Martinis and Memories

by A. L. Michael

  ‘Excuse me?’ I blinked, looking around as if he’d appear just so I could berate him.

  ‘He says you have to go home because he has a surprise for you for tomorrow and he needs to set up.’ Aria recited it clearly, as if to make sure I knew she had nothing to do with any of this. I didn’t believe her.

  ‘So I, once again, am leaving my club in Jacques’ hands whilst I do nothing? What am I meant to do?’

  ‘Oh!’ Aria held her finger up to pause me, then looked embarrassed and produced a piece of paper folded in her back pocket. ‘From Jacques. Instructions.’

  I opened the note with irritation, wondering what the hell he was up to now.

  Bel, darling one,

  The club may be your baby, but I’ve helped babysit – let me show you what I can do. Go home and relax. Or better yet, get dressed up and go chase some excitement and romance. We’re still young, dontcha know?

  Tomorrow you’ll be amazed. I promise.

  J

  I blinked at Aria.

  ‘So I suppose I have no say in this?’

  She shrugged and grinned. ‘Well, I certainly have no say in whether you have no say. I’m just doing what I’m told.’

  ‘A terrible trait in a woman,’ I said with faux despair, then threw up my hands. ‘Okay, well, if I have no choice, I have no choice. I’ll go spend the next few hours biting my nails and worrying about what tomorrow will bring then, shall I?’

  ‘Sounds good.’ Aria laughed. ‘I’ll watch Euan to make sure he doesn’t run off with the decent booze.’

  ‘Smart move.’ I nodded at her before grabbing my bag. I waved goodbye to Euan and watched as he went to get up and say something. I hurried off, shouting out that I had some errands to run and thanking him for helping out. It was cruel, but as nice as he’d been over the last few weeks, exactly like that boy I’d first dated, I didn’t want him getting attached.

  As I started walking back home, I realized how little I wanted to be there. It wasn’t until everyone started telling me I was lonely that I’d started to feel that way. Now, the idea of going home and being by myself, or worse, finding Mum there eager to have a girly chat about Sam, just felt like a waste of an evening.

  I knew what I wanted to do, of course, but it felt like too much to ask. It felt like putting myself out there again and being open to rejection. And yet, hadn’t he made it clear how much he cared? Hadn’t he held my hand, and introduced me to his kid, and told me he missed me?

  This wasn’t a teenager taking her chance because she couldn’t bear to be without him. This was a grown-arse woman deciding what she wanted.

  Vulnerable. I had to be vulnerable.

  I pulled out my phone and called him as I marched through Soho, a little more aggressive with each step I took. He answered on the second ring.

  ‘Well hello there, darlin’.’

  ‘Hello there indeed,’ I said back, wondering what on earth that meant. ‘Any plans for this evening?’

  ‘Straight to it as always, like a heart attack.’ He laughed, the sound warm and comforting. ‘No hi, how are you, it’s always a bloody emergency with you.’

  ‘One that involves a dire need for wine and an escape from my mother. Are you busy?’

  ‘I’ve actually just made plans,’ he said and I felt myself deflate a little. Well, okay, it wasn’t an out and out rejection, but it was disappointing. Why didn’t I have any friends I could turn to? They were all working for me at the club.

  ‘Oh, okay, never mind…’

  ‘Bel, I’ve just made plans to take you out on the most amazing night of your life. Be ready by seven.’

  I paused, the laughter in his voice evident.

  ‘You are a bit of a bastard, you know?’

  ‘I am very aware, but thanks for the reminder,’ he said. ‘It’s always good to be brought back down a few pegs, you know?’

  ‘Ah, see, that’s one of my special talents,’ I said, already wondering what I should wear, how I could be my most impressive, most ‘Bel’ self. ‘So where shall I meet you?’

  ‘King’s Cross station.’ I could almost hear the cogs whirring in his brain and wondered what he had planned.

  ‘And just to confirm, this is a child-free visit?’

  ‘Declan will be heartbroken, but I want you to myself tonight.’ His voice had dropped to a throaty whisper, and I felt my heartbeat quicken.

  ‘Well that’s very interesting, Mr Porter. What is the dress code for this evening?’

  He paused. ‘A little bit vintage? Shoes that you can move in.’

  ‘Move? As in walk, or dance?’

  ‘Both. And don’t think you’re getting anything else out of me. We, Bel Stone, are going on a date.’

  I held my breath and said nothing, because all I was thinking was, about damn time.

  * * *

  Thankfully Mum was out when I returned home, though I noticed a new pair of curtains had been put up in my living room and there were throw cushions on top of her bed, which was no longer folded back into a sofa but demanding space and recognition. I am here. I am staying here.

  No time to worry about that now. I had a date to prepare for. A date! God, the last time I’d been on a real one of those was forever ago. And yet, I was excited. My stomach fluttered and bubbled, and I wanted to dance around a little. I kind of wanted a girlfriend around who knew what this meant, who knew who Brodie was and could shriek and clap with me. I’d never wanted that before. Perhaps I’d never had news I wanted to share.

  ‘Vintage’ wasn’t much to go on, but I could definitely work that look.

  * * *

  When I turned up at King’s Cross station, I suddenly felt awkward, as if I’d gone overboard. As Arabella, I was always meant to be looked at – my outfits and make-up were designed to attract attention. But that was in the sanctity of the club. Standing by myself outside a train station made me feel oddly vulnerable.

  I wore a red Fifties swing dress, printed with little black and white swallows on it. I loved that dress, with its halter neck and swishing skirt that swung when I walked. It was more rockabilly than vintage, but I’m sure I was in the right ballpark, at least. My make-up was flawless, and my little red sparkly block heels with the T-bars, whilst not my usual stilettos or studded boots, were easy to walk in. So what did he have in store?

  My stomach crumbled with nerves, suddenly worried that this wasn’t really happening. Me, dating Brodie Porter? The best friend who had always been close enough to cuddle but too far to kiss? Madness.

  Yet there he was, striding towards me confidently, wearing smart black trousers, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and white braces. His face lit up when he saw me.

  ‘You look fantastic. Exactly right!’ He placed a hand on my hip and started leading me across the road, chattering about how Declan wanted to see me again and had given him a whole bunch of space facts to pass on, but he’d forgotten them. I was only half listening, the other half focused on the feel of his hand on me, how much I wanted to lean into him.

  I shook myself out of it, of course. Running around like a loopy lovesick child was likely to get me run over.

  We arrived at an adorable church squished in between two buildings, and people were queuing up to get inside.

  ‘What if I burst into flames as I cross the threshold?’ I said, leaning into his shoulder, and he laughed.

  ‘Well, it would be awkward because I’d need to find another dance partner at short notice.’

  He watched my eyes to see my reaction, scanning me for concern or anything else. I wasn’t sure how to feel.

  ‘So… you dance? Kept that one quiet,’ I said and watched as the relief flooded his face.

  ‘Well, I’m not very good, but I enjoy it. Got some work when I first came to London, playing in a Fifties-style rock ’n’ roll band, and they used to play all these dances. Everyone looked like they were having so much fun, so I went to a few lessons.’

  I smiled at him. ‘You’re ju
st full of surprises, darling.’

  We shuffled in and I was shocked at how they’d turned a church into a vintage dance hall. It was almost like those school dances as a kid, but there was something more powerful about it, this dramatic energy as I watched excellent partners twisting and spinning back and forth. I watched a girl’s pale blue dress spin around her as she stepped back and forth, her partner directing her with strength.

  Brodie took my hand and led me through the crowds, over to the bar where he ordered us drinks. My cocktail was served in a plastic cup with a little umbrella, and I felt a sort of childish glee looking at it. It was so far from what was in style now, more of a throwback to summer holidays and children’s knickerbocker glories with sparklers and excitement. The pure enthusiasm of the place spoke to me. There was bunting up around the sides, and all the members of the band setting up onstage were dressed for the era.

  I took a sip of the mystery cocktail. It was sweet and strong, incredibly simple but fun. I grinned at Brodie, his dark hair carefully gelled to suit the style, his eyes scanning the crowd with satisfaction.

  ‘I know it’s probably not the high class dates you’re used to, but I thought it would be good to do something fun. I wanted to show you this.’

  ‘This is perfect, I don’t know if I’ll be able to dance like that though.’

  Everyone seemed to know what they were doing, and I suddenly panicked. I used to be a ballerina, but that didn’t mean I could automatically do street dance or salsa. And yet I was already bouncing on my toes to the music playing in the background, ready to get going.

  ‘You will. If I can manage, I can’t see you having a problem. Wait for the band to start and I’ll show you a few moves.’

  We sipped our drinks and watched the flurry of people greeting each other, admiring dresses and outfits, and I looked at Brodie.

  ‘Are these your people?’

  ‘Nah, I’m an interloper. I got to be here as part of the band, so now I sneak back in on occasion to dance. I don’t know anyone, but it doesn’t really matter. Sometimes it’s just nice being part of a crowd.’

  It was true; I did the same thing in the club, standing at the bar and watching like I was just another member of the audience.

  The band suddenly started up and immediately people jumped into pairs on the dance floor and started moving. Brodie put our drinks on the side, then took my hand and led me to the corner of the dance floor, twisting me round to a starting point.

  I knew I wasn’t good at being led, that much was true. But once I started to pick up the steps, I leant into Brodie, letting him push and pull me this way and that, twirling me round and making me laugh. It was fun, so intensely fun! I couldn’t breathe for laughing, keeping up with the steps and moving with the rhythm.

  It was so opposite to ballet – it was strong, yes, but it didn’t have to be perfect. It was responsive, with the women following their partners and seamlessly flowing into new patterns and routines without even thinking about it. There were some moves that were almost like a drunken stagger, falling, embracing a heavy stamp or a transfer of weight – you didn’t have to be air, you had to be present. Swing dance was about showing that you were there, and what you could do.

  I knew my cheeks were red and sweaty, and by now I would have excused myself to the toilets to check my make-up and fix myself up, but I didn’t want to stop.

  Brodie was excellent. It was always sexy, seeing a man who could dance, but it was the confidence that was even more impressive. He knew he was good and wanted to teach me something. I traced his steps and followed, picking it up more quickly than I thought I would.

  After an hour, I was breathless and in need of water, so we walked upstairs and watched from the balconies as they moved like crinkled sweet wrappers in a breeze. Those dresses, that make-up! The women had flowers in their styled hair, and the men looked dapper. That really was the only word for it.

  We threw ourselves onto the uncomfortable wooden benches and leaned back, stretching out our legs.

  ‘So… you having fun?’ Brodie brushed back my hair so he could whisper in my ear. It was such a casual, intimate gesture that I felt myself shiver. The noise from downstairs floated up, so we huddled together in our own world.

  ‘I am, I really am! You are a good time!’ I smiled, nudging him. ‘Who knew?’

  ‘Hey, I used to buy you a ninety-nine on the beach every Saturday! If that’s not a man who knows how to show a girl a good time, I don’t know what is.’ Brodie leaned back, smiling at the ceiling. ‘You know, I really can’t believe you’re here. That this is happening. It’s not often that you get a second chance, is it?’

  I stilled, not wanting to question that, not wanting to go back to that moment all those years ago. But apparently it was happening.

  He took my hand, his thumb rubbing the back of my knuckles gently. ‘I’ve spent so many years regretting never taking my chance. I was overwhelmed, and I was a coward—’

  ‘Brodie, you don’t need—’

  ‘No, I do. I was still a kid. I know I’m a few years older than you, but back then all I could think about was having to leave again, start over again, look after my mum and make sure my brothers were okay…’

  ‘I know that, I never blamed you—’

  ‘But I wanted you,’ he said suddenly, leaning in so that those green eyes could convince me it was the truth. ‘I wanted you so badly. I was trying to be a grown-up, trying to stop things from getting messy but…’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now,’ I sighed, trying to brush past it. ‘We’re here now, aren’t we?’

  He looked relieved, stroking my cheek as he smiled at me, full of promise. ‘We are. And I promise, I’m not going to mess this up, whatever it is.’

  Whatever this is, indeed…

  ‘I think we should get back to dancing,’ I said, standing up and holding out my hand.

  Brodie looked unsure, like I was trying to escape something heartfelt and real (which of course, I was) but he dutifully got up and led me back downstairs to the dance floor.

  Dancing now was different; the music was slower and he pulled me close, the warmth of his body next to mine, his hand firm on my back. I rested my head on his shoulder, my lips grazing his neck.

  It was driving me crazy, being this close, hearing those words. He regretted leaving. I’d thrown myself at him, a 17-year-old terrified that she would never get another chance, and I’d kissed him. For a second, the shortest tenth of a second, he’d kissed me back, and then he pushed me away. It was complicated, he had family issues to deal with, it wasn’t fair to me… all those reasons, but as a teenage girl with no experience and no other friends, I didn’t know whether to believe him. All I knew was I’d been rejected, and I would never recover from the humiliation. I was heartbroken.

  Now, it was easier to see those choices he’d made. How worried he had been about his mum, about his brothers. How he hated starting over in a new place and knew it would mean leaving behind his music students, the contacts he’d made and his band. Another mis-start.

  It was also easy to see that he still cared. His fingertips stroked my back through my dress, and he kept our bodies as close to each other as possible whilst we moved. His knees nudged mine to show me where to move, our hips against each other’s.

  I tilted my head up slightly so that I could look at him, just as he looked down at me, those kind eyes creasing at the corners as he smiled. So tender, so sweet. I knew almost nothing about this man now, even though I knew almost everything about his past.

  I wanted to know, though. And crazier still, I wanted him to know me. I wanted that scrappy girl he knew in the past to merge with the woman I’d created in order to succeed.

  ‘You know,’ he whispered in my ear, lips against my earlobe, ‘if you kissed me now, I wouldn’t turn away.’

  I felt myself get a little weak with nervousness, but shook it off.

  ‘Darling, I can’t do all the work. If you want to kiss me, you�
��re going to have to make the effort.’

  He didn’t even pause, holding me close as he dipped me dramatically, like a hero in an old movie.

  ‘Well, darlin’,’ he grinned. ‘If you insist.’

  Brodie’s kisses were tender, not at all rushing as he held me tightly. I grasped at him, half in fear of falling, and half trying to get closer to him. When I struggled to catch my breath, he lifted me back up, planted another all-too-brief kiss on my lips and stood back, grinning at me.

  I blushed, feeling like everyone must have been looking at us.

  ‘Did you really need to be so dramatic about it?’ I looked away as he took me in his arms again, and we continued swaying on the dance floor.

  ‘I felt I owed you. You need to be kissed, and by someone who knows how,’ he said proudly, only slightly misquoting the movie.

  ‘You remember that?’

  ‘I remember sitting there in my living room watching that endless movie with you and Mum, and seeing how your face lit up as you watched it.’ He was back to whispering, our cheeks touching. ‘And I remember thinking, I’m going to be the one to kiss her.’

  I pulled back a little. ‘Darling, did you ever think about, oh, I don’t know, sharing these feelings at the time?’

  ‘Well, you waiting until the night before I left was a good touch too, don’t forget,’ Brodie huffed, spinning me away and then back again. ‘I think we fixed ourselves good and proper back then, didn’t we?’

  ‘I didn’t want to ruin anything, you were my best friend!’ I said defensively.

  ‘Well, why do you think I hesitated? I at least had my bandmates – if I made a move and we didn’t end up being friends, you would have been alone!’

  ‘So you avoided making a move out of pity? Lovely.’ I tried to stop dancing but he swept me up, kept me moving even though I scowled. I supposed it was nice to have someone around who wasn’t scared of me. Maybe.

  ‘Don’t you think it would be worse if I’d made a move out of pity? Look, I liked you, you liked me, but we were teenagers and good friends, and the timing wasn’t right. Correct?’