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Twilight Meets Dirty Dancing - A Jacob & Bella Fic
Twilight Meets Dirty Dancing - A Jacob & Bella Fic
In the Still of the Night
"Scene One: A Summer at Cullen's - Scene Two: Some Staff Rules"
"Hi, everybody. This is your cousin Brucie. Whoa! Our summer romances are in full bloom, and everybody's in love! So cousins, here's a great song from the Four Seasons."
That was the summer of 1963, when everybody called me "Bella", and it didn't occur to me to mind.
The radio was playing, my window was rolled down, and I was smiling against the breeze as it whipped through my hair. I held tightly to the pages of my book, enjoying the cool wind as it blew into the car, and trying to ignore Jessica as she fought to keep her dark hair in place. I watched the mountains as they came into view, and tried to forget about the knot of anxiety that had settled into my stomach as my father drove us closer to our destination.
That was before President Kennedy was shot... before the Beatles came... when I couldn't wait to join the Peace Corps... and I thought I'd never find a guy as great as my dad.
I leaned forward into his seat, wrapping my arms around his neck. He reached across his chest with his left arm to pat me reassuringly, keeping the other on the steering wheel, and I smiled into his hairline. I adored him; before that summer I believed that no man could ever compare to him; to his thoughtfulness, his strength, and most of all – his brilliance.
That was the summer we went to Cullen's.
We pulled into the parking lot, and I couldn't help but stare. Cullen's Resort was nestled serenely in gentle dip of a mountain valley, surrounded by the peaks and hills of the Catskills. I was still feeling apprehensive, but wanted to spend some quiet time with my family before college. My father maneuvered through the mass of other arriving cars into an unloading area and as I took in the beautiful scenery, I suddenly felt excited to get out and explore the grounds.
Jessica leapt out almost immediately, and although I was still in the car, I could hear her complaining already. She'd jumped out of her seat, and I caught a glimpse of her as she yanked off her sunglasses and leaned towards our mother's window. Jessica's eyes were on a passing bellhop who was overloaded with boxes of shoes. "Oh, my God. Look at that!" Her tone was defeated and whiny; I already knew what she's going to say next. "Mom, I should've brought the coral shoes. You said I was taking too much."
My mother, Renee, looked overwhelmed. "Well, sweetheart, you brought ten pairs," she tried to explain, but I could tell from Jessica's expression that she wasn't really listening.
"But the coral shoes matched that dress." She continued to moan, but then my dad got out of the car, his polo perfect and neat, despite the long drive.
He slid off his glasses and looked at her reproachfully. "This is not a tragedy. A tragedy is three men trapped in a mine, or police dogs used in Birmingham." He circled the car towards my mother.
I decided to get out too, unable to resist the urge to antagonize Jessica further. I leaned on the car hood and gave her my best attempt at sincerity. "Monks burning themselves in protest."
She glared at me because she wouldn't dare make the same expression at my father. "Butt out, Bella."
I heard a loud voice and looked over my shoulder at the main lawn. A pudgy man in a maroon uniform held a clipboard and a megaphone. "Okay, we got horseshoes on the south lawn in 15 minutes!" He was walking and talking and reading at the same time – a feat I would never dare attempt. " We've got splish-splash, the water class down by the lake. We have the still life art class. We got volleyball and croquet." He turned around and surveyed the crowd watching him. "And for you older folks, we got sacks!" He laughed at himself, almost falling over in the process, and I can't help but laugh, too. If this is what I was in for all summer, I was sure I'd at least never be lacking entertainment.
"Doc! Doc!" I turned to see an older man in a grey suit striding towards us, and his posture held an air of authority. He was calling for my father, and I watched as Charlie looked towards the voice with a smile.
"Carlisle!" His tone was warm, and he seemed pleased to see the approaching figure.
"Well, Doc, after all these years, I finally got you up on my mountain." He reached for Charlie's hands and clasped them between his, shaking them up and down affectionately.
Always a physician first, my father asked, "So, how's the blood pressure, Carlisle?"
Carlisle's gaze slid sideways, towards me and Jessica, ignoring Charlie's question. "I want you girls to know..." He paused dramatically, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "If it were not for this man, I'd be standing here dead." He pointed towards his feet, as if to emphasize his point.
But then his sudden humor was gone, and he snapped at the young man standing behind him. "Embry, get the bags." He waved his hands in impatience.
The boy named Embry flushed slightly under his caramel skin and his posture stiffened. "Right away, Doc, right away," he replied briskly, and he took the keys and moved around us towards the car.
"I kept the best cabin for you and your beautiful girls," Carlisle continued, the charm and hospitality returning to his voice, as if he hadn't interrupted himself to rudely chastise his young employee.
His tone and mannerisms made me uncomfortable, and I didn't like how he had spoken to the bell hop. So I turned around and followed Embry to the rear of the car, planning to help him unload. He lifted the trunk lid and turned to look at me in surprise as I reached in to pull out a suitcase. "Hey, thanks a lot," He said, his voice full of laughter. "You want a job here?"
Carlisle continued to expound the joys and luxuries of his resort to Charlie and Renee. His hands gestured towards the expense of the grounds. "There's a meringue class in the gazebo in the next few minutes." He leaned towards them, his whisper conspiratorial. "The greatest teacher. Used to be a Rockette."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother smile, her tone amused, and I was not surprised that she seemed completely unruffled by Carlisle's arrogance. "It's his first real vacation in six years, Carlisle. Take it easy."
Carlisle nodded smugly, his chest puffing with pride. "Three weeks here - it'll feel like a year."
"One, two, three, four! Stomp those grapes and stomp some more!" My feet shuffled awkwardly as the gorgeous dance instructor counted out our movements. She stepped from side to side gracefully as the rest of us bumbled together in clumsy lines across the gazebo.
"One, two, three, four! Listen to the music!"
My feet moved to the right when my brain commanded left, and I cringed when I stomped viciously on the tender foot of the old man next to me. "Sorry," I whispered to him, but he kept wobbling back and forth as if he hadn't heard me.
"Move your caboose and shake it loose!" the instructor called out, clutching the hem of her red sundress in her fingertips, swishing it back and forth in time with the music. I stared enviously at her long tanned legs as her feet pranced effortlessly in her short heels – shoes that undoubtedly would have rendered me a useless, uncoordinated pile of limbs, an embarrassed puddle on the wooden deck.
"One, two, three, four! Start the train!" A wrinkled older gentlemen latched onto her waist like a lifeline, and the other men followed eagerly, creating a large circle. "Come on, men! Follow me into a round robin!" Her lean arms directed us to our places. "Ladies!" She commanded cheerfully. "The inner circle!" I snuck a glance at Jessica, who had her hands in the air, laughing and twisting her hips theatrically. She moved easily and with confidence, and I couldn't stop myself from feeling a little jealous of her poise. But when she tossed her hair dramatically at one of the men watching her, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
The dance instructor smiled at us, her expression bright and happy, her dark eyes dancing with amusement. "Come on, ladies! God wouldn't have given you maracas if he didn't want you to shake 'em!" She raised her arms, wiggling her torso at us provocatively.
I watched the circle of dancers as we moved, and I couldn't help but notice that everyone seemed to be having a great time except for me. I sighed inwardly – what was wrong with me?
The instructor moved through the crowd, calling, "Okay now, ladies, when I say 'stop'... you're gonna find the man of your dreams!" I saw my father moving towards me, and I smiled at him, reaching my arms in his direction. He was a wonderful dancer, and I was secretly pleased to have the time with him, even if we were in a crowd of strangers. "Stop!" she announced, and before I knew what was happening, she jumped in front of me, and straight into Charlie's arms. Her face was full of mock surprise, as if she had no idea how she had practically fallen into his arms, and my father didn't even attempt to dissuade her.
She smiled at him flirtatiously and wagged her finger at him. "Remember, he's the boss on the dance floor, if nowhere else!" Charlie glowed from the attention of the beautiful woman, and I found myself entangled with an elderly woman that gazed at me like I was the only light left in her world.
I swallowed my annoyance, managing to smile awkwardly at her, and struggled to contain the rapidly descending sense of disappointment – if this was how I had spent my first hours at Cullen's, what the hell could I expect of the next 3 weeks?
After the embarrassing disaster called a dance class, I hurried back to our cabin – which was beautiful; Carlisle hadn't been exaggerating – to unpack and change. I wanted to spend some time alone, away from Jessica and her teasing comments about my dancing abilities.
I hastily changed into a sleeveless dress and flat shoes, remembering to grab a cardigan before I had to listen to Renee chastise me about the cool mountain nights. I slipped out the front door, calling, "Mom, Dad, I'm going up to the main house to look around," and quickly leapt down the stairs of the cabin that would lead me towards the main lawn before my mother took an opportunity to complain about me wandering the grounds un-chaperoned.
I strolled casually across the lush green grass, enjoying the feel of the cool air on my skin, and pushed up the sleeves of my sweater so to better feel the night wind against it.
I soon found myself on the front balcony of the main building, the soft click of my flats the only sound to indicate my presence there. Despite my misgivings about our time here, I couldn't help but be awed by the natural beauty. I heard the crickets sing their nightly song, and watched as the beginnings of the stars twinkled above in the inky blue sky.
"There are two kinds of help here…" I heard Carlisle's voice from the other end of the balcony, and a soft glow emanating from a cracked doorway told me he was in the main dining room. His tone was commanding and condescending, and I couldn't stop myself from moving closer to the open doorway, careful to hide myself in the shadows so I wouldn't be seen.
His handsome face was twisted with contempt, and it made him ugly. "You waiters are all college guys... and I went to Harvard and Yale to hire you." His gaze moved scornfully between the young men dressed in white blazers and black pants, who I assumed from the uniform to be waiters on Cullen's staff. "And why did I do that? Why?"
His hands waved towards them in a helpless gesture. "I shouldn't have to remind you. This is a family place. That means you keep your fingers out of the water, hair out of the soup..." His chin jutted out angrily. "And show the goddamn daughters a good time." He turned to glare at one handsome, dark-haired boy pointedly. "All the daughters. Even the dogs." The group of men shifted uncomfortably, as if annoyed by that portion of their job description. Carlisle continued as if he hadn't heard their grumbles, still waving his hands dramatically in the air. "Schlepp 'em out to the terrace, show 'em the stars. Romance 'em any way you want."
Carlisle was interrupted by a husky voice from the corner of the room. "Got that, guys?"
"Hey, hold it! Hold it." Carlisle barked out in annoyance, and all eyes in the room turned towards a group of gorgeous young men emerging from another part of the club. But it was the leader that caught my eye. I swallowed hard as my gaze traveled across his lean, hard body, to the strong bicep that tightened against the hold of a dark leather jacket thrown over one shoulder, to the bulge of his barely contained pectorals under a thin blue shirt, to the smirk and the dark sunglasses he wore despite being inside.
He was the most gorgeous man I had ever seen.
Carlisle voice dripped with contempt. "Well, if it isn't the entertainment staff." He moved away from the waiters to stand directly in front of the cocky young man. "Listen, wise ass, you got your own rules. Dance with the daughters. Teach 'em the mambo, the cha-cha… anything they pay for. That's it." He jabbed one finger deliberately into the man's face, his own mottled with rage. "That's where it ends. No funny business, no conversations, and keep your hands off!" The volume of Carlisle's voice rose with each word, until the young man's face had moved to fix his gaze angrily on the floor. I couldn't see his eyes under the sunglasses, but the tension in his arms and the angry flex of his strong jaw gave him away.
Once he was sure that his entertainment staff had no snappy comebacks, Carlisle stomped away. As he left, one of the other men in the group of entertainers shook his finger at their leader and said mockingly, "It's the same at all these places. Some ass in the woods, baby, but no conversation." The other men with them laughed, and it seemed to break some of the tension.
"Watch it, Rodriguez," Carlisle warned, his voice warm with anger, but he did not turn around as he left the room.
One of the waiters glanced arrogantly towards the man that had caused the initial interruption, the gorgeous one in the glasses that I could barely keep my eyes off of. "Can you keep that straight, Jacob? What you can and can't lay your hands on?"
Jacob. So that was his name…
I watched as the man called Jacob turned towards the haughty waiter, his posture stiff with anger and distain. "Just put your pickle on everybody's plate, college boy, and leave the hard stuff to me," he said smoothly, and the room filled with mocking laughter. It was suddenly very clear to me who had one this pissing contest. Jacob turned away from the waiter without even waiting for a response, knocking several carefully folded napkins from the table as he made his way out of the dining room, his hips swaying with a swagger that screamed confidence and oozed sexuality.
The waiter flushed slightly, his hands on his hips, watching Jacob go. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him, feeling warm and tingly in places that I had never known existed.
I knew at that moment what I needed to do; I had to meet Jacob, and I wouldn't stop until I did.