#scenebreak
So three guys were in a garage dancing. . . it was the start of a joke my dad would’ve told once upon a time. I taught K-pop and Corey the first few moves from the Beast routine, trying my best to imitate Tango’s ability to break down choreo. K-pop picked it up quickly, once I simplified a few parts.
Corey did better than expected. Channeling the way my dad taught, I physically pushed his body through the moves until he got them and then we ran it a hundred times for memorization.
“Dude, you’re awesome,” I told him.
“It’s a guy thing,” he explained after a high five. “Tango’s stuff is great, but it’s kinda girly.”
K-pop confirmed Corey’s assessment.
Corey held up his hands. “I’m not saying she isn’t great. . . just. . . yours is more dude-like.”
K-pop nodded.
It made sense. For the Beast routine, I’d incorporated a bunch of boxing moves. In some ways, we probably looked like we were fighting almost as much as dancing. We might be turning a pirouette, but we kept our arms close, our knees bent and our hands in fists. The guys’ favorite part was a section of fake sparring. The punches were slowed down and all the moves smoothed out in time to the music.
I swung at Corey.
He leaned away and spun into K-pop, who ducked and threw a leaping kick at me.
I grabbed his ankle and he jumped up, turning and kicking his free leg right over my head. He planted his hands on the floor, and I threw him into a back tuck. He only landed on his ass three or four times before tucking at just the right moment.
Fist bumps all around the first time he nailed it.
As the sun climbed higher, so did the temperature in the garage. When it reached a hundred degrees, we lost the shirts. And yes, a hundred degrees is normal in Texas. We managed to work through the first half of the routine, which was pretty amazing considering my buddies’ prior accomplishments.
I called a break for drinks but decided on water this time instead of beer.
Corey murmured his disappointment.
When I returned to the garage, he was showing K-pop his salsa moves. He grinned. “I got it, right?” He did. “Okay, boss. . . What’s next?”
How could I say no to the big puppy dog? I took him into dance position and taught him a guy’s turn, a simple about face. I only had to shove him through it a few times, and, when he got it, he whooped at K-pop. “Look, bro. Soy salsero!”
K-pop gave him a smack on the arm. “Hai.”
We watched Corey practice his turn.
“You really need to join the team,” K-pop said to me. “Tango’s right. She is a better teacher than you, but you know more. No one’s fooled, bro. The new mad moves came from you.”
“We knew it right away.” Corey kept practicing his salsa turn. “A-bout face, hai!”
“And you’re not so bad a teacher.” K-pop waved at Corey. “See? You figured out what he really needed was to get shoved around. With both of you there, we’ll learn twice as fast and the choreo will be sick twisted, hai?” He looked to Corey for support. “Right?”
Corey stopped dancing. “Sure, bro, but I’ll never be on the team again, anyway.” He moved to the heavy bag and gave it a frustrated jab.
“Sorry,” K-pop said. “I sorta forgot that part.”
Corey gave the bag a serious punch and frowned at me, shaking his hand. He had power, but no control. His knuckles were already red, so I helped him into a pair of gloves. He threw a few more punches.
“Stop!” Dad called from the kitchen door.
We all jumped. Good thing we were drinking water instead of beer. He didn’t mind my partaking once in a while, but handing them out to my friends would’ve meant certain doom.
“Dad! Sorry. . . we were just. . .”
“Just messing around. I get it.” He wore the dragon jousting suit and an expression of annoyance. Was he pissed? Teasing?
Corey fidgeted, perhaps remembering that his last punching bag had been me. “Hey there, Mr. Fox.” He tried, unsuccessfully, to pull off the gloves. “Sorry.”
Dad crossed his arms, still glaring at Corey. “K-pop.”
“Sir.”
Dad sighed a quick sharp, sigh and glanced at me. “He hits like that and managed to connect with you?”
I wanted to throw him a witty repartee, reminding him I’d been sound asleep at the time, but we were neck deep in dangerous waters and the scene could play out any number of shitty ways. Was he actually going to give Corey some pointers?
Dad turned his attention to Corey. “Hit the bag.”
Corey glanced at me, but I wasn’t getting a single piece of that, so he turned to the bag and sort of half-heartedly jabbed at it.
“For fuck’s sake, Corey. It’s not your grandmother. Hit it!”
I’m guessing the guys weren’t used to parents who dropped the f-bomb. Corey grinned and gave the bag another jab.
K-pop nudged me, most likely curious why this was such a big deal.
I didn’t dare move. I barely breathed. I hadn’t heard my dad’s teacher voice in months. If I moved, I’d upset the universe, a butterfly somewhere would croak and Dad would go back to being. . . not-Dad.
Dad rolled his eyes and tapped Corey’s right foot. “Right-handed?”
Corey nodded.
“Then right foot back.” He nudged Corey’s shoulder. “Keep your shoulder over it. That’s your strong arm.” He grabbed the gloves and pulled Corey’s hands up to cover his face. “Never. . . never let your guard down.” He tapped Corey’s head. “Now try.”
Corey punched with his right but didn’t move his body at all. I knew what came next and smiled.
Dad whistled. “That almost knocked down your grandmother.” He stepped up behind Corey, taking his right elbow. “When you throw the punch, shift forward.” He moved the arm as if Corey were a puppet and nudged him forward as the arm extended. “You’re a big guy. Use that.”
He led Corey through the move slowly a few times, then took two steps around the bag so he could demonstrate. He threw three punches in slow motion exaggerating the shift of weight so Corey could see it. Instinct kicked in and he attacked the bag in a flurry of blows that actually choked me up. It’d been so long since I’d seen him in action.
Corey whooped. “Whoa! Mr. Fox is da F-fuckin-bomb.”
Dad stopped and gave him a stern look. “Watch your language in my gym, kid.” He grinned. Then his face lost its color as he realized what he’d just said.
Corey didn’t notice. He was already holding the gloves out to me and shaking them, so I ripped the Velcro.
Dad caught my eye, his face conflicted.
Suddenly, Corey held a credit card between us. “I need lessons, F-bomb, and I promise to watch my language, but you have mad skills.” He shook the card. “I. must. learn. them!”
Dad stared at the card as if it were going to bite him. “I don’t. . . ”
I snatched the card. “Thirty-five an hour, three times a week, one month in advance.”
Corey waved me off and gave his full attention to the bag. “You do the math. My mom takes golf lessons so she knows what it costs.”
Knowing Dad, he was about to say he didn’t have a credit card machine.
“I’ll run it through Paypal,” I said, shoving the card in my pocket, “and get this to you next time I see you.”
Corey jumped up and down. “Awesome! Can we start tomorrow? Before school?”
Dad didn’t move or speak, so I answered for him. “Six-thirty.”
“Sweet.”
I raised a finger in warning. “Do not wake me up.” Corey kind of deflated, so I compromised. “Not before eight.”
He jabbed my shoulder. “Okay, bro.” He offered a hand to my dad.
Dad shook it.
“Thanks, F-bomb. I’m going to tell all the guys on the team, and I bet they’ll all want lessons!” He bumped K-pop’s fist the
n departed in a cloud of enthusiasm.
Dad and I stared at each other. There were a million things we could’ve said but didn’t. Maybe because K-pop was there, but I doubt it.
Things had changed for the better. They weren’t that good.
“F-bomb?” Dad asked at last.
I shrugged. “They do like their nicknames in this town.”
Tons of conflicting emotions battled in his eyes, but he sort of, kinda actually smiled. He ruffled my hair before turning to go. “I’ll let you boys play. I need to get out of this monkey suit.”
After he left, K-pop broke the silence. “Wow. He really makes a guy rethink the stereotypes, don’t he?”
I laughed so hard I coughed. “You have no idea, my friend.” He seemed ready for more dance, but I was exhausted, hot and twitchy and wanted nothing more than to throw myself into Auntie Mac’s pool. “I’m done, dude.”
He nodded, but sort of hesitated. “Can we. . . talk a minute?”
“You mind talking in the pool? I need to hit that before I die.”
He grinned. “Hai!”
So we made our way through the house, where I found a couple of towels before heading into the backyard. I dropped the towels on a chair, kicked off my shoes and untied my sweats.
K-pop hesitated. “Is your aunt around?” He slowly toed off his shoes, looking around.
“Nope.” I gestured at the privacy fence. “And we don’t need to worry about the neighbors.” I pulled off my sweats. “You’ve already seen my Captain Americas, so I’m not worried.” I dove in without waiting to see what my friend would decide.
That pool was a little slice of heaven in an otherwise imperfect South Texas hell. It wasn’t big enough for laps, but it had a deep end, a diving board and an awning that covered it and kept it cooler. It was shaped like a paisley. As I reached the bottom, I heard the deep sound of K-pop hitting the water.
Nice.
I swam to the shallow end and over to the edge, wondering what K-pop wanted to discuss. After Juicy’s big reveal, I’d stopped thinking of my new friends as small town simple. Hm. Friends. Interesting.
K-pop swam up next to me and leaned against the wall.
I gave him my full attention. “What’s up?”
He seemed surprised. “I thought you might want to talk about whatever that was with your dad.”
My turn for surprise. “What? I figured you had something going on.”
He shook his head. “I’m pretty simple. I just figured you’re new here. . . maybe you needed someone to talk to.” He sort of froze for a second. “I’m sorry. Way too chick flick, right?” He moved away a foot or two. “I just figured, we’re dancing together, we should get to know each other. I mean. . . that’s what you do, hai?”
“Is it?” I stared at him like an idiot while a tornado of emotions whirled around inside and killed my snarky quip ability.
K-pop seemed to sense it. His face softened. “You’re living with some demons, hai?”
I nodded, afraid to speak.
“Do me a favor?”
I nodded again.
“Duck under.” He must’ve seen that I didn’t understand. He dropped under the surface and came up streaming water. “Hai?”
I did as he asked and blinked the chlorine away.
He smiled. “Now all I see is pool water pouring down your face.”
I had to swallow really hard.
He relaxed against the wall to let me know he was comfortable and I could take my time.
“My dad’s my only real friend, dude, and ever since the accident he won’t talk about it. Until yesterday, he had this phobia about touching anyone. And today, watching him teach Corey. . .”
K-pop waited.
I swallowed again. “It’s like maybe he’s coming back. Like maybe I’ll get my dad back.” I couldn’t talk for a while.
K-pop held out his hand palm down and lowered it into the water.
I choked out a laugh, ducked under and came up sputtering. “Sorry.”
He shook his head with a don’t-be-an-idiot face. “There’s a lot more there, bro. I listen pretty good, you know.”
“Yeah? Must be how you get the girls.”
He chuckled. “Are you kidding? I thought it was my obsession with anime and Korean pop music. . . or maybe the fact that I spend all my time dancing and making animation.” He turned toward the side of the pool. “Not a lot of ladies here share my interests.”
So he’d never had a girlfriend. Although. . . Tango liked to dance. But I still had a hard time imagining K-pop as violent. “You have any ideas on the sick little twist?”
He started, then fought with himself.
“You do,” I said.
He folded his arms over the edge of the pool. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone something.”
“Which doesn’t sound at all suspicious.”
“I know, I know.” He stared into my eyes as if judging whether he could trust me.
“If you know anything. . .”
He nodded. “Woody asked me to help him pick out some video cameras.”
That sounded like stalker activity. “What kind?”
“Surveillance cameras,” he admitted. “Inconspicuous. Four of them.”
“Dude. Woody asked you to help him pick out inconspicuous surveillance cameras, and it never struck you as suspicious?”
His exasperation was obvious. “I know, I know, but he said it was for a sociology project. He needed to monitor kids in kindergarten and study how they worked in groups. The kids would be told the cameras were there, but if they didn’t see them all the time, they’d sort of forget about them.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
He laughed. “That’s the thing, bro. He hasn’t had a steady girlfriend for a while, but he ‘goes out’ with plenty.” Jealousy rode shotgun with the words. “The only reason he’d be a secret admirer would be Boyfriend. They’ve been friends for years.”
“But he told you not to tell anyone about the cameras?”
“Yeah, that’s the sinister part.” K-pop sighed.
An earlier comment he’d made finally registered. “You make animation?”
He laughed. “Non sequitur much?” Then embarrassment made an appearance. “I’m trying. There’s a couple of online classes I took and some YouTube tutorials.”
I filed away the info on Woody. “Dude! You have to let me see. Is there an iPad in your backpack?”
Of course there was.
“You really want to see my work?”
Duh! “You’ve seen my mad moves, bro. Time to return the favor.”
He grinned, stoked that someone was interested.
We toweled off to avoid dripping on the iPad and stayed in the shade so we could see the screen better. I hunkered up next to him while he loaded some files and noticed that Naruto was kicking butt all over K-pop’s ass. I laughed. “Dude, we’re seventeen and we both have super heroes on our underwear.”
He rolled his eyes. “Please don’t ever share either that information or how you know it. I’d like to get laid some day, hai?”
His stuff was good. He had a couple of shorts in a series. They were pretty straightforward demons and cowboys stuff, but then he showed me an animated dance video that rocked the world.
“How’d you even do that? It looks like Borderlands.”
His eyes lit up. “It does? That’s what I was going for. That game is sick twisted.” He pulled up another window that was just him dancing in front of a green screen. “I painted one wall of the garage so I can record myself and then layer on the animations and effects.”
I whistled. “Seriously, bro. Tell me you’re going to college for this.”
I felt him tense up through my shoulder. “Yeah. . . sure.”
He didn’t have the money for it.
I didn’t either, anymore, unless I sold my soul to Monika. “I bet you could get a scholarship for animation. . . or an internship or something.”
“Really? For animation?” It was like he’d never thought of it. “It’s that good?”
I gave him a shut-the-fuck-up look. “Austin has a whole film school for stuff like this.”
“Okay, okay. . . I hoped it was that good. But you never really know until someone else says something, hai?”
Hai.
I prodded him to replay the dance video. “You’re not quite Pixar material, yet, but you rock, bro. Why haven’t you shown this to anyone?”
He shrugged. “No one ever asked.”
I sighed. It was same reason I’d never talked to anyone about the accident.
“What?” He cringed as if he thought my sigh meant he’d said something wrong.
“You really want to know what’s going on with my dad?”
He nodded and put the iPad in the pack. “But can I put on my sweats first? This is totally dudes-in-a-locker-room and all, but. . .”
I laughed. We hung our shorts out to dry, climbed into our sweats and t-shirts and dropped into chairs poolside.
I even brought out sweet tea.