Page 44 of Say It Again
Robert tilted his chin toward the same woman. “She can call me whatever she wants.”
They both chuckled again, and the picture was suddenly clearer. Daniel’s dancing must’ve not aligned with Robert’s image. Rather, his membership to the boys’ club.
“This guy.” Jerry swung an arm around Robert. “What are you young folk doing hangin’ out with this son of a bitch? Don’t you know he’s old and boring now?”
“I definitely wasn’t expecting them,” Robert said, finishing off another bourbon. “Jerry, this is my son Dan, er, Dan-yuul. And this is his, uh, friend.”
Aaron had to shift his weight around to keep his irritation quelled.
“Son?” Jerry blinked, stunned. “I didn’t know you had a son.”
Robert scratched his head. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned it, no?”
“I would’ve remembered you had a son,” Jerry said, extending his hand. “Put ’er there, Dan.”
Daniel looked fragile taking the man’s hand.
“You a cheap—I mean, chief financial officer too? Like your old man?”
“No, he isn’t, but let’s not—” Robert rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes as a dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Oh, screw it. You want to tell the man what you do, Dan? Maybe he’ll buy a damn lesson from you.”
Jerry asked, “A lesson?”
“Sure, go right ahead, son.” Robert’s voice dripped in scorn as he said, “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Daniel gazed up at his dad for a moment. Then something shifted horribly.
His posture started to crumple like a time-lapse video into a hunched back and drooped skull. The words shook when he said, “Dance. I teach dance.”
Jerry’s wiry eyebrows shot up obnoxiously. He’d get cut from a movie for overacting. “Well, can’t say I was expecting that.” He wagged his hips around a little. “What kind of dance?”
“Mostly modern,” Daniel sighed. “But I’m trained in all kinds—”
“’Cause the only dance worth a toot is exotic and sorry, boy, but you don’t have the jugs for that.”
Jerry and Robert burst into laughter, and Aaron adjusted his shoulders. His skin felt tighter. Tighter and warm. Maybe tighter and hot. He tugged on his collar and cleared his throat. “Daniel is extremely talented.”
“Oh, just teasing,” said Jerry, flapping a hand. “I’m sure you’d have to be to do it for work.” His expression flipped into mock seriousness. “But what do you really do? You know, to make money?”
When more laughter erupted, Daniel tried to gulp the bourbon like everyone else but spurted in coughs.
“Relax.” Robert patted him on the back. “You don’t have to drink it. No one’s judging. No need to get all theatrical.”
Daniel rubbed his chest and tried to stand taller, but he just looked like an abashed child who’d broken the rules. Where was his kick? His anchoring sass?
“We gotta go easy on our little ballerina—ballerino?” Robert asked. “What’s the male version of that word?”
Aaron might have been making a strange humming noise, not unlike a pressure cooker, as he stared at the side of Daniel’s head. Kid, look at me. Look at me. He’d scoop him up and take him home, where he’d kiss and soothe and whisper until it was all better. If that was what he wanted? Fucking look at me.
Daniel didn’t dare look in his direction, or anyone’s, like he was muzzled in shame. His lip bled even more from where he’d bitten.
“Well, we gotta go easy on him,” Robert said. “He’s a sensitive little guy. He’s always been that way. I couldn’t take him to the movies; he’d be a mess. It didn’t matter what it was. He’d cry when the bad guy got shot.”
They chuckled again while Daniel nodded in agreement. Agreement! Like he owed them an affirmation. Like he owed them anything.
A strange, thick feeling in Aaron’s throat struck him with a need to cough while he squeezed his cocktail glass hard enough to crush it. With the way his blood burned his skin, if he didn’t say something, he’d hit something. He cracked his neck and flared his nostrils. He had promised he wouldn’t let Daniel ruin the evening, but it seemed Daniel wasn’t the one about to ruin anything. He was.
“Enough!”