Dancing with the Stars

“Which do you think goes better with this?” Paul asked, spinning around on the stage to show off his costume. Jamie hesitated to think of it as a garment, since it looked more like a series of belts just barely strung together over strategic areas. “The stilettos or the boots?”

“Boots,” Lamar said at once, “but they gotta have heels. You can’t wear leather without heels.”

“Y’can’t wear that at all,” Jamie said. “That’s Gypsy’s. She catches you in her clothes, you are one dead … just what kind’a shifter are you, anyway?”

“That’s for me to know, and Talbot’s Peak to guess,” Paul said with a wink. He spun again, and this time added a series of graceful dance steps. Not snake, Jamie figured, but dang close to in the sinuous department. “I looooove Gypsy’s closet. I’m going to move in there.”

“Talk to the lobo rojo here,” Lamar said, leaning on the back of the chair to rest his chin in Jamie’s hair. “He knows all about closets.”

“Is this what you do all day when I’m at work? Hang out at Dante’s and dress up in lady clothes?”

“I’m helping out a compadre. Paul here’s looking for a part-time gig to pick up a few extra bucks. Dante’s taking him on as a dance instructor.”

Jamie eyed the lean young man in the tight leather straps suspiciously. “What kind’a dancing?”

“Mind out of the gutter, chico. Ballroom, for the supperclub. You should see the boy in a tux.” He kissed the tips of his fingers with a loud smacking of lips. “The angels weep.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty close to that myself right now.”

“You could benefit from dance lessons,” Lamar told him. “Then we could go out. You all pretty in black tie and tails, me in that red backless number of Gypsy’s—”

“The strapless one with the sequins?” Paul said. “Hands off that. That’s mine.”

“Y’all are nuts,” Jamie proclaimed. “I don’t dance, in tails or otherwise.”

“You’re telling me,” Lamar said. “Trips over his own paws,” he confided to Paul.

“And this one?” Jamie jerked his head toward Lamar. “Wants me to string him up from the ceiling so I can use him like a stripper pole. In snake form, I reckon. He didn’t specify.”

Paul eyed Lamar with newfound interest. “Really?”

“We’re working on that,” Lamar said. “My lobo rojo’s a shy one. You don’t know the hoops I have to jump through to get the Big Bad Wolf to appear.”

“Maybe you need assistance,” Paul suggested. “Ever considered a threesome?”

“No!” Jamie barked.

“Often,” Lamar said. “Tell you what: you take dance lessons from Paul here and we can skip the threesome. And I’m wearing the backless.”

“Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged.” Lamar and Paul both whirled, and Jamie instantly shot to his feet, when Gypsy strolled onto the dance floor. She smiled up at the stage, and at Paul. “What a lovely outfit. I’ve got one just like it.”

“Uh—”

“Relax. I just came out of a meeting with Dante. He’s impressed with your dancing, and he’s worked out a schedule for lessons. I suppose they’ll have to be in the evening.” She studied Paul carefully. “Does Mayor Link know you applied for a job here?”

“Not yet.”

“Does Hizzonor know you wear women’s clothing?” Lamar asked.

Paul grinned down at him. “Not yet.”

“Well, Dante knows you’re the Mayor’s assistant, and he doesn’t tolerate spies,” Gypsy said. “That better not be why you’re here.”

“Mayor Link doesn’t know about this. I’m here for the extra money. And to dance.” Paul did a pirouette, coming to a halt with his hand raised toward Gypsy. “Scout’s honor.”

“We’ll see.” Gypsy smiled. “You’ve got the job. If you want to keep the job, you’ll stay away from my costumes, and get out of that outfit right now, or you really will have the Big Bad Wolf on your tail.”

Paul swallowed, long and hard. “Yes, ma’am.”