John reclined stiffly in the chairs at the student lounge. He had picked a less noisy spot in the upstairs wing to host his conference with Victor. Guilty wasn't the right word for his feelings; John often wondered if he was still capable of feeling guilt. He hadn't felt guilt since…well, that didn't matter anymore. He drummed his fingers against the fake wooden arm of the chair as he waited.
His double chocolate chip iced coffee frappacino was melting when Victor sauntered toward the opposite chair. He didn't have much of a choice about the way he walked; his clothes did that to the man. Chi Sigma was the most infamous fraternity on campus and it seemed only natural to both John and Victor that they should have at least the most provocative moves, if not the most talented, at the dance contest.
"Victor." Victor had nodded in response to John's voice and summons. John flipped open his day planner and took a sip through his green straw before addressing the issue at hand. "I think we have a problem."
Victor nodded reluctantly, his longish nose bobbing up and down in time with that little flip in the back of his slicked hair. "I didn't want to say anything."
John raised his eyebrow. "Worried about offending me?"
"Yes."
John shrugged. "If there's anything I can do to change…"
"No, no. That's not it. It's just that your dance moves are too…well, feminine. The boys are getting intimidated. There's talk of firing you."
John's voice quivered with amusement. "What exactly did they expect? You explained to them what I teach to the new dancers at Babylon, right?"
Victor nodded, grimacing. "I don't think they quite expected what we got."
"Well," John sighed, "I do my best to be a man of honor and I think that we could almost consider a lack of attendance as a breach of contract. I can't do the show you want with only three people showing up on a weekly basis. I know your boys; they can get far too enthused. I remember this episode with Tide and a slip and slide during a barbecue…"
Victor chuckled. "You were there for that?"
"Well, I was actually at one that was hosted at UCLA, but the brothers all seem to speak a unified language."
Victor leaned back in his chair a little. "Why didn't you ever become one of us?"
"Wasn't for lack of trying. I just didn't have the income for it."
"There are always ways around the income."
John gave a smirk. "When they want to find a way around it? It's not that big a deal now."
"I would've let you in."
John sighed. "Perhaps we should talk on something else. Maybe a way to improve my lessons so I don't feel like I'm bilging you guys?"
Victor blinked, a light bulb going off in his mind. "Of course! What are you doing this Saturday night?"
John shrugged. "The normal debauchery after a bit of shopping with a friend. Why?"
Victor smirked. "I think it's time you see what kind of dancing my boys have in mind."
Emmett popped into John's thoughts as they sauntered along the Amish countryside, the radio playing a low beat. "Well, of course I'll go with you. Who knows? Perhaps I'll find myself a shiny toy to play with."
John snorted through his nose as he was trying to take a gulp of his Mountain Dew. "This is a fraternity, Emmett. They play by different rules than Babylon."
Emmett smirked. "That may well be, but it's not like there aren't any poor, naïve farm frat boys that aren't looking for an excuse to get down and dirty."
"You're terrible."
"I don't hear you arguing."
"As well you shouldn't." John took a look at the map, furrowing his brow. "I think we take a left at the crossroads of these two…farms."
Emmett nodded. "Oh, I see a sign. So, why did you pick this place?"
John mumbled a little into the map. "They've got the best cider in three counties and I wanted to clear my head."
"You sure you want me along to do that?"
John looked up at Emmett, surprised to hear the question. "Of course I do. Your attitude is the embodiment of the great queens. I only wish I were half as brave as you."
"And who says you aren't?" If he hadn't been driving, John was sure Emmett's hands would have been on his hips. John returned to the map, silent. Emmett soldiered on. "I mean, transplanting yourself into a strange place and making new friends and tough calls. You, sir, are the stuff of legends as well."
"Yeah, well, my Cher impression's not quite as on as yours, Em."
Em pursed his lips a bit. "That's okay, darling. No one does a diva like me."
John laughed, feeling a weight pull away from himself and back towards Pittsburgh. They arrived at the converted barn without issue of getting lost, which according to John was extraordinary considering his abysmal skills at navigating, or having bad weather, which wasn't so strange according to Emmett.
"So, how about some gossip time?" John asked as they perused an aisle of oddities.
"Oh, I want to play. Nothing like a great bit of gossip to get a girl's blood flowing. You go first."
"Okay." John stopped to fake examine a little statue. "What's up with you and Ted?"
Emmett made a stunned surprise face. "Just…feeling things out as we go. Oh, look over there. A picture of a giraffe and a hummingbird; must be fake Asian antiques."
John chuckled. "Wow, Em. You sure know how to avoid a question. You could've been a lawyer."
Emmett walked toward the next table over. "Yeah, well, the suits were too drab. Now it's my turn for a little gossip."
John winced. "Don't be too harsh."
"I won't be. If you'll tell me what happened between you and Ben the night of your birthday."
"You know the story, Em. This isn't the time or place."
"What? You hold something sacred about antiquing?" John stammered, feeling a bit flustered. "Well," Emmett broke his train of thought, "if the redness in your face is any indication than I'd say that we really are here to find Ben's birthday gift."
John calmed a bit. "I didn't think it was that big a secret."
"No, you've done a good job of hiding it. Just something I see every now and then. I bet you imagine those arms don't you? Maybe steal a brief kiss in the office, full permission from Michael of course and never meaning to Ben what it does to you…"
"Alright, alright." John made the sign of being shot in the heart. "You've wounded me enough. Yes, I thought I'd get something for when they move in together."
"My, my. You're quite gracious. I can't say I'm the same way, but I do approve."
John shrugged. "I do what I can." And then he saw it. "Em! I found it!"
Emmett turned the object in his hands. "What is it?"
"Well, this is actually the Chinese symbol for and but I think it means something else in Japanese. Ben would know more than I would."
"Yeah, but you took Asian civilizations, didn't you?"
John nodded. "I dabbled. I like the frosted lettering against the mirrored background though. Do you see a price?"
"You want American dollars or yen?" Emmett joked.
"Very funny. I think I'll get it for them."
"See anything else you want?"
A clerk about John's age walked past just then. He was tall with poufy brown hair in wild tangles. His eyes were a crisp hazel color and his cheeks were dotted with freckles. He was whistling to himself as he walked in his dark green apron. His jeans perfectly canvassed his ass.
"Can you wrap him up to go, Em?"
"What do you mean you want to go?" Emmett shouted into John's ears. Even the bass in the entryway of the fraternity house was drenched in sound.
"We're supposed to follow Victor!" John pointed toward the sea of people milling about near a hastily set-up stage. Emmett looked more out of place than John, but probably fit more into place than John ever could. The mass of bodies here, or at Babylon, still failed to impress John as much as he supposed they should have. Without people like Em in his life…John didn't want to think about it.
Victor waved and John nudged Em's elbow. Like salmon moving upstream, the archaic mob of hanger-ons and teenage beatniks moved through the rooms. There were red cups aplenty floating about and John declined two before reaching a balcony above one of the main dance floors. Maybe above was too lofty a word. Three steps separated him from the dancing masses. John let his Converse hang and rest on the railing while he and Emmett watched the crowd. There was no point in trying to hold a conversation. Since when had John been in a place that made him feel so old?
The music stopped abruptly, leaving a strange silence in the atmosphere. People ceased talking and every face pointed toward the stage, as though an advertised show were about to start. Confirming this, Victor leaned over to John. "You ready?"
John nodded. He loved finding out about and appreciating new forms of culture. Although this place was about as taxing a place as he wished to go.
There was a single thud that came from the behind the stage curtain. It was a makeshift black number, camouflaged by low lighting and the full dance floor. The thud was followed by a cascade of booms reminiscent of Stomp. John thought that maybe some of the brothers were going to show up with trash can lids or paint cans. That could be entertaining, John thought.
Emmett whispered on the other side of him. "Is this the floor show? Think they'll come out in blue petticoats with fur fans?"
John whispered back in mocking tones. "Keep your Rosemary Clooney fantasies to yourself!"
Then, suddenly, there was one man on stage in a muscular top that showed off his muscles and veiny neck. His jeans sagged far too low and his backwards baseball cap was not as fetching as I'm sure he imagined it to be. His movements were aggressive, reminding Emmett of a gorilla once that had been stared at while he was meandering through the zoo as a small child.
John cocked his head. He was stomping in rhythm to a non-existent beat and yet it was beat to itself. His arms and shoulders jerked in a motion that was short and choppy, almost like the Robot but more modern. The dancer's fists crossed themselves a few times in a display of power. He spoke something, but John couldn't make it out exactly.
He was about to lean over to Victor to ask what the man on stage was saying when Victor said. "Stepping."
John repeated it, making sure he was hearing correctly. "Stepping?"
The word's meaning soon became clear. John's mind began to form a definition as two men appeared onstage, dressed quite like the first. They were doing a mirror image of what the lead stepper was stomping. Two more flanked those two on each side. For a moment, John wasn't sure if that was the entire show or if there was more. But there was more.
It was clear that stepping had more of an urban flair, almost the same components as a break dance step. It required muscular form and a sort of egotistical confidence, a mystical proportion of testosterone in some ways. John still couldn't make out what they were saying, but it became clear it didn't matter when the men began to mirror each other and change positions until various stages of the same dance were interspersed at various intersections of the stage.
That's when John Penn gasped for maybe the third time since he'd moved to Liberty Avenue.
The man on the very end and very left of John was named Robbie. He wasn't what you would call a friend, possibly not even an acquaintance. He hid his intelligence between wickedly sharp blue eyes and that pale Jewish skin that exposed every vein and sinew of muscle. It was clear Robbie had kept the desire to keep himself in shape. How long had it been?
The music stopped and the hat that Robbie had used to hide most of his facial features was flung into the crowd, a generic white ball cap. John fidgeted, trying to make polite conversation with Victor. "So, that's stepping?" He couldn't take his eyes off of the man to his far left.
Victor stated the definition quite matter-of-factly; as though this were the world every man should have grown up in. "It's a cultural form of self-expression that takes various forms of African tribal culture with a mix of urbanized ghetto living and creates a masculine set of movements that are difficult to master. It requires a lot of dedication to get to that level."
John nodded. "I can see why people weren't too thrilled with my class once they saw what I was offering."
Victor shrugged. "They'd have hung in there if they knew you better."
John watched Robbie out of the corner of his eye. "I've no doubt. So, were all the dancers from Sigma?"
Victor nodded. "Mostly, couple of new guys from the west coast proving themselves, grad students."
"Hey! Watch what you say. I'm a future grad student." John joked.
Victor nodded, with a grin. "Well, if you'll excuse me gentlemen…I must go meet my girlfriend and do some heavy mingling."
The loud beat began again with a slow build. "We can hold down the fort."
Robbie, John thought. Two years I sat in that class with Jean and then Casey. Two years of us going through the motions of mockery, study groups, alienation, and the jerk I always imagined you to be. But you weren't a jerk. Just a young tough hoping he could be angry enough. How very James Dean of you, Robbie.
"Enquiring minds want to know what you're thinking." Emmett yelled into John's ears.
John looked down at Robbie. "I knew him."
"Oh? Anything I should be jealous of?"
John's head swung around Emmett in a grin. "Emmett, since when have I ever given you cause to be jealous of anyone?"
"Has he seen you yet?" Emmett nodded towards Robbie, who seemed to be moving off-stage, probably to change back into his normal party gear.
"I doubt he remembers me."
Emmett shrugged, noticing the young guy with moussed spikes in his hair and almost visible four pack under his white tank as he walked slowly behind the pair. "Well, the night is young John. Perhaps we should mingle a bit."
John tilted his head to the side, back and forth to the beat. "I'd rather people watch for awhile."
"Don't bore yourself into an early grave. I, however, need to go meet people."
"You just want me to bump into Robbie, don't you?"
Emmett followed the flirty eyes of Mr. Mousse. "Something like that."
John chuckled. "Go get-em, tiger."
Emmett leaned over to kiss John on the cheek. "Don't go spreading rumors about me. Even if they are true."
John was left alone on the railing and he suddenly had a tremendous craving for a bottle of Rolling Rock. He liked the feeling of the bottle cold against his hand. He liked the tint of green in the sea of drab black. He liked the way he looked, older but still free. But here he'd be just another student with just another red cup. That's not who he was.
