Dirty Dancing

8

It's pouring outside. The sound of Niall shouting in his megaphone reaches the cabin where I lay a puzzle with my dad in silence.
"It's rainy day game time. Pin the tail on the guest. Win ten boxes of Kleenex or a billy goat!"

"God, I am so sick of this rain." My mother sighs.

"Remind me not to take my honeymoon at Niagara Falls." Gemma comments as she tries out a pair of earrings.

"So, you go to Acapulco. It'll be fine."
Our mother replies.

"Where is my beige iridescent lipstick? I know I put it in this drawer." Gemma complains while she's searching for it.

That's my queue to leave before she realizes that I borrowed it. I grab my jacket and head for the door.
"Baby, where are you going in this weather?" My mother wonders.

I come up with a quick lie.
"Uh, they're having charades in the west lobby."

"Quite the little joiner, aren't we?" My mother smiles and I smile back before I take off.

I run to Louis' cabin and knock on the door. He opens it and two seconds later we're kissing.

After a second time of amazing sex, I roll on top of him and play with his hair.
"Have you had many sex partners?"

"What?" He snorts. Surprised by my question.

He rolls out of bed and put his boxers on.
"Baby, come on."

"Tell me. I want to know." I pout.

He sighs and drags a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.
"You gotta understand what it's like. You come from the streets and suddenly you're up here. Guests are throwing themselves at you and they smell so good. They really take care of themselves. I never knew people could be like that. They're so goddamn rich you think they must know about everything. They're slippin' their room keys in my hand two and three times a day... different people... so, I think I'm scorin' big, right? You think, They wouldn't be doing this if they didn't care about me, right?"

"That's all right. I understand. You were just using them, that's all." I say emotionless.

He looks upset. He sits on the bed and takes my hand.
"No, that's not it. That's the thing. It wasn't like that. They were using me."

I pull him down and rest my head on his chest.
"What's your real name, Baby?" Louis suddenly asks.

"Harry, for Harry S. Truman." I giggle.

"Harry." He tries the name in his mouth. Roll it around.
"That's a real grownup name."

I roll my eyes at him.

Later that night when I'm in bed trying to sleep my sister who I share a room with decides to share something with me.
"I've decided to go all the way with Robbie." She reveals.

"No, not with someone like him." I immediately protest.

"Do you think if we came back for a
ten-year anniversary, it would be free?" She coos, like she didn't hear a word I just say.

I try again.
"It's just wrong this way. It should be with someone... With someone that you sort of love."

She snorts.
"Come on. You don't care about me. You wouldn't care if I humped the entire army as long as we were on the right side of the Ho Chi Minh Trail.
What you care about is that you're not Daddy's girl anymore.
He listens when I talk now. You hate that." She turns her back to me. I let out a deep sigh.

The next day I meet up with Louis at the dance studio where it all started. I feel more comfortable dancing now and I'm in a playful mood.
"Two, three, cha-cha-cha. My frame. Where's my pleasing arc?" I tease.

He tries to grab me to hold me close but I get out of his touch.
"Spaghetti arms! Would you give me some tension, please? You're invading my dance space. This is my dance space. That's yours. Let's cha-cha."

He just laughs and kisses me.
"Don't look down. Look right here." I point at my eyes.

I dance away from him and he lay down on the floor on his side with his arm under his head. He mimics the lyrics of the song we're dancing to.
"How you call your loverboy?"

I turn my head and look over my shoulder.
"Come here, loverboy."

He continues to lip-sync.
"And if he doesn't answer?"

"Oh, lover boy." I mimic.

He's on his knees now.
"And if still doesn't answer?"

"I simply say..." I mouth and start to move toward him.

He plays air guitar while I continue to lip-sync to the song.
"Baby
O-Oh, baby
My sweet baby
You're the one"

He gets up and grinds me. We hear footsteps on the stair and break loose. I pretend to dance by myself while he hurries over to the record player with his back turned to me. Zayn enters the dance hall. He smiles when he sees me.
"Takin' dance lessons? I could teach ya, kid." He grins and makes a couple of dance moves. I just smile.

He walks up to Louis.
"My grandfather put me in charge of the final show. I want to talk to you about the last dance. I'd like to shake things up a bit. You know, move with the times."

Louis shines. He looks really excited.
"I've got a lot of ideas. I've been working with the staff kids... on a cross between a Cuban rhythm and soul dancing." He shows off a couple of dance moves.

Zayn holds up his hands.
"Whoa, boy. Way over your head here. You always do the mambo, huh? Why not dance this year's final dance..."

He pauses for the dramatic effect. Wiggles his eyebrows.
"to the pachanga?"

"Right." Louis mumbles. I can see how disappointed he is. It breaks my heart.

"Well, you're free to do the same,
tired number as last year if you want... but next year we'll find another dance person who'll only be too happy..."

Louis interrupts him.
"Sure, Zayn. No problem. We'll end the season with the pachanga. Great idea." He can't hide the sarcasm in his voice.

Zayn turns around to walk out. He stops by my side.
"Sometimes he's hard to talk to, but the ladies seem to like him. See that he gives you the full half-hour you're paying him for, kid."

As soon as Zayn has left Louis starts to pace.
"That little wimp. He wouldn't know a new idea if it hit him in the pachanga. I could have told him some new ideas."

I walk up to him.
"Why did you let him talk to you that way?" I say softly. Wrap my arms around his waist.

"What, fight the boss man?" He huffs.

"You tell him your ideas. He's a person like everyone else." I encourage.

He sighs. Drags a hand through his hair.
"Look, I know these people. They are rich and they're mean. They won't listen to me." He's frustrated and sad.

"Why not fight harder? Make them listen." I suggest.

He pecks my nose. 
"Because I need this goddamned job lined up for next summer. My dad calls me today. Good news, he says. Uncle Paul can finally get you in the union."

"What union?" I ask.

"The House Painters and Plasterers
Local Number 179 at your service." He snorts.

I just hug him tightly.