Page 41 of The Moon Also Rises
“I’ll watch and learn then,” I joke.
“Absolutely. Oh, and if you don’t mind. Play me some Wham!, please?”
“Seriously? Are you trying to ruin my reputation?” I am only a fraction as horrified as I sound. George Michael was a genius songwriter.
“Oh, it’s too late to be snobby about music or dancing. You just moonwalked at a wedding while singing Michael Jackson to your fake boyfriend!”
“True. I’ll see what I can do,” I say with a nod at him before I walk back to the DJ booth.
*****
The set passes in a happy, quick blur. Jake stays true to his word and does indeed dance his heart out while singing along to nearly every song I play. Each song I play takes me back to a former version of myself and I love every single second. This is why I got into DJing in the first place; the joy on people’s faces, the freedom they feel when they dance, the communal delight in sharing a dance or singing a song together. It always was as much about making people happy as it was being creative with music and I feel inexplicably grateful that I have this opportunity to enjoy this one more time.
Possibly the last time,I try not think but still the thought slices me in two.
I also like how I can play the songs that my father loved most – Motown hits, sixties soul and seventies disco – and I can mix it with my own favourite eighties synth and nineties house classics. I also honour my promise to Jake by playing Wham!’sWake Me Up Before You Go Go,which Jake gets so excited. He starts an impromptu conga line halfway through the song, his hands on Melanie’s waist and her husband’s on Jake’s hips. I laugh as they snake around the dance floor and out to the bar. When they finally return, they all have new drinks in hand. Jake, who has not one but two glasses of champagne in his hands, breaks free and darts around the dance floor with nimble ease and over the following songs I see him talking and dancing with nearly every guest. A little later he’s holding a bottle of champagne as he spends many minutes dancing next to Lionel and Luigi and I have to bite back my smile when I see the two of them fold Jake into a big sandwich of a hug.
By the time the closing bars on my last song are playing, the lights come up and I can see, standing dead centre of the dance floor, Jake is still smiling and still swaying with his arm around Melanie even though the music is all but gone. I don’t think it would take a genius to conclude that he’s very, very drunk.
Once I’ve packed up and have my laptop in its case, I go to find him and hear him drawling on at Lionel’s mother who doesn’t look any less sober than Jake.
“… I mean that’s the kind of man you raised, Melanie. A man who will drop everything, including all his clothes, when he needs to. I told him we would cancel the life drawing class, it was just a silly extra we offered that hardly any of the guests did, but he insisted on stepping in. He knew that a particular group of thirsty women in their sixties who were staying with us had all signed up to the class and he certainly gave them what they wanted to see. What a lovely man, with a lovely body…”
“Oh, you don’t need to tell me. I always say to Bobby, how did Lionel get so lucky? A kind heart and an eight-pack?”
“And he barely works out!” Jake exclaims.
“I know!” Melanie agrees.
“Jake,” I interrupt. “Time to get you up to bed.”
“Oh, Jake, you better listen to your man. He knows what he wants.” Melanie starts giggling as I step closer to get Jake to lean his weight on me.
“I’m not even tired!” Jake slurs and resists me as I try to pull his arm towards me.
“Oh, he doesn’t want you in bed to sleep, honey!” Melanie explains.
“Ha! You should know something about me and Rami.” Jake stretches back towards Melanie even as I manage to get my shoulder under his arm. “Rami isn’t even—”
“Jake, we’re going upstairs right now,” I say loudly and that thankfully prompts him to shut up.
“So authoritarian!” he slurs looking at me with half-closed eyes.
“Enjoy it!” Melanie says as she stretches up to kiss us both on our cheeks. “Enjoy each other!”
I manage to lead Jake out of the ballroom, and we’re almost halfway through the bar when he straightens up a little and makes a mumbled sound in his throat. We stop moving.
“Are you—” I begin.
“Gonna chuck!” he says and rushes to the double doors that lead out to the terrace. Pushing through them he disappears into the darkness outside, and I follow him. It takes a few seconds, but I finally find him sitting on a bench just to the side. It’s the same bench we saw Lionel and Luigi sitting on when we first arrived earlier. Facing the pond and water feature that continues to trickle, filling the night air with a tinkling sound, Jake hangs his head between his legs but I don’t see or smell any vomit and he’s not retching, just sort of sitting there.
“False alarm,” he says when I come to sit next to him.
“Take your time,” I say with a small chuckle.
“You should go upstairs. You have to get up early.”
“I’m fine,” I say, and I really am. I don’t even feel tired.
