Dancing (a deleted scene)

(This got cut out of "Rock and Roll", mostly because it didn't really fit the storyline. Had a lot of fun writing it, though, so I figured I'd post it as a one-off.)

I love a good night out on the town. It's always fun to watch people who have no idea what they're doing in life try to manipulate guys who have seen and done it all. We drove a PBE-marked SUV to the front door of one of the nicest nightclubs in the city. The steak was delicious, cooked to perfection, the milkshake was spectacular, and the ladies were beautiful. And young.

"Oh my God, are you guys with Payback Enterprises? Oh my God, this is so amazing!"

And stupid. BTDT winked at me.

I've got to start this, or BTDT's going to win tonight's bet.

"Ask her to dance, Balci."

The girl started babbling again.

"Balci. That's a cool name! Where are you from? Do you want to dance with me?"

Let's be honest. PBE gets the ladies. After a while, it stopped being fun to bet on who could charm a girl the fastest, mostly because the skank factor went through the roof when we got famous. Soon enough, the bet turned into who could do something "culturally different" and still charm the girl. In Arab countries, that meant alcohol, in Europe, it meant taking her to get tacos, and in America, it meant acting like a gentleman. America girls...lack class.

"Sure, ma'am. I'll talk to the DJ, I've got a song I want to hear."

A few quiet words later, Balci passed the DJ a few bills. "Yes, that one will do fine."

Miami has never really left the 1980s. It's still a neon-lit party town, full of tropically-clad girls and guys, only with less cocaine and more MDMA. The Bangles had been replaced by another pop harlot, but the personality hadn't changed a bit.

"Shall we?"

He led the girl onto the dance floor, paused for a second, then put an arm around her waist, and grabbed her left hand. The music stopped, rare for a dance club, and a piano piece started coming over the speakers. It was a complete waste of the sound system, Mozart had never been one for throbbing bass lines.

"I thought we were going dance?"

"And we shall, my dear, we shall."

Balci led her through a waltz, in the middle of a now-empty dance floor. He'd learned to dance properly while he was an honor guard for some king before his PBE days, and there are some things the body never forgets. She'd picked it up by the end of the song, and He nodded to the DJ to play another, similar piece.

By this time, Bushwacker was either having a seizure, or laughing his ass off, either way he was rolling on the ground. The normal club patrons had stopped buying drinks, and were wondering what the hell had happened to their dance party. Another waltz started playing, and the girl clearly wanted another dance.

"HEY. OLD MAN! Put the dance music back on!"

I looked over across hall. A frat member had recovered his shock enough to realize that most of the women were watching Balci, not his muscles, and probably figured he'd make up for grace with intimidation.

"This is dance music, and the lady and I were dancing, pup. Perhaps you and your lady can do the same?"

Balci turned back to the girl, and her eyes widened. He ducked, and the frat's punch threw him off balance. Fighting is a lot like dancing, it's a thing of grace and economy of motion. None of that is learned bench-pressing a keg, and from the booth, we started to smile.

"Leave, pup. You don't want to do this."

"Yes, I do."

He punched and missed, Balci punched back. Some of the kid's college-aged friends rushed in to help, four middle-aged bodyslayers in black polos jumped onto the dance floor.

"Balci, how did you manage to turn a waltz into a fucked-up version of West Side Story?"

"Pup's jealous of my dancing partner."

"This is our club, you old faggot men. Get the fuck out, before we put you in the hospital."

Balci thanked the girl for her time, and punched the kid in the face. It was on. I've always had a thing for bar brawls, the way two men fighting turns into 30, as people who've no reason to fight somehow still get involved. It's fun to watch happen, fun to start, and I'm always sober enough to talk my way out when the cops show up.

The fight cost me the bonus I got for bringing a plane back without bullet holes. Balci had officially started it, according to the manager, and while he appreciated our patronage and thanked Balci for showing the girl how to dance properly, he'd have to file charges if we didn't pay for the damage to the bar. HM raised an eyebrow, but I told him I thought it was a fair exchange, and paid the man.

The bet had been forgotten about. I suppose that means I won.