Grease Monkey Jive

by Paton, Ainslie

  “If Fluke were here, he’d say something smart right about now,” said Dan.

  “If Fluke were here, we wouldn’t be snarling at each other in the first place,” snarled Ant.

  Off topic and out of nowhere, Mitch said, “Dan, do you remember your mum much?”

  “Where’s that coming from?” said Ant, reeling back in his chair.

  Dan turned to face Mitch, ignore Ant. “Some. Why do you ask?”

  “Did your dad ever talk about her?”

  “Christ no. He hated her for leaving him and then he hated her worse for dying and leaving me with him.”

  “I think that might’ve made a difference, if our mothers had been in our lives,” said Mitch softly.

  “Maybe.” Dan remembered when Mitch’s mother died of breast cancer and what it did to Mitch when his father re-married and he didn’t gel with his new stepmother. He’d often wondered how different his own life would’ve been if he’d grown up with his mother and Bobbie instead of Jimmy.

  “Bullshit,” said Ant. “You’ve just finished telling me I’m the worst of us and my mother is alive and kicking and in my face on a daily basis.”

  “Yeah, and your mother would be horrified if she knew what you got up to and you know it. You keep it from her and she knows it and that’s why she’s up in your face,” said Mitch with deadly accuracy, leaving Ant open-mouthed.

  “This’ll sound stupid,” said Dan.

  “No more stupid than anything else you’ve said this morning,” said Ant.

  “Ignore him,” said Mitch.

  “My mum was a ballroom dancer. I remember she used to whirl me around the kitchen. She taught me to dance. I used to love it. She always smelled so good. She had the prettiest dresses.”

  “That’s a really lovely memory, mate,” said Mitch.

  “Jesus Christ,” said Ant rolling his eyes. “You’re not a five year old, Dan.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Ant,” said Mitch. “Go on, Dan.”

  “No. I don’t know what I was going to say anyway.”

  “Well, I’ve got something to say,” said Ant, glaring at Mitch. “I’ve got a bet to make.”

  “What, for something different?” said Mitch.

  Ant ignored him. “Since you pussies are so keen to get in touch with your feminine sides and all that crap, I’ll bet you a thousand bucks apiece you can’t last a term or whatever at that ballroom place up on Darley Road.”

  “That’s fucking cruel, Ant,” Mitch snapped.

  “No. It’s not,” said Dan. He was thinking about his mother and how he’d loved to dance with her, Bobbie giving tips from the sidelines about how he should hold her and where he should look. How he’d avoided dance floors since she died. “I’m not speaking for you Mitch, but I’m up for it. Double or nothing.”

  “You’re saying you’ll sign up for classes and when you drop out you’ll pay me two Gs?” queried Ant.

  “I’m saying when I finish the term, you’ll pay me two Gs,” said Dan.

  “I’m in,” said Mitch. “Same deal. I know that place. Wallace’s. Belinda takes classes there.”

  “I’m in,” said Fluke, coming up behind Dan and Mitch. “I still want you dead, Dan, but I want to take money off Ant more, so I’m in too.”

  Ant looked up at Fluke; he knew his money was done on him. The little man didn’t have two Gs to pay out, so he’d stick this bet or die trying. He looked at Mitch, being all supportive of Dan, but only responding to the heat of the moment. He felt safe betting Mitch would crash and burn. He looked at Dan. He wasn’t looking all sad sack any more. No more Bambi. Dan was looking determined, like whatever it was that ate Bambi for dinner. He figured he’d lose his dough on Dan. Again.

  “Gentleman, we have us a bet.” Ant rubbed his hands together. This would sort the men from the boys and get Dan over whatever personal identity crisis he was going through. He reached across the table, snatched up the pink marshmallow, tossed it above his head, and caught it in his mouth, swallowing it whole. “Bring it on.”

  10. Enrolment

  “Alex, I will never be able to do that!” said Belinda.

  “Yes, you will.”

  “No, I won’t. I’m too heavy, I’m too clumsy. I’ll hurt Scott.”

  “You won’t.”

  “You better not,” laughed Scott.

  Belinda groaned. “I’m scared.”

  “You can do it,” said Alex, her hand on the other girl’s shoulder. It was Belinda’s turn to try Bird from the standing start. The other members of the class sat about on the floor watching wide-eyed. Alex knew the girls were all secretly glad it wasn’t their turn and the boys were put out they were benched while Scott did the heavy lifting

  “You’ve got good elevation, good posture, you know the position. The worst that happens is you kick another man in the balls.”

  The whole class laughed, Belinda loudest, and Scott just rolled his eyes. “Well, it won’t be the first time, girlfriend, and it won’t be the last.”

  “Ready,” Alex said.

  “Ready,” said Scott. He stepped back into a lunge position, his hands braced on Belinda’s hips. He looked her in the eye and said, “Jump girl,” and she did and he lifted her above his head.

  Belinda said, “Wow!” as she arched her hips against Scott’s palms and death gripped his wrists.

  “Let go of his wrists. You can do this, Belinda,” said Alex, looking up into Belinda’s open-mouthed wonder.

  One hand at a time Belinda let go and slowly moved her arms to her sides, opening them up like wings. She said, “Wow!” again and her classmates laughed.

  “I’m going to walk with you, Bel,” said Scott. “Keep your head up. Don’t look down.” He took two steps forward and Belinda gave a squeak of terror. “You’re doing good.” He walked in a small circle ending up facing the class, which meant Belinda was facing the door to the studio when it flung open.

  She let out a gasp, grabbed for Scott’s wrists, and dropped her legs too quickly making Scott stagger in his attempt to stop her from crashing to the ground. He gave a grunt, an upward push, and caught Belinda in a sitting position, depositing her feet on the ground. “And that‘s how it’s not done,” he said dryly, turning to look at whatever had stuck a knife in Belinda’s self-confidence.

  There were two men. One tall, one short. The tall one was handsome, the short one was a dead ringer for Ginger Megs. Both of them had their mouths open in surprise. Tourists. Clearly in the wrong place. Alex stepped forward to sort it out and Scott turned back to the class to continue.

  When Alex got to the doorway another man had joined the first two. The third man looked like he’d walked off the set of a photo shoot, athletic, tanned skin, huge dark blue eyes, and a tangle of dark hair that fell over his forehead. He appeared to be the spokesperson and Alex wondered if he would sound as good as he looked. He looked outrageously gorgeous and, sadly, she figured he’d have an outrageous ego to match.

  “Hi, I’m Alex Gibson. I’m a teacher here. Can I help you?”

  “Hi. I’m Dan, this is Mitch and Fluke,” the gorgeous man said, gesturing to his mates in turn. His voice was warm and strong, like hot coffee when you needed a pick up.

  “Fluke?” Alex turned to the redhead who said, “My name is Luke, but you can call me Fluke. Everyone else does.”

  Alex smiled. They were tourists for sure, but they were interesting at least. She turned back to face gorgeous Dan. “So, why are you guys here?”

  “We want to learn to dance.”

  “You do know this is a ballroom dance school?”

  “We do.”

  “You want to learn ballroom dancing?”

  “We do.”

  Alex put her hands to her hips, “Seriously?”

  “We’re serious, aren’t we boys?” said Dan. He knew Fluke was thinking two Gs and Mitch was thinking Belinda. He got a chorus of agreement, but the teacher just sighed. She was tapping her toe, her expression questioning. She was clearly imp
atient with them for some reason.

  “We really are serious,” Dan said, frowning at Alex, thinking maybe they’d come at a bad time and should’ve rung first. Ant had really stitched them up this time.

  “Do you know how many men want to learn ballroom dancing?” she asked.

  “Er, no,” said Dan, flicking a look at Fluke, just in case he might miraculously know that one and getting a shrug in return.

  “Usually, none.”

  “But you have a bunch of blokes over there.” Dan nodded towards the class in progress.

  “Yes. All of them have been coming for years and all of them started here originally because a wife or a girlfriend brought them.”

  “Ah.”

  “You see, I’m thinking you really don’t want to learn to dance and maybe this is a joke to you.”

  Dan hesitated. It wouldn’t do to admit they were here to win a bet. That would be what this chick – what this girl, ah, woman – geez she was beautiful – would already be thinking. She had an oval shaped face with these incredible eyes, the colour of liquid amber, and this long silky black pony tail and a look that said she’d had enough of this and had somewhere better to be.

  He simply hadn’t reckoned on enrolling being this hard. Staying the distance, doing the actual work, sure, but if they couldn’t get past this surprisingly beautiful ball buster with a bee up her backside just to enrol, the whole bet would be off and Ant would think up some other challenge and have them in cooking classes or book club to get in touch with their feminine sides. This was preferable. It was bound to be a workout of some sort and if it brought back memories of his mother that couldn’t be a bad thing.

  The hesitation was enough. Alex had seen this countless times. Unattached men around this age wandering in on a whim, thinking the studio was a new place to pick up desperate and lonely women. Thinking they’d be the heroes. Thinking that since they danced in clubs and bars this couldn’t possibly be that hard. They took up time, they wasted resources, they irritated her, and they outright disgusted Scott. They never even lasted a term, they were disruptive, often obnoxious and inappropriate, and usually asked for their money back. It was better to get rid of them before they signed up than to deal with them any further.

  “I think you might be happier somewhere else,” she said.

  “You won’t teach us?” asked Dan. He had coffee grinds in his voice now, clearly put out.

  “I’m just saying, I don’t think you really want to be here and, frankly, we’d rather not waste our time,” she said, with a smile she hoped made her rejection appear more palatable. Dan was glaring at her now, his handsome face crinkled into a frown, his arms folded across his broad chest. He was obviously not a man who was used to being told no.

  He said, “I want to be here. I want to learn and I promise you I’ll see out a term and do my best to be a decent student.”

  Mitch said, “I want to be here. I’ll sign up for a term, no worries.”

  The redhead said, “I think I’ll probably be pretty hopeless at this, but I want to give it a go.”

  Alex sighed. She mirrored Dan’s stance, folding her arms and frowning.

  “What experience do you have?”

  “None, is that a problem?” said Dan and there was a snap to his voice that made Alex lift her chin. “We’re here to sign up for a beginner’s class.”

  “What other physical activities do you do?” She watched for Dan’s frown to telegraph more aggressive behaviour. She could tell by the way Mitch and Fluke shifted that they were on alert for whatever happened next, but Dan just opened his arms out, quirked his palms up, and shrugged, flashing a smile that lit up his whole face and Alex had to concentrate to take in exactly what he said, because the way he said it arrested all her senses.

  “Look, we’re good guys. We don’t have any particular qualification to be here. We didn’t know that mattered. We’re all fit, we surf, but hey, if you don’t want to teach us, that’s ok. We’ll find somewhere else.”

  She thought that might be the end of it. That he might turn and go, his mates hot on his heels, but he just stood there and looked at her, that oh-so-sexy smile still curving on his full lips.

  “You surf?” She was imaging Scott’s reaction to that. Surfers had been the bane of Scott’s life growing up, tough guys who travelled in packs and thought it was funny to beat up on the boy who was different.

  “We surf. We work out. We’re fit enough, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m a mechanic, Mitch is builder, and Fluke can keep up,” Dan said. He was all amusement now, that hint of aggression gone.

  Alex sighed. “What do you want out of coming here?” She was beginning to think she’d have to let them enrol and then work out a way to make sure they didn’t waste too much time or annoy Scott or the other students too much.

  “We want to try something different. Is that so wrong?”

  She dropped her arms from their defensive folded posture. “No, it’s not. The beginner’s class is Monday nights at 6pm and the new term starts next week. Dress in something loose and comfortable. You need shoes with leather soles. Bring a towel.” She wagged a finger at them. “And don’t be late.”

  “Thank you, Alex,” said Dan. He put his hand out and she felt it, warm and calloused in her own. “We’ll be here.”

  They made just as much noise leaving as they had arriving and Alex wondered if they truly would be back or whether the bravado would wear off in the street. She wondered what it was that made a man like Dan suddenly decide he wanted to learn ballroom dancing and convince some friends to come with him. She wondered why shaking his hand had been a tiny bit thrilling.

  As she made her way back into the studio proper, Belinda caught her eye. “What did that lot want? Waste of space cowboys.”

  “You know them?” said Alex, a sinking feeling striking her.

  “Yeah. Mitch is my ex-boyfriend.”

  “Did you know they were coming?”

  “Absolutely not.” Belinda shook her head emphatically. “I can’t imagine for one minute why they’d be here, but it’s got nothing do with me. We broke up two months ago and we’ve not even spoken since.”

  “Are they trouble?”

  “Not trouble exactly. Fluke is a sweetheart, but Dan is a player and Mitch – I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”

  The sinking feeling became a deep hole. “I did give them a hard time. They might not come back.”

  Belinda’s expression brightened. “We can only hope.”

  11. Cavemen Can Dance

  “You were going to tell me about the three Neanderthals exactly when?”

  Alex grimaced. She should’ve warned Scott, but she really thought the three new starters for the beginner’s ballroom class would have vaporised like vampires in sunlight by now. But there they were – Dan, Mitch, and the skinny redhead with the nickname, Flunk, Flung, no Fluke, that’s right.

  Just looking at Dan, Alex was reminded of his attractions. He was wearing a pair of very faded blue jeans with rips at the knees and the pockets torn out of the backside and a much-washed soft cotton t-shirt that fell against the wall of his chest, doing nothing to disguise his sculptured muscle structure. His hair was wet and brushed back from his face. He looked tanned and relaxed, like he’d just come off the beach and tumbled into his old favourite clothes.

  Neither Mitch or Fluke looked quite so at ease. Both of them were wearing loose cotton pants with drawstrings and surf brand t-shirts.

  “I did try to get rid of them,” she said.

  “Not hard enough, girlfriend.”

  “They’re here now and they help even up our numbers, so you don’t have to work so hard being the extra partner.”

  Scott grunted so Alex said, “Is that caveman talk for ‘I’ll behave’?”

  “Tell me when I haven’t behaved like a perfect gentleman?”

  Now it was Alex’s turn to go non-verbal. She snorted.

  “Oh very classy, Alexandr
a,” Scott eye rolled. “Let’s get this over with. If we’re clever we might only have to suffer one week of them.” He tipped his head to study the three men. “At least two of them are pretty and one of them is very pretty –” he looked back to Alex, “– in a Neanderthal kind of way,” and Alex knew she was forgiven for not scaring them off.

  Scott clapped his hands for attention and Alex said, “Hello everyone, I’m Alex, this is Scott, and we’ll be teaching your ballroom for beginner’s class for the next twelve weeks.”

  She surveyed the motley assembly of people: three couples, two of them in her mother’s age group, and the third, snuggled together, were wedding waltz L-platers. Four single girls, clearly friends and all in their early twenties, and the three Neanderthals made up the rest. .

  “The purpose of the beginner’s course is to introduce you to the basics of old-fashioned social dancing where you hold your partner in your arms, look into each other’s eyes, and dance together,” said Alex and Scott promptly took her in his arms and whirled her around to everyone’s amusement.

  “It’s much more romantic than your average night club where half the time you can’t even see your partner,” she said and got a laugh and L-plate couple snuggled closer.

  “We’ll teach you the seven most popular dances and, by the time our term is up, you’ll be able to get out on the floor and blitz it with the best of them,” said Scott, dipping Alex so low that her ponytail flicked the floor.

  “You’ll learn the waltz, foxtrot, tango, rumba, cha cha, rock and roll, and samba,” he said, leading Alex through a small demonstration of each.

  The married women looked starry-eyed, the married men worried, the pre-wedding couple were only looking at each other, and the four single girls were looking at Dan, Mitch, and Fluke. Mitch and Fluke were looking incredibly uncomfortable, Dan just looked amused. Alex knew they were murmuring together. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but their expressions said something like, ‘Holy shit, what’re we doing here?’ It made her smile and Scott said, “What?” as he jumped her to his hip as part of their rock and roll demonstration.