Chapter Ten
Dessert and a Dance
"You ought to come and see her play some time. She's amazing. Better than half the boys in the current Wildcats team."
Sharpay beamed inwardly at his praise but she kept her face even. "Don't patronize me, Coach, just because it's my birthday and I'm buying dinner," Sharpay retorted. It felt so good to be told she was good in basketball, even if it's just in front of Ryan.
"It's true," Coach Bolton swore sincerely. "She's a natural. How about you Ryan? Any interest in basketball? If you're half as good as your sister here, I'd welcome you on the team next season."
Ryan shook his head as he spooned the last piece of crème brulee on his dish. "I'm horrible at it. Shar tried teaching me, but I'm useless."
"Oh yeah, he is Coach," Sharpay agreed as she pointed her thumb at her twin. "Completely, absolutely hopeless, this one."
"And I don't have the grades to even be on the team either," added Ryan without a hint of embarrassment or regret. Sharpay knew her brother wasn't really into sports so that fact didn't bother him at all. He licked the last remnants of his dessert and set his spoon aside in his usual carefree manner. He downed it with the last sips of his fruit shake.
Coach Bolton gave a mock sigh. "Too bad. I was hoping to get another convert," he said.
Sharpay smiled at his expression. The last two hours of dinner at her favorite restaurant had been very enjoyable and she had Coach Bolton to thank. He was a pleasant distraction and he and Ryan got along really well. They talked about basketball and dancing and the conversation made her temporarily forget about her problems. Through the course of dinner, she and Ryan got him to confess that he secretly followed the international ballroom dancing competitions almost as closely as the NBA. He hadn't danced in a long while and never attempted to go professional though. It was something he left behind after college.
She discovered another thing she had in common with Coach Bolton tonight: they both love red gelatin. She preferred it over any other dessert, even crème brulee. So while Ryan ordered his creamy custard, she and Coach Bolton shared a huge mound of red jell-o. She picked this restaurant specifically because she knew how good the gelatin was here.
Now they were down to the last small piece on the dessert plate. Sharpay put off eating it for the longest time, hoping to prolong this dinner. She hated for it to end for she was enjoying herself far too much with two of the most wonderful men she knew. She stared at the last remaining piece of jell-o. She tapped her spoon at the side of the dish, making the piece wriggle. She watched it for a moment, enjoying the way it danced and tempted her to take it.
"Are you going to eat that or are you going to torture me some more?" Coach Bolton finally pointed to the gelatin.
Sharpay pouted. She wanted the last piece of jell-o, but she could see clearly from Coach Bolton's glazed gaze that he wanted it too.
"Share?" she offered.
"Alright," he replied.
As soon as he said it, they both attacked the piece with their spoons like a pair of children, competing to get the bigger piece. Sharpay won by getting the bigger share, but Coach Bolton got to scrape the plate.
"Mmmmhhmmm… good," Sharpay mumbled as she licked her spoon. Coach Bolton let out a similar moan as he did the same to his own spoon.
Ryan shuddered at them in disgust. "Please don't do that."
Sharpay met Coach Bolton's eyes and they shared an inward laugh. "Why not?" asked Sharpay innocently as she smacked her lips to get at whatever last bits of flavor. Coach Bolton was doing the same thing.
Ryan gave them a sickened face. "You two are weird." He shook his head at them and asked for the bill. When it came, Sharpay reached for her mother's credit card and gave it to the waiter. She turned back to Ryan and resumed her teasing. "But Ry… it's soooo good," she said in a throaty voice. Coach Bolton laughed.
Ryan held his hands over his ears. "I'm not hearing this!"
Sharpay crooned another seductive praise for the jell-o, sending her basketball coach into fits of uncontrollable laughter.
"Stop it!" said Ryan with mock indignation. "It's like you're getting turned on over a piece of jell-o!"
Apparently he said it a little too loud. The diners near them suddenly grew silent and gave them odd looks. Sharpay was suddenly reminded that this is a family restaurant and there were little children and their parents within hearing distance. Ryan and Coach Bolton seemed to have realized that too. Ryan covered his mouth guiltily. For a long moment the three of them stared at each other in silence until they felt the stares from the other diners leave them. It was only then that they managed to let out their muffled laughter.
"Excuse me, Miss."
Sharpay stopped laughing. She turned to the waiter who stood behind her.
"Yes?" she asked seriously.
The waiter gave her a grave look. "I'm sorry, but there appears to be something wrong with the card," he said softly.
Sharpay, Ryan and Coach Bolton all looked up. "What it is?" asked Sharpay, alarmed.
"I'm sorry, but it's no good. It exceeded its credit limit," replied the waiter in the same soft tone though it had a warning note to it.
Sharpay took the card and stared at it, confused. Her mother always maintained her credit cards. She never exceeded before. Her mind suddenly flashed to the bank statements she found this morning. The huge withdrawn sums and that pricey condominium clicked back into her head. She felt a sense of dread overcome her.
"Shar?"
She felt the panic in Ryan's voice that matched his worried face when she met his gaze. She realized the waiter was still standing there. She returned Ryan's distraught look as she realized she wasn't carrying any cash, well at least not enough to cover for dinner. She could tell from Ryan's expression that he didn't have money either. She had two ATM cards: her family's joint account and her own personal account. But she still needed to go out and withdraw from a machine. It would be embarrassing to tell that to the waiter who was still standing in anticipation.
Sharpay turned to the waiter, without looking directly at him. She was flushed with embarrassment but she had to explain that she would just go out to withdraw. However, she saw from the corner of her eye someone reach for the bill. She looked up just as Coach Bolton took out his wallet and drew some cash out.
"This should cover it," he said as he handed it to the waiter who left with their payment.
Sharpay could feel her cheeks go redder. "Coach… you shouldn't have… Look, I still have an ATM, Ryan could you go out to withdraw?"
Coach Bolton shook his head. "No, it's alright—"
"No, it's not!" said Sharpay. She felt too embarrassed to even look at him. "I invited you. It's supposed to be our birthday treat. I'm really sorry. It was my Mom's credit card. She's always maintained it. I didn't know it exceeded its limit. I'll pay you back in a few minutes. Ryan, could you?"
Ryan had already gotten up from his seat. "I'm on it. I saw an ATM nearby. Stay here and wait for me." He flashed his card from their joint family account.
Sharpay however, stopped her brother and quickly fumbled in her wallet for her own personal ATM card. The image of those large withdrawn sums kept nagging at her head and she had a bad feeling that the family account wouldn't carry the amount they expected it to. She handed her card to her brother. "Use mine. Pin's our birthday," she whispered to him before he set off.
Sharpay turned back to her teacher, still red-faced. "I'm really sorry about all this," she whispered.
Coach Bolton however, just smiled. "Hey, it happens. You couldn't have known."
Sharpay just nodded but her mind was a blur. She knew her mother was careless with money and she never bothered much to check on her financial standing. But this was no simple matter of an extravagant woman going on a shopping spree for herself. Something else was obviously going on.Sharpay closed her eyes to shut out these troublesome thoughts but she simply couldn't stop the next thought in her head.
Affair.
She knew the signs all too well.
"Sharpay? Are you alright?" Coach Bolton's concerned voice broke through her thoughts and she saw him looking at her sympathetically.
"Yeah, I-I'm fine," she mumbled. But the suspicious thoughts kept invading her mind. She looked away and found herself staring at a family on the table across from them. There was a young couple and their little daughter who looked about six years old. The girl was running about energetically around her father's legs. The young father finally turned to her and picked her up.
"Come on princess. Come dance with Daddy," he said cheerfully as he carried his daughter to the empty space in the middle of the restaurant. There was a slow song playing in the background and he began twirling his daughter around. The little girl giggled but let herself be led. Soon, they got the attention of the other diners who "ooohhed" and "ahhhed" and remarked how adorable they looked together.
Sharpay eyed them silently thinking how her own father never danced with her like that. She thought of her Mom and imagined her in the company of some other man. Some other man who she was spending the family money on, and would soon turn her attention away, she thought bitterly. Eventually she would forget she too had any children. Just like Dad. Ryan and I might as well not exist at all.
She felt a single tear fall down her cheek and was startled when she felt a finger gently brush it away. She looked up and saw Coach Bolton giving her with a sad expression. He looked from her to the father and daughter dancing before standing up in front of her. He held out his hand.
"Dance with me," he said.
Sharpay was startled. She realized Coach Bolton had said it loud enough for the other diners to hear and look at them.
"Come on, Sharpay. Don't think about it now. It's your birthday," Coach Bolton urged. "You have to have at least one dance."
Sharpay hesitated, but his kind offer was simply something too sweet to pass up. She took his hand and let him lead her to the middle of the empty floor. He held her waist while she placed her hand on his shoulder. As soon as they began to move together in time to the music, it was like the shadow in her mind slowly melted away. All that mattered was the steady rhythm, the soft melody and the comforting touch of his hand on her hand and waist that eased her troubles. Sharpay drank it all in and let herself forget for the moment. She focused on the dance and that alone. It wasn't so hard, especially since he moved as gracefully as Ryan, maybe even more so. Coach Bolton knew how to lead, something that Ryan sometimes forgot to do. Sharpay was always the assertive one between them and that showed occasionally when they danced.
"Wow, Coach, you really know what you're doing," she praised as they waltzed along the room with perfect steps as if they had done this so many times before.
"Minor in contemporary dance, remember?" he replied with a grin. "The modern waltz is easy. You should see me do the Latin dances."
Sharpay giggled and it felt good. "Well I'd love to see that."
The final notes of the song died and they made a graceful bow together amidst applause from the other diners. Sharpay felt a bit disappointed that it ended too quickly.
Suddenly the faint notes of violin strings invaded the air. Sharpay recognized the tune immediately as Por Una Cabeza, one of her favorite tangos. Her eyes locked with Coach Bolton's. She arched one eyebrow at him and sent him a knowing sideways pout with a proud lift of her chin. He returned the expression with a dangerously confident grin.
Sharpay was pleasantly surprised. He was answering to her challenge. Let's see what he can do then, she thought smugly.
She began to tread catlike away from him. Her each pointed step moved in time to the gentle strings. He mirrored her confident gait from the opposite end until they were standing across the room from each other. Sharpay could feel the eyes of everyone in the restaurant staring at them and she felt a certain exhilaration at the attention. It had been so long since she danced in the light while people looked on from the sidelines. She realized how much she missed it. Well, I'll give them something to watch.
She began to circle the floor though her eyes never left Coach Bolton's. She swung her hips as she put each foot down, issuing a silent dare to him. His answer to each one was his own assertive steps. She felt a certain thrill shoot down her spine as she realized he wasn't going to back down on her. That thrill turned to mild surprise as she watched Coach Bolton take off his jacket and fling it away with flourish. A second later, he tore off the tie she had carefully straightened hours ago.
She felt his stalking gait coming closer to her, though she didn't dare to tear herself from his gaze. She met him head on but she paused inches from him. For a moment, she was left with the naïve fascination of a child with the sudden realization that she faced a man much more experienced than her. Her fingertips threaded lightly on his chest, unsure of what to do. But then she felt his hand slide confidently on her back and his hand took hers ever so gently.
There was a sudden hammer of the piano accompanied by the sharp twang of strings and Coach Bolton dipped her expertly before leading her forward. She followed him, blindly trusting him to take her across the room, take her across wherever he desired.
Her mind was a swirl. The familiar rapture of fantasizing whenever she acted grew alive in her veins. For a moment she let herself pretend. The story played in her head like the dozens of other storylines in the plays she acted in:
He was her mentor, her master. He led, she followed.
But then the story moves…
With another violent twang of strings, she grew bolder. She twirled away from him. He only let her go so far: one arm's length—that was all, for he held on to her hand and pulled her back to him. He caught her in an embrace then his arms snaked at her back possessively.
She responded by hooking her leg on his and lifting it up slightly to tease him. His hand trailed above her leg without touching it. But now he was the one that trembled with uncertainty. She pulled back with the new knowledge of her power over him. She would lead and he will have to chase after her.
She strutted away to leave him at the opposite end of the floor but he came forward fast and caught her from behind just as the music hammered a discordant chord. He pinned her arms to the side in a fierce hug while his cheek lovingly cajoled hers. He slowly slid his hands away to free her arms but stopped to maintain his hands on each side of her hips. She turned her head towards his and ran her index finger lightly from the corner of his eye down to his cheek, across his slightly parted lips, lower to his chin and down to the base of his throat. She took advantage of his distraction from her touch to free herself again abruptly.
But he learned his lesson and anticipated that move. He caught her hand again as the music picked up and spun her in time to the screech of strings. He dipped her deftly. Her head almost touched the floor before he pulled her back towards him. She arched her head back as his lips hovered an inch above her skin, tracing an invisible line that ran from the tip of her nose, past her lips, down to her throat and ended at the cleft between her breasts.
He released her but only to gently take her hand in his again, while his other hand rested lightly on her stomach. They moved together across the room, their steps in synchrony with each other before he twirled her again. This time he let her go completely. When her momentum from spinning ended, she found herself across the room from him. She faced him and he offered both hands out to her with an expression of surrender to her choice. She came towards him with steps in time to the beat of the dying music. They met in one final embrace and he swept her off her feet. He spun her around as she held firmly to him, burying her face at the crook of his neck and hooking her leg securely against his.
It seemed like a long time before she felt the ground beneath her feet again and even then she refused to leave the warmth of his cheek. Her heart was racing so fast but her daydream was fading as she realized the music had stopped playing. She felt him slowly ease away from her and was rather startled when she faced him again. He was flushed and breathing heavily as she but his expression was back to its casual friendliness. She felt her face grow hot and she knew she was blushing at the thought that for a moment, she had actually imagined Coach Bolton as her hero lover.
Thunderous applause broke through the silence and Sharpay was relieved for it. Coach Bolton led her to another curtsey.
"That was amazing!" he whispered between ragged breaths. "I missed doing that."
Sharpay managed to recover from her embarrassment. This wasn't the first time she had lost herself completely in a performance. She did it with Ryan every time and she was used to it by now.
"Me too. Why Coach? Didn't you ever dance with your wife?" She couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy for Mrs. Bolton. She was married to a man who could make Valentino cower. If he was a lot younger and still single, Sharpay could definitely fall for someone like Jack Bolton.
He shook his head. "Well not the Tango. I tried to teach her to dance and we can do a Foxtrot but she's too uncoordinated to do anything more complicated than that. I haven't had a decent Tango partner since college."
"We should do this more often then," she offered.
"I'd like that," he said.
A third song began playing. It was light and jazzy. Sharpay recognized it as a Gershwin classic. Three other couples were inspired to join them on the floor.
"One last dance?" Coach Bolton offered.
This time, Sharpay didn't let herself daydream. She stepped back into his arms and suddenly felt like a little girl in the protective way he held her. She looked up at him and saw a content smile on his face. He looked like the young father that was dancing with his six-year-old daughter earlier. She smiled back at his blue eyes as she sang along to the song they were dancing to.
"There's a somebody I'm longing to see
I hope that he
Turns out to be
Someone who'll watch over me…"
Chad Danforth felt his collar itch for nth time. This blasted tie was choking him and he longed to get rid of it. He dared not though. Not unless he wanted to get "the eye" again. He would never admit to it to anyone, but the one thing Chad feared the most was his mother's "eye." It was the single most effective way Mrs. Danforth used to maintain discipline among her children, and Chad was no exception. One look from her and it could mean a sentence of being grounded until he was 40. So between "the eye" and suffocating on formal wear, he would take the latter.
Chad toyed with the remnants of his pie with his fork. He had long ago lost interest in the pastry and he proceeded to turn what was left of it to mush. At least it gave him something to do other than listen to his relatives. He hated these formal family dinners, especially when it was Aunt Enid and Uncle Michael who were there. They always seem to make the talk so boring he would sleep through it if he had a choice. His parents always seem to enjoy it though, especially his mother. She and Aunt Enid could babble endlessly about Michael Crawford until Chad got sick. It was bad enough he saw Mr. Phantom of the Opera whenever he needed to get a snack from the refrigerator; the British actor still had to be the topic of every formal dinner conversation.
Chad glanced at his watch. It was late and he estimated that this dinner party was going to be over soon. If it didn't, he thought he ought to start praying that someone could saw the restaurant chandelier above their heads so it could crash on him and put him out of his misery. But luck was on his side. Uncle Michael (figures Aunt Enid would marry someone with the same name as her idol) finally stood up and the others followed. Chad was the first one down the stairs leading to the ground floor dinning area. But when he got there, there seemed to be a lot of people huddled together blocking the corridor that led to the exit. Everyone's attention seemed to be directed at one area of the restaurant.
"What's going on?" Chad's mother asked from behind him as she peered in to look. Aunt Enid followed her along with their husbands and they were became part of the mesmerized crowd. Chad was forced to check the object of their curiosity and glimpsed a couple dancing in the middle of the floor. He rolled his eyes heavenward.
Great! He thought. More show entertainment. Now, we'll never get home.
"They're amazing," Chad heard his uncle say. "Almost like the ones in that movie, you know the one with Antonio Banderas."
"He kinda looks familiar," his father added. "Hey, Chad, have a look at this. Isn't that your basketball Coach?"
Chad laughed as he realized what his father was referring to. "You mean Coach Bolton? That's unlikely—"
He stopped as he finally glimpsed the man dancing in the middle of the floor. The restaurant's interior was rather dim but Chad managed to get a quick look at the man's face as he moved a split-second into the light. He did look a lot like Coach Bolton.
But that can't be. He's moving like—like one of those dancers in those musicals Mom's addicted to.
He pushed his way through the crowd of diners and idle waiters to get a closer look. His father and uncle followed behind him. The dimness of the area and the fast movements of the dancers made it difficult for Chad to see, but he chanced another glimpse of the man's face as he moved a little closer to Chad when he twirled his partner away for a moment. Chad no longer doubted it. It was Coach Bolton!
For a long moment, Chad was transfixed on his basketball coach until he heard his uncle spoke again.
"Wow! That girl is really something! Lucky bastard! I'll be damned if my wife can move as good as that."
That got Chad's attention. He finally noticed Coach Bolton's partner. She was wearing a black flowing dress that hugged her body like second skin and a matching pair of dangerously high stilettos. He couldn't see her face as she moved too fast for him to see. But he had to agree with his uncle. For a split-second, he had to say that Mrs. Bolton was one hot chick.
That second passed however, as he realized something: Troy's mother isn't blonde! And even though Chad knew Mrs. Bolton was a health buff who ate right and exercised regularly, she couldn't possibly have slimmed down to a lithe and trim body like that since the last time he saw her a few weeks ago.
He stared at her intently but still couldn't discern her face, yet there was something familiar about her. The music was finally winding down to a finish and Coach Bolton lifted her up and twirled her around. She kept her head buried on his cheek for a long time but when she finally lifted it slightly Chad managed to glimpse her face. The young basketball player's jaw dropped open as he realized who it was.
It was Sharpay Ice-Queen Evans!
Well she looked nothing like an ice queen now. She held on to Coach Bolton's embrace before he pulled away. They stared at each other for what appeared to be a long time. But Chad could clearly see the blush that was starting on Sharpay's cheeks.
They pulled away completely and the two of then gave a gallant almost theatre-like bow to the cheering restaurant patrons and staff.
"Is that your Coach Chad?" his father asked. "Who's that with him?"
Chad couldn't answer. He was too shocked at what he was seeing. Troy's dad and Sharpay Evans? Together? He thought of Troy and wondered if his best friend knew. Most likely not or Troy would have told him.
"She looks a little too young to be his wife," remarked Uncle Michael. "Looks like a high school girl to me."
Chad continued to watch the pair as they began to dance again with three other couples. They held each other at a decently distant manner, but Chad still couldn't help but notice how they smiled at each other with deep affection.
"Chad?" his father asked again.
Chad felt sick. He knew Coach Bolton for a long time. On top of being his best friend's father, Chad knew him as a teacher that he had great respect for. He couldn't believe he would do something as scandalous as this. Still, he still couldn't get himself to confirm this to others, at least not until he talked to Troy.
"No," Chad lied as he shook his head. "It's just someone who looks like him."
A/N: This is probably one of the most difficult chapters to write, but so far it's my favorite. It took me a long while to get this finished. I started writing parts of this even while I was writing Chapter two or three. That's how I write really. I write scenes and revise, revise, revise until I'm satisfied. It also involved watching a lot of movie scenes for inspiration. My primary inspiration for the dance is that scene with Antonio Banderas doing the tango in "Take the Lead." If you haven't watched that film, you should. You'll love it.
This chapter has so much of my personality embedded in it. "Por Una Cabeza" is the famous tango from "Scent of a Woman" and "True Lies." I just loved its melody and rhythm so much. It's my favorite classic tango piece. I wrote the dance scene based on this piece.
The last dance Sharpay and Coach Bolton danced to is "Someone to Watch Over Me" by George and Ira Gershwin. This is probably one of my all-time favorite songs. It's a Broadway song from Oh Kay! If you're not familiar with it, it's because it was published in 1926, but it's a classic and has a lot of revivals. If any of you ever watched this late 90s film called "Mr. Holland's Opus" it was sang by this pretty high school student named Rowena Morgan who interestingly in the movie, has a crush on her older 40-something male teacher. This movie was also one of my inspirations in writing this fic. I wrote the entire song lyrics below:
There's a saying old
Says that love is blind
Still we're often told
Seek and ye shall find
So I'm gonna seek a certain lad
I've had in mind
Looking everywhere,
Haven't found him yet
He's the big affair I cannot forget
Only man I ever think of with regret
I'd like to add his initials to my monogram
Tell me where is the shepherd
For this lost lamb
There's a somebody
I'm longing to see
I hope that he, turns out to be
Someone who'll watch over me
I'm a little lamb who's
Lost in the wood
I know I could always be good
To one who'll watch over me
Although he may not be the man
Some girls think of as handsome
To my heart, he carries the key
Won't you tell him please to put on some speed
Follow my lead, oh how I need
Someone to watch over me
And finally, I used jell-o because it is my favorite dessert. I like it better than crème brulee since it's not so common. (In my country, crème brulee is a common dessert. We get it at every single party or even as a casual dessert at any restaurant. But very few actually serve jell-o at parties here, so it's always a treat for me).