Dance for Me
Evie Olivia Niven
Prologue
Alastair Wolfe pulled his motorcycle into the extra portion of the driveway his father had had built years ago, and turned it off. He made certain it was secure, then headed into the house. The bike, a Ducati, was bigger and more powerful than his first bike, a gift from his father when he’d turned fourteen. And it was his pride and joy. I’m just as bad as Dad is, Alastair thought, chuckling to himself as he unlocked the door. He was the only one of his siblings who had taken on his father’s love of motorcycles.
The house was quiet and still. Alastair paused in the living room and glanced around, frowning. The pink backpack and jean jacket sitting on the edge of the couch belonged to Melissa, his current girlfriend. She’s early, he thought, walking into the kitchen. She wasn’t in there either. Frowning, Alastair began making his way up the stairs. Maybe in my room, he thought.
He and Melissa had been dating for the past year, since he’d met her at the academy where he took dance. She was sweet, if a small bit ditzy, and he’d fallen for her despite that. Alastair paused at the top of the stairs, in front of the door of his brother Quinn’s room. What the hell? he thought, frowning. Loud, feminine moans filtered through the door. Quinn was the quiet type, and he very rarely even held hands with girls. That could mean only one thing, and Alastair couldn’t believe it.
“Quinn...!”
The voice moaning that name was unmistakable. Furious, Alastair slammed the door open; it wasn’t locked. A startled gasp came from the bed. He surged forward and grabbed Quinn by the shoulders, pulling him roughly off of Melissa. Melissa shrieked and grabbed a blanket, trying to cover herself as she scrambled off the bed. Quinn stumbled, and Alastair gave him a hard shake. His twin brother glanced up; his pale blue eyes were blurred and he blinked, as though trying to clear his head.
What the hell? Alastair wondered. A soft rustling behind him caught his attention, and he spun around. Melissa was trying to pull on her clothes. She glanced up, and her bright blue eyes were full of guilt. With only her t-shirt on, and her hands clutching her jeans, she turned and fled from the room. Alastair settled Quinn down on the bed, and charged after her, chasing her down the stairs.
He caught up with her in the living room and grabbed her from behind. She shrieked as he spun her around and slammed her hard against the living room wall. Tears glimmered in Melissa’s eyes, but he was having none of it. Alastair knew from past experience that she was adept at bringing forth false tears.
“What did you do?” he growled, shaking her.
“Nothing!” Melissa shrieked, truly frightened.
“Bullshit!” Alastair snarled. “He looked drugged!”
Melissa’s eyes darted over his shoulder, then quickly down. He could tell by her expression that she hoped he wouldn’t notice. Closing his fingers around her wrist in an iron grip, he dragged her with him as he headed over to her backpack. Using one hand, Alastair pulled the backpack open and fished through it. As he expected, he soon found a bottle of pills. I can’t believe it, he thought, his hands shaking.
“Why?” Alastair demanded. “Why the hell did you do this, you slut!?”
Melissa’s pretty face twisted into an ugly scowl. “Because of you!” She spat. “You’re so crude and stupid! You may be good-looking, but it’s all you have! Quinn is quiet and intelligent, and he’s good-looking! He’s better than you are, and he’s the one I wanted from the beginning!”
Alastair stared at her. Never in his life had he been so horrified, or so embarrassed. He released her and shoved her backpack at her. Melissa grabbed the bag and backpedaled away from him. She had the audacity to look as though she had been the one who had been wronged.
“He’s so much better than you are!” Melissa shouted as she backed away. “You’re worthless!”
She whirled and stormed out of the house, despite the fact that she was only wearing a t-shirt. Alastair stood stock still, breathing heavily. He heard Quinn stumble down the stairs and whirled to face him. Some of the haziness had faded from his eyes, but he still looked confused. Walking over to his brother, he threw an arm around his shoulders. Quinn had put on jeans, at least. He looked up at Alastair, horror coming into his pale blue eyes as the cloudiness began to fade.
“I ... I didn’t ... she ... don’t...” Quinn stammered.
“Hush,” Alastair soothed. “She drugged you, Quinn. I can’t believe it ... it’s sick.”
And speaking of sick, he thought, watching Quinn turn white. He supported his brother on the way to the bathroom and helped him crouch by the toilet. Alastair waited until his brother had finished throwing up, then helped him clean up. He ran upstairs to get some clothes for Quinn and even helped him dress.
“I’m taking you to the emergency room,” Alastair explained. “I don’t know what she gave you. I think we should have you checked out.”
“If ... if you think so...” Quinn said, struggling with the words. “You ... okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Alastair said, grabbing Quinn’s car keys from the hook on the wall. “I’m more concerned about you.”
He wasn’t going to be fine. Alastair knew he was far more hurt by this than he’d allowed Quinn to see. I’m worthless, am I? he thought, as he helped Quinn into the car. At least I’m not a slut. It wasn’t a thought that stuck too well. He’d fallen in love with Melissa over the last year. And she’d claimed to love him too. Alastair couldn’t imagine a bigger betrayal; she’d cheated on him and had drugged his own brother in order to do so.
The crowd was bigger than she could have possibly imagined. Sadira Scarlett peeked around the curtain at the audience, feeling her heart pound wildly. At fourteen, she was the youngest of her dance troupe, and yet the most promising. Better than any of them at her young age, she had boundless potential. And boundless nerves, she thought, giving herself a shake as she stepped back from the curtain.
“Sada!”
Startled, she turned to face one of her troupe mates. Melissa Hartley was nineteen and spent half of her time practicing in some prestigious academy. Supposedly, she had a gorgeous boyfriend who was top of his class in that same academy. She seemed a bit rattled tonight, Sada noticed, her eyebrows lifting. I wonder what’s wrong? Fortunately, Melissa wouldn’t have to worry too much. She was not that great a dancer and had only a bit part.
“If we win here tonight, we go on to the finals,” Melissa said, smirking. “All eyes will be on you tonight, though. It’s really up to you. No pressure, though, huh?”
Yeah, no pressure, Sada thought, scowling at Melissa’s back as she retreated. Easy for you to say. She’d never liked Melissa. Sighing, she set herself up to wait in the wings. Tonight she would lead them ... and it was making her ill. How am I supposed to do this? she wondered, biting her lip. This is too much! She heard the music strike up and braced herself. This was easy; she could do this!
Sada had done Swan Lake so many times. Her problem was always the thirty-two fouettes in the Black Swan’s part. So much of it was easy for her, almost like second nature, that she floated through it. She could feel eyes on her, feel them boring into her, but she ignored it. Sada loved to dance, loved to be on stage; there was no greater feeling in her mind.
The first act went smoothly, and she felt relieved. There was a brief interlude while she changed costumes, into the black leotard for the next part. Sada studied her black toe shoes with a critical eye. They looked a little worn, she thought. Perhaps it’s just me? Sighing, she pushed herself to her feet and stretched onto her toes. Not a problem, not for her. She took a deep breath and headed back into the wings.
Again, it was smooth sailing for a long while. Sada felt wonderful; she knew she was dancing better than she ever had before. Her partner, Andre, was a little off, but she made up for it with ease. Only the fouettes, now, she thought, forcing her mouth into a smile. Only the fouettes, and the hard part is over. All eyes were on her. Sada knew when her eyes were on the crowd that she was expecting so much from her.
For the first time in the ten years she’d been dancing, the expectations were too much. The fouettes were going so well, and she thought she was clear. Sada put her toes down ... and felt herself slip. She tried, desperately, to keep herself standing, but it was as if the floor went out from underneath her. She tumbled backward and landed hard on her shoulders, the air knocking out of her. Sada groaned, rolling onto her side and grabbing her head.
“
“I don’t feel too good,” she thought, as the world spun wildly. She had, she realized now, landed hard on the back of her head. The music had stopped and her dance instructor was at her side, calling her name. Sada rolled onto her knees, and her stomach heaved wildly. No, no, no, she thought wildly, clenching her teeth. Not on stage, please not on stage. It was disastrous. She could hear exclamations of shock and disgust as she threw up.
“I think she has a concussion,” her instructor said. “Let’s get her off the stage.”
Sada felt arms around her, lifting her up. Her head felt like soup, and it was hard to walk. Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. I messed up, she thought, really badly. This was not something she would be able to live down. There was not a person in this theatre tonight who would forget this performance. They would all go home, and they would all remember the girl who had fallen down, and then thrown up on stage, in front of thousands of people.
Chapter One: Neon Lights
Sadira Scalett inched aside the heavy five-section notebook and lifted up the cover of her three-ring binder. She stared at the brochure for the dance contest a local radio station was holding. It was a small thing, for amateurs, with a prize of two hundred dollars. It’s been so, so long since I’ve danced competitively, she thought, biting her lower lip. I don’t even think I can do it anymore. Sada longed, deep down, to try, but the competition was only two weeks away.
She heard footsteps approaching fast behind her and quickly shoved the notebook back into place. Turning her gaze back to the computer screen, she pretended to be focusing when her friends walked up behind her. Farah was a perky, blue-eyed blonde, a fashion student who tried to tell all of them what to wear. Heather was a redhead, and she would be transferring into a law school at the end of the year. Gina was the loudest, most outspoken of all of them, and studied politics, insisting she’d be the first female Latino president. Sada felt so dull in comparison to the three of them.
“Still working, Sada?” Farah chirped, throwing an arm around her shoulders.
“This is due on Thursday,” Sada explained, sitting back in her chair with a groan. “And Mr. Matson wants fifteen pages! On yacht racing in Rhode Island!”
“Ewwww...” Heather wrinkled her nose. “You need a break, Sada. It’s your birthday, for crying out loud!”
Sada sighed and closed out the website she had accessed from the computers at the community college she attended. There was simply no use arguing with her friends once they got an idea in their heads. She grabbed the pages she had printed from the printer, shoved them into a folder, and began stuffing everything back into the messenger bag she carried. Sada’s friends watched her, and she didn’t like the mischief she saw on their faces.
“Where are we going?” Sada asked as she slung the messenger bag over her shoulder.
“It’s a surprise,” Gina answered, grinning.
“Ohhhhh nooooo,” Sada groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “Not another ‘surprise’!”
Her friends laughed. The last time they’d surprised her with a party. There’d been cute guys there, which should have been good for a girl turning twenty. Except that I’m so shy, I almost fainted, she thought, sighing heavily. They’d better not do anything like that this year. Sada handed off her bag to Gina (who spent a good deal of time in the gym and always carried everything), and hooked her arms with Heather and Farah.
“All right,” she conceded. “But if this is as bad as last time, I’ll make you all pay.”
Farah giggled. “Oh, don’t worry, Sada darling. You’ll love this!”
Alastair plucked at the thin nylon holding on his g-string and sighed. I might actually enjoy this if it weren’t for the costume, he thought, as he slid a leather jacket over his shoulders. He wasn’t a stripper for the money or because he enjoyed it. It was bitterness and spite that drove him on. Alastair teased the women here with what they could see and could not have. He could not get back at Melissa for what she’d done to him all those years ago, so he took it out on other women. Childish? Perhaps. Satisfying? Oh, definitely.
Not that he didn’t find women to sleep with occasionally. A man is still a man, after all, he thought, smiling to himself. He looked up and noticed some of the other guys crowded near the curtain, looking out into the crowd. Alastair’s eyebrows lifted, and he stood, approaching the group.
“Something interesting, boys?” Alastair asked.
“Check it out,” one of the others, Ken Murphy, said. “Looks like hoity-toity college girls.”
Alastair pushed through the small crowd to stare out into the crowd. Neon lights illuminated the stage and part of the crowd. A table of young women, approximately college girls, caught his eye. They were all dressed nicely, as if they had come here straight after late classes. Definitely different from our usual, Alastair thought, studying them. They look like they should have good money with them, though.
There was a gorgeous blonde and a redhead, both of whom were the kind of girls that made some of these guys break their oaths not to sleep with the patrons. And a Latino girl who looked like the feisty type. The kind of girl who’ll eat you alive, Alastair thought, chuckling to himself. In the middle of the table, the last girl sat looking mortified. Aren’t we an exotic little thing ... he mused, studying her. Straight, dark hair was clipped fairly short so that it feathered at the ends, framing a heart-shaped face. Her eyes were large and probably bright, but he couldn’t tell in the light.
“Look at the one in the middle,” Ken said, chuckling. “The look on her face ... bet she’s a virgin!”
Alastair rolled his eyes. “You can’t tell by looking at someone.”
“Oh, sure I can,” Ken boasted. “Even with the dim lighting, you can tell she’s bright red. She’ll be a fun one to tease!”
Alastair shook his head and walked away. He wasn’t into teasing the girls the way the others were. While Ken and the other guys got close to the women, allowing them to touch, and touching back, he stayed mostly aloof. Women came to see him dance. He did more than the bumping and grinding the others claimed was dancing. And I’ve never had complaints when they can’t touch me, Alastair thought, as he began stretching out. In fact, they absolutely love it.
Sada sank down in her chair, feeling distinctly mortified. Of all places, why this? she thought frantically, glancing at her friends. This is not good, not at all! Her friends had often played embarrassing pranks on her, but this really took the prize. They always said she was too uptight, that she needed to get laid. And Sada always told them she had more important things to do with her life. In truth, she had simply never recovered from her moment of ultimate disaster when she was fourteen. The more people she was around, the more she felt like she was going to mess up ... no matter what she did.
“Why did you bring me here?” Sada hissed, glaring at Farah.
“Oh, relax,” Farah said, rolling her eyes. “We came here to see the dancers. We brought you here for some inspiration.”
Sada stared at her. “Inspiration!? From male strippers!?”
Gina turned in her seat and flashed a mysterious smile across the table to Farah. They’re up to something, Sada thought, glancing between the two of them. She settled back in her chair and turned her eyes to the stage, curious despite herself. The lights dimmed further, to be replaced by the bright colors of neon, and pulsing music picked up in the background. Oh, brother, Sada thought, rolling her eyes. Cheesy porno music, all the way.
The first dancer was little more than she expected. Although he was graceful, he was mostly about grinding, thrusting, and teasing the crowd. When he came near their table, her friends jumped around excitedly, but Sada shrank away. “ “I’m going to kill them,” she thought, chewing on her lower lip. “ “I’m going to make them regret ever being born!” This was horrifyingly embarrassing, especially when the dancer tried to get close to her. She scooted away from him, almost falling off her chair.
The next dancer was little better, and she was beginning to feel a trend here. “ “Why did they bring me here for my birthday?” Sada wondered. “ “They would have done better taking me drinking!” Of course, she didn’t drink, but she didn’t like male strippers either. She knew her cheeks were bright red. They all grinned at her teasingly when they saw her, and some of them even winked.
“I want to leave!” Sada said firmly, after the fourth dancer of the night. “This is not for me! Just not!”
“Shhh!” Heather hissed. “You’ll like this next part, Sadie.”
“Don’t call me that,” Sada grumbled.
“Ladies!” The announcer shouted, above the din of shouting women. Sada jumped. “Hold onto your little red riding hoods, because here comes the big, bad Alastair Wolfe!”
Oh, brother! Sada thought, rolling her eyes. A fleeting movement at the back of the stage caught her attention, and she glanced over. This man was different from the others; he wasn’t quite as muscular for one, built on more slender, willowy lines. Dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail that trailed down the middle of his back. “ “He’s gorgeous!” Sada thought, then felt her cheeks heat. “ “Oh, god, come on Sada, he’s just a guy, for crying out loud!”
But as it turned out, he wasn’t just a guy. He didn’t dance like the others. Right away, she could see the classical training in the graceful way he moved. Sure, he did some thrusting and grinding, but not too much. Rather, he did impressive leaps, flips, and splits amid something that looked almost tribal. When he pulled off his leather jacket, Sada noted a tattoo spread over his shoulder blades, but she couldn’t make it out.
She propped her chin in her hands and stared, entranced by his grace. The moves he did were not often ones she recognized; they looked like something of his own making. But she saw variations on such things as fouettes and pirouettes, and other classical ballet moves. Sada’s lips parted, and she licked them; her mouth was dry, and her heart was pounding hard from breathlessness.
At one point, when he turned, his gaze met hers. His eyes were so intensely blue that she could see them from where she sat. A slight smile curved his lips, almost too sensual for a man, and Sada felt her heart skip a beat. He’s amazing, she thought, trembling. Now she understood what Farah had meant by inspiration. All her friends knew she had once been a dancer. And no doubt they had seen her looking at that flier, no matter how slick she thought she’d been about it.
It was over far too soon for Sada’s liking. She felt a distinct disappointment as the music faded away and Alastair finished in a graceful pose, on his knees with his back arched and his arms extended skyward. She could hear the roar of the women around her, and understood why. The other men may have been sexy and teasing, but there was something about Alastair Wolfe that was distinctly enticing. Sada turned glowing green eyes on her friends.
“Guys, that was the best birthday present ever!”
Alastair’s routine had been going perfectly. In fact, as far as anyone in the crowd would have noticed, he’d been spotless. But he knew he’d made a small mistake, and all because of a pair of brilliant green eyes. He’d come out of a turn and had found her staring at him intensely. Up closer, he could see that she was lovely, in that exotic way. But Alastair hadn’t been expecting the intensity of her stare, and it had thrown him off greatly. He’d wobbled a bit, his balance thrown, but no one had seen it.
A hand came down on his shoulder and he spun around. Lorenzo, the dancer just before him, grinned in his usual cocky manner.
“Did you see that little college chick at that table?” Lorenzo asked, chuckling. “Ken was right, man, she is totally a virgin. She turned bright red whenever any of us got close.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Alastair muttered, towel sweat from his neck. “What’s the big deal, anyway?”
“Virgins are hot!” Lorenzo crowed. “And man, I’m gonna get me that one! Did you see the body on her?”
“I wasn’t looking,” Alastair growled.
“Why so cranky?” Lorenzo asked, trotting after him as he headed towards the showers.
Alastair ignored him. Juvenile, he thought, rolling his eyes. He turned on the shower and stepped under the water. At twenty-five, he was about average age among the dancers, but often times he felt like the oldest one there. If he was cranky, it was because he knew, even if no one else did, that his routine hadn’t been perfect. It was foolish to be concerned over a perfect routine at a strip club, but that was Alastair. The perfectionist dancer he had once been was still alive and well.
He could hear them talking. The younger ones raved about the college girls, but the older ones he knew would mostly not bother. They understood the rules. Alastair felt a slight smile tugging at his lips. They wouldn’t be able to get that one home, anyway, he thought, chuckling to himself. If the Latino would eat a man alive, she’d feed him alive to sharks. No need to get her own hands dirty. Shy she might have been, but he knew well that intense concentration he’d seen in her eyes. It was the look of stubbornness and determination.
“Nice work tonight, man,” Grant, the oldest of them, congratulated as he pulled his clothes on. “You always get the crowd going.”
“It isn’t fair!” Ken complained, rolling his eyes. “All he does is dance, and the women go wild!”
Alastair shrugged. “That’s because I have sex appeal and talent.”
“Yeah, just you wait,” Ken shot back. “Don’t think you’ll always be the star here!”
“Watch your back, Alastair,” Grant laughed. “He might just put a knife in it!”
Alastair chuckled and finished pulling on his clothes. He grabbed his jacket; jeans rather than leather, as he found leather generally uncomfortable for everyday wearing. Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, he waved goodnight to the rest of the guys and headed out the back way. It was time to go home, to his nice little apartment, and his big comfy bed. I’m beat, Alastair thought, groaning. I didn’t realize how much I put into that.
His life had changed so much. If there was one thing he knew, it was the distinct disappointment of his family. Alastair had dropped out of college (he’d never been too good at it anyway) and taken up this job eventually. And since the incident with Melissa, his relationship with his brother had been rocky. Only his darling little sister, Alanna, was never disappointed in him. Alastair was overprotective of her, and he almost felt sorry for the guys who got too close to her. Fortunately, she was more interested in art than guys.
Alastair paused at his motorcycle and looked towards the entrance of the club. There he spotted the four college girls, among them that dark-haired exotic one. She was laughing, twirling in circles, and he could see so much grace in her movements, to the way she moved her fingers. She’s a dancer, he realized, watching her. Alastair licked his lips. The camisole she wore clung to her breasts, which were thrust into the air with the arch of her back. Stop that, pervert, he scolded himself.
“Did you see?!” The little dancer exclaimed, skidding to a halt. “What is he doing in a place like this? He’s amazing!”
“Easy, Sadie,” the blonde laughed. “I told you you’d like this birthday present.”
“Got some inspiration now, chica?” The Latino girl asked.
“It’s coming out my pores!” the one called Sadie exclaimed, twirling again.
Alastair couldn’t help himself; he laughed. Not a soft laugh, but a full-throated sound that carried across the parking lot. All four girls turned to face him, the little dancer looking embarrassed. He couldn’t see the color of her green eyes from here, but he felt their intensity. Alastair flashed her a smile, and he knew her cheeks had turned red. She smiled back, shyly, then turned and skipped away. Her friends laughed and followed.
A dancer. And she’d gotten inspiration from him. Must be having a rough streak or something, Alastair thought, settling his backpack on his shoulders and climbing onto his motorcycle. Watching her twirl, he could see that she seemed a bit rusty. And it was too bad, because he could see what form she had beneath that. Potentially fantastic, he thought, as he started up his motorcycle. Alastair’s eyes searched the dark for her as he sped through the parking lot, but she was gone.
Static sparked beneath her socks as Sada twirled across her carpet. She laughed, flinging her arms out to the side, and flopped down onto the bed. The next two weeks were going to be hard, she thought, staring up at the ceiling. Between school, dance practice, and watching Alastair Wolfe for inspiration, she was going to have a full schedule. But after watching him dance tonight, Sada was determined to enter the competition the radio station was holding.
Sighing, she rolled onto her side and crawled beneath the covers. When she had first arrived at that club, Sada had thought her friends had gone mad. How could a strip club be her 21st birthday present? And in the end, it had turned out to be the best birthday present she could imagine. I’m terrified, she thought, feeling her heart pound. But after watching him tonight, I just know it’s something I have to do. Sada stared at her fingers, which trembled.
She wished she could talk to him; maybe he could give her some advice. But the prospect was even scarier than the competition. Sada had never been brave when it came to guys, and Alastair was a fantastic dancer. He smiled at me, she thought, feeling a smile tug at her own lips. What a smile he has! It was silly to be all dreamy over a guy she didn’t know. More than likely, he was an arrogant jerk.
Sleep, Sada, she told herself insistently. Tomorrow is the start of two very long weeks. A thrill of excitement went through her, but it faded quickly. She was exhausted; it had been a very long day. Closing her eyes, she felt it all come down on her. With a soft, satisfied smile, Sada fell into a deep, peaceful sleep for the first time since she had been fourteen years old.
Chapter Two: Competition
The next two weeks felt as though they were the hardest and most exhausting of Sada’s life. She practiced hard, reminding her body of so many things she no longer used. Her muscles ached constantly, she slept like the dead, and she almost drifted off in her classes. At night, despite being exhausted, she dragged herself off to the club to watch Alastair Wolfe dance. Despite being tired constantly, Sada didn’t regret working so hard. In fact, she didn’t have time to regret it.
It was the night before the competition, and she had ended up going straight home after class. If there was one thing Sada knew, it was to make sure she didn’t over-practice. Her body was exhausted, although not as tired as she would be if she’d practiced too much. Tonight she would stay home. Even though she wanted to see Alastair dance again, she thought, sighing heavily. Sada dropped into the papasan chair in the living room of her apartment and put her feet up on the matching footstool. She wouldn’t miss practice, but she would miss Alastair.
Foolish, she thought, rolling her eyes at herself. I don’t even know him at all. It was dumb to miss a guy she didn’t even know, but Sada had become intrigued by Alastair immensely over the past two weeks. He was good-looking, a fantastic dancer, and she sensed there was something beneath the surface. Some sort of sorrow, she thought, chewing on her lower lip. She couldn’t figure out why; he danced so joyously. Tonight Sada could be there in her mind only, so it would not be a chance to figure out more of the Alastair Wolfe mystery.
At first, when the little dancer showed up at the club the next night, Alastair was flattered. It was obvious by her demeanor that she’d only come to watch him. However, when she’d shown up the next night, and the night after that, he’d begun to get a little creeped out. Sometimes her friends were with her, but much of the time she was alone. Alastair began to find her intense gaze to be highly disconcerting. Occasionally he had the strange thought that she could see right through him.
Tonight, as he readied himself to dance, he tried to keep her out of his mind. As odd and creepy as it was to have her there so often, there was something about her that caught his eyes. It’s because she dances too, Alastair thought, as he settled his jacket into place. Maybe some of our other patrons do, but I know she does. She, of all who watched, could truly appreciate his talent. It had been a long time since he’d experienced that, and it felt good, knowing someone saw that he was too good to dance here.