Dirty Dancing

1

"Mom, Dad, I'm going up to the main house to look around." I shout.

I run over the lawn on light feet. Almost skipping. I peek inside an open patio door that leads to the dining area. Max is talking to the waiters.
"There are two kinds of help here.
You waiters are all college guys and I went to Cambridge and Oxford to hire you. And why did I do that? Why? I shouldn't have to remind you. This is a family place. That means you keep your fingers out of the water, hair out of the soup, and show the goddamn sons and daughters a good time. All of them. Even the dogs."

I wrinkle my nose. That sounded awful. It doesn't get any better.
"Schlepp 'em out to the terrace, show 'em the stars. Romance 'em any way you want."

A guy walks in, followed by a bunch of others, including Liam. My eyes grow wide. He's pretty!
"Got that, guys?"

"Hey, hold it! Hold it. Well, if it isn't the entertainment staff. Listen, wise-ass, you got your own rules. Dance with the daughters. Teach 'em the mambo, the cha-cha, anything they pay for. That's it. That's where it ends. No funny business, no conversations, and keep your hands off!" Max says sternly, pointing at the cute guy who just looks down. Jaw clenched.

"It's the same at all these places. Some ass in the woods, but no conversation." One of the other guys says.

"Watch it, Rodriguez." Max snorts before he walks out.

"Can you keep that straight, Louis? What you can't lay your hands on?" One of the waiters says snarkily.

"Just put your pickle on everybody's
plate college boy, and leave the hard stuff to me." Louis replies and wipes one of the folded napkins off the table before he walks off.

I've seen enough and return to the cabin just to find my family getting ready for dinner. A half-hour later we enter the dining room area where Max has a special table set up for us.
"Sit down and I'll get you some wine."

"Thank you, Max." My mother says as he pulls out the chair for her.

"This is Dr. and Mrs. Styles. Baby, Gemma, this is your waiter, Robbie Gould. Oxford medical school. These people are my special guests. Give them anything they want." Max says before he walks off, leaving us with our waiter for the evening.
"Enjoy."

"Thanks, Max." My father replies.

The food is excellent but it's too much.
"Look at all this leftover food. Are there still starving children in Europe?" My mother asks.

"Try Southeast Asia, mum." I correct her.

"Right." My mother smiles.
Max returns to make sure that we had a pleasant dinner.

"Robbie, Baby wants to send his leftover pot roast to Southeast Asia, so anything you don't finish, wrap up. Max, our Baby's gonna change the world." My dad says proudly.

"And what are you gonna do, Gemma?" Max asks my sister.

"Oh, Gemma's gonna decorate it." I say teasingly and she puts her tongue out.

"She already does." The waiter Robbie says smoothly. I want to grimace but Gemma seems to appreciate the compliment.

"Doc, I want you to meet someone. My grandson Zayn. Goes to the University of Essex, Hotel Management." Max says with his arm around a good-looking guy who is grinning widely.

"Baby's starting Oxford in the fall." My dad informs them.

Zayn smiles at me.
"Oh, great. Are you going to major in English?"

"No. Economics of underdeveloped countries. I'm going into the Peace Corps." I inform him. He looks impressed.

After dinner, it's social dance. Apparently I have sparked an interest in Zayn because he asks me to dance. Chatting lively while I try to keep up.
"After the final show, I'm going to Ireland with a couple of busboys, freedom ride. This is our own Tito Suarez."

I just nod and fake smile. The live band changes the song.
"Mambo! Yeah! Come on!" Zayn shouts and starts to move his hips. I'm stiff as a pole.

The cute guy from earlier enters the dancefloor with the brunette that tried to teach me cha-cha. They start to dance and I just watch them. They're really talented.
"Who's that?" I ask Zayn.

"Oh, them. They're the dance people. They're here to keep the guests happy." Zayn snorts.

I continue to watch. They really get into it. The brunette lifts her leg and rests it on the guy's shoulder. Louis was it? She folds her upper body backward and he drags her over the dancefloor. It looks really dramatic. I gasp when they do a lift.
"They shouldn't show off with each other. That's not gonna sell lessons." Zayn says, looking unimpressed. He gestures for them to stop and they nod their heads and find a new dance partner, engaging the guests.

"Hi, kids. Having fun?" My dad asks as he and my mum dance past us.

"Yeah." I lie.

"Actually, I've gotta excuse myself. I'm in charge of the games tonight. Would you like to help me get things started?" Zayn ask me.

I'm just about to decline politely when my dad speaks for me.
"Sure he would."

There's no way I can get out of this now. I follow Zayn backstage. He introduces me to Niall, the guy with the megaphone earlier. He needs an assistant for a magic number.

Half an hour later I find myself on stage in a box where Niall pretends to saw me in half.
"This'll only hurt for a minute. You've got Blue Cross, right? Was that good for you?"

When I finally get out of the box he hands me a live goose.
And for being such a good sport, here you go!"

I walk off stage trying to hold the goose who flaps its wings trying to escape. I let it go as soon as I'm in the back. Niall is still on stage doing a little stand-up comedy.
"I finally met a girl exactly like my mother. Dresses like her, acts like her.
So I brought her home. My father doesn't like her!"

He laughs louder than anyone in the audience. Cackle at his own joke. You gotta love him.