Red Running Shoes - 5. Dirty Dancing

Somewhere near Agrigento, Sicily

I stopped typing a while ago when Rick decided to show off his new home and take the scenic route. There were just too many bumpy cross-country roads and my fingers kept hitting the wrong keys. It was lovely though, and the warm air that came in through the windows smelled of summer.

I didn’t notice how tired I was until I leaned back, closed my eyes and dreamed of a cool, dark room with a large, comfortable bed and smooth sheets wrapped around me. Hopefully that dream would come true soon.

The car slowed down when we took a right turn. I caught sight of a bright blue enamel sign with a golden pair of scales: Ristorante 'La Bilancia' written in old-fashioned cursive.

We had to be close to my bed.

The small, well-kept road lead right through an olive plantation. With its gnarled trees left and right and the yellow flowers of Oxacils pes-caprae or Goat-foot shining through, it looked exactly like the pictures in those tourist brochures. Unbelievable.

“Are those your olive trees?”

Matteo nodded. “Yes. They are very old. Some of them are believed to be well over a thousand years old. If you’re interested I can show them to you some time.”

“Cool. Do you harvest the olives?”

“No. A neighbor does. She owns a large plantation. We get olive oil in return, which we sell at the restaurant. The guests love it.”

Finally I detected a whitewashed stone building in the distance. “Is that the restaurant?” Noticing the window frames and shutters were painted in the same shade of blue as the sign we’d just passed I couldn’t help but ask, “You really love the color blue, don’t you?”

Matteo grinned. “It’s Rick’s favorite color.”

“Awww, how sweet.”

“Shut it, Jonah!” my cousin grumbled. I laughed.

We passed a large space, where the guests could park their cars in the shade of old trees. Rick didn’t stop there but drove around the house to the side entrance. He jumped out of the car before I could move a finger and ripped open the door. "Welcome to our humble abode." He grinned proudly at me and I could immediately understand why.

The old two-story house looked friendly and inviting, but at the same time its thick white walls suggested they were built to protect the inside - and not only from the heat.

Shading my eyes with my hand, I looked around. "Are those lemon trees?"

"Yes, very good, Jonah. This was a baglio once, an ancient farming estate, before we bought it. We’ve also got almond trees and a garden behind the house, where Matteo grows some of the rarer herbs he needs for his cooking but can’t get at the fresh market."

I took in a deep breath and the air actually smelled of Mediterranean herbs.

"The double doors in the front lead to the restaurant’s reception area; directly behind are the dining rooms." I could see how much Rick wanted to take me on the grand tour. I was thinking of a polite way to tell him I could barely stand on my feet, but Matteo saved me.

Putting an arm around his husband’s waist he said, "Rick, love. I think all Jonah really wants to see right now is a large cool drink and a bed."

Rick lifted his sunglasses, narrowed his eyes, and looked me up and down. "Yes, of course. Matteo is right. I can see you're beat. We'll wait until tomorrow, then I’ll show you around. Okay?" He took the duffel bag out of my hand. "Gimme that."

That was all the coddling I would get. Gotta love him.

"You'll like the patio; we’ll have breakfast there in the morning and once you feel human again, I’ll bet you’ll be straight in Matteo's kitchen! You cook. Right?"

"Yeah. I doubt I'm in Matteo's league, but yes."

"Oh that doesn't matter. There is always grunt work to do." Matteo smiled at me. "Come on, this door leads to the private part of the house. Your rooms are on the second floor; it's a small flat where my brother used to live before he bought his own restaurant."

"Your brother got a restaurant too?"

"Si, together with his wife Graziella. The cooking gene runs in the family."

The blue door opened to a small foyer, with a beautiful, also blue, terrazzo floor and as I had hoped, the inside of the house was naturally cool.

Matteo didn’t bother to show me around but immediately headed up a small staircase; its old wood creaked with every step he took. “Follow me, Jonah.”

Upstairs, the only door was already open. I felt a push from behind and found myself standing in a narrow, dimly lit hall.

"Go to sleep, Jonah. The bathroom is right through the door on the left. If you want something to drink or to eat, come down to the restaurant. Matteo also stocked the refrigerator in the kitchen over there with water, some fruit, salad, and cheese. If you feel like making a sandwich, bread is on the table. Leave the shutters closed, it's too warm and sunny outside. I’ll come looking for you in the evening and open them if you’re still asleep. There shouldn't be too much noise from the restaurant; the windows go out to the patio and the beach." Rick lifted my chin with a finger, turned it left and right, and then grinned. "You look like shit by the way!"

I slapped at his hand. "Why, thank you so much, my beloved cousin."

This was his unique way of expressing his concern. He was right, though, and I totally felt like shit too.

After I found the bag with my toiletries, I trudged into the bathroom, eager to take a quick shower and wash away the grime from my hours of travelling. And then: sleep.

Standing under the warm spray, I fumbled for the shower gel. It was so relaxing just letting the water rain down on me; I didn’t want to open my eyes.

“Where's the dammed bottle?”

I finally found it, squeezed some of the gel on my hand, rubbed it on my skin and sniffed.

"What the hell! Cinnamon! Shit!" I threw the bottle across the shower, where it hit the opposite wall, only to bounce back right into my face.

“Ouch! Fuck!” That was it. My cheek burned, I could barely breathe, everything felt so constricted, my chest hurt, and there was a lump in my throat I didn’t think I could swallow around. Feeling like the most pathetic creature in the world, all I wanted was to curl up in a ball and cry.

I couldn’t even shower without being reminded of him.

Fucking shower gel. Why did I pack his instead of mine?

It wasn’t tears running out of my eyes, nor snot running out of my nose, just water in my face, water from the shower. Get it?

Why was I lying on the floor? I had to get up. Cold water dripped down on me from the showerhead. I was shivering. Grabbing one of those large blue fluffy towels hanging on the hook beside the stall, I sank my face into the thick material. Hmmm. It smelled of lavender and sun. Much better.

I needed to sleep, but first I had to brush my hair out and braid it; otherwise, it would be like a tangled rat’s nest in the morning.

He always loved to brush my hair; he would gently disentangle every knot with his hands first and then… I had to stop thinking about that.

The braid felt cold against my skin and I should probably have waited until it was drier, but those cool sheets were calling to me to slip under and fall asleep.

When I woke up my head hurt, but Rick, who knew me so well, had already put a glass with water and some aspirin on the nightstand beside me. I took the pills and waited for them to do their thing.

I must have quickly fallen back to sleep afterwards. I never heard Rick opening the shutters. The next time I woke, cool night air wafted through the windows, crickets were chirping outside, and I could hear the sea in the distance.

***

Hey Zach, I'm in Sicily…

Where was I? Oh yes, I told you that I’d thrown Ren out of my apartment, because we got into an argument when he brought my bike back. It was getting ridiculous. Even an hour afterwards, I was still so angry I wanted to hit something. In the end I did the one thing that always helped. I ran. And the whole time I had that dammed song in my head: “Run baby, Run”.

Did you wear your red running shoes? Yes Zach. Now shut up!

When I came home I felt much better, but I knew if I didn’t do something to distract me, I would be right back where I had started: seething with anger. So after taking a long, relaxing shower, I worked for hours. Finally I was too tired to concentrate and called Chris. I wanted to go out dancing and maybe, just maybe, hook up with someone.

Normally I don't care what I wear as long as big bad Carl, the bouncer of Checker’s, lets me in. That evening though, I wanted to look good: Worn blue jeans that hugged my ass and package just right, and a black, tight button-up shirt that showed off bits of skin when I lifted my arms. Perfect. I only had to tie my hair back, grab my leather coat, and then I was on my way.

I found a spot for my bike in the club’s parking lot. What could go wrong now? Walking over to the entrance, I waved at my favorite bouncer. "Hey, Carl!"

"Jonah, hehe! Someone has plans for tonight, eh?"

I shrugged. "Maybe."

Carl winked. "My shift ends at midnight."

I laughed. "We'll see..."

Yes, the evening was going to be perfect.

I gave Betty at the check-in my coat and went downstairs. Bodies moving with the thumping beat already crowded the dance floor at the far end of the room. Every table near the entrance was occupied. It seemed to be a busy night.

Chris had said they’d be waiting at the bar and when I looked to my left, there he was, leaning with his back against Eric. He detected me immediately, grinned, and waved me over.

I was pushing my way through the crowd when I saw Ren coming from the bathrooms, wearing all black again. Tight leather pants were tucked into a pair of black riding boots and a snug tee. Jeez, someone was working hard on his ‘bad boy’ image.

"What's he doing here?" I hissed angrily at Chris.

Chris rolled his eyes at me. "He was at Eric’s when you called and Eric invited him to come along. What’s your problem with him anyway?"

"Great, just great. As if I needed to see him twice in one day." I turned my back to them and tried to get the bartender’s attention. I needed a beer. Then someone tapped me on the shoulder. "Hey, gorgeous."

I turned and saw Michael standing behind me. He was a friend of a friend and the guy had a crush on me since forever. Just the man I needed.

“Hey, Michael.” I smiled.

For a moment he looked surprised, but then he stepped closer. Grabbing my arm, he stood on the tip of his toes, moved his lips along my neck to my ear, not touching the skin but close enough that I could hear him over the music. “Wanna dance?”

"Sure. Lead the way." I nodded in the direction of the dance floor.

“Really?” Michael leaned back and grinned. “Cool!”

I love to dance and Michael was a good dancer. We didn’t stop after the first song, and Michael kept moving a little closer, grinding a little harder against me until he looked at me, silently asking me if it was okay. As an answer, I grabbed his hips so he couldn’t move too far away from me. He grinned. Later his arms were around me and he nuzzled my neck. "Let’s get something to drink? I’m thirsty."

"Good idea."

We went to sit with his friends rather than mine. I had no desire to be anywhere near Ren. Chris and Eric had invited him without asking me, so they could put up with him.

Michael's buddies were more fun than my so-called friends anyway. There was only one chair left, so Michael sat in my lap. I gulped down half a bottle of water, while his friends were ribbing him on how he finally got what he’d wanted for so long.

Michael mostly ignored them, but then they came up with ideas of what else he could do: a lap dance, a blow job in the bathroom, or just un-braid my hair and see how long it was. Something he’d always wondered about. With each suggestion, Michael got more embarrassed while they were laughing their asses off.

Suddenly Michael started to place little kisses along my neck until he reached my ear. "Do I know the guy who is trying to murder me with his eyes?" Michael whispered in my ear.

"Hmm?" I had a very good idea who that could be.

Michael continued, "Black hair, black slanted eyes, black shirt, black pants, black--"

Having heard enough, I interrupted him. "--heart? That’s Ren."

"Aw, now I understand, you're trying to make him jealous. Right?"

I was shocked. Was that what I was doing? "What? No! Bullshit!"

But Michael didn't seem to be angry with me. He nudged me in the ribs, obviously enjoying the idea of making someone jealous. "Come on, you can tell me." When I stayed silent, he speculated. "Or is it your ex? And this Ren guy is just pissed because you're trying to come between Eric and Chris?"

I forced myself to laugh. "Doesn’t it bother you that with all these scenarios you’re coming up with, I’d be using you?"

Michael shook his head. “Naw, you’re way out of my league. I know that.”

I swallowed. I was embarrassed, then I was angry, at myself and at him. I took Michael’s face in my hands and kissed his nose. “You’re an idiot imp and I’m a mere idiot. So what do we do with the rest of the evening?”

He laughed. Then he looked over my shoulder, and I swear his eyes glinted evilly. "Whoever it is you're after, let's make it more convincing." He jumped from my lap, took my hand and dragged me back to the dance floor. "Just a moment, I'll be right back." And off he went over to the DJ booth.

I started to dance without him, because standing around on a crowded dance floor made me look stupid. When he came back, he winked at me and I frowned at him questioningly.

The music ended and a new song began with hard beats. I started to bob my head and move my hips. ‘All we've got is this evening.’ Michael strutted over. ‘So let it count.’ He pointed his finger at me, ‘You’re so dammed hot, baby,’ grinding against my leg, ‘You make me sweat, ahh,’ and wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead.

I threw my head back and laughed. I couldn’t really chicken out now, so I leaned over, pulled him close, and mouthed the next words of the song. ‘Come on, come on here, baby.’ He threw his hands up. ‘Accept my surrender. Your moves are so sexy. I am at your feet.’ He pressed forward against me, I grabbed his ass, and he winked slyly before he fell down on his knees. I pulled him up again and we let ourselves go with the rhythm.

‘You’re mine tonight’, I stalked around him, ‘and we’re not sleeping’, letting my finger run under his shirt over the bare skin of his hip, back, and stomach just above his waistband. ‘I make you burn, girl,’ I grinned, ‘you’re going up in flames.’

‘Burn, burn, burn, baby,’ Michael mouthed. ‘I'm at your mercy.’ And he was on his knees again, pressing his face against my crotch. I shuddered. I tugged at his arms. “You’re getting trampled.” Only he wouldn’t have, because by then the other dancers stood around us in a wide circle, cheering us on.

Michael’s lips hovered over my ear, breathing hot against my skin. “Almost done.” Our lips crashed in a heated kiss.

Glancing over my shoulder Michael whispered, "Mission accomplished, they're glaring daggers at me." He grinned mischievously. "And now on to phase two."

"Phase two?"

He took my hand again and pushed through the crowd, the song wasn't even over yet. "You'll see..."

Michael headed towards the bathroom; we were almost running when we finally reached the door. I opened it and Michael grabbed my ass, pushing me through the door.

"Quick, into a stall." We hurried to the last one in the row and locked the door behind us. A guy who was washing his hands, grinned and winked.

"They'll think we're gonna..." I whispered breathlessly and he nodded.

"Exactly." He inspected the wall before he leaned against it.

I did the same. “And now?”

“We wait.”

“We wait?”

“Yes.”

For whatever reason I started to giggle, only to slap my hand over my mouth. “Hmm.” I sniffed. “I never noticed before, but it doesn’t smell as bad in here as I thought it would.”

Michael snorted. “They have someone cleaning up in here every hour.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“Harry told me.”

“The bartender?”

“Uh-huh.”

After about five minutes or so, someone flung the bathroom door open, slamming it into the wall with a loud bang. "Jonah! Jonah, are you in here?"

Michael looked at me and mouthed, "Eric?"

I shrugged, because of the music coming in through the open door along with the laughing and shouting from the other guests, I couldn't identify the voice clearly as Eric's. Whoever it was nudged every stall door open with a bang until they came to ours. When they noticed it was locked one of them shouted, "Jonah! What do you think you're doing there?"

Before I could stop myself, I answered, "Having fun?"

Michael moaned simultaneously, "Ngh...Ahhh...Jonah, don't stop..." and I started to giggle. Again.

Next we heard an angry hiss. “Son of a bitch!” Somebody hit the door with so much force they almost unhinged it.

"Come on, forget it... there is no point, come on." That was definitely Eric’s voice.

I looked at Michael. "So, who was with Eric? Ren?"

"I bet it was him, and hehe, is he pissed! Could it be that you overlooked some trifle, some tiny little thing like him being into you, maybe?"

"Nah, he's been an asshole every time he's seen me. We don't do the ‘I-like-you-and-that's-why-I'm-being-an-ass-to-you’ thing anymore at our age. Right? If that was really him he must be drunk."

"If you say so."

A change of topic was in order. "So, what do you think, how long do we have to stay in here?"

"At least twenty minutes, we're having fun, remember?"

Grinning, I moaned, "Ahh yeah baby, come hither..."

He groaned. “Yes, yesss, right there…so good, that’s the spot.”

“My chin? Do you mean that spot? Where he’ll hit me with his fist?” I pushed his shoulder. “You’re such a crazy bastard.”

“But it was fun.” Then he growled, “Son of a bitch, bang, bang, bang.” Bursting into a fit of laughter, we held on to each other until we calmed down again.

And then we just talked. Michael told me about the new camera he’d bought, I told him about some part I needed for my bike but couldn’t get and had to order online. From that we went to talking about last week’s game until Michael got his phone out and looked at the time.

“Aaaaand action!” With that he pulled me against his body, sucked and bit my neck, until he had created a nice mark.

I touched the spot. "Hey, watcha doing?"

"Don’t you think we should at least look like we actually had a bit of fun?"

Before I could answer, he grabbed my braid and ripped the elastic tie out. I retaliated by mussing up his hair. He tilted his head and looked me up and down. “Not bad.”

He unbuttoned his shirt and gestured for me to do the same.

“Hmm, better, but still not enough.” With that he grabbed my head and sucked at my bottom lip and I bit his so that he looked thoroughly kissed too.

Finally satisfied with our, ‘we-had-lots-of-fun appearance’, Michael suggested leaving the club immediately. "The threat of a painful death is lurking out there for us, I’m sure."

Remembering how forcefully they had banged against the door, thereby almost crushing it, I agreed wholeheartedly.

Outside I slung my arm around Michael's shoulders and he wrapped his arm around my waist, hiding his face in my neck under my hair.

"Hmm, you smell good..."

I whispered back, "Cold sweat."

We didn’t look where Eric, Chris, and Ren were sitting, but went straight to the stairs leading to the exit. When we passed Michael's friends, they cheered and wolf-whistled. Michael made a brief thumbs up gesture and out we were.

"Whew..."

We went to my bike and Michael gave me back my hair tie so I could redo my braid. "Do you need a ride home?"

Michael shook his head. "No, I'll call a cab."

I handed him my second helmet. "Hop on, I'll drive you home."

After mounting my bike, Michael climbed on behind me.

At that moment we heard Eric hollering my name. Not looking back, we drove away as fast as we could with the engine roaring.

"That was close." I laughed and Michael slapped me on the back.

"Yeah."

After we had reached his apartment building, he gave me my helmet back and smirked. "What a night to remember..."

"Definitely." I smiled back, waved, and drove off.

Then I felt my phone vibrating in the front pocket of my pants. I stopped, and seeing Eric's caller ID, I turned it off.

Okay, Zach, I’ll go back to bed now. Good night.

Oxalis pes caprae

Run Baby Run