Chapter 7: Both hands
Author's note: This ol' thing is set between S02E05 and S03E06. Tangiers, because I miss that dive bar. It's pretty long because folks just kept wandering in and out and having existential crisis all over the place.
Also, I'm getting pretty sick of having this song stuck in my head.
Also, Ivan's probably not racist, probably just extraordinarily uncomfortable.
Also, breasts. Because they're there.
Also, it gets better.
Let me know what you think.
You kind of miss dancing, but you've only ever danced with Kate. And Ivan, maybe once or twice. You know you're no good at it, and you know that it's not really dancing that you miss. So you're sitting in the Jewel Box again, drinking beer and wondering why Gladys and Vera aren't here. Marco is though, and you take a spin with him, for lack of anything better to do. You're mid-twirl when Ivan comes in, Kate hanging off his arm and laughing, eyes bright as she gazes at him. You push Marco around so you don't have to look at them, and he lets you and you let your head rest on his chest for just a moment. He thinks you're trying to avoid Ivan, you know that and you want him to keep thinking that so you thank him for the dance, finish your beer and slide on out the door.
Someone follows you onto the street and you were hoping it was Kate but it's just Marco being gallant. Figures he wouldn't let a girl walk the dark Canadian streets at night alone.
"Hey. Where ya goin'?" He asks as he falls into step beside you.
"Tangiers. Leon's band's on tonight. Figured I'd catch that instead."
"Instead of watching Ivan cozy up to your best friend? Sounds like a plan."
"They let you in?" You ask, conscious that you haven't seen him anywhere other than the Jewel Box for quite some time. You haven't seen him fighting with soldiers on the street either. His anger feels bitter, instead of white-hot, like it used to feel.
"They let everyone in," he says, but his jaw has tightened, as if he's already readying himself for a fight. Your eye is healing up real nice but you're not ready to jump in to defend him tonight. You were going to head to Tangiers, listen to Leon sing something other than that gospel, dance a little, maybe make a new friend. The one-night kind of friend. That's something you haven't done for a while – not since you met Gladys, you realize. Not since you met Kate. Maybe it's time to work off a little stress. Maybe it'll make you hurt a little less. But then you look over to Marco and you realize, below his bravado is a very fragile and bruised man. A man who has to live a life a lot like yours would be if people knew your last name wasn't really McCrae.
So you light up a cigarette and follow him down the stairs to the bar. Leon tilts his head up at you as he sings and you tilt yours back and set up at the bar to get a drink or two. Two, actually. One for Marco, who just now is strutting towards a pretty brunette like he hasn't a care in the world. You have a beer in each hand as you walk over and he takes getting shot down with remarkable ease. He's laughing as you hand him a beer.
"Steady on, Marco. Plenty of time for that. Why don't you…" your voice trails off as you see and old friend, of the one-night variety, talking to Regina. Who's not hating it. Who has her hand on her arm. Who is definitely not old enough to be in this bar and is definitely not old enough to be drinking that drink and is definitely not old enough to be sliding her hand down the back of that lady's pants. You splutter on your beer and direct Marco's attention to a pretty blonde over in the other direction. "Why don't you try that one?" Marco's off like a shot and you decide you deserve his beer as well, especially as the blonde is smiling amenably and laughing at something Marco said.
You glance back in the other direction and Regina looks up at the same time as you and your eyes catch and she's startled, pushing the other woman's mouth away from her neck. She's scared now, you can see it. She wasn't scared when you told her you knew her age, that you were going to get her fired, when you punched her. It just figures she'd be scared about this though. You shake your head ever so slightly, raise your beer to her and go back to watching Marco.
You're still watching Marco dance with the blonde when Regina sidles over. You were expecting her to accept the reprieve and scuttle off into the night with her new friend.
"Hey," she says, resting her elbows on the bar next to you. You nod to acknowledge her existence but leave it at that. You kind of get why she's been such a thorn in your side now.
"So… you aren't gonna tell anyone then?" She asks, voice low, eyes flicking through the crowd as if to catalogue every single person there. Making sure no one else she knows saw her, you think.
"Isn't any of my business, what you get up to outside of work hours. Just so long as your work doesn't suffer." You turn your head to look at her now. "Because if there's one thing I don't enjoy it's sloppiness on the line. You bring your top game tomorrow."
"And if I don't?" Her voice sounds defensive now, but you didn't mean it to sound like a threat.
"Then you put in your best effort. Geez, do I gotta spell it out? I didn't see nothing, now get your butt out of here." You turn back to your beer.
"Or what? You'll tell 'em how old I am?" She sounds amused rather than defensive this time.
"Nah. They let everyone in here," you say, and you're aware of the double-edgedness of your phrasing. You're here with an Italian whose father is in an internment camp, a queer underage coloured woman and you yourself are a child of Germans, the very nation you build bombs to destroy. You drink the rest of your beer. "They let anyone in," you say quietly, and make your way back to the bar. Leon meets you there.
"Church mouse not with you?" He asks, pushing his hat back. It must be hot under those stage lights, you can see beads of sweat glistening on his freshly-revealed forehead.
"Nope," you say, accepting a whiskey and cola from him.
"Now that is a shame. Losing the attention of the crowd, sure would be nice to get her back on the stage." Leon clinks the ice cubes from his drink in his mouth and you wonder, briefly, why black people have the most relaxed preachers. You're standing elbow to elbow with an honest-to-god preacher and you're both sipping whiskey-colas like it's normal.
"You got her up on the pulpit, that ain't enough for you?" Leon shrugs.
"She's doing better, isn't she?" He asks, and you're aware of how he's looking at you. It's sympathetic and comforting. You nod. "She's seeing your fellow, isn't she?"
"Not my fellow anymore," you say, trying to look casual. Like you're more upset about him dating her than otherwise. It's getting late and you've seen Regina slip off with her new friend, and now you're watching Marco follow a girl upstairs, she's leading him by the hand and they have to keep right when a couple comes down the stairs.
"I'd say not," Leon comments as Kate leads Ivan to the bar. You turn your back to them but Kate spots Leon and is standing beside you before she realizes it's you she's standing next to. Ivan looks uncomfortable and you're pleased. There are a number of reasons you never bought him to Tangiers, not least because you hadn't been back since Pearl Harbor.
"Leon. Betty. So lovely to see you here," Kate gushes and now you know she spotted your hasty exit in the Jewel Box. Her elbow is just brushing your side and you press yourself into the bar to get away from it. "Ivan, this is Leon." Kate says. Ivan looks even more nervous, if that's even possible, and you try not to smirk. You know you aren't succeeding when Kate's elbow makes its way to your rib-cage with some force. You cough to cover the movement and watch Leon and Ivan awkwardly shake hands.
"Heard a lot about you," Ivan says, and Kate's elbow hits your ribs again before you can even start to roll your eyes.
"Likewise," says Leon, succinct as always. But then he elaborates. "From Betty, that is." You kind of love him for that. Ivan's eyes dart to you, then back to Kate, then back to you. He's so unsettled that you almost feel sorry for him.
"Yup. Well folks, it's getting late. I'm gonna turn in. Good to see you, Leon. And you two," you gesture vaguely in the area of the Kate-and-Ivan entity that feels like it's following you around.
"You'll come by on Sunday?" Leon asks. You nod and hand what's left of your drink to Kate, out of habit. Kate takes it, pays it no mind but Ivan isn't used to the way Kate takes whatever you're done with from you.
You make it to the stairs before Kate grabs your hand. You look back and Ivan is holding your/Kate's drink like he doesn't know what to do with it.
"One dance, Betty?" she asks.
"Whatcha wanna dance with me for? You got a perfectly good fellow right there." You point to where Ivan is standing uncomfortably next to Leon. Leon claps him on the back and goes back onstage and you wonder if Kate's asked Ivan about his prejudices yet. You figure no, because he's only just met Leon and she wouldn't have seen him like this before.
"Just dance with me? I feel like you've been running away from me all night. All week, really. Since I started seeing Ivan. You shouldn't have said it was fine if it wasn't." Kate's face is bunched up and to avoid a scene you take both her hands in yours and lead her to the most dance-part-of-the-floor. She slips an arm around your waist and rests it on the middle of your back. The other rests in yours and you're staggered by the smell of her, the feel of her in both hands, one of yours resting on a soft shoulder, the other nested in a hand calloused from hard work. She's pressed up against you and you're very aware of her breasts and your breasts and the way her breasts are pressed up against your breasts and you're trying not to be so aware of all the breasts but now every second word in your head is breasts and every first word is Kate's.
Leon starts crooning and you're trying to keep your face away from Kate's face and you look over and see Ivan and suddenly his discomfort isn't so funny, or even obvious, because yours is seeping out of every pore in your face.
"It is fine, isn't it? That I'm seeing Ivan?" Kate asks again and you really want to tell her no but she is so soft and warm and breasts so you nod your head against hers and your breath catches when she pulls you even closer to her. "Thank you Betty," she says quietly. "I mean it. If you hadn't found me…" Her voice trails off and you thought she was past thinking about that, about the life with her father and his subsequent horrifying death, but maybe she isn't. And maybe you're the only person she can talk about that with. But you doubt that if you hadn't found her she would have stayed with that man for much longer. She'd have found a way to leave, but he'd still be alive and she'd still be looking over her shoulder. She's resting her head on yours and you have to say something, do something, to get her mind of that unpleasantness that's dwelling in there.
You have to get away from her so you don't do something stupid because the feel of her in your arms is making you forget the look on her face after you kissed her and suddenly it comes to you in a rush, how soft her lips are and how you know what she tastes like and you do something you never thought you'd do. You gesture to Ivan behind Kate's back. And you let him cut in. And then you cut out of there. You feel Kate's eyes on your back as you climb the stairs but your eyes are watery and you don't, you can't look back.
You won't be going back to Tangiers in a hurry.
