Nobody's Baby (A Dirty Dancing AU)
Chapter: 1/8 (40k)
Posting schedule: One chapter a day, two on the last day
Rated: E
Tags: light BDSM, Kink negotiation, safe, sane & consensual, hand wavey dance moves, 80s movie campiness, classism, best friends Chrissy & Eddie, Best friends Steve & Robin, Dirty Dancing without all the toxicity
TW: for discussion about the aftermath of an illegal abortion surgery's affects on a woman's body (not in this chapter)
Follow along on Ao3
Artist Collaborator: @lexplexdraws
Event: Steddie BigBang 2023 - @steddiebang
Pulling up to the resort feels like walking the plank for Steve. A summer holiday of the worst kind. Forced games, stuffy rooms filled with people just like his parents. People wearing the mask of the social elite. Fake people with no intention of leaving the world a better place. That wasn’t for him. It used to be. Oh, how it used to be. King Steve they’d called him at school. His followers, his haters, his friends. And he’d reveled in it. In the worship, the power, the glory of being someone everyone wanted to be even while they hated him.
But then he’d fallen for Nancy Wheeler. And she’d come with a whole bushel of brats. Steve had discovered something he loved more than adoration, he loved being someone the kids could count on. Even after he and Nancy had broken up, the kids had still come to him for help, for protection, for friendship. There was something incredible about that.
So when the time had come to decide what to do with his life, Steve decided to become a school counselor. He wanted to help people. His parents were rich, his mom helped people with her charities. Sure, she did it for the stature, it was like a competition among the old money housewives - who could earn the most money for the poorest people with the most extravagant dinner or event. He could have done that, too. But he didn’t want to spend $20,000 on a charity event that raised $15,000. That didn’t add up. He wanted to help in real ways that had nothing to do with social status.
But he’d promised his dad that he’d do this one last family trip before moving to his apartment near the school he was starting his job at in the fall. One last parade around the room for the youngest Harrington. His sister Carol loved to be paraded around so he wasn’t sure why his dad even cared. Carol lived for being shown off like a prized heifer at a fair. Salivated for it.
They’d been close when Carol was in school. Using their reign to crush people like bugs. But since Steve had given it all up, Carol seemed a little disgusted by him. It didn’t help that people only fawned over Carol because of their parents and their money. She was really quite ordinary in every other way. No matter how much she tried to stand out in a crowd, she just didn’t. And she hated that Steve did. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t even want that. He hated the attention these days.
It probably didn’t help that Carol was always just Carol . But Steve was Baby . It started when they were toddlers. She was the oldest and he was Baby Harrington. And he was such a pretty baby. And then a pretty boy. And by that time, the name had stuck. Baby.
He couldn’t wait to not hear anyone call him that anymore.
The Cadillac glides into the concierge loop. Before his dad even slides it into park, there are already several bellboys circling the car to open doors and stand near the trunk for luggage retrieval. Moving quickly, Steve pushes open his own door before a bellboy - oh, girl actually - can get there, he smiles in apology when she looks annoyed.
“Richard!” A voice booms out. The owner of the voice and apparently the resort as well, is not a big man. Not in height at least. He’s round and ruddy cheeked, dressed in what can only be a linen suit. He had to have been waiting for them to arrive, there’s no way he greets all of his guests this way. Especially not with his meek looking wife at his elbow.
The bellboy - bellgirl? - followed Steve around the car and is standing at the man’s other elbow expectantly. The man ignores her though, and she catches Steve’s eye with a raised eyebrow.
“Max Hagan,” his dad actually smiles, clasping hands in a familiar way. “Susan,” he kisses the woman’s cheek and she titters like she can’t believe Dr. Harrington’s charm. “You remember my wife, Amelia,” his mom allows Mr. Hagan to kiss her cheek and then she gives Susan a light hug. “And these are our children,” Like either of them are children anymore. They’re twenty-four and twenty-two now. “This is Carol, she’s been so involved in Amelia’s charity work this year,” Carol gives them a little finger wave, fake smile plastered on just right, “And this is our youngest–” don’t say it “-Baby. He’s just graduated college and is headed off to locations unknown to help the poor.”
The bellgirl looks like she can’t decide whether to sneer or laugh.
Smiling tightly, Steve shakes both of their hands, “It’s Steve, please. And it’s Chicago and they’re less fortunate schoolchildren, Dad. It’s not like their families chose to be poor. There’s enough resources for everyone if we just share the wealth.”
The girl tilts her head, considering him.
Mr. Hagan grins, “Ohhhh a social warrior! We feel the same, we employ a lot of the areas less fortunate, even provide housing so they can stay here for the summer.” The bellgirl rolls her eyes and clears her throat, “Oh, yes, Robin. There you are.” Like she hasn’t been standing there the entire time. “Your keys, Richard?” His dad hands them to Robin and she nods, heading off to park his car for their stay probably.
Steve turns to watch her go and she winks at him. He barely bites back a laugh. The audacity. He’ll have to find a way to talk to her without the rest of these people around.
Clapping his hands, Mr. Hagan waves them all toward the big sprawling Connecticut mansion behind him, “Come, come, let me show you the main houses before the staff takes you out to your cabana.”
The central house is the kind of vacation opulence Steve’s come to expect from his parent’s rich friends. Several sitting rooms show off spindly antique furniture and bookcases filled with books. There are tall windows open to the breeze and almost no one inside. This is clearly the Hagan’s house and only those invited are allowed in the sitting rooms.
To prove that theory correct, a guy about his and Carol’s age jogs down the stairs in the main hall and strides right over to them. He gives Carol an appraising look but his gaze lingers much longer on Steve. “Uncle Max, who are our guests?”
“Oh Tommy, perfect timing! These are the Harringtons. This is Richard and his wife Amelia.” Tommy shakes both of their hands, calling them sir and ma’am then he turns to Carol, kisses her hand as she giggles and pretends to be shy - she’s not.
“That’s their oldest, Carol and this is–” don’t say it, “Baby, their youngest. He’s headed off to save the world after his stay with us.” It’s so patronizing that Steve would bristle if he thought it would make any difference. It won’t.
Tommy takes Steve’s hand in his own clammy one, leering where no one else can see his expression and gives Steve’s hand a firm squeeze. Gross.
Pulling his hand back and stuffing it into the back pocket of his jeans, Steve corrects with, “I’d rather be called Steve, please.”
“Of course.” Tommy agrees but it’s obvious he has no intention of doing so.
In the second house, a short walk from the first, there’s a ballroom currently filled with preset tables with cloth napkins and several types of wine glasses. There’s a neat row of forks to the right of the preset gold rimmed plates. Despite the summer heat, all of the employees setting the tables are wearing a smart white tuxedo jacket and white gloves. Like they shouldn’t dare to touch the rich with their bare hands.
There must be a large kitchen attached but Max Hagan doesn’t show them that. Before they leave, a busboy drops a water glass, the shatter is loud enough to catch all of their attention. He looks at Mr. Hagan in horror. Mr. Hagan smiles tightly, apologizes to them and nods to Tommy who excuses himself from the group with a cruel smile and heads over to the employee. Probably threatening to take the cost of the glass out of the kid’s check. What an asshole.
They don’t walk out to the other buildings, Mr. Hagan’s cheeks are already red and he’s puffing. He clearly doesn’t walk his grounds very often. Instead, he points to a large covered area, telling them that they do activities like arts & crafts, dancing and card games there and at another building nearby. When he shows them the pools, Steve almost asks why they don’t swim in the lake that’s right there but Tommy has rejoined them and he really doesn’t want to engage in conversation if he can avoid it.
On their way back around, Steve catches sight of what must be the trail to the employee housing hidden away, tucked into a far corner and makes a plan to go check it out as soon as he can escape. See if the Hagan’s are actually taking care of their employees.
Pretty soon, they’re whisked away on golf carts to their private cabana which is more like an entire cabin at the water’s edge. Their luggage is already in their rooms and unpacked, which he hates. Making someone else unpack your underwear is such a power move and he’s never been a fan. He makes a mental note to make his bed every morning and keep his side of the room he’s sharing with Carol as clean as possible.
Dinner is, of course, formal and boring. They’re sharing a table with the Hagans. Tommy tells them all about his time at Yale where he’d majored in business management like his dad and uncle. Took his time so he hadn’t graduated until this year at twenty-four. He’d really loved spending time bonding with his fraternity brothers and “enjoying college life.” Which Steve takes to mean partying and convincing drunk freshmen to have sex with him like a creep. He’s spending this summer helping his uncle out to gain experience with managing people and, besides, “it’ll look great on his resume for internships.”
Steve barely contains his many eye rolls before he finally tunes it out.
At one point, Steve tunes back in to find their waiter talking to his dad about good family values and how he’s working at the resort this summer to pay his own expenses during college. He doesn’t want to be a drain on his family and is on a scholarship for basketball - also to Yale, he and Tommy are frat brothers apparently - but that he’s trying to get into law school next year. Steve’s dad introduces the guy - Jason - to both Carol and Steve, claps him on the back like he’s proud of this stranger and then tells the kid to talk to some professor who’s an old frat buddy of his. They’ll “take care of him.”
The guy practically creams his pants to grovel at his dad’s feet. It’s so disgusting, Steve can’t even watch as the new guy realizes Steve’s not interested and begins to lay on the charm with Carol who’s lapping it up as per usual.
He spends the rest of dinner watching the waitstaff and hoping to see Robin again. He does, eventually. She’s clearing a table when he and his family are on their way out. Just as they reach her table, she fumbles a glass and Steve grabs it in midair.
“Ohmygodthankyou.” She starts to babble, rushing the words out so quickly it feels like there aren’t even individual words. “I’m such a klutz. That’s why I’m not a waiter, I drop things too often. Usually I don’t do this either but we’re short staffed tonight. You didn’t need to know all of this, anyway, thank you.” She plucks the glass from his outstretched hand and puts it in the bin.
“It’s no problem. Glad I was here at the right time.” Steve smiles, wishing he could hang out with her but knowing she’s probably got better things to do with her little spare time than hang out with some rich kid. He nods instead, following his parents out.
“Did you need the blue paint, Mrs. Schumacher?” The little blond with the high ponytail asks a little loudly, her eyes sparkle when she looks at Steve because Mrs. Schumacher was originally painting a sunrise that has somehow become an underwater scene. They’ve both been sharing looks since the old woman started adding fish to her skyline.
“No, I don’t need any help.” She says crankily, slapping paint on her canvas hard enough to splatter it onto the table cloth. Luckily it’s all water colors so it’ll come out. Steve stifles a laugh.
Robin is there, too. She seems to be less of an artist and more of a wrangler though. She’s the one who brought the Schumachers over to begin with. Putting the wife in front of Steve and the husband next to him. At first he thought she was punishing him for something but then the little blond Chrissy took up the spot next to Mrs. S and Robin took up the spot on the other side of the mister and he realized she’d done it so he was close enough to talk to.
“So Steve,” Chrissy starts, inconspicuously sliding the blue paint toward Mrs. S, “what kind of things do you do for fun?”
Ducking his head to hide his absolute joy that Robin had obviously heard his hatred of the name Baby and introduced him as Steve to Chrissy, Steve shrugs, “For fun? Not much, honestly. I gave up the social butterfly life and I spend a lot of my spare time babysitting a bunch of kids too old to need a babysitter anymore.”
“Awww, that sounds nice!” She says warmly, handing Mrs. S. a clean canvas and removing the ocean of paint she’d been working on.
Next to him, Mr. S. has fallen asleep in his chair. Robin leans around him and hands Steve a piece of paper with a few penciled lines. It looks like a tally board. At the top it says “You suck/You Rule” and there is one tally in the “You Suck” spot and three in the “You Rule.”
He laughs loud enough that Mr. S. flinches but doesn’t wake up. “What’s the You Suck tally for?”
“Being a rich kid, obviously.” Robin grins.
“I can’t really help that.” He says, “And the others?”
“You want to help people, you helped me last night and you like kids.” Robin ticks them off on her fingers, “But I really feel like that’s probably as good as you’re gonna get so now I’m looking for more evidence of you sucking.”
“Robin” Chrissy chastises her, reaching across to playfully slap Robin’s hand where she’s flapping it around.
Steve laughs though, it’s the first time he’s enjoyed himself at this place so he’s all in.
After a little while, Chrissy puts a record on the player and tells them it’s time for dance lessons if anyone’s interested. Steve’s not necessarily a bad dancer, but he’s not a great dancer either. Dancing requires a level of letting yourself go that Steve just hasn’t achieved yet. Chrissy is a wonderful dancer, though. She’s leading Mr. Schumacher around, which is really adorable.
“She’s gorgeous isn’t she?” Robin says when she flops down in the chair next to him.
“Yes. And kind. Not my type, though, if you’re trying to set me up.” Steve looks at Robin who’s steadfastly not looking at him.
“Don’t look at me Harrington, I’m not your type either. Well - you’re not mine at least.” Robin scoffs, crossing her arms.
“You sure? Have you seen how great my hair looks?” He says, scandalized, “And this face? This face is everyone’s type.”
She groans, knows he’s giving her shit, shoves his shoulder away, “I barely know you and I already think you’re the worst.”
Dinner is another stuffy affair of everyone patting themselves on the back for being rich and self important. But tonight it leads into music and dancing. Right away, Tommy asks Steve to dance and Steve just knows his parents are going to give him that look if he doesn’t so he says yes. It’s stiff and awkward and Tommy’s trying to lead even though he’s a good three inches shorter than Steve.
Chrissy’s Tinkerbell sounding laugh catches his attention and Steve looks toward the middle of the dance floor to see her in a gorgeous pink dress with layers and layers of some kind of gauzy material. Her dance partner is in a black tuxedo, hair pulled into a neat bun at the back of his head.
When he dips Chrissy back, her head looks like it might touch the backs of her knees and then he yanks her up, spinning her out and back in so fast she looks like she’s a yo-yo. Her dress swirls around her thighs and she grins up at him. She’s a tiny thing but in her heels, she’s shoulder height to him. They swish and spin, looking gorgeous together. The crowd gives them ample room. Steve stops moving to watch them with a soft smile and Tommy stiffens where he’s trying to get Steve’s attention.
“They know better!” Tommy growls, looking like he’s going over to stop the pair from their dance.
Steve stops him with a touch to his forearm, squeezing gently to placate Tommy, “No, let them keep going. Look how much everyone loves watching them.” He moves back into Tommy’s arms, a little closer this time even though it makes his skin crawl.
Smiling, Tommy says, “Okay, just for this one dance though.”
After the dance, Chrissy and her partner split up without Tommy interfering and find guests to bring out to dance with them instead. Steve dances again with Tommy and then bows out to sit back down at their table, claiming a headache.
It’s a close call, getting away from Tommy’s demands and Carol’s disdain after a sufficient amount of time has passed but Steve really wants to walk the grounds alone so he sneaks away. He’s been wandering long enough that the sun is completely down when he comes to the bridge over the little creek that separates the main resort from the employee cabins and he spots Robin. She’s carrying three huge watermelons and she’s the most awkward looking thing he’s ever known so she’s about five seconds away from dropping them.
Rushing over, he catches the middle one just before it drops.
“Alright, fine, that’s another tally in the You Rule column.” She says testily. He grins. “Don’t get cocky though. Come on.”
He follows, thinks about taking a second watermelon but he’s afraid she won’t be able to balance with just one. She really is just so awkward.
As they approach the building set far into the corner, Steve can hear bass thumping, he can hear laughter and raucous shouts and occasionally he passes couples making out or smoking cigarettes together. Inside is even louder. It’s dingy and dim, the music is loose and carefree and instead of a nice cha cha or a waltz like he’d heard earlier, everyone is grinding and rubbing against each other.
It’s so… dirty but Steve can’t look away. He knows his eyes are like saucers, taking in everyone in their short skirts and tight pants, their bare arms and low cuts. Steve feels very out of place in his pressed khakis and his cardigan. Thank god he’d refused to wear the tie his father had waved at him.
Robin shouts over her shoulder, “Come on, this way.”
But Steve can’t. He’s frozen in place. There in the middle of the dancers is Chrissy in a low cut tank top that hugs her chest and stops just short of the waistline of a skirt barely long enough to cover her butt as she drapes her knee around the hip of her partner.
And her partner. Wow. He’s not like he was inside with the guests at all.
He can’t be much taller than Steve but he’s got so much presence. His hair is down now, wild and past his shoulders. His shoulders are bare in the black tank top he’s sporting. It’s low cut on both sides and the front. Steve sees a flash of his nipple as he spins Chrissy. They grind their hips together and Steve’s eyes are drawn down to the man’s insanely tight pants. Black with ripped knees. He makes eye contact with Steve, sneers, spins Chrissy and brings her back flush against his chest, grinding and staring at Steve over her shoulder.
Steve, who’s standing in the middle of a sea of dancers, holding a fucking watermelon. He’s wearing loafers for Christ sake.
The song ends and Chrissy catches sight of Steve, she drags her partner over just as Robin comes back, taking the watermelon from Steve.
“What’s he doing here?” The man asks rudely, nodding his chin at Steve but looking at Robin.
“He’s cool. He helped me carry a watermelon.” Robin chirps, heading toward the tables of food.
The guy looks at Steve again, he’s got a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and he chews on it, rolling it from one side to the other. He’s like, insanely sexy.
“I carried a watermelon.” Steve repeats, dumbly. The man raises his eyebrow and Chrissy snorts a laugh behind her hand.
“Steve, this is Eddie, my dance partner. Eddie, this is Steve. He’s a guest but he’s a nice one.” Chrissy tugs on Eddie’s hand but not to leave, just to signal to him maybe? A reminder to be nice and not eat the guests.
Steve ups the anti on just how stupid he can look but finger waving. Eddie huffs out a scoff and turns away, tugging Chrissy with him back to the dance floor.
Steve mouths, “I carried a watermelon?” at their backs, slapping himself in the forehead as he follows where Robin had gone.
He finds her at the table, not cutting the watermelon. There’s a guy there loudly reminding her she’s not allowed near the knives and she says, “yeah yeah yeah, shut it.” Before turning to Steve, “Hey Dingus, I added two more tallies for you. One in the You Rule column for helping me with my melons.” She leers and he balks. “And the other in the You Suck column for drooling over Eddie. Gross.”
“I was not!” He hisses even though he totally was. Whatever.
He turns back to watch the crowd. It’s not like people don’t dance like this. It’s the 80s not the 60s, but he’s never seen it this up close and personal. It’s like everyone’s fucking with their clothes on. It’s kinda hot. Okay, it’s a lot hot.
It’s completely unintentional but Steve is watching as Chrissy pulls away from Eddie, kisses him on the cheek and waves as she runs out the door. He can hear her bright happy giggle as she goes. When Steve turns back to look at the crowd, Eddie’s staring at him. Contemplating.
When he moves toward Steve, it’s liquid, like a panther. The crowd subconsciously parts for him so he never needs to pause his stride or adjust it. Steve’s still pinned in place when Eddie stops in front of him, throws the toothpick to the ground and takes Steve’s hand. He turns just as fluidly and leads Steve to the middle of the dancers.
It doesn’t even occur to Steve that he can protest.
When Eddie turns back to him, Steve swallows a few times, “I…I don’t know how to dance like this.” He looks at the couples gyrating all around him and then back at Eddie, aware that his eyes are wide and terrified.
Eddie’s cheek lifts up as he smiles with one side of his mouth and leans in to whisper in Steve’s ear, “I’ll show you how. It’s easy.”
Steve shudders and is mortified because he knows Eddie felt it but Eddie doesn’t mention it, just slides his hands over Steve’s hips as Steve starts to shift side to side.
“Less like a doll that only bends at the waist and more of a roll. Like, roll up from your hips and out of your chest.” Steve tries it but he feels stiff. Eddie does the roll and looks absolutely sinful doing it. His hips do this push up thing and Steve’s brain makes a blip noise and then shuts off. “Like a puppet, but the only string is here.” One of his hands skates across Steve’s flat belly, the thumb tapping just above his belly button before it resumes it’s place on his hip.
Luckily they’re not pressed together when it happens because Steve’s dick twitches in his pants and he swallows a whimper. He has to blink and shake himself to regain his composure.
Eddie does it again, the roll, keeping his eyes on Steve as Steve tries and fails to mimic him. “You gotta relax, baby.”
Ugh. Baby. He wants to insist that Eddie call him Steve but he doesn’t want to break up whatever this dance lesson is. One of Eddie’s hands moves from Steve’s hip to his lower back, bringing him closer so his hips are flush with Eddie’s and he feels it when Eddie rolls into him.
A strangled sound escapes Steve’s lips and he hopes to all hell that it's too loud in here for Eddie to have heard that. His arms sort of dangle uselessly and he looks around to see what everyone else is doing with theirs. Oh. Resting them on their partner. Okay. He can do that.
He brings one hand up to rest on Eddie’s shoulder, it’s sweaty where their skin comes in contact. Instead of finding that gross, Steve is finding it pretty fucking hot. His other hand finds purchase on the arm wrapped around Steve’s back still. Eddie’s bare bicep filling Steve’s palm. Everything feels looser now, his hips are rolling and his chest isn’t so tight so he can breathe.
Eddie dances two songs with Steve like that and by the end, he’s feeling loose and sexy. When the second song ends, everyone jumps around, cheering. Steve turns back to Eddie but he’s gone. Turning in circles, Steve just barely catches sight of Eddie leaving before Robin is there to pluck Steve off the dance floor.
“Don’t take it personally. Eddie loves that people think he’s scary and mysterious.” She rolls her eyes to convey what she thinks of that. “Come have some of this watermelon that you carried, it’s really good!”
It is actually a very good watermelon. Steve takes a slice with him to eat on his way back to his cabana. It’s a long walk but it’s nice outside and the crickets and frogs are chirping and croaking in the soft breeze.
When he sneaks into his room with Carol, she’s awake, demanding to know where he’s been.
“I covered for you like old times so you owe me.” She informs him. They used to cover for each other without keeping track of what was owed. Guess they’re not on that level anymore.
He sighs, grabbing his pajama pants and going into their ensuite bathroom but not bothering to close the door. She can’t see him from her angle. “I just took a walk. This place is really pretty at night. You should check it out.” He brushes his teeth and closes the door long enough to take a piss.
When he comes back out, she’s rolled to face his bed, “What do you think about Tommy - or that guy Jason? Dad really liked them both. And they’re both hot in different ways.”
“I don’t think anything about either of them but if you want them, you should go for them.”
“What happened to the time when you had good taste in boys?” She flops onto her back on her twin bed.
He snorts, “I think your good taste and my good taste stopped being the same awhile ago.” He misses the time when they were friends but he doesn’t miss her being jealous of guys he didn’t like who liked him, “And besides, this way, we’ll never like the same guys again.”
“That’s true.” She contemplates. “Now stop talking, I need my beauty sleep.” She pulls her eyemask down and ignores him.
Which is fine by him. Carol’s always been kind of a viper. He’s glad they’re not fighting over boys anymore, that’s for sure.
It’s another day of activities. Steve plays bridge with an entire table of people old enough to be his grandparents. It earns him another tally in the You Rule column though so that’s something.
After art and “dance” lessons where Steve spends more time teasing Robin than anything else, Steve takes his towel and goes to the pool. He swims laps until he’s worn out and then takes a long nap before dinner. Dinner is much the same and it’s not a dance night in the main hall so they’re done early. When Tommy asks if “Baby” would like to go for a walk, Richard Harrington claps him on the shoulder and says, “Of course, he would, son. You boys have a nice evening.”
And Steve is stuck because he’s got no excuse not to and it would be rude to say no after his father accepted it. He doesn’t groan out loud but internally it’s almost a scream.
Tommy takes him on a tour, like he hasn’t already seen the grounds. A lot of his commentary is so fucking elitist and classist that Steve can’t even figure out what to respond. He doesn’t need to though because Tommy barely notices his lack of participation. He’s way too busy listening to himself talk.
The dining hall looks dark as they head back toward it and Tommy says, “Hey, do you want ice cream?”
“Sure, why not?” Sneaking into the kitchen after close to steal ice cream sounds like something Tommy thinks is his richboy given right but it also sounds kind of fun.
They don’t bother to turn the lights on, Tommy opens the freezer and peers in, illuminating them both and the first few feet of floor beyond.
There’s a sniffle and Steve turns to see Chrissy curled up in the corner, trying to stay quiet, she shakes her head frantically and Steve puts his arm around Tommy’s shoulders pulling him away from turning to see Chrissy. “You know what, actually, ice cream sounds like a little much. Dinner was so good and I’m still full. Walk me home?”
“Sure, Baby.” Tommy smiles and it’s so smarmy that Steve almost gags. He looks over Tommy’s shoulder as he closes the fridge and mouths, “stay.” Then he takes Tommy’s hand and leads him back out into the night.
After getting rid of Tommy, Steve races to the dance gazebo where they play music and couples waltz in the warm night air. He knows Robin is working the music because she complained about it earlier. There she is, standing by the record player, grumbling about music choices when Steve skids to a stop in front of her, breathing heavily, “It’s Chrissy.”
Suddenly Eddie is there, somehow still dangerous in a white tuxedo jacket. He grabs Steve’s arm, pulling him away from the gazebo as Robin taps another employee and hands them a stack of records, “What do mean? Where is she?”
“Hey, let go, I didn’t hurt her!” Steve yanks his arm out of Eddie’s grip, rubbing it. For a moment, Eddie looks like he might apologize but he sets his jaw and glares at Steve. “I just saw her. She’s in the kitchen, crying.”
Eddie spins on his heel, storming off to the kitchen with Robin and Steve following closely.
“Damn it Chrissy. I told her. I told her,” Eddie grumbles as he stomps angrily across the grounds, his hair is starting to come loose from its bun, tendrils of curls falling down and bouncing wildly in his agitation.
“What? What’s wrong with her?” Steve asks no one in particular.
Robin is one of those people who babbles when she’s nervous though and she immediately spills her guts, “She’s knocked up.”
Eddie spins around and stares at Robin with his jaw hanging open, “Robin, what the fuck?”
“Oh shit. Oh shit!” She stammers, flapping her hands around, “Don’t tell anyone Steve!”
“I’m not going to, I wouldn’t.” Steve insists. Eddie glares but starts walking again. Steve stares at his back for a moment before he follows. Looking at Robin, he asks, “What’s he gonna do about it?”
Eddie spins back around again, pointing at himself as he steps toward Steve, “What? Me? It’s not mine. Why-nevermind.” He spins back and pushes the door to the kitchen open.
Robin and Steve wait just inside, by the door, guarding it as Eddie goes into the corner to where Chrissy is still huddled. “Hey sweetheart, I’m here. Eddie’s here. I got you.” He scoops her up.
The faint light glints off of her beaded dress and Steve rushes in to grab her shoes off the floor, following behind as they sneak out and down a path through to the employee buildings.
They duck into the dance hall he’d seen them throwing the party in. It’s empty now. Eddie puts Chrissy down to sit on a couch, Robin goes over to a closet and pulls out a blanket, tucking it around her. Steve leans just inside the doorway, still holding her shoes.
Eddie paces back and forth in front of the couch, his hair has come completely free of the bun and he looks a bit like a caged lion. “What did I tell you? You should have come to me.” He finally sits, taking her hand in his.
“Eddie, no. I already told you, no, I can’t take your money.” He sits down, looks like he’s about to protest but Chrissy stops him with a hand on his arm, “Besides, it wouldn’t be enough.”
She starts to cry again, “It’s hopeless.”
It’s heartbreaking to see her like this, she’s so bright and vibrant. So young. And yeah, Steve has no idea what it’s like to live their lives but he can’t just let her give up hope, “Hey, Chrissy, don’t say that. It’s not hopeless.”
“Baby. That’s what they call you, right? Robin said your name was Steve but everyone calls you Baby.” She’s not unkind but he flinches anyway, “With all due respect, you don’t know anything about it.”
Robin shifts guiltily, clears her throat.
Chrissy stares at her, “You didn’t?! Now he’s gonna tell the Hagans and we’ll all be out on the street. Everyone’s gonna know that Chrissy Cunningham got knocked up by Jason Carver.” She’s angry but her tears haven’t stopped.
Steve gasps, “Jason? But he’s all about family values - if you just tell him, he’ll take care of it, take care of you.”
Chrissy laughs but it’s brittle and empty sounding, “He already knows.”
Robin stands up, trying to smooth everyone’s ruffled feathers probably, “Look, we all knew Jason wouldn’t help.” She spits it out vehemently, “He’s a prick.” She licks her lips nervously, “We heard about a traveling doctor who’ll do one, but he only goes through here once a month. Next Thursday. It’s five hundred bucks though. That’s why Chrissy told Jason, trying to get him to pay for it or at least help out. What an asshole.” Robin rounds back to the couch to put her arms around Chrissy.
Chrissy needs help. And Steve wants to help people. Real people. In real ways. Not just raise money for some nameless faceless charity. He wants to change lives. He sets the strappy heels on the table and says, “I’ll be right back.”
As soon as he scoots out the door, he runs. His cabana is all the way across the grounds. Gotta keep the help as far away from the elite as possible, right? He passes couples out on walks, employees hustling back and forth and when he gets to his cabana he finds his dad sitting out on the porch smoking a cigar.
Swallowing down his nerves, Steve fixes his hair, his sweater, looks presentable like he’s expected to and then he takes a leap of faith.
“Hey Baby, you have a nice night with Tommy? He’s a nice boy, good family.” Richard swirls the whiskey in his glass, squints up at Steve until Steve sits on the top step and he can look down at him. “Probably not right for my Baby though.”
Steve smiles. His dad isn’t a drinker. Never has been. He allows himself one glass of whiskey a night on holidays or vacations but never as a routine and never more than one. Has always told Steve that a man should have his capacities in case he needs to protect what’s his. Richard is a good man, a good dad. Even if he insists on calling Steve Baby still. Even if he doesn’t really understand Steve all that much.
“Dad, I need a favor. And you can’t ask what it’s about because it’s not my place to tell you. Not my secret to share.” His dad nods, face scrunching up in concern. “Can I borrow five hundred dollars? I’ll pull it out of my account and pay you back when we get back home.”
“It’s to help someone?” Richard asks and when Steve nods, he sets the glass down on the railing and goes inside. Comes back out with a stack of twenty dollar bills. “I trust you, Baby.”
Steve gets up and throws his arms around him, “Thanks, Dad.”
The door creaks a bit when he walks back into the hall. Eddie, Chrissy and Robin look up. Eddie looks like he’s about to grab Steve by the scruff of his neck and toss him out on his ass. Steve rushes over anyway, hands the wad of bills to Chrissy.
“What? Steve, you can’t do this. I can’t pay this back.” But she’s clutching it so tightly that her knuckles are white. The only thing standing between her and the rest of her life is this stupid money and as much as she doesn’t want it, she fucking needs it. Steve can see it in her eyes.
“Listen, it’s only money to me. To you, it’s…well, it’s more.” He’s not sure what to say without assuming things about her life and her needs. And without sounding like an asshole. “You don’t have to pay me back. And don’t say thank you, please. Five hundred bucks and your poor taste in men shouldn’t ruin your life.”
Eddie laughs, he looks surprised by it and by Steve but he shakes his head, crosses his ankle over his knee and looks at Chrissy like, “Your move.”
“It’s not just the money.” She sighs, “We got a standing gig that night. In another hotel. If we cancel, we’ll lose our spot and they will replace us next summer.”
“What if Steve went in your place?” Robin suggests.
Steve looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “ Me? What about you? You’d fit in the dress better than I would!”
Robin snorts, “You don’t have to wear a dress, dingus. You can wear a tux. I know you brought one for formal night. If not, we can find a spare in the employee uniforms.”
“That’s a terrible idea. Literally anyone would be better.” Eddie scoffs and Steve takes offense.
“Everyone else is working.” Chrissy says, looking at Steve in a way that has him concerned.
“He couldn’t do it.” Eddie says, “ Look at him.”
“Yes, I can.” Steve insists with more force than he intends. “Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do.”
And wait. Why is Steve arguing to do this? Steve is very firmly on Team Steve Doesn’t Do This.
“Eddie, you can teach anyone to dance,” Chrissy says. “And it doesn’t have to be the best, just good enough that we don’t get fired.”
“We’re gonna have to work every day, all of my hours off. You’ll be giving up your most of your vacation.” Eddie warns, glaring at Steve again.
“Good.” Steve says, crossing his arms. Still not sure how he got to this place but contrary enough that he’s not backing down.
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