Grease Monkey Jive (25 page)

Alex pointed out their main competitors: Ferdy and Gina, Brad and Anna. Both of the couples, while simply standing still and waiting, had an air about them that made you look again, just to see if they were doing anything interesting.

Ferdy and Gina had a regal presence about them. Gina was a fine mix of superiority and graciousness, her long dark hair piled high on her head, a deep fringe framing her eyes. Ferdy was haughty spiced with arrogance, a ‘don’t fuck with me’ quality Dan associated more with back alleys than dance floors. He could easily imagine Ferdy in a knife fight screaming, ‘come any closer and the girl gets it’.

Where Ferdy and Gina were impressively majestic, Brad and Anna were compellingly cute. The smile Anna wore could have warmed an oven and baked a batch of scones. She had pixie short hair and vivid green eyes, enhanced by her sea green dress with a swirling skirt Gwen said was flapper style. Brad was a live Ken doll. His symmetrical features and movie star good looks could’ve made him remote and unapproachable; instead he looked like serious best friend material, a guy whose side you’d be on. Dan could imagine loaning Brad tools and helping him with home renovations. Brad caught his eye, gave Anna a nudge, and together the two of them pantomimed a hello at him and Alex.

It was clear every other couple on the floor couldn’t help but like Brad and Anna and fear Ferdy and Gina. It was also clear to Dan that he was standing all wrong. He was just standing, Alex beside him, but every other couple was essentially posing. Brad held Anna’s hand, Gina stood inside the circle of Ferdy’s arm.

He reached for Alex’s hand again. “You really didn’t brief me about this. We’re supposed to have a pose.”

“Oh, right,” she said and stepped in front of Dan, bringing his hand around her waist and folding her arms on top of his. “Better?”

“Much.”

“I didn’t think you’d be such a stickler for detail.”

“I’m a stickler for finishing things.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Couples were starting to leave the floor as Barry Barton called their names. The group had thinned considerably. Every couple now on the floor was a heat finalist and would compete again or forfeit. Dan counted fifteen couples as Barry started to read out their names and scores.

Barry started with the low scores and as he began announcing scores of three, Alex tensed, her fingers gripping Dan’s arm. But their names weren’t called. She dug her nails in when Barry read out the names of the couples who’d scored four points, but their names still weren’t called, and Barry started giving out higher scores.

“What happened?” he said.

“I don’t know.” Alex glanced back across the floor at Scott and Trevor who both made palms up, ‘don’t know’ gestures in return.

Now Barry was reading the names of couples who scored six and seven points and still they waited.

“Something’s wrong,” she said.

Before long they were down to four couples and no amount of looking back at Scott helped Alex contain her anxiety. She held onto Dan’s arm as though it were a shield preventing the worst news from breaking through.

Barry said, “Folks we’re just going to take a short break and invite the Disco Divas to perform again while the judges confer. We’ll be back soon with the final scores.”

Ferdy and Gina were first to exit the floor, Gina rolling her eyes at the inconvenience and Ferdy parading her back to their seats as though they were on a red carpet walk. Nigel and Suzanna melted away, but Brad and Anna were laughing and they left the floor at a skip, making anyone watching them think they were having the best time.

Alex dragged Dan back to their seats. “Oh God, could they disqualify us?” she said to Trevor.

“Only if Trevor screwed up the paper work,” snarled Scott.

“I didn’t,” said Trevor. He looked annoyed and anxious. “I don’t know what this could be.” He stood up, ready to greet the official who was making her way to them. Several hundred pairs of eyes shifted from the Saturday Night Fever being enacted on the floor to him. He squared his shoulders and sucked in what little stomach he had. On his left, Scott stood up too.

“Marjorie,” said Trevor. “What’s up?”

“Trevor. You said the new partner, Mr Maddox, was an amateur. Not graded. No competition experience.”

“That’s right.”

“Trev, why?” asked Marjorie.

“We couldn’t find a graded dancer who was suitable in the time we had.”

“And you’re sure he’s amateur.”

“Is that a trick question?”

“No.”

“We’re sure. You can ask him yourself.” Trevor gestured to Dan.

Marjorie gave Dan a smile. “No, that won’t be necessary. That’s all we needed.”

“Marj, what’s going on?” said Trevor.

“I’m not supposed to tell you, but honestly, these people, you’d think they were running the country for all the fuss they make. They want to clarify that he isn’t a competition grade dancer.”

Trevor massaged his forehead. “This is bad, isn’t it? It’s obvious he’s not. You know we only want to try and hold our place till Scott can come back.”

“I figured that was what you were trying to do.”

“What do you know?

“I can’t tell you anything, Trevor. Hang in there.”

“Marj?”

Marjorie tapped her stylus on top of her tablet computer. “A competent amateur and very handsome, your new man,” she said, making Dan long for that space ship and ‘beam me up’ powers that would get him clear of this discussion.

“He is. Is that a problem?” Trevor was squinting as if that might help read the significance of Marjorie’s comment.

“I don’t think you’ll find it’s a problem, but not everyone likes it,” she said, then she winked and Scott sat down with a thump, the air coming out of him in one long purge.

When Trevor sat too, Alex dragged Dan down the aisle and out into the corridor where they’d been earlier.

“What’s going on?” He’d watched the interplay between Marjorie and Trevor, but the winking left him baffled.

“Judges checking on your amateur status.”

“And it’s not obvious.”

Alex laughed. “Don’t worry, we think it’s ok.”

“Shit. For a moment I thought it was all over.”

“Would you care, Dan?” Alex shook her head. “I mean, really what does this mean to you? I can’t work it out.”

“Do you have to put a name on it?”

“I’d like to... ah, we’re on again. Come on.”

Assembled on the floor again, they waited with the other couples for Barry to read out the scores. Dan thought Gina looked like she’d been sucking on a lemon during the break, but Anna might have been out doing random acts of kindness – she radiated goodness.

“Folks, the judges would like to apologise for the short break. We’ll pick up the scoring with Alex Gibson and Dan Maddox. Dan Maddox is dancing for Scott Wallace who is injured and will return to the competition before its closure.”

Barry paused and there was a buzz of excitement.

“Now they all know,” said Alex, and this time she wasn’t digging her hands into Dan’s arm. This time she relaxed against him.

Barry continued. “We’d like you to note that this is an extraordinary circumstance that is legal, and so allowed by our association and competition rules. However, despite substitution being allowable in the way that Mr Wallace and Mr Maddox have arranged it, the judging panel wishes to actively discourage couples from making substitutions. As a result we are announcing that from this point, in this and in all future competitions, substitutions will incur a ten point penalty.”

Now the buzz had a low rumble to it. Now the eyes turned on them were markedly less inquisitive and definitely less friendly. They’d just jumped through a now closed loophole and done it penalty-free. If there was any sympathy for their bad break of luck and Scott’s ankle, for the fact they would no longer lead the competition, it dried up with the instant recognition that no other couple could substitute without a significant points fine.

“Guess that makes us popular,” said Dan.

“Good thing it’s not a popularity contest,” Alex replied, but popularity had never hurt. She and Scott had been popular for their technique, their music choice, and their daring on the floor. Trevor called it their ‘Oh factor’. Without Scott, Alex was more of an ‘Oh dear factor’, unless she could find a way to exploit that spark she felt for Dan, to breathe air into it and see what life it could take on.

She tuned back in as Dan moved his hand against the bare skin of her ribs and she heard Barry say, “Alex Gibson and Dan Maddox, four and a half points.”

“We did it!” laughed Dan, pulling her around to face him.

“You did it! You’re amazing.” She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting him lift her from the ground.

The rest was a blur. Nigel and Suzanna scored eight points and Ferdy and Gina and Brand and Anna tied on nine points.

The floor around them filled with other dancers and friends and family come to congratulate the leading couples. Alex knew Scott and Trevor would be on them in a minute – Dan’s boys might be even quicker – and there was something she wanted to do first.

When Dan put her back on the floor she kept her arms twined about his neck. “You wanted to kiss me before.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, retaining their eye contact.

“At least you’re honest about it. It’s over the line.”

“I know,” he quirked a shoulder. “You can punish me.”

“I intend to. You start on the new routine tomorrow at 8am.”

Dan groaned, dropped his head, and laughed, and he wasn’t in the least bit ready for Alex to kiss him.

It was brief, her soft, dry lips on his hot cheek, but it was a real kiss, it made her blood bubble, and it was definitely over the line.

Alex was grateful for her later start time and the chance to have breakfast with Phil, but she wasn’t sure Phil was grateful. They argued. Alex said it was reasonable to expect Phil to contact her after the competition. Phil said she was making a big deal out of nothing. Alex thought that was the whole point. Nothing. Phil did nothing, not to wish her luck, not to follow up, not to know if she wanted to celebrate or commiserate. No call. No voicemail. No text. No message at all.

She was on her second coffee order before Phil remembered to ask. She was disinclined to answer and was ready to leave the café thirty-five minutes after they’d arrived not caring what the taxi fare to the studio cost.

Once her feet were back on Wallace’s polished wood floor, all her angst and anger sloughed away. She watched while Trevor bumped his forehead on Dan’s chest and breathed deep. “If you were interested in men, I’d be lost,” he mumbled.

Dan grunted an exhalation, his hands twitching at his side, unsure whether to pat Trevor on the back or push him away. Scott solved the problem by saying, “Yuck, it’s too early for the bromance channel,” and Trevor straightened up and stroked Dan’s cheek. “I can always dream.”

Trevor and Scott had spent the morning teaching Dan a new routine. They had three weeks to put this one together. This time, they were doing it without the fear that it might be too much for Dan or the nagging wonder that it was all a waste of effort. They had their loophole. They were still in the competition and if they could do better than four and a half points in this next round, they might be able to claim genuine underdog status and have the audience on side.

So it didn’t matter that she’d had too little sleep, left Phil fuming at the café, had a touch of indigestion, and only five dollars left in her wallet, she was re-energised. It didn’t matter that Scott was already antsy and Trevor wrung out in the heat. Dan was there and he was doing that thing with his mop of hair and now he was striding across the room towards her and giving her a look that was better than any sleep-in she could imagine.

“Good morning.” His voice sounded as tousled as his hair. Alex thought of warm rumpled sheets.

“Did you get any sleep?”

“Yeah, but I was forced to celebrate first. I still can’t believe we pulled it off.”

He pushed his hand through his hair and Alex itched to do it for him, to put her hands in his thick dark hair and push it back off his forehead, feel his scalp warm under her fingers and be close enough to look into the ocean of his eyes.

“You need a haircut.” Her own voice was oddly husky.

“You might have to supervise.”

“That would be over the line.”

“I thought it would just be kindness.”

“Kindness?”

“The first lesson you ever gave me: cooperation, kindness, patience, and forgiveness. I figure we’ve done a hell of a lot of cooperation and patience stuff. You opted for punishment over forgiveness this morning, getting me here so early, and that leaves kindness.”

“You’ve thought it all through.”

“No. I’m just not keen on haircuts.”

But gosh, I could be keen on you
. Alex watched the cheeky smile play on Dan’s lips.
If you weren’t a player, if there wasn’t Phil, if I didn’t want different things in my life
.

“This isn’t a chat show you know,” called Scott. “Let’s go.”

An hour later they had the rudiments of the new routine mapped out. This one was a riff on a tango and, encouraged by Dan’s ability, Scott wanted to make it more challenging than their first routine. Alex knew he just wasn’t sure how yet, beyond a few lifts they still had to teach Dan. Scott left them to practice the new sequences while he made dance sketches to get his thoughts in order.

It was something about knowing that Scott wasn’t watching and Trevor was out in the kitchen that snapped the lid on Alex’s imagination. She had Dan all to herself and she was ready to play.

With their music turned up loud, she danced in close to him and when she normally would’ve put her hand on his shoulder, she changed direction, catching him off guard, turning her head in a deliberate move so her pony tail went thwack across his chest. He said, “Hey!” and laughter rippled in his indignation.

She circled him, trailing her hand across his back, dipping into the indentation of his spine, then drifting over his hipbone, putting her fingers under his singlet where his skin was hot and moist. He breathed a ‘hah’ sound when her hand touched his flesh and then she was in front of him again, lifting her eyes slowly, as though her lids were too heavy and her interest in his body too intense for an ordinary blink.