A/N: Do not ask me where I'm going with this, I'm still working it out... If you haven't read my previous stories, Another Life and Christmas in Another Life, you're going to be confused and wonder what's going on... Big, big thanks to Mariel, as always so helpful and totally wonderful -I've added a fair amount so any mistakes are totally mine... And thanks to Sam for her help and friendly chats.
Disclaimer: Oh, just the usual, I won't bore you with the details. But Jack should be mine.
A Night Out in Another Life.
by
jjbird
They lasted 7 minutes in the strip club.
7 minutes.
Jack was blaming Al; Al was blaming Jack.
But actually, neither had wanted to be there in the first place.
It was Samantha's fault, really, and Jack was going to have to have some words about it. One day.
She'd thrown it at him after dinner, after they'd delivered Danny to his hotel. He was trying to find a coat hanger for his jacket; she was in the bathroom removing her make-up. "You, Al and Danny are going to a strip club."
Jack had nearly dropped the jacket on the floor and wondered if she'd spiked his drink earlier. He must be dreaming. "Sorry, I just imagined you said-" he called out.
"You heard me. Tomorrow night. You three are going to a strip joint because Jen and I are going to a male strip club."
Finally locating a coat hanger and hanging up the jacket, Jack had decided maybe he'd been hit on the head instead. Most men would have been thrilled for their fiancée to suggest it; but then, he wasn't like most men. "And this is what makes it fair in the Spade universe? Two nights before our wedding and you're making me go to a strip club," Jack had said, trying the words out for size, and finding they didn't fit to his liking.
She had been speaking over the running water. "Jen was telling me about it –'Men Alive' it's called. Not sleazy, very tasteful. They don't take it all off." She had almost sounded disappointed, Jack noted. "More like a revue, classy. Something different for one of our last nights' out as singles –it's a tradition after all."
Coming to stand at the open bathroom door, Jack had frowned. He'd have thought some pre-marital sex would have been on the cards that night instead. "And she's been there before?" He wondered what Al would say about that. He'd certainly never mentioned it since he'd known him, but then it wasn't something that would come up in normal conversation.
"No, which is why this is the perfect opportunity," she had said, looking for excess mascara in her reflection.
"I thought what we all did the other night was enough," he'd pointed out.
The bachelor party poker game Al had organized a couple of days before had been more like it –a few guys, expensive whisky, some Cuban cigars Danny had sent Jack some months before ('Don't ask, don't tell' read the accompanying note) and a huge range of greasy take-out –all extremely satisfying. Samantha had rounded up a few ladies to watch some chick flicks and an obscene amount of chocolate had been consumed, along with the contents of all the bottles of alcohol in their apartment. Jack hadn't known women could do so much damage to innocent bottles in such a short time.
Satisfied all the make-up was gone, Samantha had looked over at him. "Jack, come on. I wouldn't feel right going if you didn't go to something equivalent. Fair's fair."
Jack hadn't known what to make of her twisted logic. "I'll talk to Al –but I'm not exactly happy about it…" he grumbled.
Smiling in a way because she knew the battle was half won, Samantha had gone over to him, and pressed herself against him. "I'll make it worth it for you," she'd said in a quiet whisper.
"Are you using your feminine wiles on me to get what you want?" he had asked as she began to kiss his ear.
"Hm-mm," she had nodded, continuing on to his neck.
"And you're not taking no for an answer, are you?"
She'd begun to unbutton his shirt, fingernails lightly grazing his chest beneath.
Jack had sighed, his resolve crumbling. "Oh, all right then…"
Sometimes, even Jack Malone was like other men.
Xx--
And it was also Danny's fault. In the end the best man hadn't wanted to go to some sleazy strip club while he was in Chicago for the wedding, even with Jack. Being sensible, wise and single, Danny knew that being with Samantha and Al's wife, Jen -in a club full of excited and most likely drunk women- was a much better idea.
They paid the horrendous cover charge, then Jack and Al got themselves beers and sat to watch the 'exotic dancers' -all implants, all the time. The club was as dark and grimy as their table was. It all felt as cheap and tragic as it looked. Gianelli had recommended the place to Al –probably angling for an invitation that was never going to come. Looking around at the other patrons, Jack should have known better -on second thoughts- but he'd also asked around and no-one was able or willing to suggest anywhere -as if any one had believed his excuse for going.
Sitting there, both men knew they were too old for this and that it wasn't their style. It went without saying that they both knew their ladies were having a much better time without them.
And to add insult to injury, Danny was with the women. Traitor. Danny was never going to live this one down, Jack had decided.
Al stared at the disinterested, scantily-clad woman closest to them, gyrating on the stage. "What exactly is the point of the pole? I mean –really really? Is it actually there to belittle us?" he asked Jack.
Jack, the groom, preferred to concentrate on his beer, examining the froth, knowing that he had something better in his own life.
The reek of desperation that pervaded the club and emanating from the other men finally got to both of them. They looked at each other, making a silent agreement, drained their glasses and quietly left.
They stood outside, wondering what to do next and noting how long they'd lasted.
"Well, that sucked," Al said, avoiding looking at Jack as they walked aimlessly down the street.
"Actually, I believe you pay extra for that," Jack pointed out.
Al pulled a face. "Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph… yech! Should have a word with the guys at Vice about that." He sighed sadly. "I should never have taken Gianelli's advice."
Shrugging it off, Jack stopped in front of a bar. "There is no way we can turn up at that club they're at right now."
Looking through the bar's window, Al nodded. "And Sam's going to give us hell while Jen'll just laugh…"
"So, we might as well sink a few more?"
"Sounds good to me," Al said, stepping back to allow Jack through the door. "The condemned about-to-be-married man buys the first round -top shelf and no arguing!"
Xx--
After a reasonable amount of time, whisky and playing the blame game had passed, Jack and Al decided to venture to the club to find the others. The queue was long but Jack decided that flashing his badge might help and it did. The doorman helpfully informed them that they had just missed a number, but there would be another one in half an hour.
Al shot a look at Jack as they considered this. "Oh, joy…"
Jack rubbed his temple. There was definitely a headache forming. "If they call for volunteers from the audience, I'm out of here."
A sound like a guffaw came from Al. "Good grief Jack, the number of women here that would want to see you strip down to your… ah… boxers might actually number more than one, you know."
Jack shot him a withering look. "Al Robertson, you really worry me sometimes."
"No more than I worry myself. Let's get in there and find our ladies."
Another cover charge later, they sauntered inside, as nonchalantly as possible, to find the contrast between the two clubs couldn't have been more jarring. The lighting, the atmosphere and the music were happily upbeat. Finding their respective partners in the crowd of women was not going to be an easy task. The female crowd was obviously having a wonderful and rowdy time.
"I believe this is what we called in the dark ages 'a happening place'," noted Al over the thumping music.
Jack was busy scanning the club; barring the male staff, there seemed to be the expected lack of men around. "When was that -1973?"
Al thought about this for a moment. "I believe it was 1969, actually."
"I would never have guessed a place could be so busy on a week night. Look at all these women!" It was like a happy feeding frenzy.
Al nudged Jack in the side and indicated a group of women standing near-by, who were blatantly giving them both the once over. "Uh-oh, we're being checked out… Women just can't keep away from this teddy bear, I'm telling you-"
"For Christ's sake, where the hell is Sam?" Jack cut in irritably, searching the feminine crowd. A few moments later his eyes alighted on her, sitting alone at a table. Feeling a surge of relief he dragged Al over by the arm.
After being enveloped in a big hug, Samantha was surprised to see them but also secretly pleased; feeling rescued, Jack then made his excuses to go to the bathroom, so she nabbed Al for a round of drinks.
Samantha couldn't help but grin while they made small talk, watching as Al ordered the drinks and watched them being made. He solemnly paid the bartender, a look of disapproval on his face.
She grabbed a couple of glasses to help him out; it was the least she could do. Al took one last look at the bartender as they began to walk back to the table, trying to avoid the female throng and not spill anything.
"This is so wrong," he hissed at her.
"What?" asked Samantha innocently. "The drinks?"
Al frowned. "Your choice, and frozen strawberry margaritas I can handle, but for God's sake, do I have to be treated to his firm pecs and washboard stomach while he gets them? It's not something I want to see."
Samantha laughed. And he was buff, and tanned… "Feeling insecure?"
Snorting, Al tried to be blasé. "Hardly -I'm very secure of my extraordinary body image." Back at their empty table, they put the drinks down and seated themselves. "I take great pains to keep it within the FBI health guidelines –borderline cuddly at most. It takes a lot of non-working out to be this soft toy-like." Spreading the glasses around, he made sure he put Danny's mocktail in the right place. Al continued, a bit miserably. "But this place, all these…" he searched for a word as a hunky waiter went past and looked horrified at his decision, "studs… This isn't even a gay club!"
Samantha was busy looking for her own stud; she knew he wouldn't have detoured onto the dance floor where Danny –practically the only guy - and Jen were. "Would a gay club have been a better idea?" she asked absently, before spotting Jack making his way back.
Men, you just can't keep them happy…
Sitting next to her, Jack kissed her on the cheek, before staring at the drinks. "You have got to be kidding me… Al, did Sam make you buy these?"
Al nodded as he picked up a glass. "Be a man," he said, twirling a green cocktail umbrella at him as he ate the cherry it came with. "If I can manage it, so can you."
Jack leaned over closer to Samantha, his voice husky over the noise. "Is it just me or did his testosterone level increase. I swear he just grew a 5 o'clock shadow."
She tipped her head towards the bar. "I'm blaming the barman and the waiters –big, muscled and quite some sights to behold."
Jack nodded, understanding and not feeling in the least threatened, he then wondered how and where the night had gone so bizarrely wrong. A male strip joint was the last place he'd ever thought he'd find himself, unless it was work related.
She fully faced Jack, dying to ask: "So, how was it?"
Rolling his eyes, he pulled a face. "I'll tell you about it later; just don't ever make me do that again." He picked up a glass and took off the garnishes. Taking a sip, he scowled and decided Samantha was trying to kill him: she'd requested the sugar-crusted rim instead of salt.
Al finally caught sight of Danny and Jen on the dance floor and watched a few moments. "Pretty good mover, your Danny. If he dances any closer to Jen he's going home in a body bag."
"Yep, that man sure knows how to dance," said Samantha, earning her a reproachful look from Jack. Dancing had never been his strong point.
Spotting them, Danny waved before leading Jen back to the table. With a flourish, he gave her a twirl and kissed her hand, before they sat in their seats.
"I saw you over here –missing us, by any chance?" Danny grinned smugly at them.
"Well, I'm glad they're back," said Jen, a little puffed, fanning herself with her hands as Al territorially put his arm around her. "How'd it go?"
Al squeezed her arm. "I'm not discussing it anymore than Jack is… So, Danny, been teaching my wife a few moves?" he asked, neutrally. Jack and Samantha glanced at each other; this was a new side to Al.
"A bit of salsa, a bit of rumba, she's natural, and I have to say, the women in Chicago are extremely fine, too," he said, throwing an admiring look over his shoulder.
"You got some phone numbers?" asked Jack, not surprised at all and hoping to help Al out; he knew Danny had a special magic with the ladies. Danny just smiled smugly in reply.
Jack's enquiry worked. Al perked up. "You did? But you're only here for a few days!" he said, admiringly.
Danny picked up his glass. "I'm only saying… I may be bringing a date to the wedding."
This was fine with Samantha. It was going to be a very small affair, so it wasn't like that was going to ruin any seating arrangements. Vivian had had to cancel last minute because of a combination of Bureau work and Marcus. Martin, although invited, tactfully declined; both Samantha and Jack were relieved about that –the last face-to-face meeting in New York between Jack and Martin hadn't turned out very well, and there was now an uneasy truce. Besides, having exes at her wedding wasn't on Samantha's wish list. Hanna and Kate were going to be flowergirls, but Maria was also going to be diplomatically absent by her own choice. This was another absence to be relieved about.
The dance music was dying out and there was a stampede of women toward the stage on the other side of the dance floor. The next number was about to start.
Danny leaned forward. 'You should see these guys," he said to Jack and Al, "they're really, really good."
Shaking his head, Jack smiled. "Danny Taylor, you also really worry me sometimes. You'll be up on the stage next."
The look on Jen's face meant she wouldn't mind that at all. Luckily for her, the lights in the club began to dim.
Al looked at Samantha, beseechingly. "Do we have to stay?"
Samantha thought she should put Al -and to a lesser extent, Jack- out of his misery. Only in one respect. "Drink up, boys, because next," she announced cheerfully, "we're going to a karaoke bar!"
Stricken, Jack looked at Al; Al looked at Jack.
Oh, shit…
tbc, oh yes...