Grease Monkey Jive (12 page)

“I’m not sleeping with you. I’ll stay, but I don’t want you to touch me.”

Phil snorted, “You little prick tease. You might as well go then.”

He said one thing, but he did another. He blocked the doorway and didn’t seem to have any inclination to move. Alex wanted him to step away so she could get changed, so she could go. “Let me get changed.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“You are.”

“I’m just watching. What’s wrong with a man watching the women he loves change her clothes?”

“You’re drunk.”

“A little, it was great wine. And I like to watch you, honey. If you won’t sleep with me, you have to let me watch you.”

“No. Go away.”

“My house, my bathroom, my girlfriend. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Phil, you’re making me very uncomfortable. Please let me get changed.”

“You know you’re even more beautiful when you’re angry.”

It wasn’t smart to push him, it made him stagger backwards a few steps, but he caught her arm and pulled her close and his kiss was rough and hard, one hand cupping her head, tangling in her hair, the other around her waist. When she pushed him again, he released her laughing.

“You like this little game, Alexandra, as much as I do.”

She backed away from him. “I don’t like it at all. You’re scaring me.”

Phil’s expression changed, shifting from lecherous to incredulous in seconds. “Oh my God! I’m sorry. Honey, I’m sorry. I thought you were ... I thought, ah. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He put both hands to his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

Alex watched him, the slight tremble in her body now settling, but there were tears building behind her eyes. She had no idea how they’d gotten to a place where Phil had scared her so quickly.

He was sitting on the end of the bed now, eyes down on the carpet. She wanted to leave him there, go home to the safety of her own room, and she wanted to have him hug her and hold her and tell her again he was sorry and he’d never meant things to be this way. She hesitated. He wouldn’t stop her now if she went to leave. It would be the smart thing to do. And then he looked up. His eyes were pink rimmed and his mouth was pinched.

He said, “Don’t go,” and his voice was strained.

When she sat on the edge of the bed with him, he folded her in his arms and held her while she sobbed. When they went to bed, he kissed her gently and they fell asleep curled around each other.

Dan couldn’t sleep. Jeff could. Dan could hear Jeff’s soft snore from his place under the bed. He could hear the fridge hum and drip; he could even hear the clock in the kitchen cycle the seconds off the hour. He’d tried reading and couldn’t concentrate. He knew if he dumped himself in front of the TV that would probably do the trick, but that felt like a cop-out. He couldn’t sleep for a reason. He just didn’t know what the reason was and it felt like he should.

He ran a mental inventory: There was money in the bank. All his payments were going where they were supposed to. Jimmy hadn’t done anything dire. Marie’s Mini was on the road. McMurty was another day closer to retirement. The old Valiant Charger was due to arrive on a truck next week. He was completely healthy even if it did look like he was going to lose a toenail after Jenni stomped on him with a stiletto heel. He’d been drinking less and wasn’t missing it. The bet was going well, early days still, but they were hanging in there. Jeff was Jeff. Katie was thawing. Fluke still hated him. Alex probably hated him too. To her, he was a caveman and a bully. Not that it mattered what Alex thought.

Dan rolled his head on the pillow. What was Alex doing in the inventory? She was just another form of temporary. At least she could be counted as a transactional relationship. Not that having her on the other side of the ledger mightn’t be nice, if she was more like the Alex he’d glimpsed at Son of a Beach Bar. That was the Alex he wanted to dance with again, to feel in his arms, to press against his body and touch with his lips, but the real Alex was the one from class and she was superior, judgemental, and uptight and had no place invading his thoughts.

He sat up, pushing the sheet away. Sleep was a long way off. Maybe it was all just a physical thing and that’s why Alex was in his head. It’d been a month now since he’d gone home with anyone. A month and he’d slept every night alone. Maybe that was the problem. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Four weeks was nothing in terms of time, so the time itself wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t the first time sex hadn’t been on tap. Maybe he was just plain missing the physical high of taking some girl to bed. Or maybe he was just lonely. Ant was spending more time at work, Mitch had a big job on, and Fluke was avoiding him. Maybe it was just that.

He was wide awake and he didn’t know why and there was something wrong with the inventory and he only knew one way to fix it and that required wiping himself out with the help of a bottle of something strong.

In the morning, Mitch phoned Belinda, Phil phoned the florist, and Dan slept through the alarm, woke with a jackhammer in his head, and was late for work.

Fluke was early. So early the studio wasn’t open yet. Normally he’d have gone via McMurty’s and hung out while Dan finished up or grabbed a quick bite to eat with Mitch. But Mitch was hard-pressed for time and he wanted to keep his distance from Dan.

He still couldn’t forgive him. It’s not what mates did. It’s not what Dan should’ve done, especially after all his talk about changing. That was part of the problem. Dan wasn’t one of those blokes who was all talk. He did what he said he was going to do. Half the time he didn’t tell you stuff, he just did it, and you found out later. Like the time when he was sixteen and left town. He’d had that plan well baked before he’d told them. The problem was Dan had flat out disappointed him and he didn’t know how to get around it.

Katie had yelled at him to get over it and he knew he should, but seeing Dan with her that way and knowing what would happen and how bloody awkward it would be when Dan inevitably dumped Katie or two-timed her or simply forgot she existed was the other problem. And the image of the two of them clasped together at the bar with no regard for where they were or who saw them was branded front and centre in his brain.

Fluke was still thinking about it when Scott arrived. He got out of his much-repaired, fifteen-year-old Toyota Corolla and walked across the street to join him. Scott was getting out of his own car, a late model, black Volvo coupe.

“Cool wheels,” Fluke said, surprising Scott who’d opened the tailgate to collect his bag.

“Hello Fluke,” Scott kept his head down in the car’s interior. He didn’t look like he was keen for a chat.

“New?” said Fluke.

“What?” Scott said and Fluke pick up on the edge of irritation in his voice.

“Is it a new car? Looks new?”

Scott straightened up, looped his bag over his shoulder, and reached for the top edge of the tailgate. “Yes, it’s new.”

The two men stepped up the gutter together. Fluke asked Scott about the transmission, but Scott wasn’t paying attention. He fired the remote at the Volvo and the car made a clicking sound and the red light blinked at them. As he turned back he smacked straight into Fluke, went, “Argh”, forgot the gutter was there, and stumbled as his foot went over the edge.

They both heard the loud crack, dry and sharp, and Fluke saw Scott’s eyes flare and the colour flee from his face before he went down on his hands and knees, half on and half off the kerb.

“Mate, are you ok?” Fluke bent to give Scott a hand up. Scott hissed at him, rolled his eyes back into his head, and passed out.

When Alex arrived, the studio was locked and there was no sign of Scott, though his car was outside. Fifteen minutes before class there was still no sign of him and no message, which was unusual – so unusual Alex started to worry. She called and got voicemail. She fired off a text message and waited for the return ping. She was still waiting when the beginners started arriving and it became obvious she’d have to teach this class on her own.

Fluke was missing too and neither Dan nor Mitch knew where he was. It was clear to Alex they’d expected him; his car was outside too. Scott and Fluke were such an unlikely coupling it never occurred to Alex to consider they were somewhere together, which meant she was totally unprepared for Fluke to be the messenger, and less prepared to learn Scott was in the hospital with a suspected broken ankle.

Fluke arrived as the beginner’s class was finishing and, avoiding the ‘what gives’ looks from Dan and Mitch, went straight to Alex.

Dan’s first thought was whether Ant would fail Fluke on a technicality and whether Mitch could keep his mouth shut to stop that happening. His second was that something bad had happened. He could tell by looking at Alex, her hand over her mouth. He watched as she made a few quick phone calls, spoke to some of the students in the next class, picked up her bag, and left.

When Fluke joined them, it all became clear. It was less clear why Fluke was so agitated until he told them what happened and ended the story with, “It’s my fault.”

“You wrestled Scott to the ground and snapped his ankle like a twig just for the hell of it?” said Dan.

“No. But I got in his way and I caused him to trip off the gutter. If I’d have stayed out of his road it wouldn’t have happened.”

“It was a dumb accident, Flukey,” said Mitch, not looking at Fluke. The advanced Latin class had started with one of the students filling in as teacher and Mitch was watching Belinda. Belinda was making a show of ignoring Mitch, but with each twist of her eyes from his, she gave herself away.

“How bad a break is it?” Dan asked. He was watching Mitch watch Belinda. Mitch had related the story of Belinda’s drunk-dial. He figured it was only a matter of time before they were back together if Mitch didn’t screw it up.

“They don’t know yet,” said Fluke glumly. “The problem is how it affects Alex.”

“What’s Alex got to do with it?” said Dan. She’d obviously been concerned for Scott, but what was the big deal about that? That was nice wasn’t it, to have friends who cared?

“They’re in this dance competition. Remember when we saw her at Son of a Beach? The prize money is fifty Gs and they’re in the lead on points. Scott’s screwed for at least six weeks, if not longer. Unless Alex can find another partner, she’s out of the comp.”

“Ah, but surely she will,” said Dan, elbowing Mitch. “You coming?”

Mitch shook his head, “Might hang out here for a bit.”

“Fluke?”

“I’ll hang out with Mitch.”

Dan could see Fluke felt like crap about tripping Scott, about what that did to Alex. He just wished Fluke would talk to him about it. But he knew this was part of his punishment and Fluke would choke rather than talk.

When he got outside he found Alex huddled under the hood of her car. She looked furious, an echo of the steam issuing from the engine hovering about her flushed face.

“Alex, let me have a look,” he said, coming alongside her.

She stepped back to give him room, a scowl of annoyance on her face. “Can you get it started?”

Dan assessed the old Mazda. It could be one of half a dozen things wrong with it, and Alex had flooded the engine so it sizzled with heat. There was nothing he could do until it cooled down. There was something he could do for the agitated heat in Alex though.

“Leave the car with me. It’ll have to be towed – I’ll sort it out. And I can drop you wherever you need to be – the hospital?”

Alex shook her head. “Thanks, but I can get a taxi. I’ll have to leave the car. I can’t really afford to have it towed right now. I guess it’s safe enough here if it won’t start.”

“It’s no problem. I’m happy to sort it out for you.”

“Thanks Dan, but that’s not necessary.” She turned away from him, checking the street for a taxi.

“Is there something wrong with taking my help?”

She half turned, still watching the street. “What?”

“Alex, I’m a mechanic – this is what I do. I can sort this out for you. No charge, except for any parts we might need.”

“Oh. Still that’s a lot of trouble to go to.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if it was too much trouble.” The engine was still steaming and hissing and Dan could feel his own temperature rising. Why the fuck was Alex so prickly with him? He was trying to do something nice, and she was making him feel like he was in the wrong. She was making him feel like a great hulking, thoughtless, caveman bully for fuck’s sake.

He was about to give up and walk away when she said, “Ok. That would be great. And if it’s not too out of your way, I’d love a lift to the hospital.”

Alex was amused by the Valiant. When Dan opened the passenger-side door, her frown was replaced by a shy smile. “Is this what they call a muscle car?”

“Yeah. A 1969 Valiant VF.”

“It purrs,” she said, sounding surprised.

“She does. She’s a dream to drive.”

“She?”

“Cars and boats, they’re always shes.”

“Why is that?”

Dan snuck a quick look at Alex, wondered if she’d like the answer. “Two schools of thought and it goes back to ships. The first says that in the old Romance languages the word for ship was feminine, so ships got given female names.”

“And the second?”

“Women were considered bad luck at sea, so the closest a sailor could come to having a woman at sea was to name his ship after one.”

“And cars are just ships in another form right?”

“I guess.”

“And calling your car a ‘she’ is just another way for men to be patronising and dominating.”

Dan stiffened his spine against the back of the Valiant’s seat. There it was, that broomstick up Alex’s butt. What made this girl so uptight? “I didn’t invent the convention, Alex, and I’m not trying to patronise you or dominate you.”

“You don’t have to try, Dan. With men like you it comes naturally.”

This time it wasn’t a quick sideways look. This time Dan swung his head completely to his left, taking his glance off the road long enough to meet Alex’s eyes and see she wasn’t kidding around. “Hey, I’m just trying to do you a favour, but if you can’t cop that, I can pull over right now and you can sort it all out yourself.”