Page 12 of Hush (The Seaside Saga #25)

NOW THIS IS AN EVENT.

Walking into the community center auditorium that evening, Jason scopes it all out.

The lights are low. People mill around. Folding chairs are arranged in straight lines across the floor.

On the elevated stage, black curtains are drawn and hang in heavy folds.

Stage lights from above shine on those curtains.

But the hum.

That’s what gives it away. The constant hum of voices. Anticipation is in the air. Excitement. The room is just… buzzing .

Maris is slipping off her black moto jacket beside him. Beneath it, she’s got on a fitted black lace top over a black cami, all with straight jeans and black loafers. Her gold star pendant hangs on her lacy top; her brown hair is down and side-parted.

“Wow,” she says, taking in the vibe .

“Yeah. For a dance recital? Who’d have thought?” Jason nods to the left and places a hand on her lower back. “Look. There’s Kyle waving to us. Three rows back. I think he saved us seats.”

By the time they wind through the mingling crowd, Elsa and Celia have also arrived.

They’re walking past Lauren and Kyle in that saved row and sitting on the far end.

Lauren, wearing a maxi dress and suede jacket, is seated first on this end with Kyle beside her.

An empty seat’s on the other side of Kyle.

Then there’s Nick and a few more empty seats.

Jason shakes Kyle’s hand, but when he goes to sit in the empty seat near him, Kyle blocks it. “Reserved for my brother, remember?”

Jason laughs. “Yeah, man. We got your text.” He looks at Nick and hitches his head. “Shove over, would you?”

When Nick does, Jason takes his seat as Maris leans forward and blows a kiss to Celia and Elsa on the end, then motions for Nick to move over one more seat so she can sit with Jason.

They settle in for the show, then. Maris hangs her jacket over her seat.

Jason asks Kyle how the rest of his day went.

Eva and Matt arrive. Small talk floats up and down their row as Eva leans forward to greet Celia, and Matt slaps Jason’s shoulder before sitting, and Maris asks Elsa if Cliff’s ready for this.

“Is he ever,” Elsa tells them. “His last class was earlier—a full dress rehearsal.”

In the low lights, people fill up the seats around them, too. Front and back, every chair is taken within minutes. The murmuring grows louder .

“Hey.” Kyle reaches over and hits Jason’s arm. “My brother’s here.”

Jason looks to the front of the auditorium. Shane’s standing there in his brown tweed blazer over an untucked brown-checked button-down and faded jeans. He’s looking lost, too.

“Yo, guy!” Kyle calls out, standing and waving him over. “Saved you a seat.”

Jason leans close to Maris. “You ready? Know what to do?”

Maris nods and starts to stand.

Lauren leans over and whisper-yells, “Now, Maris. Go!”

So Maris shimmies out of the tightly packed row and greets Shane in the aisle. “Shane!” she says, taking his arm. “The stairs look so good! Jason and I?” she goes on, glancing over at Jason right as he stands to join them. “We really want to thank you.”

Jason’s in the aisle now. “Hey, guy. You’re all spit-shined,” he says, flicking Shane’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you know,” Shane admits. “A recital sounded pretty formal.”

“Listen,” Jason continues, crossing his arms and standing in front of Shane. “I want to treat you to dinner before you head north. For all your work on the stairs these past few weeks. When’s good?”

Shane waves him off. “You don’t have to do that, guy.”

“I want to.”

“All right. How about… Friday?” Shane suggests.

Jason shakes his hand. “Friday it is,” he says glancing back to see Lauren nod. “Hey, looks like the show’s about to start, so I’ll text you the deets. ”

Jason takes Maris’ hand then, winds around other recital-goers and walks with her to their seats. Shane follows behind, stopping to greet Lauren and, when Kyle stands for a bro hug, obliges that, too, before backing up and dropping onto his saved seat.

And emitting a flatulent sputtering sound as his butt hits the chair.

The long thrrrppp quiets everyone— everyone —around them.

Folks in front of Shane discreetly look over their shoulders.

As Shane instantly lifts up off the chair, then drops back down before fully realizing what the hell happened, it makes matters worse.

The fading, sputtering pf-f-f-f-f-t gassy sound does everyone in.

Because all hell breaks loose then as Nick jumps up, hits his own chest and says it wasn’t him; and as Eva scolds Shane; and as Jason whacks Shane’s arm and tells him to excuse himself; and as the whole gang breaks out laughing.

“Got you good this time,” Kyle says—right as Shane shifts and pulls a deflated whoopee cushion off his seat.

After apologizing to the folks behind and in front of him, Shane joggles that limp rubber cushion. “You sonofabitch,” he whispers to Kyle before shoving him in his seat. “I’m not sure how you’re going to sleep tonight, brother. Because just know that… I’m legit getting you back for this one.”

***

But there’s no time for that now, not with the curtain opening and the music kicking in and the crowd roaring.

The entire class of line dancers takes the stage then—mostly women with a handful of guys: the instructor, Cliff and a few others.

The women all have on black tops with some form of denim skirt, denim capris or skinny jeans.

They all wear Western-style boots. Jason recognizes Paisley from Scoop Shop.

The men are in jeans, too, all with plaid button-downs.

Cliff’s is brown and white, matching his light brown cowboy hat and brown boots.

Oh, and you can’t miss his wide-buckle belt, either.

The group stomps and kicks and claps its way through a few rockin’ songs blasting through the PA system.

The dancers line up and smoothly slide to this side, and that—their legs easily grapevining.

They pivot and turn. Rock-step right and stomp . Then left. Stomp .

The audience loves it. Applause is raucous. Sometimes random people stand in the aisle and stomp right along, heads bent, hands clapping. The place quiets for the first two solos, though—both of which feature women dancers. And finally, there’s one more group dance before Cliff closes the show.

With utter aplomb.

Flanked by two of the women line dancers, they cut loose—with precise synchronicity—to a club remix of Mambo Italiano .

Cliff confidently uses his arms as much as his legs.

With each side step, his extended fingers are shimmying.

With each full pivot, his arms swing opposite to his swaying hips.

He tips his head and holds on to his hat.

Swivels around with one hand on that cowboy-style belt buckle.

And Jason notices one more thing.

The whole auditorium goes pin-drop quiet.

Until Maris leans forward in her seat and starts with a loud whisper: Elsa! Cliff looks downright … sexy !

And from Eva: I’ve never seen this side of him before.

Celia’s remark carries to the others: Better watch it, Elsa. That Paisley can sneak right in there!

And Elsa: Oh, basta!

Eva: But, Elsa—look at those moves.

Jason, to Matt: Pretty smooth, no?

Matt answering: And I thought I had some slick steps. Holy shit.

Nick calling out over the music: All right, Commish!

Lauren, too, leaning over to Maris: For someone who’s not Italian, he sure knows how to swivel!

Finally, the remaining students join in the solo dance for the last verse before taking one unified bow this way, then that.

Ha! Jason also notices that it’s Elsa who’s the first to stand and blow a sharp whistle! Once, then again. Prompting Shane to follow suit until the whole place is on its feet and clapping.

***

Everyone heads over to The Sand Bar afterward.

Talking and laughing, they all file in together.

On either end of the bar, there are decorative wood pilings tied with nautical rope.

Illuminated twig pumpkins twinkle beside them.

The bar itself is strung with orange harvest lights; the jukebox cranks; the door is propped open and salty autumn air drifts in.

Within minutes, they fill a couple of booths—and the talk doesn’t stop.

There’s enough buzz around them to get bartender Patrick wandering over.

“What’s the occasion, folks?” he asks. He’s got on a black vest over a white button-down and black pants. “No open mic tonight, so what gives?”

“We need an open- dance night. For that sly fox,” Jason says, hitching his head to Cliff sitting across from him. “We just came from his line-dancing recital.”

“Cliff?” Patrick turns to him. “You?”

“That’s right,” Cliff answers, tipping his cowboy hat as he does.

And so it goes. A round of drinks is ordered. Jason presents Cliff with a bouquet.

“Of cookies,” Jason says, setting the cookie bouquet on the table. Several large chocolate-chunk cookies on lollipop sticks are twisted with thin ribbons and planted in a tin flower pot. “From all of us. Some moves you’ve got there, Commissioner.”

“Missing a couple at your tables?” Patrick asks when he delivers bowls of miniature salted pretzels to the booths.

“Matt and Eva,” Kyle answers. “Matt worked a long shift today. He was beat.”

“Got it.” Patrick helps the waitress set out drinks, and the party continues.

It’s good times all around. Kyle and Lauren try out a few line dance steps to a number on the jukebox.

Shane hangs his tweed blazer on the back of a chair that he pulls up to Jason’s booth.

They all razz Shane about stealing the show tonight—before it even began.

In time, though, the gig breaks up. Cliff and Elsa are first to leave. While gathering her purse, Elsa turns to Maris. “I gave Celia a ride to the recital. Would you mind dropping her off at home?” Elsa asks.

“Of course not,” Maris assures her, standing for a hug. “I’ll let her know. ”

After Elsa hugs Maris, Jason and Lauren, she and Cliff head out. Cliff holds his recital bouquet—already missing a few cookies. Elsa sets his cowboy hat at a jaunty angle on her head. Together then, they grapevine right across the bar to the propped-open door.

“Bye, kids,” Jason calls out.

As he does, Celia’s walking back from the ladies’ room. Now she scoots into the booth spot Cliff and Elsa just vacated. Maris moves beside her. “Hey, hon,” Maris says. “Elsa just left. So me and Jason are giving you a ride home later.”

“Okay. Sounds good,” Celia says, settling in her seat.

“The commish knew what he was doing with those invites,” Shane remarks from his booth-side chair. “Arranged a good time for all.”

“Yeah,” Nick pipes in, coming over from the other booth. He slides in beside Jason. “And now the guy’s getting lucky.”

“You jealous?” Kyle asks from the other booth.

“Cliff really did have some swagger tonight,” Maris notes, glancing toward the doorway.

Jason gives a wink at her across the table. “What, and I don’t?”

“Maybe if you were in that class, Jason…” Maris teases. “Might’ve been your lucky night, too.”

“Dude,” Shane goes on, cuffing back his shirtsleeves. “You got no cowboy hat. No Western boots. No buckle on that belt.” He turns up his hands. “So… no satisfaction.”

Some laughs come with that one.

More pretzels are downed.

A toast to all is made at the table .

Then Kyle and Lauren have a go at the stuffed-animal claw machine before they head out, too.

“Gotta be at the diner super early. The stoves call,” Kyle says, slipping on his jacket.

“And my mom’s watching the kids,” Lauren tells them. “Great night, guys.”

“Hey, Kyle,” Shane says, tipping back his chair at the end of Jason’s booth. He points a finger at his brother, too. “Sleep with one eye open—if you know what’s good for you.”

“Yeah, right. I got you good tonight, man.” Kyle looks at Nick still seated beside Jason. “Come on, kid. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Yeah. You and me both,” Nick admits, lifting his field jacket off the booth seat. “I’ll be up with the sun, keeping that beloved beach community safe.” He puts on his jacket while turning to the others. “Later, guys!” he calls, following Kyle and Lauren across the bar.

“And out the door they go,” Shane quietly says before standing, spinning his chair around and setting it at a nearby table.