the time, and wouldn't have passed muster with anyone but their old high school's iconoclastic drama teacher.
"Okay, but no jazz hands," she mouthed at Anna, who laughed in reply.
The thumping bass was hypnotic, and although it had been ages since Emmy had gone out dancing, she fell into the rhythm easily, swaying her hips and twirling around in tandem with her sister as if they'd been practicing their moves all week. It wasn't much of a surprise — they'd always loved dancing together, ever since they were little girls — but apparently they were still looking good, because there were a couple of guys moving in on the action around them.
They weren't the only ones watching though — Emmy's caught Eric's gaze when the crowd parted enough to allow a direct view of their table, and he was looking transfixed. She wondered what he thought when one of the orbiting guys, dirty blonde with a tattooed sleeve and an ostentatiously tight T-shirt over his six-pack, had the temerity to step in closer and aim a leery grin at her. He was cute in a muscle bunny kind of way, not really her style at all, but he wasn't too bad a dancer, so she went with the flow as the music morphed into Simple Minds Don't You Forget About Me.
As if on cue, a voice murmured a "May I?" in her ear, and she turned her head to discover Eric looming over her shoulder in a classic Joy Division T-shirt, his eyes intense on hers. Somehow, she hadn't expected him to join in, but as she flashed an apologetic smile at the other guy and swiveled to face Eric, it became immediately apparent that he was no slouch in the dance department. Soon the two of them were locked in sync, snapping their hips in time to the beat and singing along shamelessly when the refrain came along.
A couple of songs later, the DJ decided to switch to A-Ha, and they both retreated back to the relative safety of their seats. Emmy was still reeling at the appearance of this new rock'n'roll Eric — leather-clad biker, clubber and apparently lover of 80s new wave.
"You are full of surprises, Mr. Oswell," she told him while he topped up her champagne glass.
"What, because I like opera you thought I wouldn't be able to appreciate the finer points of the music of my childhood?"
"Did you listen to this as a kid?"
"My mother used to listen to that music a lot when we were little — and we lived in England, remember? How about you?"
"My parents, a bit, and also personal taste when I got older. Anna used to do a lot of dance at school, they always dug out old 80s tracks for their routines. I think their teacher was trying to reclaim his lost youth."
"There was a lot of crap, but I have to say I have more than a passing fondness for much of it," he said with a sigh. "Probably because I associate it with Mum being happy — well, happier. She really hated moving over here."
Emmy squeezed his arm affectionately as she leaned over to catch Anna's eye. Her sister was still on the dance floor, surrounded by about four guys vying for her attention.
"Your sister's popular," Eric noted. "Not that it's surprising, since she's almost as hot as you. What? Don't look at me like that, I'm merely stating fact. Good genes in your family, obviously. Your mom must be a looker."
She punched his arm and he laughed at her. The man was a menace.
Somehow the evening unfolded without any major incident — Eric behaved all the way, danced not just with her but with Anna and even Gina at one point, in a sweaty melee when the DJ slapped on Love Shack and everybody hit the floor.
"Okay, he's not as much of an asshole when he's off the clock as I thought he'd be," Gina confessed when they repaired to the restrooms for a quick makeup fix. "He's still a grade-A dick at a professional level, but he is kind of fun. And girlfriend, he has a great ass, and he knows how to move it."
"Don't remind me of it, Gi. My New Year resolution is — avoid making bad decisions. I think it would be seriously fucked up if I went home with him."
"Don't even think of it! Or, you know, don't act on it."