Dramatis Personae:

Gabrielle Baird: Freelance Writer
Joxer/'Jock' Callaghan: Singer/Musician
Zena Wohlters: Martial arts instructor, National San Shou Champion.
Arran/'Ar' Ioulianos: Club bouncer/bar tender/rhythm guitarist.
Andrew: Bass player and errant thief of small things.
Callista: Singer in another band and major rival of Zena's in martial arts.
Aphrodite Ioulianos: Fashion editor in magazine and sister to Arran.
Denise Ioulianos: Teenage goth, hard-nosed cousin to Arran.

Aural Inspiration: "Sabotage" by the Beastie Boys.

Chapter One
The Temple Beat

The writer watched the singer stack the amp, ridiculous noises coming from his mouth, and as he turned to his friend and seeming partner in crime, he laughed - the most ridiculous laugh she had ever heard. She sighed. And he seemed so dashing and with it when she first saw him. It gave her a strange sense of recognition, seeing him amongst the faux ruins of the Ancient Grecian style night club, but she shook it idly. She looked at the walls, and the stylized illustrations of warriors in small skirts and wielding spears. One image caught her eye, a woman with long ebony hair, her face fierce, in her hand a round thing. Sitting at a small hip-high table, she let her mind get caught up in the pictures on the wall.

"Hey!"

She looked up, the young man in black she had met earlier leaping off the stage and striding over to her. Abruptly he stumbled, an odd yelp coming from him. Swearing at a cord that had wrapped itself around his foot he pulled it away and approached the table she was at.

"Dammit," he said under his breath, "Stupid-" He stopped, leaning on the table with is forearms, blushing and looking up at her, "Gabrielle, Hi."

"Hi Joxer," she smiled. His eyes were large and warm with affection, and she felt an odd flutter within her.

"So glad you could make it," he said, obviously attempting to sound suave. "How'd that meeting go?"

"Fine," she said, "They were pleased with the novel. It'll be printed in June."

"Cool," he said, "I'll have to keep my eye out for it."

She cocked a brow with doubt, "You read period piece romances?"

"I read anything," he nodded, looking comically uncertain, "It's a chick book isn't it?"

"Totally," she smirked and he nodded.

"'Kay," he pressed his lips together, "I guess that's what I get for showing off."

She could only grin, his eagerness to please somehow a relief. Meeting him in general was like a relief. As if a whole eternity was somehow fulfilled.

"I thought about you," she said, "In the meeting."

His face lit up, a cheeky grin on his features, "You did?"

"Mmm-hmm," she nodded, "Iiii thought about, how much more fun it was, watching you make an idiot of yourself in front of me than it was listening to my boss drone on about sales demographics and the average woman."

"I do my best," Joxer said wryly, "Do I really act that stupid around you?"

"No," she said, "I was only kidding."

"I thought so, it's just sometimes..."

"You never know," she finished.

His eyes met hers for a moment, and he smiled.

*Thwack*

Joxer bolt upright, turning and glaring at the man behind him who wielded a twisted shirt that had just been whipped against Joxer's bent over bottom. The man sniggered and pulled at Joxer's arm.

"Come on man," the man grumbled, "Stop flirting with chicks and get back to work!"

"Wait," Joxer yanked the guy back, "Andrew - this is Gabrielle... the one I told you about?"

"Oh right," The older man smirked suddenly, "The girl with the amazing green eyes..."

Gabrielle felt her cheeks rise in a blush, and she looked to Jock with a raised brow.

"Aaah, ah ha," He blushed furiously and grit his teeth at the man, "Andrew, I am *so* going to get you for that."

"Come on dope," the guy said, "We need to do a sound test." Before Andrew yanked Joxer away a final yank, he bowed to Gabrielle, running a finger over the moustache of his goatee. "A pleasure," he said.

She watched the two men stagger off towards the stage, pushing and jeering at each other.

"You're so full of shit, Andy," Joxer muttered, climbing back up onto the stage. Gabrielle grinned. She decided she liked musicians.

Jock... Joxer... He was such a Joxer. He tried to be Jock, she could see that, but somehow he dismally failed, and it was adorable.

"Ewwwuuun-Thhooooooowww, yeeewuuuunnnn Teooooohh TOOH! TOOH!"

Gabrielle smiled as Joxer repeated the numbers in the microphone, going higher, then deeper, his timbre running through her from the amps. She shuddered.

"There you are... Been looking everywhere!"

Gabrielle glanced up and grinned, "Zena!"

"Hey," the woman smiled, "This is a departure..."

Gabrielle looked around herself, nodding slowly as the woman took her arm from around her and sat down at the small table, "You got that right..."

"So who's this guy you want me so desperately to see?"

Gabrielle gave an impish smile, and pointed to the guy at centre stage.

"Him. The cute one."

Zena frowned, pulling out a bottle of soft drink and taking off the top, "The one with the goatee?"

"No!" Gabrielle grinned incredulously, "The other one!"

"The dope with the nose," Zena said with a curled lip, "Nice, if you're into that sort of thing..."

She hit her friends arm and sighed, "Yes, he is nice, and I'm very into him-"

Zena glared at her friend, who blushed, cursing to herself.

"What I *meant* to say was..."

"No," Zena shook her head with a smirk, "Don't bother. I know what you mean."

The writer sighed, tilting her head and gazing at the man on stage, "He tripped over before... it was so cute."

Zena gave her friend another glare, a sidewards one, "Oh God..."

Gabrielle sat up, meeting her friend's look, "What?"

"It's Peter all over again," she said, "Except with a weirder name and a more hopeless profession than the army."

The blonde gasped, "Not true! This is totally different! God, Zena, I can't believe you even brought that up!"

Zena shrugged, her deadpan gaze going back to the stage. Gabrielle closed her eyes, trying to ward back the pain the mention of that name brought.

Guitar strum, guitar strum, "Hmmmmm - ya de da de daaaaa."

Gabrielle glanced up, her heart caught in her chest. "Oh my God...Zena did you hear that?"

Zena swallowed a sip of soda, her eyes ringing just as her friends' was. Joxer's humming as he warmed up his voice filled the mostly empty club that was a café during the daylight hours.

"Darling said I want youuuu," the voice rang out again as he plucked at the guitar, "Darling said do youuuuu?"

The writer felt her heart tremor again. This was too much. She sighed, the snippets of music that the man sampled and swapped and changed to not enough for her. She looked to Zena, who was beginning to be equally entranced.

"I didn't know Joxer was a good singer," she said. Zena looked at her, snorting.

"His name's Joxer?" she laughed, "Weird."

"Oh yeah," Gabrielle sniggered back, "And 'Zena' is an entry right out of 'Mother's Book of Favourite Traditional Names'."

"Up yours," said Xena with a wry smirk.

"Back atcha," chuckled Gabrielle.

"Hey Gabrielle."

Gabrielle glanced around her, finally meeting the deep brown eyes of the muscled man she'd seen Joxer talking to earlier that day. She saw him regularly at the club next to the lunch bar she frequented, he was either behind the bar serving her drinks, or saying goodnight, doing his job of bouncer at the door. "Hey, Arran. What are you doing here?"

"Jock wanted me to come and check out his band," he said, "Said they were looking for a new lead guitarist after Jett left for Britain."

"Aah," Gabrielle nodded, "I see."

She looked to her best friend, who'd gone unusually quiet.

"Zena, how's things?"

She spared a dark look at the part-time bouncer, a curl to her top lip, "Fine."

"Mind if I sit down?"

"Yes," she snapped, but the burly fellow took a seat between to two women nonetheless. Gabrielle smirked at Arran, his perseverance with her best friend nothing if not endearing.

"So, you signed on for any more books, Gab?"

Gabrielle looked to Arran and nodded, "A few more yeah. They said I was welcome to try new publishers after that but I probably won't. They've been to good to me to just give up on."

Arran nodded, "I see."

Joxer jumped down from the stage suddenly, walking out into the centre of the dance area and motioning to Andrew who walked up to the mike.

"One... Yewwwuuuuun.... TEhhooowaaaah..."

Joxer motioned back to the stage, listening for the perfect mix and motioning to the sound engineer to tweak certain levels. Gabrielle watched him step back and forth on the faux-paved dance floor, his bottom perfectly packed in the black denim pants he was wearing.

"Oh no," Arran groaned suddenly. Gabrielle turned around, noticing where Arran's despair was directed at. "Watch out, here comes Vonda Shepard."

"Now now," Zena said with a dark smirk, "Vonda at least tries to sing."

It was Gabrielle's turn to smirk, "Callista just screams into the mic like a cat on heat."

Arran chuckled suddenly, inspiring a seething glare from the aforementioned Callista. Her hair hung in limp crazy platinum locks, the shaggy slag look perfected on her part by two week dark regrowth at the roots. Her large brown eyes were instant poison, her walk a slinky alluring dance of temptation. Her mouth hung open in a charming grin of surprise, her gangly muscled arm snaking around the broad chiselled shoulders of Arran. A tight t-shirt touting "SPOILED" clung to her lithe body, dark blue denim pants with shaggy patches at the knees and chunky Doc Martin boots completing her rough haggard facade.

"Callista," he smirked, "You're out early today. Don't you turn to dust if you're out before 5pm?"

"Funny," she said with a smirk of her own, "I was just wondering if you've reconsidered my offer. You know how disappointing Vanessa was as a -"

"Shag," muttered Gabrielle suddenly. Callista glared at her and continued.

"As a guitarist," she said, "You're the best I've seen."

Arran folded his burly arms, raising a dark brow at her, "I'm actually considering joining Jock's band."

"Jock?" Her eyes were wide with disbelief, "The jerk who can't even cross the stage without even tripping on a guitar lead?"

"He may be klutzy but the guy can wail," he replied, "He has the knack Cal."

She hissed quietly, eyeing the subject of their conversation as he leapt down from the stage, nearly toppling over in the process. His eyes danced on the form of Callista, worry growing in them at the sight of her near Gabrielle. He frowned.

"Callista," he said suddenly, edging around Gabrielle, "What are you doing here?"

"Playing 'Let's be Arran's bad smell for today'," said Zena.

Joxer frowned, looking to Zena, "You're a friend of Arran?"

Zena glared at him. "No."

Arran nodded, "Yes."

"Uhh..." Joxer looked between them.

"They know each other," Gabrielle said suddenly, "Zena and I frequent the bar you work at now. We know Arran cause he works there too."

"Oh, okay... and you know Callista?"

"Barely," Callista said, pointing her delicate nose in the air, "I'm just discussing Arran's future with Hot Spandex..."

Arran snorted, shaking his head suddenly, "Yeah - my LACK of one." He unwound Callista's arm from his shoulder and turned away from her. Her mouth tightened into a little pucker, and her eyes settled on Joxer.

"So what are you going to do - join Jock-strap's little band?"

Arran looked to the ceiling, "I might."

"Yeah well if weepin' and wailin's your gig, fine! Just don't come crawling to me when you start getting old grannies for groupies!" With a final hiss she turned, skulking out of the café with wide brown eyes filled with hate.

"Psycho," muttered Joxer.

"You said it," Gabrielle sighed.

"Pity she's the main act tonight."

Gabrielle double took. "What?!"

Zena nodded, pointing to the poster up on the wall. In large shocking writing was 'Hot Spandex', underneath it in scrawly writing, "supported by: The BARDS". Gabrielle's jaw dropped.

"But your singing is a thousand times better than hers!"

Joxer cocked a lip with amusement, "Uhm, Gabrielle - you haven't heard me sing yet."

"I have," she said, "Little bits - you were damned good!"

Joxer blushed, toeing the floor, "I was okay I guess..."

"Oh God," sighed Arran, "Is this going to go on all night?"

"I'm afraid so," Zena said, "The saccharine in the room is at puking point."

Joxer's smile dropped from his face, and Gabrielle squeezed his hand, "Don't mind them - they get like that when they're together... or apart... in fact - they're just like that." She nodded, "Never mind."

Joxer nodded, a sigh of relief leaving him, "Okay."

"I'm really looking forward to hearing you sing again," Gabrielle said, leaning forward, "Do you write your own music?"

"Sure, yeah," Joxer nodded, "Mom got me a ukelele when I was just a little tyke and well - I been writing ever since."

"I couldn't be bothered with the instruments," Zena said suddenly, "Singing's my thing."

"That and kicking ass," Gabrielle smirked.

Zena eyed her, "Damned straight!"

"And how I love watching her work," Arran shuddered suddenly, leaning in towards her. Zena smirked, her hand sliding down. With a sudden gnash of her teeth she took a grip of something, something that caused Arran's jaw to drop in agony.

"LEGGO!" he squeaked, "NOW! GO LET GO PLEASE!"

"Promise to be good?" she said slyly.

"YES LEGGO!"

At that she released her grip, Arran letting out a relieved sigh.

"Damn!" he gasped, "Do you have to do that?"

"Wow," Joxer gulped, "Talk about ball-breaker."

Gabrielle chuckled, Zena glaring at him.

"Smart-ass," she growled, "I like you."

Joxer grinned, nodding at the woman a moment.

"Price check on Jock Callaghan, price check!"

Joxer closed his eyes as the deep voice rumbled over the speakers. He thumbed towards the stage and looked apologeticly to his company, "That's my call guys, I'll see you in half an hour."

"Okay," Gabrielle smiled sweetly, her eyes following Joxer's bottom after the sweet man smiled and waved at her, walking towards the stage. She sighed, "He's got a great ass."

Arran rolled his eyes, causing Zena to smirk.

"You're right," the brunette said, "He does."

Arran glared at her, standing, "Excuse me? Have you seen mine lately? I mean - he doesn't even work out!"

Gabrielle now rolled her eyes, "Down boy..."

The lights were down, the tables packed with rough scraggly types. Their noise and chatter filled the air, less admirable colourful metaphors being exchanged between many of the rowdy patrons. Coughs and mumbles heralded a slow quietening as the lights lifted, focused on the stage, the rest of the room cast in darkness. One tall man got on the stage, his trim goatee and short hair at odds with his loose silk shirt and tight black pants. He hefted his bass guitar, bowing at the audience before taking a seat. The drummer jumped up onto stage next, wild blonde hair sticking up from his head at odd angles, his large blue eyes evident even in the coloured hues of the stage lights. He waggled his drumsticks at them with a grin before taking his seat. A woman slinked out onto the stage, dark hair, tall, and with a bow she took her seat at a small electric piano. Finally, all the other lights fell on the stool taking centre stage, where a microphone stand awaited a singer. A hush fell upon the audience as the dark shape of someone skipping up the steps onto the stage stirred from the left. Soon, the figure entered the light, all lithe legs clad in shiny black vinyl, chunky boots and light breezy brown silk shirt that fluttered open as he sat down on the stool, the smooth pale skin of his chest bare underneath.

She held her breath, waiting for him to begin. His dark eyes scanned the audience, even though she knew he couldn't see a thing past the stage lights.

"Hi," he said with a easy smile, "Thanks for turnin' up, it's great to have you here."

Someone female hooted enthuseasticly.

"Thanks," he grinned in the direction of the outburst, "I have a fan. Anyway - we're the Bards, and we're supporting Hot Spandex-"

The room burst into applause, and she frowned as she looked around her.

"Yeah, Hot Spandex, and they'll be on in an hour. For now - enjoy."

He turned, nodding to Andrew, a thick lumbering beat singing from the low-range guitar.

The beat filled the room, the tune simple yet mesmerising. The lead singer, Joxer, lifted his lips to the microphone that glinted in the red spotlight. His dark brown eyes dragged a lusty gaze over the audience, the odd female wail filling the air. The lust was special, unique. The lust was for song, for perfect, simple, elegant song.

"Ooooohm...."

Her breath held in her throat as his tremulous voice floated out from the amps.

"Can you hear me?" his spoken husky voice asked as a rhythm rose up behind him from rousing hi-hat, "Can you heaaar me love?"

She barely surpressed the "yes..." that fell from her mouth.

With a burst Joxer ravaged the guitar with sensual skipping strumming, the beat lifting and whirling. She felt her foot tapping to the easy rhythm.

"Honey my love, with a slip of the glove, life's searchin' it's wealth for a girl like you. All pretty brown hair right down to there, blue eyes flashin' like the sky so blue..."

Gabrielle felt a twinge in her heart. He had described the keyboardist perfectly. All six foot of her. Her similarity to her best friend was haunting. In fact... one could assume they were sisters, or even twins. The woman had a tiny skirt on, her legs going on forever. She sighed.

Joxer was an amazing singer. His voice soared effortlessly, his eyes closing in sweet bliss of the music leaving him. She was sure she'd never heard such a sacred sound in all her life. She smiled slowly, her mind stepping into the gentle current of sound.

"Gee Gabrielle," came a voice, "You wanna cigarette after this is over?"

Gabrielle looked at her best friend from the corner of her eyes, a patient firmness in her features, "I'm just enjoying the music."

"Sure," Arran nodded, flicking his cigarette on the edge of an ash tray at the table, "Now get your hand out of your skirt."

Zena scowled, "That's sick. See that's the difference between you and me. I allude. That takes brains. You're just vulgar."

"That takes balls," Arran interjected with a self-assured grin.

"You guys," Gabrielle sighed, "Will you leave it till the break? I really wanna listen to this!"

"Well it's not our fault the amps are so damned quiet!"

"They're not," Gabrielle said, "You're supposed to be listening to them!"

Zena widened her eyes silently, miming a nagging fishwife as she lit a cigarette. She held it up and bawked.

"Huh? What the fuck am I doing? I don't even smoke anymore!"

"I gave it to you," Arran said matter of factly.

"I don't want your crappy hand-rolled cigarette."

Arran kept the deadpan look on his face, "It's not a cigarette, and it'd be much better if you didn't smoke it out here."

"Ohhh..." Zena sniffed it and eyed Arran, "This isn't laced..."

"No," he said.

A mischevious look strick the dark-haired woman and she grinned, "Okay!"

Gabrielle ignored her best friend grabbing the arm of Arran, pulling him to the toilet area of the night-club. She shook her head tiredly. She swore her best friend was gonna get herself into trouble one of these days. Not the usual trouble, she was always into that. The bad trouble that lead to bad things. Somehow she knew that Zena was safe. There was a strength in her, a goodness and kindness in the hardened soul that escaped a lot of people's perceptions. Joxer angled the guitar up as if tagging a prize fish from a lake, the riff he pulled from the strings forming effortlessly in the darkness. Her lips spread to a smile, her eyelids floating open and closed in lovelorn blinks. This man was something else.

The song tied itself up, bringing to a close, and the drummer flung out a final break, crashing the cymbal that stirred to silence.

Gabrielle clapped wildly, a wide grin on her face. A few other people clapped, a small number of women squealling and crying out.

"I LOVE YOU JOCK!" came a wailing cry, that really didn't need to be shouted as there wasn't that much applause to carry one's voice over. Joxer rose his brows and smiled bashfully.

"Wow, thanks. I love you too, thanks for coming tonight. Okay, um...I'd like to dedicate this song to a very sweet, special woman that I met just today," he scratched behind his ear and gave a goofy grin. He turned his voice to a perfect imitation of Christopher Reeves' Clark Kent, "Ya know I think she's kindaa swell!"

Gabrielle giggled, feeling her heart warm triumphantly amongst the soft laughter that filled the room. Jock looked to the other musicians, muttering silently as his voice didn't reach the mic, his face moving expressively as they discussed things Gabrielle had no clue of. He turned back to the mic with risen brows and a pleased grin shaking his head.

"Oh you're gonna love this one."

His hands clutched the guitar, wringing a feirce cry from the helpless instrument. Again, an easy beat burst from the the drums, Joxer grinning into the light, his lips poised at the microphone.

"Faaaaaaaaaaaace it!" Joxer howled with a thrust of the guitar, nodding at his bass player in the rhythm, the introduction reaching it's end, "You can't haaaaaaaaaave it, it's all about something you waaaaaaaant. Waaaaaaaaannnt it - you gotta waaaaaaaant it. The babe in my mind was there and gone! She gotta be youuuuuuu!" He hammered the guitar, a grinding chord of sheer ferocity rising from him, "She got-TA got-TA got-TA! She gotta be youuuuuuu!" Another hammer, his face twisting with the push of the song, "She GOT-TA Got-TA..." His lusty gaze returned, and Gabrielle could swear he was looking right at her. His voice lowered to a hungry spoken slur, "She got-ta be you... she got-ta be be be be!" The guitar heralded the beginning of the next verse, the tall leggy keboardist going for broke. "BAaaay-bay! You blow me away with your MIND, Looooovleaaaay! I'm always in love with your KIND! Somethin' bout a girl who knows how to make me HAPPY to be heeeeere. Somethin' bout a girl who makes me happy to be NEAR nEAR .... OHhhhh Faaaaaaace it!! You can't haaaaaave it.... it's all about something you waaaaaaant. Waaaant it. You gotta gotta gotta - she gotta gotta. She gotta be youuuu! She GOT-ta got-ta got-ta. She gotta be you!  OUgh! ough oughhhhh!"

He gnashed his teeth, the raging solo grabbing the lead break with a strength Gabrielle had never heard before. She felt her breath being taken, and with an odd leafy smell she barely noticed her friends returning.

"Holy shit," came the husky voice of her best friend, "Who knew?!"

"Told ya," Arran said, "He wails."

"God yes," Gabrielle sighed.

"He's allright..."

The abrupt, cold voice shook Gabrielle from her trance, and she turned, seeing the large brown eyes of the critic. Callista smirked back at her, all in a bright red vinyl corset dress that barely covered her.

"Does the city road works know you stole all their red plastic?" Arran asked her, his eyes glazed over, a similar colour to the dress. The woman didn't flinch, a cool smile on her features.

"Watching the road to the end of your career, Arran?"

Zena blinked groggily at the woman, a snarl on her face, "Why do you always sound like some bad soap opera villain when we see you? Always 'I'll get you, and your little dog too!'"

Callista tilted her head, "Now now, we don't need to bring Gabrielle into this."

Zena had hardly glared at the woman when her fist went flying, smacking into the pretty blonde's delicate jaw. The woman fell backwards, crashing into a couple of her shocked fans.

"You better fuckin' watch it man!" one burly fish-net clad fellow shouted over the music, "You're fuckin' with the main act!"

Zena leered a little, the arousal of attack glazing her eyes along with the weed and she shrugged a shoulder, taking a swig of her drink. "She should watch her mouth."

Callista staggered to her feet, the man helping her up. She growled at him, yanking herself away. "Get your hand off my ass Theo - fuckin' pervert." She sighed, narrowing her eyes at Zena, "Oh... you're lucky. If I weren't up tonight I'd wipe the floor with you." She curled a lip and stalked off towards backstage, Zena smirking triumphantly. Gabrielle shook her head, wiping Arran's spilt whiskey from her skirt.

"God dammit, Zena," she sighed, "Not only have I missed half the damned song but you gotta pick a fight with the main act in a room full of her groupies?! For what? A petty insult?!"

Zena narrowed her eyes protectively, "No one calls you a dog in my presence!"

"Anywhere else is okay," Arran said matter of factly, wiping up some of the whiskey with an errant cardboard coaster. He winced suddenly, his ear in a vice-like grip. He eyed Zena, her hand clamping tight onto his ear. "Okay! Fuck - let GO!"

Gabrielle shook her head, turning to look back at the stage. The song was rocking - the BAND was rocking. The rough soulful surge seemed to reach the crowd, even the likes of Hot Spandex fans. Gabrielle smiled.

"I am so gonna write a story about this."

Zena looked at her from half-lidded eyes, wavering slightly, "Ye- What? You write like, historical stuff like..."

"The women still wear chastity belts an' shit," slurred Arran.

Zena shot a look to him, "You're not dissin' my friends story?"

"No, no no," Arran shook his head, covering his ear, "Man - I love them."

Gabrielle laughed through frowning eyes, "Ar - you've never read them before."

"Yeah, but I love them. Really."

She rolled her eyes, pulling out a twenty dollar note and shoving it into Arran's hand. "Go buy us another round you dork."

Arran held up the note, taking a moment to focus on it and nodded. "Sure - you want beer? I'll get beer."

"A daquiri!" she shouted, but waved him off with a sigh, "Fuck it."

She turned her eyes back to the stage, Joxer rounding up the whirling tune that swept up the audience and brought screams from an increasing number girls. Gabrielle grinned, the stress from before melting away like an iceblock down a dancer's frock. As it ended with the crash of the drums, the entire room burst into applause. Gabrielle couldn't hold back. She threw a shrill whistle into the wave of wildly clapping hands and screams of oestrogen pumped women. She sank back down to her chair from the standing ovation, her eyes set on one person in that room, immovable, the brief impression of his soul from the day burnt into her consciousness.

"Joxer," she said under her breath with a smile.

There was a clunk as Arran plopped back down onto his stool, beverages being splashed. Gabrielle turned, frowning at him.

"Ar - what did you get?"

"Mimosa..." was all he muttered, pushing forward a class of orange drink. Gabrielle let out a soft whimper.

"I asked for a daquiri!"

"Is that whah this pink shit is?" he said, pushing forward another glass. She rolled her eyes, pulling her desired drink closer to her, watching Arran push a drink to Zena.

"What did you get me?" the brunette asked.

"Straight bourboun!" grinned Arran.

Zena sniffed it, backing off with a wince, "Damn - don't know whether to drink it or clean my oven with it."

"Drink it," he said, knocking back the mimosa, "Is good for you."

Zena lifted it, met Arran's dead-pan gaze and stiffened her bottom lip. Arran fisted his hands, and began pounding the table.

"Skoll! SKOLL!"

"Shit!" Gabrielle hissed, jumping out of her stool, "You nearly doused me with my own fucking drink again!"

Arran's face dropped to an even more serious gape, and he sighed, "Oh maaan, I'm really sorry."

Zena cocked a nostril, "No you're not."

Arran looked to her and cracked a wide grin, "You're right - I'm not!" An almost girlish chuckle fell from him as he clutched his perfectly taught abdomen, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it casually.

"Bastard," Gabrielle sighed, wiping off the moderate amount of spilt daquiri. "You're paying for the next round."

"No problem," Arran said around a cigarette wedged in between his lips, "Shit - Andrew's a really fine bass player. He knows how to hammer a fret with funk."

Zena nodded, wincing around the downed bourboun, "You got that right," she croaked.

Gabrielle eyed Zena, "You should take it easy, you've got championships in a couple of months."

"Aaah," Zena waved a hand, "I can kick the ass o' half a' California State with my eyes shut!"

Arran smirked, "I'd like to see that!"

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at him, "I wouldn't! She has to watch her health."

"Gabrielle," Zena said, eying her friend carefully, "I'm a big girl! I can look after myself!"

The blonde woman just sighed again, shaking her head and settling her view back onto the tall dark divo on stage, "Whatever. Just don't bitch to me when you lose your title."

Joxer and the band had moved onto a slow song now, Joxer relaxing in the spotlight, his hands shifting deftly over the fret-board of the guitar, the voice of the instrument dancing through the sound system with a sheer daintiness.  She wanted to close her eyes, but she never wanted to lose the sight of her talented new friend. She smiled, coaxing herself to close her eyes, and to just - listen. The drums were a rush of brush on skin, the keyboard a soft stringy synth sound just softly nudging the lead forward. The bass was the grounding, the stage that the lead skipped and danced upon. And the focus, the pure perfect centring of the living breathing unit of the band, the expression that those who didn't know the talk of music could understand - was his voice. A deep wavering timbre that flew so effortlessly on the note, not hanging or reaching, but floating, skipping, knowing it's place and hitting it precisely. Every note he sung stirred her heart to beating harder. She could feel her face all flushed.

"Arran," Gabrielle muttered.

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to join this band?"

A pause. "I think I might."

"It'd be a good move," she said, "They're damned good."

"So am I," Arran said nonchalantly.

"I know," Gabrielle nodded, "That's why you should join."

"Chicken and egg, chicken and egg," Zena slurred.

Gabrielle frowned in confusion with a soft giggle, and turned back to the stage. Yes, they were damned good.

"First I slip off my old brown jacket, sliding to the floor... your eyes are set on mine and your hand is on the door..."

Gabrielle listened to the song, her mind devouring each one that was played. She looked around her. It was about time for 'the Bards' to finish up, and the punk crowd was fast getting restless. She pursed her lips, trying to concentrate on the music through the crunch of beer cans and the chatter and swearing.

"Where to after this?" Arran said.

"Home," Zena said, "If I've anything to do with it. How about you Gab?"

"I'll..." she smiled and blushed, fiddling with her purse, "I'll probably find out what Joxer is doing."

Arran chewed on a beernut, his fingers resting in the bowl he'd commandeered from the bar, "Yeah? You want him so bad huh?"

Gabrielle rolled her eyes, "Ar! I just - I find him a fascinating person!"

"She wants him bad," Zena said, lifting a beer to her lips.

She sighed, "Zena..."

Zena blinked at her, mid-beernut-chew. "Gab - how many guys have you dated since Peter?"

She opened her mouth, a flurry of confusion rising at the mention of the name. "Uhh... well there was-"

"None," she said suddenly.

"You -," she pursed her lips and pointed at Joxer, "You don't like this one..."

"I dunno," Zena shrugged, "He's growing on me. Anyway, look, what the hell does it matter what I think? If he makes you happy and he seems relatively harmless, jump him. Don't wait for my approval I'm not your Goddam mother!"

She sighed to herself, digging in her purse and dragging a spare coaster to her side. Arran propped his face onto his hand, watching her pull out a pen.

"Are you gonna draw me again?" he asked, "I've got a good bone structure you know."

"I know," smirked Gabrielle, "I'm going to draw Joxer if you must know."

Arran shrugged, swigged his drink then leant towards Zena again, in his almost permanent leering position. And Zena's face danced into the smart-ass scowl she wore just as often.

She let her pen dance over the absorbant cardboard, scratching and adding cross-hatches here and there. The lines began to form an image, and to anyone else it would have been a magical process. She knew what she was doing, and it was years of practice that gave her the gift of artistry and the ability to capture the moment on paper. She smiled at the image of Joxer, his neck craned back, guitar thrust up. She heard the breathing of her best friend over her shoulder, and the strong whiff of alcohol soon followed. Gabrielle held it up, showing Zena her effort. Zena cocked an eyebrow and shook her head.

"You're amazing," she said, "You just - do stuff! You do stuff like that, I admire ya."

"Ss pretty cool," agreed Arran.

"I'm going to give it to him," she said. Zena smiled, patting her friend's shoulder roughly.

"Thaz nice. I still have the first picture you ever drew of me."

"I do too," nodded Arran, "I was too gorgeous to not draw."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes, "You're so up your own ass, Arran."

"I know," he said groggily, "It's a talent."

She shook her head.

"Okay," Joxer placed on the lusty look he'd worn before, fanning himself with his silk shirt under the light, wiping some sweat from his brow, "This is the last song. Thanks for sticking with us, and thanks to Hot Spandex for sticking with us too."

Arran snorted.

"Ew," Zena mumbled, "Careful, you nearly got slag in my drink."

Gabrielle laughed with frowning brows, "You guys!"

Arran gave her a level look. "Buuuuuuurp."

Zena cocked a brow at Arran, giving him a look of incredible disgust. "Like I really needed to know what you had for breakfast."

"I didn't have breah-fast. I had - a beer. That was breah-fast."

Gabrielle shook her head, "How the hell do you keep your figure I'll never know...."

"Constant work out," he said matter of factly.

Zena smirked. "If he doesn't lift - he dies!"

Gabrielle's attention was torn away by a sudden long note being sung, sweet harmonies in unison. Joxer turned his look from the bass player, back to the audience. Gabrielle didn't care if she looked stupid. She wanted to see him closer than a table near the back of the room. She got up slowly, moving towards him in a dream-like trance. Joxer sang to the room in general till he seemed to notice her weaving foward into his limited field of view.

Arran frowned, "What's she doing?"

Zena rolled the iceblocks around in her glass and shrugged, "Who knows."

Gabrielle smiled, standing a couple of strides away from the stage, her eyes locked onto Joxer's. He smiled sweetly, working the guitar for every swooning note he could, his voice strong and passionate through the crash of the band that was beautiful like waves on a shore. The moment seemed almost dreamlike, her mind ignoring the rest of the room, the rest of the world. Joxer seemed as if he was at one with the music that flowed forth, his very essence being poured into the sound. She felt her hips swaying suddenly, a small grin taking her face. Her feet began to move, her legs fluid and shifting to the beat. Her shoulders soon slipped into rhythm. She knew she must have looked like a band slag. She really didn't care. The song demanded to be danced to. She was sure that with the little green tube dress she wore he could see right down her front. She smirked, turning and swaying her behind a little, the bewildered faces of the crowd greeting her. The women seemed to smirk and whisper between themselves. The men however watched her closely with hawk-like gazes, and she felt a sense of power that the hungry looks fed.

"Feel no shame for what you are, feel no shame for what you are, feel no shame for what you aaare feel no shame for what you aaare, feel it as a waterfall, feel it as a waterfall - fall in liiiiiiiiiight, ooooooooh...."

Suddenly she felt she was powering *him* somehow, his singing become more beautiful. If it was possible...

"Feel no shame for what you are... as an arrow in your brow - fall in liiiight...."

Kicks in the beat made her arms twist and thrust, as if something deeply tribal within her had come alive. She knew this... she knew something wild within her... he brought it out. A long grin was battling his way to his face, she knew he was trying to keep his lusty composure. It began a show, the more she danced, the longer he looked at her, the more in tune with the spirit of the song he became. She glanced back to Zena and Arran, who were both quietly shocked, Arran having a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip, Zena in mid-sip of her glass. She grinned, leaping back into the song. Her lips moved to the now familiar words.... feel no shame for what you are....

"Fall in liiiiight... ooooooooh...."

Andrew smiled and beat out the steady thrum of the deep bass note.

"Stand absolved... behind your electric chair - dancing..."

He looked at her as he said the word...

"Stand absolved, behind your electric chair... daaa-aaa-aaaa-aaaancing..."

Gabrielle threw her head back, her head swishing in a beautiful arc of strawberry blonde...

"Don't be long.... beeeeeyond the staaaaaaaaaars - flow in light...."

His voice curved, twittered and falled in an eastern roll, she marvelled at his control, her body revelled in the beautiful sound.

"Ooooh fall in liiiiight...."

Joxer twinged up the guitar to a sharp end. The whole room burst into applause, Joxer bowing with a short smile, leaning to the mic, "Thank you."

He seemed to be shaking, his hands barely keeping still. As soon as he was free of his guitar which somehow found it's way into Andrew's hands, who already was wearing his bass guitar, he leapt down from the stage, his shirt fluttering open wide. Gabrielle smiled softly, her eyes roving over his form. He swallowed, looking around, running a hand through sweaty hair.

"You danced for me..."

Gabrielle shrugged, her eyes locked on his, her body moving forward, close to him. "I couldn't help it..." she said softly, her hands running over the tops of his arms.

He smiled again, "You looked beautiful."

She shook her head, "You sounded... I mean... I've never heard anything like that, uh. It was familiar but - beautiful. Nothing so beautiful..."

He looked down, noticing her hands clutching onto his arms, and he felt delightfully warm inside. He looked to her, his soul celebrating her perfection. He looked behind him at the band, who gave him tired looks as they packed up their things. He swore, holding onto her arms at the elbow and squeezed them briefly.

"I gotta - pack up," he said, "The guys will kill me if I don't..."

"Well - what are you doing afterwards, I mean it's only 8:30 and-"

Joxer sighed, looking to his feet, "I kinda - I got a prior engagement..."

Gabrielle's smile faltered, and she looked to the stage, "With her?"

Joxer's brow crinkled as confusion fluttered over him, "Huh? Oh - Meighan? Ha! No no no... She's - with Andy..."

"Oh!" Gabrielle blushed, nodding away the embarrassment, "I - I assumed with the song about the girl... like her."

"No," Joxer shook his head, "That was Andrew's song. He's totally ga-ga for Meg. Um - no I like blondes."

Gabrielle glanced up, a blush rising in her cheeks. "You do?"

"Yeah," he smiled bashfully, looking away and mumbling, "Strawberry blondes... with green eyes and cute freckles."

She found herself giggling suddenly, falling into Joxer's arms. "So what are you doing tonight?"

"It's my brother's birthday," he said, "Um - he has a club down the street that he runs and sings at."

"Yeah?" Gabrielle's eyes lit up. "What club?"

Joxer looked away, a blush tinging his cheeks, "Club Bailando."

Gabrielle smiled, "Really? Club Bailando?"

Joxer nodded, "Yeah - my brother's a total - fruitcake."

"He's gay?"

Joxer looked at her matter of factly and gave a snorting laugh, "Yeah that's no news I mean - look at the place. I don't mind that, he's just - crazy!"

"He is?"

"He thinks he's from Spain."

Gabrielle cocked a brow, "Okaaaay."

"He's allright - harmless enough. Anyway - me and my other brother are meeting at his club and stuff. The band will be there too..."

"Okay," she said, basking in the warmth of her arms around his waist, however the hell they got there, "That's cool..."

Joxer was silent suddenly, and he scratched behind his ear, "Would you - um - like to come along?"

The writer smiled with relief, pulling him close and smiling, "I'm glad you asked! You would have had me stalking you otherwise!"

"Well as long as you dance for me while you're at it, I don't mind," He grinned. He met her eyes again, a sudden understanding silence between them. He sighed, "I have to, the band - pack up."

"Okay," she smiled, nodding.

He sighed again, and pulling her in he planted a lasting kiss on her sweat-touched brow. She ran a hand over his cheek as he deposited the token of affection. He smiled bashfully, ducking off towards the stage.

"You are *so* easy..."

Gabrielle turned, her face crinkling to a frown, "I beg your pardon?"

Callista stood there, hand propped on hip, her eyes watching the support group pack up their things.

"All a guy has to do is sing like a depressed mental patient and you're already spreading your legs to him."

Gabrielle blinked, her lip curled in disgust, "I haven't dated a man in two years, Callista."

"Well *that* much is obvious," she smirked.

Gabrielle looked to the stage, then back to Callista, "You hate him don't you?"

"Hate?" Callista curled her lip, "Why bother? I don't care. People like Joxer's crappy band. It pulls in the additional crowds. Make the manager happy and I get more gigs."

"You're a real musician, aren't you Callista?" smiled Gabrielle thinly.

She tilted her head with a hanging smirk, "You can count on it." With that she weaved past Gabrielle, hopping up onto the stage and walking up behind Joxer. She slid her hand over the vinyl-clad bottom, Joxer leaping up like he'd been bitten. He nearly kicked over his guitar, spotting Callista and calming down only slightly, his movements somewhat stiff. She smirked with amusement, watching Joxer shrink back from the ballistic blonde's obviously fake advances. Joxer spared a glance to Gabrielle, and she smiled with triumph.

"You gotta drool over the dude all night or are we gonna talk plans?"

Gabrielle turned at the husky voice of her friend and smiled. "Joxer's going to Club Bailando tonight."

"Gay huh?" Zena shook her head and clucked, "Them's the breaks."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes, "His brother is actually, and he owns the club. Bit of a birthday thing going on - he invited me along. He might not mind you two coming..."

Zena tilted up a brow and sighed, "Well... I've got nothing at home but a dopey golden labrador who'll just sleep on my feet anyway..."

"And if I piss Zena off enough," chimed in Arran, "She might just hit me."

Zena ignored him with great deliberation and twitched at Gabrielle, her irritation apparent. Gabrielle smiled, looking back to Joxer.

"Fine... we're settled." She watched Joxer chatter and pack up, Callista slithering back off stage and over to her burly drummer. The blonde drummer of Joxer's band came back onto the stage, muttering something to the dark man before nodding. Joxer turned and jumped off the stage, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey," he smiled, "Ian let me off. The guys will meet us at the club."

"Making special allowances huh?" smirked Zena warmly, and Joxer looked at her for a long moment, a slow smile creeping onto his face.

"Yeah... say - I don't think we've been introduced properly."

"No, we haven't," said Zena with tilted brow of amusement. "I'm Zena Wohlters, pleased to meet you..."

"Joxer," Joxer smiled, "Joxer Callaghan."

Gabrielle smiled at both of her friends, a calm pleased look on her features. Arran looked between then and sniffed indignantly.

"So we gonna get pissed at the fag's joint?"

Gabrielle glared at him, Joxer merely rubbing his brows patiently.

"Sure - my brother will love you."

Arran's eyes widened then narrowed, his stiff hands grabbing onto Zena. Zena slapped him off.

"Get off me!"

"Come on," Joxer said, his arm snaking around Gabrielle's. Gabrielle smiled, snuggling to him.

Chapter Two
Club Bailando

The night was brisk, the night-club packed street filled with the sounds of merry making. Gabrielle clung to Joxer, who nestled inside a strangely fuzzy jacket that hung down to his mid thigh. His brown shirt was gone, replaced by a deep maroon one, unbuttoned quite a ways down, the soft smell of his soapy cologne filling Gabrielle's lungs. His arm was around her waist, hers also around his. It was strange that she held onto him so. Somehow every moment with him was an incredible relief. He was so warm, so firm and wonderful. She could feel the vibration of his voice as he spoke, his hand clutching the firm round of her hip. It wasn't a vulgar act of sexual gratification, rather a tender display of the rapture her company brought him.

"How about that jerk in the front - he kept pitching beer cans at me till the bouncer kicked him out," Joxer said.

"That's funny," Arran said from next to Zena, "Gabrielle had her panties all ready till she got psyched out by that dude."

Joxer rolled his eyes at Arran and looked to Gabrielle, "Why is he only like this around females?"

"No idea," Gabrielle smirked, pulling her jacket up around her. Joxer frowned.

"You cold?"

She smiled at him sweetly, "No, I'm perfect."

Zena mimed sticking her fingers down her throat to Arran, who just smirked with glazed eyes. Much flashing of lights and bouncy music grew in the darkness and Joxer pointed ahead.

"Here we are..."

They wove their way in, the latin beat that streamed out filling their ears. Joxer leant to the doorman, whispering something in his ear. The doorman smiled, looked at Joxer's butt, now encased in black denim again, and nodded. Joxer blushed awkwardly, grabbing Gabrielle's hand and pulling her inside. She giggled, Arran ducking inside close behind Zena who he held onto by the waist. She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't bat him off this time.

In the walkway to the main dance and bar area, Joxer felt a hand tag his arm. He turned, a sulky figure smiling suddenly.

"Hey bro..."

Gabrielle double took, "Twins?! You didn't tell me you were twins!"

"Woah - who's the blonde?"

Joxer smiled at the identical man dressed in black leather, and looked down to Gabrielle tenderly.

"Jett, this is Gabrielle. Gabrielle, this is Jett, my despicably bohemian brother."

Jett nodded to the writer, "It's a blast meetin' ya. Ready to go into the lion pit?"

Joxer narrowed his eyes, tilted his head a moment and nodded, "Mmm, yeah okay."

"I'd watch out for him," Jett said, pointing to Arran cowering behind Zena, "Or is he with her?"

"He's not with me," Zena said through tense lips, "But I'm lookin' out for him."

"Whatever," shrugged Jett, striding forward.

Joxer pushed open the doors to the club main, a flurry of glitter and light bombarding them.

"EVERYONE!" shouted an all too familiar voice of the sound system, "Why don't you come, throw up your HANDS and FEEEEEEEEEL da RHYTHM!"

Zena cocked a lip. "Another one?"

Joxer nodded, "Yeah, it's my brother Jace."

"Triplets!" Gabrielle gasped. Joxer shrugged.

"Dad was better than he thought."

On the stage the perfect duplicate of Joxer danced in tandem with a mass of scantily clad men who strutted and clapped to the beat. Jace did a pelvic thrust and pointed to the crowd.

"We get it ooon mos' every night, an' whin daah moon geh's biig an braight iss supanaaaataraaal delight - everybaady wos daaaassin' in da mooonlaaaaaaght!"

Gabrielle grinned at the show before them, her body coming to life again at the vibrant rhythm. The ringing thump of bongo drums filled the room, and Gabrielle grabbed Joxer's hand, who grinned with some embarrassment.

"Come on!" she called, launching herself into the frenzy of dancers and patrons flailing themselves to the mercy of the dance.

"Rrrrepeat after ME!" shouted Jace, "Olé Olé!"

Gabrielle grinned, shouting out the words, wrapping her arms around Joxer's waist and kicking her legs from side to side, and glancing back she saw Zena smirking at Arran, the man chatting a little tensely to another musclebound fellow.

"Joxer, this is amazing," she shouted over the din, "Is your family all musical like this?"

"My father's a butcher," Joxer said, looking back to Gabrielle, "Jett was his apprentice. Fastest cleaver on the west coast. He quit to become by rhythm guitarist."

Gabrielle smiled, "Wow."

The conga line broke up, the writer and the singer collapsing at the table that Zena and Arran sat at. Gabrielle felt her blood rushing, exhiliration rising her brain to a giddy mess. She plomped onto the seat next to Zena, Joxer joining her.

"Great place," Zena smiled.

"Yeah, wild," Jett said from next to Arran, lighting up a cigarette.

"JAAACKSER!"

Joxer winced a little with a weathering smile, noticing Jace, adorned with glittery lei's, and pulled his brother into a tight hug. "Happy Birthday bro!"

Gabrielle, blinked, a soft gasp leaving her, "Oh man! It's your birthday too! Oh Joxer!"

Joxer blushed and waved a hand, "It's okay."

Gabrielle pouted, crossing her arms, "I don't think it is."

"Jacser," Jace pouted with a petit hand gesture, "Are you not going to innordoosse me to yor charrming company?"

"Oh!" Joxer looked to the three friends, "This is Gabrielle... the broody one's Zena."

Zena gave a lopsided smirk to Joxer and practically yanked a waiter over by his g-string, waving around a ten buck note.

"Ann WHOO is de byoodiful man?" Jace extended a hand to Arran's taking his lightly in a feminine shake. Arran smiled graciously, edging towards Zena.

"Arran," Joxer said, and added pointedly with a wicked gleam in his brown eyes, "He's with Zena."

Zena glared at Joxer, a challenge there, "Oh... you're so going to get it."

Arran merely closed his eyes, "Thank you, thank you."

Joxer looked to Jace, who tilted his head with a twist of his lips, "Shame... ha' yo got any brothers?"

"Plenty," Arran said, "I'll point 'em your way."

Jace grinned and did a little clap, "Wonnerfooh! You muss all 'ave some drinks now I ssink yes! Padre!" He clapped sharply, a scantily clad lithe young man skitting over to Jace. Jace looked him up and down and smirked.

"You go geh these byoodifooh peoples some drinks, hmm? Whadever dey wann - nnno cost! I muz go prepare for the next act!" He bowed to his brothers, and with a flourish of his purple feathered coat, he flounced off towards the elaborate stage. Padre looked Arran up and down a moment, cocking a carefully kept eyebrow.

"Just get me a whiskey and take your eyes off my balls," grumbled Arran.

The waiter wriggled his butt prissily, looking to the ceiling, "Really! Okay - a whiskey for tall dark and RUDE here! You madame?"

"The same," smirked Zena.

"My usual, Padre," Joxer smiled.

"Strawberry daquiri!" Gabrielle said, raising her hand with a grin.

"And a Bloody Mary for you Jett?"

Jett glowered at Padre, a fractional nod coming from the man. Arran smirked.

"I like you."

Jett stared at Arran for a long moment, then went back to playing with the wild coloured coaster under his fingertips, "So this is the dude you're getting to replace me?"

"Hope you don't mind," Joxer swallowed, "He has the same - er "

"Black psychotic sense of no humour," muttered Zena.

Arran took a long breath in, wrapping an arm around Zena's shoulders and pulling her in, planting a long kiss on the side of her head, "I love this woman!"

Zena narrowed her eyes, "You love your balls don't you?"

"Point taken," Arran said, withdrawing from the woman. Gabrielle smirked at Zena, who ran her fingers over where his lips had been.

"I spoke to father," Jett said suddenly, "About me leaving for Britain - to tour with that band..."

Joxer nodded, "Yeah - whaddeeh say?"

Jett rolled his eyes, "Whaddaya think he said?"

"Nothing of a positive nature, with a bit of degrading commentary thrown in?"

Jett nodded with a slow wink, "Bingo."

Gabrielle looked between the brothers, "Your father doesn't like music?"

Jett cracked up into dark, sad laughter, picking up a coaster in lax fingers and beginning to tear at it. Joxer watched his brother for a moment, and with a sigh he looked to Gabrielle.

"No, he doesn't."

A soft frown settled on Gabrielle's features, "That's sad."

"Them's the breaks," Jett shrugged.

Gabrielle sighed, looking to the elaborately decorated ceiling, "I don't know what I'd do if my mother was against my writing. Dad just - he doesn't mind. Neither of them do, they just miss me. Don't like me staying away from home."

"Where's home?"

"South Bend..."

"Notre Dame..." grunted Jett.

"Yeah," she nodded, "That's right, Notre Dame - no more talk of them please I hate sports."

"Farm girl," Jett nodded, "Cute."

Gabrielle did her best not to clench her teeth, till a soft set of lips settled at her ear and whispered, "Does that mean I get to see you in a little blue checked petticoat and piggy tails?"

She blushed at Joxer,"You'll get yours."

Joxer grinned, "I hope so!"

She nudged him sharply and he chuckled.

Arran looked up at the waiter as his drink was brought up to him. He picked it up and sniffed it, "You didn't slag in it did you?"

The waiter rolled his eyes, "Hardly! And I save the spiff for people I *like*!"

As soon as the other drinks were down the man slinked about in a huff, diving back into the crush of glitter-spattered bodies and bright colourful feathers. Arran smirked and shook his head.

"That is so gross," Gabrielle shuddered, "He didn't-"

"He's kidding," Joxer said, pushing Gabrielle's drink towards her, "Don't you ever get drunk?"

"I've only had one drink tonight. The other one was knocked over by the bull on heat over there."

Arran dropped an icecube from his mouth back into the drink, an irritated frown on his face.

Joxer blushed, "Oh... not that I want you drunk or... I just thought you maybe drunk a lot or - um -,"

Gabrielle smiled, tilting her head onto his shoulder and touching the tip of his nose, "Don't worry about it."

Joxer smiled awkwardly, a blush still in his cheeks.

Arran sniffed stiffly, knocking back his whiskey and grabbing Zena's hand, "Let's dance."

Zena yanked her hand back, "I don't dance!"

"Yes you do," grinned Gabrielle. Zena glared at her with ice blue eyes, but the best friend only chuckled.

Arran leant to her, "I promise I won't grope your ass..."

Zena rolled her eyes and sighed, "Don't worry about it!"

Sidling from her chair she pulled on Arran's collar, who smiled remarkably brightly for such a broody fellow.

Jett looked at Joxer for a long moment, his face not moving. "You wanna go dance too huh?"

Joxer looked like he needed to pee, "Please?!"

"Go on," he waved a hand, "I have my bloody mary and dark scary brood to keep me safe."

"Thanks!" Joxer grinned, pulling Gabrielle out from behind the table onto the dance floor.

The bright thumping beat of disco pulsed through the speakers, Jace bursting onto the stage with a flurry of sequin clad dancers.

"Whazz the sunse in sharring, this wahn and only lahfe, Ennin up, juss another los' and lonely wahfe. You coun' up the years, and they will be filled wi'h tears, Ough! Oh yeah! Love only breayss up, to stard over again. You'h ged the babies, but you won' have your man - why he is lovun' avareeh woman dat he caaan!! Oooh!"

Gabrielle grinned, wiggling her bottom in the frenzied dance, the arousing firmness of Joxer's body behind her moving up and down to the energetic rhythm. Every now and again his hand skimmed her side, and she would let her hand skim his thigh, and as she turned, she let her hands dive inside his jacket mouthing the words with him with fervour.

She glanced to Zena, who had a tired look on her face, but laughter in her eyes as she roly-polied her hands over one another, shifting from foot to foot in a little dance, Arran behind her, his hands resting on her hips. Gabrielle leant to Joxer.

"You think Zena secretly likes Arran and doesn't wanna admit it?"

Joxer shrugged, "I dunno. Um... " He took a long look and shrugged again with one shoulder, "I guess so. I'm not really looking at them..."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes, leaning into his dancing embrace, "Gee... wonder why."

Joxer wiggled his brows, burying his head onto the hollow of her neck.

Jace twisted and boogied up on stage, "Young haaaartz, ruun freeee! Nahver be hung up, hung up lihe mah man and me oooh, mah man and me. Youn' heahrtz, to youh-self be true, Don' be no fool with, Whan loving is all, there iss...say that don't love you!"

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