"Waddaya think 'bout this one?"

Paul inspected himself from various angles in a tall three-sided mirror. It was tucked way at the back of a vintage clothing shop that had caught his eye. The place was packed to the rafters with of colourful castoffs from bygone eras. Finding a new jacket that could appease Paul's carefully guarded vanity was proving to be rather difficult however.

Hence jacket number fifty six...or was it fifty seven?

Marko eyed the fringed suede jacket that Paul wore and winced. No amount of dirt or axle grease would ever make that thing sociably acceptable. It should have remained buried in the mud at Woodstock where it belonged back in the Sixties.

"Are you John Lennon?"

"No."

"Then?"

"Fine."

Off went jacket and onto the ever growing pile of gaudy failure.

"Listen man. We've been here for over nearly two hours. Will you make up your mind and pick one? Just not the one that makes you look like Liberace. No one needs to see that."

Marko shifted in his seat. The worn armchair that he was draped over was starting to feel its age and Marko's backside was suffering for it.

"Dude you complain worse than my mother. Here, what about this one?" Paul scoffed as he grabbed a heavy satin-lined black trench coat off a rack and whirled it on with plenty of flare to spare.

"Paul you don't even know your mother. And no, that makes you look like an undertaker. What are you, goth now?" Marko chuckled as he began to toy with a loose thread on his cuff.

"Figure of speech man."

Paul could not decide whether or not he dug the whole solemn dead-guy look. This one he seriously considered as a contender but after a few minutes of hemming and hawing he shook his head and the trench coat joined the other discarded hopefuls on the floor.

"C'mon Paul, just pick one already! We're burning precious partying time. There's a bash that is going down over at the docks and we are stuck in here. What gives?" Marko hoisted himself out of the chair and rifled through the other jackets that had yet to be tried on.

"Hell man, do you think I'm enjoyin' this? I'd rather be out there getting hammered, but when it comes to getting a new set of threads man, you gotta be careful with what you wear."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Here man, try this one on."

Marko randomly selected a tailored black tuxedo jacket with tails and tossed it over to his best friend.

"Who's gettin' married?" Paul arched an eyebrow.

"No one you moron. Just try it on. Trust me, ok?" Marko said, motioning Paul to put the jacket on so that they could get the hell out of there. Neither of the two paid any attention to the tinkling chime that accompanied the opening of the shop's front door. Paul gave Marko a "yeah right" look before he put the jacket on. He took a moment to adjust the sleeves before he looked in the mirror.

He liked what he saw staring back at him through the glass.

"Not bad, not bad."

He slowly turned in a circle, eyeing every aspect of the outfit. It was different, that was for sure, and it hugged his shoulders perfectly. "Do you think it makes me look sophisticated?"

"I think it makes you look like you're going to prom. If you guys ever went to prom." Said a voice from behind a rack of reduced bohemian chic items that only the beach bums would ever consider purchasing.

Both boys turned and came face to face with a smiling Fay. Sans cat suit this time but Paul dug the torn denim and leather jacket look she had going on. If it was possible her hair was even larger than the last time he had seen her and probably twice as flammable. 

"Hey! Fay! Waddaya say girl? What rock have you been livin' under?" Paul exclaimed as a huge grin plastered itself onto his face. His arms engulfed her in a bear hug before she had the chance to duck out of the way. 

"I missed you too Paul. Hey Marko, how's it going?" She said as she slapped Paul playfully on the arm so that he wouldn't flatten what hours of teasing had achieved. 

Marko grinned and ran a hand through his hair. "Perfect timing."

"Oh?" Fay said, giving Paul a sidelong glance. "Do I want to know why?"

"In all probability, no." Marko smile while Paul gave himself a couple of sidelong glances in the mirror.

"You going to pay for that or are you waiting for it to go out of fashion before you walk out of here?" Fay teased as she stepped forward to adjust the collar, smooth out the shoulders and gave it a critical once over. "I must say, it actually works for you. You are no Fred Astaire but it suits."

"Thanks." Paul preened. First complement of the evening. 

"So how you been Fay? We haven't seen you in ages. Is Dwayne still sulking in the shadows?" Marko asked as he shoved Paul toward the cash register at the front so that he and Fay could catch up.

"Dwayne? Nah, I have no idea where he is. Me, just the same old. You know how it is." Fay gave Marko a tired smile.

"Yeah but what is the same old? You look exhausted Fay." He said as he kept Paul within sight. He did not know how Fay would feel if Paul just simply walked out of the store leaving it missing an eighty dollar jacket.

"Well," Fay scratched absently at her neck, "things have been sort of hectic lately. With work and everything. I actually got an audition for a touring Broadway musical that's coming to LA soon. Can you believe it? I've been busting my butt trying to prepare a routine for it and then there are the dance classes and the community and other things...it's been interesting."

"An audition? That's killer news Fay! I never knew you were an actor." Marko gave her a congratulatory high-five. 

"No, I'm no actor. Do I look like one to you? With this hair? Nah, I dance Marko. And I can sort of sing...a little. So I figured why not take a shot at it? I won't get big time but at least it's something different. I really don't want to end up teaching ballet steps to a bunch of eight year olds for the rest of my life." 

"Do what for the rest of your life? What did I miss?" Paul appeared behind Fay and propped an arm on her shoulder. Fay had not heard him approach and jumped a mile which caused Paul to smile all the more for having startled her. Heh, scaredy-cat.

"Jesus Paul don't do that." Fay swatted at him with her manicured nails. But it was all in good fun.

"Fay's a dancer Paul. She's gonna take a shot at stardom in some big Broadway thing." Marko said as the three of them headed for the door.

"You dance?" Paul looked down at her with renewed interest.

"Not that kind of dancing Paul." Fay rolled her eyes as she pushed the door open and stepped outside.

"How did she know that?" Paul shot Marko a strange look.

"Know what?" Marko asked, half in/half out of the door.

"That I was imagining her pole dancing." He said slightly disturbed.

"Paul, man. Really? You are about as easy to read as a friggin' Playboy magazine. C'mon."

Marko stepped out of the shop. Paul stared after him and shrugged. Whatever.

"So boys, you doing something tonight other than shopping?" Fay asked when Paul finally joined them on the sidewalk.

"Well, there was this..." Marko started but Paul cut him off.

"There's this rockin' party down at the docks that's goin' on right now. Marko and I were just headin' over there. Why, you lookin' for a good time?"

Paul was on her right side while Marko took up position on her left, neatly sandwiching her between the two of them. Fay being five foot whatever because of all that hair looked rather small walking next to the guys. But it didn't seem to bother her. There were other ways of defying gravity besides hair and heels. 

"I'm always looking for a good time Paul. But what I'm really looking for is some good music." Fay purred quietly as she sidestepped Paul. When he looked behind to see where she had gone he found her walking on the wooden railing that ran the length of the pier.

"Whoa, careful girl. You fall and it's gonna hurt." Paul said, both eyebrows somewhere hidden in his bangs as he watched Fay pad past him with tiny precise cat-like steps without wavering once.

Fay flashed him a mischievous grin before she leapt up and over in a tight half-twist before she landed in front of them and bowed.

Marko gaped at what he had just witnessed. Paul just stared, not quite sure about what just happened.

"How...how did you do that?"

Marko asked as he looked to Paul and then back at Fay.

"When you wear point shoes every day for hours on end you learn how to walk on your toes. Balance is an essential part of dancing. Without it, you're a lame duck." She said simply as she threaded her arms through theirs.

"You sure you weren't raised in a circus? Because that wasn't dancing."

"Funny you should say that Paul. My grandmother, bless her, actually worked for Ringling Brothers back in the forties....she was a lion tamer."

"Hot damn grandma!"

Classic Paul response.

"That she was. You should see her outfits. They were something special. But why don't we go and check out this party first? If it's no good we'll just find another one. This is Santa Carla. There's always a party going on, no matter what time it is." Fay looked up at Paul and then at Marko with a raised eyebrow.

"What are we waitin' for then? Let's get outta here." Paul hooted and took the lead. The two friends looked at each other and gave themselves a mental high five. The night was young as so were they. Let the good times roll!

"So which of these crotch rockets are yours?" Fay asked when Paul led them to the spot where they had parked their bikes alongside a host of others.

"That would be your chariot right over there m'lady." Paul said as he gestured toward his motorcycle with a flourished wave of his hand.

"Tell me Marko, is Paul always this chivalrous?" Fay asked as she inspected the ride that was Paul's pride and joy before she carefully climbed onto the back of it with some misgiving. Paul swung his leg over the machine without a care, straddling it with pride, while Fay adjusted her seat so that she was as balanced as she could be. The bike wasn't designed to be a two-seater so Fay had no choice but to wedge herself as close to Paul as humanly possible.

"Chivalrous? Ha! He doesn't even know the meaning of the word." Marko cackled as he hopped onto his own bike and kicked it to life. Paul's bike responded with a throaty growl of its own. The two guys cackled like a pair of crones while Fay muttered under her breath.

"Men...typical."

Without any warning Paul pulled away from the curb and shot down the street, a little too fast to be legal. Fay squeaked in alarm as she dug in her nails and clung to him for dear life which was something Paul clearly enjoyed if the look in his eyes was anything to go by.

"You did that on purpose." Fay growled as she prodded him in the stomach with the sharp curve of a fingernail. Minutes later the three were long gone even before the dust had a chance to settle.