“And… what does she want, exactly?”
Krystal’s smile widened. “You,” she said.
Danny laughed and waited for Krystal to join in. She didn’t. He stopped laughing and cleared his throat.
“Well, that’s very flattering, really, and maybe if I was, like, I don’t know, three hundred years older, but probably not even then, to be honest—”
“Not like that, you muppet. Fanny’s not that desperate. She’s thinking of starting a weekly ladies’ night down at the club, but she doesn’t have any male dancers yet, so—”
“No,” said Danny, suddenly realizing where the conversation was going. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not? You just danced in front of a massive crowd of people, I’m sure you can shake it for a few hammered housewives.”
“I had clothes on! There’s a big difference!”
“You won’t have to be naked, Danny, don’t worry. Even fish wouldn’t want to see your maggot.”
“Really?”
“Well, okay, maybe a really hungry fish might, but—”
“No, I mean I won’t have to be naked?”
“No,” said Krystal. “Well, not like naked naked. Just, you know… more naked than not naked.”
“You know, as tempting as that sounds, I think I’m going to pass on this one. Will would never forgive me, would you, mate?”
“Doesn’t bother me,” said Will with a shrug. Danny scowled at him.
“It’s two hundred fifty pounds a night, Dan, in the hand. Or thong. Whatever you prefer.”
“I don’t care,” said Danny. “Wait—how much?”
“You heard me. A grand a month for four days’ work. Plus tips. Think about it,” she said before going to get changed. Will walked off in the opposite direction.
“Where are you going?” said Danny.
“To wash this off!” said Will.
“I thought green was your favorite color,” said Danny, trying to keep a straight face.
“Not anymore,” he grumbled on his way to the bathrooms.
* * *
Inside one of the Portaloos, Will scrubbed himself with handfuls of soap, but the toxic tint refused to budge. As if things couldn’t get any worse, he burst out of the toilet and bumped right into the one person he really didn’t want to see at that moment.
“Malooley,” said Mark, turning Will’s very own name into something that sounded like a threat. He looked at Will’s face and arms and frowned. “Why the fuck are you green?”
“Long story,” said Will.
“It’s an improvement.”
Will nodded but said nothing, already tired of this conversation.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” said Mark, looking around for Mo.
“Where’re your Minions?” said Will, also scanning the crowd.
Mark glared at him for a long moment, a moment that Will was sure would end in pain, which was why he was so surprised when Mark cracked a smile, a far from pleasant sight but still more welcome than the alternative.
“Their mums won’t let them stay out this late,” he said.
“Well, it is a school night,” said Will. They shared a brief laugh.
“What you got there?” said Mark, pointing at the panda suit spilling out of Will’s bag.
“Nothing,” said Will. He tried to hide the bag behind his back, but Mark had already spotted the black-and-white mask.
“Wait, was that you onstage just now? Pandamania or whatever?”
“Pandamonium.”
“Fucking hell, that was you!” he said.
Will braced himself for the barrage of insults he knew was coming. Dancing is gay. Pandas are gay. Dancing pandas are gay. Something along those lines.
“You were fucking…” Mark groped around for the right word. “… epic!”
“What?” said Will, caught off guard. He wondered if Mark knew what epic meant.
“Seriously, you lot were sick, mate, best thing I’ve seen all night.”
“Thanks,” said Will hesitantly.
“Where’d you learn to dance like that?”
“My mum.”
“Nice. I wish my mum had skills like that. Some days she doesn’t even get out of bed.” He laughed, but the sound was hollow.
“I could teach you,” said Will. “If you want, I mean.”
“Me? Dancing?” Mark laughed. “Good one. Any chance you could introduce me to them girls you were dancing with, though?” Mark played with his fringe, as if scruffy hair was the only thing standing between him and the cover of Esquire.
Will smiled. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
“Nice one. Anyway, I better bounce. Good luck tonight, yeah?”
“Fingers crossed,” said Will.
Mark turned to leave. “Oh, and Will?” he said over his shoulder.
“Yep?”
“Tell anybody about this conversation and you’re dead,” he said with pseudo-seriousness. “Got that?”
“Got it,” said Will.
“Good. See you later, loser.”
Will watched him go, wondering if he’d gained a friend or simply lost an enemy.
* * *
Danny was standing near the front of the stage with Krystal, Mo, and Ivan, who stood about half a meter higher than anybody else in the crowd.
“Here’s the star of the show!” said Mo. He went to hug Will but froze before contact. “Wait, why is your face—”
“Ask Krystal,” said Will. Mo looked at Krystal. Krystal looked elsewhere.
“You’re just in time,” said Danny as the host reappeared onstage.
“Well, everybody, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” the host said.
The crowd cheered.
“No, not the part where I stop talking—”
A chorus of boos rose up from the crowd.
“Don’t worry, that’ll happen in a minute—”
The boos instantly turned into cheers again.
“But before I go home, drink a bottle of scotch, and maybe put a gun in my mouth—”
The crowd seemed undecided on this one.
“Only a joke. I don’t have a gun. And even if I did, I wouldn’t be using it on myself, would I, Martin?”
Martin flashed him the finger before pretending to scratch his nose with it when he saw himself on the video screen.
“Anyway, it’s time to reveal tonight’s winner! As you all know, only one act will walk away with the grand prize of ten thousand pounds, so what do you say, judges? Have you made your decision?”
The judges looked at each other and nodded. An envelope was carried onto the stage.
The host put on his glasses and squinted at the note inside.
“Okay, let’s get down to business,” he said. “Coming in at third place we have… Tim and Milton!”
Everyone applauded as Tim and Milton appeared on the video screen. Tim waved and smiled for the camera.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered as Milton glowered at him from his shoulder. “You chose the song, not me.”