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Who: Neil McLaughlin[The Caterpillar] and Monica Rae Demuth[Slue Foot Sue].
When: Last Wednesday night. [ After this]
Where: Swing 46, Manhattan.
What: Two hep cats talk about aerial manuevers, take on some goons, and cut a rug.
Rating: PG-13 for language.
There wasn't many men who'd bother with a flower in the lapel at Swing 46, for the most part the men were generally a pack of rats and some hep cats out to have fun and hopefully take a chick home. The girls were often more than happy to allow it to, something that had often irked her as what was supposed to be a dance floor often turned into a breeding ground of desperation. Monica, who often delighted in the perpetually vague hint in order to lead to a hunt, had kept her eyes out from the first dance on to see when and if the stranger from the Compendiums may have shown up. Heels were all that the poor man had been left to work on, but with the majority of less confident dancers having opted for flats there was at least a small subset that had been benevolently cut out for Neil.
Though the first quarter of an hour of his arrival had been spent by simply observing him from afar in between songs, with the start of the band Monica had grabbed a partner and headed onto the dance floor. As she directed their dance, the flash of dark violet silk and a tingling tale sense would pass and nudge the potential dance partner as they made a circuit of vivacious spins around the room as the music again winded down and the black haired Tale made her from her partner towards the bar and the Manhattan that awaited her.
Wearing a tailored suit, a pink carnation and yes, trousers, Neil looked like somebody out of a Frank Sinatra movie. This out of place attire drew some looks, but Neil was not at all self conscious. On the contrary, he rather liked the attention, and he smiled, especially when he heard some one whisper to their friend, 'Isn't that Neil McLaughlin?' Ah, his ego was satisfied. Going over to the bar, he ordered a cocktail and turned to look out at all the people swinging on the dance floor. It had been too long since he'd gone dancing like this - going to nightclubs and gyrating to the beat was not the same thing. He drank and watched, going over the steps in his mind, remembering how to do them. He didn't want to be embarrassed, not after bragging how he should be on Dancing With the Stars.
He was also looking out for Monica. He didn't bother checking out for heels - he chose to rely on this Tale-sense: sort of like Spiderman's 'Spidey sense', except instead of sensing danger, it helped to pick out another Tale from out of a crowd. When the dancers made a pass near him, he 'felt' Monica's presence, and he smirked. She was a pretty one. And talented, too. He watched her dance for a moment before turning to a young lady who happened to be standing close by, and asked, "Would you care to dance?"
Receiving her answer, he took her hand and walked her to the floor, where they joined the others. It had been a while, but his rusty feet picked up on the steps easily enough. The last time he'd done anything remotely like this was goofing around with Elisa in her bakery, the memory of which made him a bit sad, but he was determined that he wasn't going to let this whole affair bother him. No sitting at home and moping for me, he thought. After the first and second dances, Neil found himself by the bar again, with another drink in his hand. Sipping from his glass, he noticed Monica approaching, but decided to play cool, and continued to drink.
When she slipped beside him, he smiled. "Hello gorgeous."
As always seemed the way with her haunts, the woman was hounded and as soon as Zoot Suit #1 was abandoned on the floor, Zoot Suit #2 was at her side trying to chat her up and bring her back to where the band was starting a rendition of Pink Cadillac. "No Johnny, why don'cha go take Deb out and give her a whirl for me? She's too pouty and it's bringing me down..." Her voice at the moment was soft and promising, evidence of a true Machiavellian to be sure. "Come look for me in an song or two, sugar." It seemed to satiate the man enough to allow her to sidle up to the bar on her own where the tender was setting down a highball class for her before she'd even ordered; contented in the fact that she knew come a dance or two she'd be busy and considering Debbie Lee's nature- so would Johnny. The swizzle stick turned a bit in her Manhattan as she rested a stool away from Neil, an eyebrow to raise when he spoke to her.
Up close he seemed far more assured than he had from far away, further more he dressed classically and it was something the woman could definitely appreciate. There was an aspect there that reminded her of Noah, and it fostered the beginnings of a warm smile that was quickly altered into something far more flirtatious. Blue glaze cast through a thick veil of lashes and the heavy wave of black hair slipped behind her bare, pale shoulder.
"Evening, doll face. I like your flower." Her smile curled into a wry smirk then, her tone to take a knowing increase in pitch. Oddly enough the man seemed to be drawing more attention than may have been expected, Monica didn't know who Neil McLaughlin was; granted she didn't really know what Dancing With the Stars was either- apart from some sort of contest that she had gathered from the other comments in his Compendium.
But the grins and pointed fingers of others was starting to make Monica very glad that she'd invited him.
Flirting was good - Neil liked this a lot. It was enlivening and made him feel a hell lot younger than he actually was. Slipping into the same mood, he slipped his arm around her waist to hold her close, but not so constricting that she couldn't get away if she felt uncomfortable. The fragrance of her perfume was as intoxicating as his highball.
"The flower's all yours," he replied. "I saw you dancing, you're pretty agile on your feet. Does that transfer to other areas of your body as well?" He waggled his eyebrows in a humorous fashion and picked up his glass to take a sip. "But really," he said, becoming slightly more serious, "You've very talented. You look like you're having fun."
He was an exceptional flirt at that; a considerable match for the woman.
Monica's style usually didn't include cozying up so quickly. There was promise of it always, in the curve of red lips or the distant drag of fingertips across a cheek..the femme fatale breathed of promises that were very unlikely to ever be fulfilled unless one found himself exceptionally lucky. The arm could be forgiven however, and her dapper now dance partner even found himself receiving a slight nudge of her hip. "I'll have to remember to claim it as a souvenir when the night's over." It came off in that breezy way that the woman had cultivated. Her chin to raise just a bit with a slow sip of her drink, she had almost settled in when his second statement came.
Now that was brazen, too brazen to be taken seriously of course but enough to cause her smile to fall just slightly into something coy and warning, her eyebrow to raise as she stepped back from him just a bit, her head to cant to side appearing to rest on a pillow of shining black curls. "If you are questioning my aerial capabilities, sugar. I can assure you that despite my not being a waif, I have just about the highest Lindy Flip here.."
It was a graceful rejection of what may have in anybody else's case turned the night sour, and as soon as Monica felt her case had been made she returned to her place just within the crook of his extended elbow. Though the slang had indeed dwindled to nothing more than those that were keenly implanted into her regular vocabulary; Monica was back in the present day.
"Oh ho! You're a clever one." Because she had returned to his arm, Neil felt safe that he hadn't gone too far in his flirting. He could've made a comment how he wouldn't mind seeing how she flew, but he decided to keep himself in check - after all, this was the first time they'd met outside the compendiums. Instead, Neil smiled and fell into one of his Caterpillar silences, taking in both her and their surroundings, listening to the music. People who were not accustomed to his behavior would wonder if he was upset or sad, but more often than not, he was simply living in the moment.
Neil never considered himself a huge celebrity, but he had a memorable part of an award winning television show and had just been in a recently released film. His guess was that members of this young crowd were regular viewers of To Bed, and he had his suspicions validated when he overheard somebody at the other end of the bar say the name, 'Miss McPhee'. Drinking quietly, he finally asked, "Would you care to dance with me during the next song?"
As he dazed for a bit, Monica took the time to concentrate on the cocktail at hand trailing a french tipped fingernail down the condensation on the outside idly. Her gaze drifted to the crowd, singling out Debbie Lee who was in the middle of a rather sloppy looking helicopter with an air of disdain. Before turning her attention back to Neil when he came to.
"I had promised you I would if you found me," the words came out in a playful sort of matter of factness while a hand raised to summon the bar tender over with a bottle of water; the only other thing the woman would drink at the place besides her signature cocktail. "...your real question oughtta be whether or not I decide to dance with you after the first, doll." And as the bottle of Fiji water was placed down in front of her, the imposing tender received a glowing smile and five dollars taken from the garter at her thigh.
"Well then," Neil replied with the same level of playfulness. "What do I need to do to win your favor?"
As the bar tender we shall call Jimmy walked away, Monica took to polishing off the water bottle with vigor, downing roughly a quarter of it before she was questioned. "Winning charm, good looks, and award winning dance moves." It came just in time for the band to wind down, and motioning for him to follow her to where they could deposit their unfinished drinks safely before heading onto the floor.
"Fortunately I have all three," Neil smugly bragged as he followed her, carrying his drink with him. To be honest, Neil was out of practice and wasn't sure he had the same sort of youthful vigor he once possessed, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. "And for your information," he added with pride, "I did find you. I just didn't want to interrupt your dancing, seeing as you were on a roll."
"I've already conceded to one dance, darling. I wouldn't recommend pushing it." Neil received a knowing smirk as the band came back up it was with a slower song, Town Without Pity ringing through the saxophones and a small group of kids leaving the area for the bar while some couples braved to get up onto the floor. "I am glad to know I have a fan though." And once her drink was settled down, she waited for him to lead her onto the floor.
Thankful for a slow song to start things off with, Neil was concerned that Monica's standards would be incredibly high and that he wouldn't be able to live up to them. But then, you know? Fuck it. He wasn't going to care what she thought. He was just going to have fun, and if she wanted to get all pissy because he was rusty, then it was her who had the problem, not him. Being able to release the pressure he'd placed upon himself made Neil feel better already, and he took Monica's hand. On the dance floor, he held her in the proper position and led her the dance.
Neil would find that for all of her talk, Monica was exceptionally gracious. Not that she had need to be, as they glided onto the floor the woman found herself pleasantly surprised by the ease in which he manuevered them into their dance and took the lead. Pale arms wrapped around his neck loosely as the woman found her spot in the rhythm of the song, her hips beginning to sway gently in unison to the piano. "I haven't heard this song in ages." It came out in a fit of what seemed to be almost wonderment, silently pondering just when the last time she may have heard the song last.
Falling short in memory, the issue was dropped and her voice soon wafted gently into her ear, "Tell me, do you just rush out to go dancing with any girl that writes in your compendium..or am I just a special case?"
It had been a long time since he'd heard the song as well, so when Monica uttered the same observation, Neil agreed by nodding his head. Even so, Neil still knew all the words and he began humming the tune silently, until she whispered her question. His answer would've taken too long to reply, so Neil simply smiled and whispered back, "How could I have resisted a proposition like yours?"
"Flattery will get you everywhere, doll." Monica smiled as she moved into a spin outwards, her skirt and hair both spinning up and out in unison as she yo-yoed out and back into his arms. Her face brightening just a bit, as she moved to keep step with him again her smirk returning, "So what sort of star were you hoping to dance with?" It was offered in the form of a compliment.
"I'm already dancing with one," Neil said with a smug look on his face, spreading the flattery thick this evening. "How can we keep love alive?" Neil actually began singing to the music being played, his voice a rich baritone and filled with emotion. "How can anything survive, when these little minds tear you in two? What a town without pity can doooOOOOoooo!"
The last word he sung had formed his lips into a pucker, with which he leaned forward in a motion to alllllmost kiss Monica upon the lips, but instead he pulled back at the last moment to spin her once more before the last chorus of the song.
His singing caused a rich laugh to emit from the woman, her head to toss back and eyes to close enough that when she finally opened them they immediately widened in surprise at the almost kiss that may have led to an almost exceptionally awkward situation. Instead she was greeted with another spin outwards, which Monica took her time with, threading back behind Neil to cause him to spin and face her before a hand was at his back and she'd moved in close. "You can sing and dance? Now I'm impressed."
"I'm a regular Fred Astaire," Neil joked. The song was over, and before the next one started, he nudged her in the direction of the location where they'd set their drinks. "Thank you for the dance. The judges might not think it was an '8', but I had fun. reaching the table, he first handed Monica her water before lifting his glass in a small toast.
"You were wonderful, sugar." Though her water was raised to him in toast, after the first sip her Manhattan was picked back up to be nursed by the woman. It was indeed nice to have had a slow break for once, and to get onto the floor and been able to not care about how she acted or looked with Neil was indeed something of a release for the head of the small entourage of boys and girls that were already watching them questionably and heading over from their place on the floor.
Neil's back was turned and so he didn't see the young man coming up behind him, walking with a drunken swagger, followed by friend who looked just as pissed off. "Hey Mo, what the hell are you doing with this faggot? Yeah, I'm talking about you, old man."
The insult caused Neil to look over his shoulder, his muscles tensing. And things were going so nicely. Neil had become so accustomed to being around people who were at least tolerant of his lifestyle, on the compendiums or among his show business friends, that he wasn't used to it He wasn't upset at being called a 'faggot' as he was concerned that these punks might want to start a fight.
"Don't you know this guy's a homo?" the friend continued, pointing an accusatory finger at Neil. "He dresses up like a lady on television"
And there came the problem of popularity.
Monica's face soured near instantly over the rim of her glass as the two approached her, an eyebrow raised as they started in on Neil. Though her initial reaction was to question Neil about television, she kepted herself defiant and quiet as the two men, whose names she hardly could recall finished. Moving closer to her dance partner, an arm came to thread around his waist, her cheek to rest against his shoulder. "He's a faggot, huh? Well then he sure as hell fooled me last night." It came out biting as her blue gaze bore into the taller Jersey bred boy.
If there was one thing that was a commonly known fact, it was that Monica didn't give out. She was untouchable, and though many had tried to lure the queen bee home after a night of pleasantries and dancing they generally were left to themselves. It was one of those tactics that had kept her in power for so long, and the thought that Neil, whether he was gay or not, may have even gotten close enough to gain more than a chaste kiss would be enough to piss the bowling shirt clad men off.
"And even if he was, Tony." It was a shot in the dark at one of their names, he seemed the type. "What difference is it to you? If I say he's cool, then he's cool. Hep?"
"Not hep," Tony replied, his angry eyes rivited upon Neil. "Get away from her."
Body language told Neil that this guy was both drunk and looking for trouble. Hands were clenching at his sides as if he were getting ready to throw the first punch. Neil tipped back his glass and finished the rest of his drink, staying calm. When was the last time he had a brawl? Longer than the last time he danced, that was for sure. Back in the day, Neil would've been confident enough not only to take Tony out, but his ugly looking friend. Now, he wasn't so sure. Besides, did he really want negative publicity? It seemed too much of a headache.
Telling himself it wasn't worth the trouble, Neil said to Monica, while never looking away from Tony, "It's alright. I came here to dance, not to fight. I'll write to you later. Thanks for the dance."
"You still got another coming, sugar."
As Neil straightened up to leave, Monica's nails dug into his upper arm to signal him to stay right where he was. If there was one thing that irritated the Demuth girl more than anything it was somebody challenging her authority. Whether it came from her Tale or down right stubbornness; she was the leader of the gang and anybody that dared go against her was exceptionally likely to get shot.
"Well you better get hep, or forget about ever steppin' foot in this joint again. Got it?" It seemed enough that the drunk was quelling, whether he was scared to see the usual honey coated exterior gone from Mo's words, or he was simply wising up the woman wasn't sure. Still she took a step forward, blue gaze fired at the taller of the two. "You gonna leave? Or am I gonna leave with my friend here?" She could damn well guarantee that if she was the one to go, the two men would be met with spit fire from the others and worse.
The way Monica reacted didn't surprise Neil as much as it embarrassed: having a woman stand up for him did little to help his ego, even though he kept telling himself that he was trying to be a pacifist in this situation. Neil remained quiet as the pair of troublemakers sized up the situation. Tony turned away first, disgusted, waving his arm dismissively. "Come on, Mick. We don't need that bitch, anyway."
"Dumb shits, who did they think they were talkin' to?" It came out with a harrumph of sorts, her hands to rest on her hips in slight defiance as she watched the two trail off into the crowds. "I am awful sorry about that, sugar. So...what's this I hear about television?" It was a quick change of subject, out of the ugly behind them and a look forward to a clean slated night.
It seemed the best course of action for the woman who seemed to attract trouble left and right.
"My hero," Neil said humorously, fluttering his eyelashes, trying to mask his inadequacy as a man who couldn't stand up for himself. Thankful for the subject change, Neil quickly replied, "I'm a television actor. The show is called To Bed, and yes, I play an older woman." A pause. "And yes, I am gay. Bisexual, to be more precise" Might as well be up front about these things. Always the best policy. Somehow, he didn't think he needed to worry much about Monica being as prejudiced as her 'friends', if at all.
"I don't take kindly to those sorts of varmints in my parts." It came with a smirk, as her hip came to bump his. Almost laughing as he felt the need to announce his sexual choices to her, though quickly muffling it her drink. "Darling who or what you fuck is of no interest to me unless that particular person includes yours truly." Mo said bluntly enough, leaning against the bar as she finished her drink. The band seemed to be moving out of it's sleepy love songs back to it's usual big band. "I believe you owe me another dance."