by Leslie Pike
“Okay, here goes.”
He reboots the song and takes his place off to my right. My head is turned looking into his eyes as Bill Medley sings about the time of his life.
Nikos saunters toward me, calling me with his crooked finger. He takes me around the waist and turns me to face him. We hold on each other for a tender moment and then he dips me backwards. I lean my head back with the smooth movement.
Turning around with my back to him, he lifts my arm and I let it fall passionately against his neck, my hand resting on the side of his face. He runs a hand down my arm and over the side of my breast. Then he spins me out and back in again.
My foot sticks on the tile, and there’s a momentary hiccup. But Nikos pays no attention. He takes me in his arms and we salsa and cha cha to the music, in our own variation of the dance. I’m remembering more than I gave myself credit for. Hey, I’m not half bad. He brings me to him. We pause and take in the moment for a few beats on “this could be love.” It’s the time of my life, no doubt.
Back in his arms he picks me up and twirls me around off the ground, holding on to my waist. I split my legs open and in my mind, we look just like Swayze and Grey. When he puts me down I get a kiss on the hand and a look that says something wonderful is happening.
He leaves me and runs to the sturdy iron chair next to the big wooden table under the loggia. It’s looks effortless as he climbs from one to the other. In a perfect display of his art, he jumps off the table then does a triple spin in the air! Oh my God! Naked dancing is the best thing ever! I get a kiss to both hands and then he moves sensually to the edge of the pool and turns back toward me.
When we hear this must be love, he stops dancing and locks eyes with me. He nods. I nod. I take a running start. One step away from my big moment, I trip on my own feet, and not only ram my head into his crotch with the full force of my body, but knock him over onto the concrete, where I land on top of him. I hear a scary sounding loud crack and then his painful cry. I quickly roll off.
“Son of a bitch!” He’s grimacing in pain, holding his balls with one hand while the other arm is lifted in the air. With his eyes squeezed tight, tears stream down his face. Oh oh.
“Oh my God! Nikos, I’m so sorry! What’s hurting?” I try to assess his injury, but he just ignores the question and curls into the fetal position. Above, the first firework explodes.
7
Nikos
Waiting for the MRI report is torture. Mostly because I’ve got too much time to think. If I just bruised the elbow, it’s a quick recovery. What if Jenny’s right and it’s broken? Then I’m fucked. My one job I have lined up is over before it starts.
With what I have saved I should make it to next month or the one after. That’s it.
Suddenly it’s clear. My reward for all the hard work has always been in the moment, when I was onstage doing what I love. But that’s as far as it goes. My entire career has led me nowhere financially. It’s been a life of instant gratification, where expensive watches and other impulse buys ate up whatever savings I had.
Meanwhile, my frank and beans are on fire and out of commission. My brothers find the situation amusing.
“God! Your balls are huge! Especially the right one,” says a horrified Nash. Then he starts laughing.
“Let me see,” says Christos lifting his side of the sheet. “Jesus! What’re you doing with King Kong’s balls?
They’re both laughing so hard tears are running down their faces. Nash has to lean on the wall to steady himself. It makes me start too. Ow! “Stop making me laugh you assholes! I may be out of a job!”
I can’t even rub my junk. I want nothing but this ice pack anywhere near my dick or balls. One measly pain pill the pissy nurse gave me isn’t doing much for the pain. When I get home I’m going to self-medicate. Think I’ve got two left and I’ll be taking both.
“Where’s Jenny?” I ask.
“She and the girls went back to the house to clean up before Mom and Dad get home. She said something about a broken plate in the hallway.”
“How did that happen?” Nash says lifting an eyebrow.
“We were leaning against the wall and knocked it off.”
They exchange looks.
“Leaning?” Christos says.
“I’m okay with everyone knowing, but she isn’t. Thinks it’s unprofessional because Dad’s her client. What’d you tell them?”
“I said you tripped, hurt your elbow and needed a ride to the ER,” Christos says. “And, that you didn’t want anybody to come. You’d see them at home,” adds Nash.
“I’m gonna have to tell them. I’ll just make sure they don’t say anything to Jenny. Otherwise, how am I gonna explain that I’m walking like I have a corn cob up my ass? Did I kick myself in the nuts when I tripped?”
All three of us laugh at the image.
“So, what exactly happened?” Christos says.
“Yeah. Give us details,” says Nash.
“We were dancing.”
“Oh yeah, they were “dancing”.” Christos air quotes the word and nods to Nash.
“And leaning,” he responds.
“We were. But…we were naked, and wet, and I had just jumped off the wooden dining table outside and she was running to jump in my arms, so I could lift her over my head.” I watch their dumbfounded faces. “It’s a long story. Suffice to say she tripped, rammed her head into my balls and I got knocked over. Didn’t quite make it to the water.”
Christos starts clapping and Nash joins him. “Impressive, brother.”
“Were you balls out when the ambulance arrived?”
“Yeah. It hurt too much to put pants on. She covered me with a towel until they got there. Brought me a pillow.”
“I’m never gonna get that image of you jumping off the table naked out of my mind,” Christos says.
“We need to burn the table,” says Nash, “who knows what else they did there.”
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Mom. She’d never eat on it again.”
We’re interrupted by the doctor.
“Well, looks like you’ve got a fracture in your elbow, Mr. Santini,” he says without mincing words.
“Shit.”
“But you’re lucky. It’s a clean break and in only one of the three bones that make up the elbow. You won’t have to wear a cast. You’ll go home in a sling and have physical therapy. In time you should be good.”
“How long before I can dance? I’m a professional dancer in Las Vegas. I’ve got a show in about three weeks.”
His shakes his head. “Oh no. Your recovery will be a good six weeks. The sling alone will be on for three. You won’t be able to dance at that level for a few months. And even then we’ll have to see how your therapy worked.”
I let it sink in for a few beats.
Nash and Christos lose their smiles. I look at their faces and see empathy now. That alone freaks me out.
Oh man, I am so fucked.
“The nurse will be in to give you instructions and you should follow up with an orthopedic doctor this week. If you need a referral, I have one.”
“No. My dad goes to someone.”
“I’ll sign your release papers in the next few minutes and send a pain prescription to your pharmacy. You should be out of here within the hour.”
“Could you give me hydrocodone, 750,5’s?”
“Have you taken them before?”
“Yes. As dancers we’re always nursing an injury. Those seem to work best.”
“Alright. I’m giving you a thirty-day supply. You shouldn’t need them after that.”
Whoo Hoo!
When the doctor walks out, the room goes silent. I’m lost in my thoughts and my brothers aren’t sure what to say.
“Hand me my cell.”
Nash grabs it from the table and passes it to me. I find Jenny’s name and call.
“Nikos! What’s happening? Did the doctor come in yet?”
“I’ve got a broken elbow.”
“I’m so sorry.” She starts crying. “It’s all my stupid fault. I thought I could do the dance.”
“It’s nobody’s fault.”
She dissolves in tears. Now I’m feeling sorry for her. And apparently so do Farrah and Kate, whose voices can be heard comforting her in the background.
“I’ll be home soon. And I expect my parents will too,” I say.
“Okay, I’m leaving now. Everything’s back in place except the plate. That was destroyed. Farrah’s going to say she did it. I had to tell them what we were up to. She and Kate are so nice. Call me later and let me know what you told your parents so we’re on the same page. Oh God. I just feel so bad. What’s going to happen with your job?”
“I don’t know. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I wish you’d let me tell my parents. We’re adults after all.”
“No! Please don’t.”
“Alright. Whatever you want.”
“Thank you.”
“And Jenny…”
“Yeah?”
“I had a great time.”
I can almost see her smile as the crying sniffles come to a stop.
Stretched out on the couch, I’ve taken my father’s spot. Right after I downed the two Vicodin I found in my bag along with one from my new stash. I’ve got a new prescription, so why not? They’re just starting to kick in. I wanna get everything out on the table before I head for my room. Good thing Christos and Nash handled the rest of the family. I didn’t need twenty people here listening to how I injured my balls. And even though Max and Gregory fought them to come, the adults held their ground. Now it’s just my parents and I, and they’re waiting patiently for the whole story. My mother has made popcorn as if they’re about to watch a movie.
“You sure you don’t want a bowl?” she says.
“I’m good.”
“You think you’ll be here for your birthday?”
“Probably.”
“Wonderful, son.”
My father settles in his chair, leg stretched out in front of him. “So, what’s the story? How did you break your elbow? And what happened there?” He points to my crotch.
It’s impossible not to smile as I begin. “I was entertaining Jenny…”
“Oh! I knew it, Nikos. You two are adorable together,” says my mother.
“Anyway, to be perfectly frank we were messing around and, well, we were dancing…”
I’m interrupted by my father’s declaration. “Romantic! Dancing’s good. What music did you use?”
“Valentino! Let him tell the story.”
“We got a little frisky and umm broke your plate in the hallway. That was the first thing that happened. But I’ll replace it, Mom.”
She waves my idea off. “No you won’t. I’ve got a hundred replacements.”
“So then we went swimming and afterwards we were dancing, recreating the “Dirty Dancing” bit where the girl runs to the guy and he lifts her in the air. But she tripped and her head rammed into my crotch and I got knocked over. That’s about it.”
They look at each other and smiles break out on their faces. My mother puts the back of her hand up to her mouth, covering a laugh.
“When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie,” my father’s voice lifts to the heavens, “...that’s amore.”
“Don’t start. Don’t make too much of this. And above all, don’t let on to Jenny that I told you. She really takes her job seriously and thinks it’s unprofessional to be bonking the son of a client.”
“Oh, Nikos, we both like her so much. We’d never think less of her for having such good taste in men,” my mother says.
“You were bonking?” my father says.
“Valentino! We don’t need to know the details.”
“He’s the one who brought it up! And quit scolding me. I’m all grown up, Sophia.”
She doesn’t fight him, but instead smiles. I know she likes when he comes back at her. Then she turns her attention to me.
“I can see it all over your face, my Nikos. You like this girl in a way I haven’t seen before. A mother knows.”
I ignore her accurate take on things and try to get up, but my balls say otherwise. “Whatever. I’m too tired to talk about it. And my nuts hurt. I’ll just sleep here. Can you get me another water, Mom?”
I’m not about to say I’m too high to walk anyway.
“Of course. And I’m going to bring you a better blanket. Then your father and I are going to bed. It’s been a long day.”
“Too long for some bonking, la mia bellezza?” She throws a kernel of popcorn at his head, and he laughs.
There’s the tree that the Santini boys don’t fall far from.
Only one pin light is on in the room. Settled in on the wide comfortable couch with my water and blanket, two down pillows and a plate full of Italian cookies, I call Jenny.
“How’re you feeling?” she says.
“I’m okay. My balls are trying to return to human size.”
“Wish I could kiss your boo boo.”
My dick twitches and my balls along with it. A stabbing pain reminds me not to get aroused. “Ow! Okay no sexy talk. That’s the rule tonight.”
“Oh! Sorry! Let’s talk about your elbow.”
“Yeah, nothing sexy there. I’m going to need three weeks of physical therapy to start.”
“You’re used to discipline so you’re going to do great. I expect you’ll do everything your therapist tells you.”
“Well, that’ll be you, so yeah.”
“You’re staying in St. Helena?”
“I am for the three weeks, then I’ll be going back to Vegas. I need to get back to the real world.”
There’s complete silence and I know that didn’t sound right.
“Not that this isn’t real. It’s just that I have my apartment to get back to and my life.” That definitely didn’t come out right.
“It’s fine, Nikos. We always knew you were going back.”
“But I want you to know today was… well, you’re really special, Jenny.”
I’m digging my own grave. Every comment sounds worse than the last stupid thing I’m saying, and I think I slurred a little.
“Are you medicated? What did they send you home with?”
“Vicodin. I took one of theirs and two of mine.”
“No! You shouldn’t do that. Take it as prescribed. Oh gee.”
“Don’t worry about it. I do it all the time.”
“That’s nothing to brag about.”
That one pisses me off. “I’m not bragging. I’m just telling you I know what I can handle. God.”
“I’m going to get off now. I’ll talk with you tomorrow when I come see your dad. Don’t take any more pills.”
It doesn’t escape me that her voice has completely changed. Gone is the sexy I wish I could kiss your boo boo tone, and in its place is a cool professionalism. Shit. But I’m too out of it to fight.
“Okay. See you then.”
Once I disconnect, my eyes close and before I know it I’m carried away to a dream. Dancing at The Bounce in Vegas. Everyone has the same face. It’s the girl with the big lips. The pool. A plate on the floor. Lips on mine. Jenny’s.
8
Jenny
The conversation was a revelation. It was the cold splash of water that forced me to face facts. I don’t know Nikos at all. Or more to the point, I only know the physical. That part of him is spectacular, which doesn’t help. I’ve had to try hard to get the images of us together out of my mind.
Can you fall for a man just because he’s beautiful and sexy? You shouldn’t. I know that. I’m smarter than that and stronger. Yeah. But oh, how it felt when he touched me. How it was to talk with him. But it all pales in the light of reason.
What if he has a drug problem?
What if he’s got a girlfriend?
Or three?
What if sex is all he has to give?
And worse than any other scenario I can imagine is the thought that what passed between us is nothing special to him. What I wanted from Peter was the physical. What I crave now from Nikos is the heart of him. Ironic that I yearned for sex from the holy man and a spiritual connection from the Vegas bad boy.
Sigmund Freud would have plenty to save about that.
And it’s already apparent I want much more. It’s also just as clear it’s not going to happen. I’m asking an orange to taste like an apple. If I had kept my own rules of conduct, I would have saved myself heartache, Nikos a broken elbow and a lost job, and Sophia a plate.
It’s getting increasingly difficult to be around him. The last few weeks have proved that. He tries everything there is to steal a look or a touch, but I’ve avoided getting in the position where we’re alone. Except during his physical therapy sessions, I have no problem focusing on my job then. It’s the moments in between that are difficult.
He usually calls at night, before he goes to bed. I can’t cut that off. I’ve gotten used to hearing his voice and the way he says goodnight. I know I’m stabbing myself in the heart and making things harder than it has to be. But it’s such a small blessing.
And soon that will be gone too.
I’ve taken to going to bed early. In bed by nine. Lights out at ten, waiting for his call. Television off by one. I’m having a hard time sleeping, although it’s the only escape from reality.
Why isn’t he calling tonight? I shut off the light an hour ago. Shit.
As if he felt my heart skipping a beat, the cell rings.
“Hi,” I say with a note of relief I’m unable to disguise.
“Hi you.”
“What’re you doing?”
“Waiting for Fallon to come on. What about you?” he says.
“The same. I want to see Justin Timberlake.”
“Great minds think alike.”
We both chuckle a little then there’s silence. But through the phone I feel something more than unspoken desire. The only thing is I think it’s all coming from me.
“Jenny, why are you being so distant? Did I do something?”
“I’m not being distant.”
