamed of me. I’d be ashamed of me. Who wants a dancing panda for a dad?”

  “Me!” said Will, prodding himself in the chest. “I’m not angry about you being a panda, Dad. I’m angry that you didn’t tell me about it. I’m proud of what you’re doing. I saw you in the park, you’re awesome. I never knew you could dance like that.”

  “He couldn’t until he met me,” said Krystal. “Just saying.”

  “Thanks, mate,” said Danny. “Let’s hope the judges feel the same.”

  “Judges?” said Will.

  “Battle of the Street Performers,” said Krystal. “It’s like X Factor for homeless people.”

  “But Dad’s not homeless,” said Will.

  Danny sighed. “Not yet, I’m not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that we really need to win this competition,” said Danny, wanting to be honest without being too honest.

  Will looked at Danny and Krystal as he took a moment to process this.

  “So win,” he said matter-of-factly, as if winning required nothing more than a verbal commitment to do so. He closed the matter with a mouthful of cereal.

  “I can’t. Not without Krystal.”

  “Nice try,” she said without looking up from her phone, “but I am officially immune to emotional blackmail. Five years on a pole will do that to a girl.”

  Will fixed Krystal with the same pleading eyes that he used to give Liz when the ice cream truck was approaching.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she said. Will didn’t blink. “Danny, will you please tell your son to stop looking at me like that?”

  “He’ll stop if you agree to help us.”

  “I told you already, I’ve got plans.”

  “Please,” said Will.

  “No.”

  “Pretty please.”

  “No!”

  “Extra please.”

  “Extra no.”

  “I’ll give you a hundred pounds,” said Will.

  Krystal burst out laughing, her air of indifference suddenly obliterated.

  “I thought you said he takes after his mum?” she said. Danny held his hands up like somebody caught near a shop display that had just collapsed. “You really are a chip off the old block,” she said to Will.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “It wasn’t a compliment,” said Krystal.

  “Please,” said Danny. “Will you help us?”

  Krystal stared at Danny, and then at Will, and then at the space between them both.

  She sighed. “What did I ever do to get lumbered with you two?”

  “Is that a yes?” said Danny.

  “It’s a hurry the f—” Krystal glanced at Will. “—hurry the frig up before I change my frigging mind,” she said. Danny and Will shared a secret low-five beneath the table as she stood and adjusted her miniskirt. “Might want to change out of that shirt first though,” she said, pointing at Danny. “And you might want to get out of those pj’s,” she said, this time looking at Will.

  “Where am I going?” said Will.

  “She’s just joking,” said Danny.

  “Do I look like I’m joking?” said Krystal. “If I’m giving up my Saturday, then so are you. Come on, chop-chop!”

  CHAPTER 30

  Danny lingered outside the club as Krystal disappeared inside.

  “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this,” he said, looking up and down the street like a nervous getaway driver.

  “I promise,” said Will as the doors clattered open and two stocky men emerged carrying one of the black-and-white cow-skin couches from the VIP lounge.

  “Good,” said Danny, watching the men dump the furniture in a nearby alley full of dumpsters and plastic beer crates. “And promise you’ll keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them. There are things in there that you shouldn’t be looking at. Not for another few years at least.”

  “Like boobs?” said Will.

  Danny sighed. “Just keep your eyes closed, okay?”

  Will rolled his eyes and covered them.r />
  “No peeking,” said Danny as he guided him into the club.

  An old lady in a blue tabard was busy lugging an even older vacuum cleaner around the well-worn carpet, which wasn’t so much in need of a clean as a Viking sea burial. Sitting side by side on the podium, two women dressed in nothing but bikini bottoms were casually passing a cigarette back and forth while they waited for the first of the punters to arrive. They both waved at Danny, who sheepishly waved back. So did Will, essentially blowing his cover in the process.

  “I said no peeking!” said Danny as he briskly ushered Will through the door behind the bar.

  They found Krystal on the floor, resting her forehead on her outstretched legs as she warmed up for the second time that morning.

  “Is Fanny renovating or something?” said Danny.

  “What?” she said, looking up.

  “The couches,” said Danny. He jerked his thumb towards the main room.

  “Oh. Yeah. The health inspectors are coming next week, and Fanny was scared they might be contaminated.”

  “With what?”

  “With more DNA than the national crime database,” she said. Danny shuddered. “I told her I knew a bloke who could fumigate them for her, but she didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “At least one Fanny’s getting a refurb,” said Danny. He briefly chuckled at his own joke before he saw how close he was to being murdered.

  “Mum would have loved this,” said Will, running his fingers across the mirrors and pressing the creaky floorboard with his toes. “All the dancing space, I mean. Not the club. I don’t think she’d like the club. No offense,” he said to Krystal.

  “None taken,” she said, climbing to her feet. “I don’t like it much either, which is why I really, really cherish my days off.” She scowled at Danny, who pretended not to notice as he focused instead on his own series of less demanding warm-ups.

  “Okay,” said Krystal once Danny had sufficiently limbered up. “Get that panda suit on and show us what you’ve got. I want to see the whole routine from start to finish.”

  She unstacked a couple of plastic chairs and placed them side by side.

  “Will,” she said, sitting down and gesturing to the chair beside her. “Come and join me on the judging panel.” Will took a seat. “I want you to watch everything that furry fool does, and tell me if something doesn’t look right. Got it?”

  “Got it,” said Will. He shuffled to the edge of his seat.

  “Good. And remember to be mean. I know he’s your dad, but you can’t go easy on him. You’ve got to act like a judge, and judges are arseholes, okay? Now, show us your mean face.”

  Will pictured Reg’s face and tried to emulate his permanent scowl.

  “I said mean, not constipated! Try again, like this.”

  Krystal pulled a face that made Danny’s fur stand on end. Will did his best to follow suit.

  “Much better,” she said. “Danny, over to you.”

  The music kicked in and Danny got to work, his eyes fixed firmly on the mirror. He’d never performed the entire act in front of Krystal before, and doing it now made him nervous enough, but performing in front of her and Will made his sweat glands open like the starting gates at a greyhound track. Still, aside from stumbling a couple of times and missing a handful of beats, blunders that he felt he recovered from well with various spontaneous adjustments, Danny made it through the performance soggy and spent but mostly unscathed.

  “So?” he said, pulling his mask off and wiping his face. Krystal gestured for Will to go first.

  “I thought it was terrible,” he said.

  “What!” said Danny.

  Even Krystal look shocked. “Seriously?” she said.

  “No, but you told me to be mean.”

  “Yeah, not that mean.”

  “Oh.”

  “What did you really think?” she said.

  “I thought it was awesome!” said Will. Danny shot him a thumbs-up.

  “Okay,” said Krystal. She turned to Danny. “Well, the good news is that it wasn’t terrible, but the bad news is that it wasn’t even close to awesome. You won’t come last, but you sure as buggery won’t come first either, not unless you drop the improvs. I don’t know if they were deliberate or whether you’d just forgotten the routine—you know, the one we’ve been through a bajillion times—but stick to the script next time.”

  “The judges don’t know the script, so how are they going to know if I stick to it or not?” said Danny a little defensively.

  “Balance, Danny. The routine is supposed to have balance. Right now you’ve got too many spins in one section and too much fancy footwork in the other. The judges will either think you’re improvising or that your choreography is crap. Either way, they’re going to mark you down for it. Also, you’re still screwing up four or five moves. That kick-twist needs more work, for a start.”

  She stood and positioned herself beside Danny. Will followed, keen to observe the process.

  “See, it needs to be more like this,” she said, effortlessly pulling off the move in question.

  “Like this?” said Danny, trying to mimic her movements.

  “No, see, you’re still dragging the foot,” she said, performing the move again, but slower this time. Danny tried a second time with similar results.

  “Like this?” said Will, kicking and twisting just as Krystal had instructed.

  “Yes!” she said. “Exactly! Do that again.”

  Will pulled off another perfect kick-twist.

  “You, mate, are a natural. Any chance you can show your old man how to do that?”

  “Put your foot like this,” said Will, instructing Danny to follow his lead. “Then kick off like this, and then when you spin you need to land in this position right here.”

  Danny watched him again before going through the motions himself.

  “Perfect!” said Krystal, low-fiving Will and high-fiving Danny in the side of the head. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “I guess not,” said Danny, surprised by how easy it was.

  “And that other move you did, the one that went like this,” said Will, spinning and dropping to his knees before returning to his feet in one fluid motion. “You need to twist faster when you get up, otherwise you’ll keep missing the next beat, right, Krystal?”

  “Right,” she said. She looked at Danny and gave him her best what-the-fuck look. “Exactly. Do that again.”

  Will repeated the move, emphasizing the twist so Danny could see it better.

  “Like this?” said Danny, but even as he spoke he knew that he’d nailed it.

  “Yeah,” said Will. “Then you can move into that next section.” He pulled off the next few moves in the sequence while Krystal watched in amazement.

  “Have you seen this routine before?” she said.

  “No,” said Will.

  “Then how do you know so much of it?”

  “Because I just watched it.”

  “And you’ve already memorized the whole thing?”

  “No,” said Will. “Not the whole thing. But most of it probably.”

  “Danny, get your arse over here,” she said, sitting down and patting the chair beside her. Danny did as he was told. “Will, can I ask you a big favor?”

  “I guess,” he said, a little unsurely.

  “Would you mind pressing play on that stereo and showing us everything you can remember?”

  Will looked at the stereo and shrugged.

  “Okay,” he said.

  Danny barely breathed and Krystal hardly blinked for the next three minutes and twelve seconds, their vital functions held hostage by Will as he tore his way through their performance. He couldn’t remember every single move, but he hit far more than he missed, especially the more challenging maneuvers that Danny had struggled with the most; and when the music stopped almost two hundred dance moves later, the only sound that could be heard in the otherwise silent studio was the rasp of Will sucking air
into his lungs as Danny and Krystal stared at each other in disbelief.

  “How the flipping flip do you flipping know how to dance like that?” said Krystal, her bracelets jangling like wind chimes as she pounded her palms in applause.

  “His mum,” said Danny. He smiled at Will, who nodded in agreement.

  “You mean to tell me you’ve had a perfectly good dance teacher living under your roof all this bloody time and you didn’t think that information was maybe worth sharing?”

  “I didn’t know,” he said, the pride in his voice partly hiding the shame.

  “You realize how important this is, don’t you?” said Krystal. She leapt out of her chair. “You understand what this means, right?”

  “No,” said Danny, struggling to follow. “What does this mean?”

  “Jesus, do I really have to spell it out for you? It means, Danny, that I don’t have to cancel my appointment with Fernando!” She grabbed her coat and made for the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Will, teach him everything he needs to know.”

  “Wait!” yelped Danny, but Krystal had already gone.

  He stared at the door as it creaked to a halt, sure she’d be back any minute. Then, realizing she was serious, he turned to Will, who was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, and smoothed his fur with his palms.

  “I guess we better get started,” he said.

  * * *

  Apart from a suspiciously long bathroom break for Will, which only ended when Vesuvius escorted him back to the studio after Will had “accidentally” taken a wrong turn and “accidentally” ended up in the VIP lounge, the two of them didn’t leave the room for the next few hours. Nor did they stop dancing, working their way through the routine over and again while the flimsy walls and loose floorboards shook in time to the song that throbbed from the speakers on repeat. They danced side by side, watching each other’s footwork in the mirror in front of them, Danny looking for guidance and Will looking for faults. Every time Danny fluffed a move or accidentally deviated from the routine, Will would stop the music and walk him through the troublesome step or section before restarting the track and going through the performance from the beginning. If neither of them was sure of a particular move or sequence, they would huddle around Danny’s phone to watch a recording that Danny had taken of Krystal demonstrating the routine from start to finish, which he often consulted during his solo practice sessions. Unlike when Danny would try and often fail to replicate Krystal’s moves directly from the video, this time he watched Will perform them before attempting his son’s renditions.