the
finishing touch. It looked like a costume, but to Charlotte it was a disguise. Dressed
to dance, she was free to be herself, to cut loose and throw herself into
something she loved.
The band would
take to the stage soon, but for now Charlotte was content with the DJ. Her feet
were tapping and hips wriggling in anticipation. Uh-huh, she really needed a
good dance. So much so that she didn’t mind Jackson Phillips chewing off her
ear and moaning down her cleavage about how much he missed her.
‘I think we made a
mistake, Charlotte,’ he whined, his long dark brown fringe flopping over his
eye. ‘We’re great together, you and I.’
‘Come on, Jack. You’re
in the break-up fog. We were pretty average,’ Charlotte reminded him, lifting
his chin with her finger so he looked at her face. She glanced over her
shoulder to locate Emily, who’d gone to the bar for drinks. The bartender was
flirting with her, so she’d obviously been served. Salvation was on its way.
‘We’re not average
on the dance floor.’
It was true. Jackson was a great dancer. He was the only man who came anywhere near matching
her technique and pace. And for that reason she did enjoy dancing with him,
despite his constant attempts to out-dance her; which did his talent little
favour. As her partner, it was his job to make her dazzle. Instead, he was
flashy and attention-seeking. It was irritating, but Charlotte tolerated it for
the lifts. He really lifted her, and that was fun .
He looked
fantastic tonight, suited up like a hipster in a three-button brown corduroy
jacket with matching slacks. For a fleeting moment, Charlotte recalled what had
led her to his bed in the first place. And then, trying to pay attention to
what he was saying, she remembered why she'd wanted to leave once she’d been
there.
He might be
slightly irritating and too showy for Charlotte’s liking, but there were plenty
of ladies who rubber-necked him on and off the dance floor. Luckily for her,
not many other women could move like her. Charlotte got to monopolise his dance
card whenever she wanted to; whenever she needed to - like she did tonight. And
because the shirt he was wearing under his suit coat tonight was as red as
hers, making them look like a pair, she suspected she wouldn’t have a hard time
of it.
Emily reappeared;
drink in hand just as the band walked onto the stage, greeted by a cheer from
the crowd.
‘What do you say?’
Jackson asked Charlotte, offering her his hand. ‘Come for a spin?’
She looked at
Emily. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Go ahead,’ Emily
obliged her. ‘I’ll get us a booth.’
Charlotte eagerly
followed Jackson out onto the dance floor where a few other couples were
congregating, ready for the band to begin. She grinned at the familiar faces,
which all looked rather intent on putting themselves through their paces.
The band started a
steady rockabilly beat.
‘Well, looky here,
ladies and gentleman,’ announced Sanjay, the band’s lead guitarist and singer,
eyeing Charlotte and Jackson on the dance floor. ‘Looks like a reunion of our favourite
couple. Whaddya say we get ‘em warmed up boys?' The tempo picked up slightly,
and after a friendly glare at Sanjay, Charlotte allowed Jackson to pull her
into a deceptively loose hold, his hand firm on her back and hers solid on his
shoulder.
‘Go easy for this
first one, Jack,’ she warned. ‘This will be my warm up.’
‘Take your time. I’m
not planning on dancing with anyone else tonight.’
It may have been
unwise to ignore the suggestion in his words, but that suited Charlotte very
well.
After three fast
songs, she needed a breather and a little refreshment. She dragged Jackson
unwillingly off the floor and left him at the bar to go in search of Emily. She
found her sprawled out across an entire booth, saving the space with their
handbags strewn, and sneering at anyone who approached.
‘Feeling better?’
she asked as Charlotte bounced into the adjacent
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