Dance...just dance

 Jared sure wish he'd brought some vodka. He didn't dance anymore. No way could he be as ridiculous as he was in middle school. His mom laughed at him back then. He sighed wondering what else he'd be doing if he came here every day?

Naturally, there was nothing retro about the playlist. His mom popped in a CD mix and the first tune was Seniorita by Shawn Mendes and his girlfriend. Of course, his mom reminded him that just stepping was involved. She stressed to make it simple. 

So there he was marching along to the song, but somehow the song made his shoulders sway and he moved his arms about. Thank god, nothing country came on. No way could he step to that. Country music was meant for the two-step and spinning. Besides, he might think of Bridget and start crying on impulse.

He shook the thought and stepped to the side. Then to the other side. Oh, he was stepping out little by little. Before he knew it he was making all sorts of freestyle stuff. Of course, everybody was doing their own thing. He wasn't sure why they needed him at all, but he went with it.

By the end some old woman who couldn't stand straight told him he had a nice ass.

Jared took a deep breath and thanked her. He couldn't wait to leave, but then again all that was waiting for him was to make pizza at Sal's bar.

"Are you tired?" Sal asked as he was going over the dough recipe with him.

"Yes, I am," Jared admitted, wondering if the Dr. Pepper he was sipping on would keep him awake tonight.

"Then you should sleep, my dear friend," Sal cracked a laugh and slapped his back.

Jared tensed. Jesus, he thought, these people were so needy. They didn't want to work at all.

Of course, Sal had his regulars to tend to who always wanted their favorite bourbon and coke or vodka and grapefruit juice.

"I didn't think you were supposed to have anybody in your establishment," Jared felt his body unwinding, thinking he might melt into the floor any minute.

"Oh, there aren't that many," Sal winced with a shrug. There was only a total of three at the counter. Most were like his best friends, or maybe he was just the doctor who listened to their daily problems.

Jared frowned. That could be him in a decade or so. Shit, he needed to figure out his life before it was too late. Meanwhile, he reached for a vodka and some grapefruit juice.