You're The One That I Want

I flip my phone down and, grinning like a loon, push it into my pocket; leaning back and running my hand through my messed hair. Well, grease it back and call me Danny... [i]they've given me the job[/i]! Not that I don't deserve it cos I bloody do. I'm knackered. Four months of auditions this has taken. Dance, music, vocals, even 50's ettiquette for God's sake. I actually spent three hours one Thursday afternoon learning how to comb my hair "with attitude". I was bored after ten minutes I swear. That's where all the rest of the training came in handy. Two of those three hours involved thirty odd thirty-somethings doing the hand-jive. Was bloody hilarious and made me even more sure how much I wanted this role.

I've done practically everything else there is to do. Well, by my estimation anyway. I started out when I was sixteen. I did a six-month stint in Corrie. Had a few fights, spiked a few drinks and pulled a fair few ugly faces to camera. Nice. Then I did the obligatory episodes of Casualty and The Bill. They were a bit more interesting. I spent hours in the make-up chair for each one, being made up really gory. And make-up girls are the cutest of people if you know what I mean.

Anyway, then I went into theatre. And that's where my passion was born. I learnt to play the guitar when I was fifteen, the piano a year later. People thought I wanted to be a musician, get my arse touring round the country y'know? But I didn't; not even when my mum and dad got me a drum-kit for my eighteenth. I was dead chuffed, but that's only cos I was born a show-off. My mum reckons I pretty much danced out her bloody womb - or at least she says it felt like that.

I've wanted to get on stage for as long as I can remember. Anything, everything. Serious theatre is great, finding real depth to a character, but musical theatre is where the real fun is. Singing, dancing - being paid to act a twat. The lights go up and there's you, smile on your face, being adored whatever you do. But like I say, I've tried everything. Mamma Mia, Tommy - I even did Mary Poppins for God's sake! That was a good couple of months.

I did the national tour of Chicago two years back and it was then that I felt like I'd made it. I mean, Billy Flynn... dream fuckin' role. Load of charisma about the guy and cool suits too. Getting out the stage door after each show was manic. I've never been asked for so many photos or autographs in my life. I really started working on my signature after that. I'm a lazy arse and it's never been anymore than a squiggle. But for all the compliments, I thought I'd better try. It was well weird, I mean, there was me on stage most nights, opposite Denise Van Outen & Jill Halfpenny (both bloody gorgeous and scarily good dancers!) and somehow, all the teenage girls came flocking to me...

There was this one lot, hen party... bride was some blonde called Diana, dressed up with the tiara, veil and L-plates, asked for a photo. She got one. Asked for a kiss, she got one. Then she shoved her hotel room key in my hand. [i]The actual key[/i]! Told me the hotel and everything. I was bloody scared, especially seeing as she hadn't seemed that drunk. Saw the funny side though. I've still got the key somewhere and sometimes I wonder if poor Diana ever got into her room that night! Or if her husband to be would ever have believed her if she'd told him she tried to pull some 1920's Death Row lawyer from Chicago!

But anyway, that was Chicago and this is Grease! [b]Grease![/b] My dream job. I always said the day I got to strut round a stage in a leather jacket, give out the gayest laugh ever and still being able to call myself "cool", there was nowhere else to go. I mean, I grew up obsessed with musicals and Grease is one of the best, stage or screen. John Travolta was the epitome of cool - how could I [b]not[/b] wanna be that man?

So yeah, I'm feeling pretty proud of myself right now. Being Dennis Rickman really isn't all that bad. I mean, my plans for today? I'm on the instruction to drag my arse up from this chair and leave the coffee shop... aka my second home; the mochas are to [i]die[/i] for and mosey down the street to the Riverbank Studios.

Lois, the casting agent from the production company told me they're putting the last of the "Sandys" through the final auditions today. The rest of the cast is already set to go, but the leads were apparantly a hard pick. And seeing as I've secured Danny, she thought it might be worth me "going down and casting your eye over your pick of leading ladies, Dennis. Between you and me, I reckon you've got a lot of sway with your director so-"

"I can take my pick?"

"I didn't say that!"

It'd sounded close enough to me. So here I go. Kim behind the reception desk just waved me through, less words than a smile. She's seen too much of me over these past couple of months I reckon.

I slide into the dance studio, blink against the lights and the way they leap off the mirrors. There are six women, three brunette and three blonde, all stood in pairs, wearing the dangerously high shoes of the time. Christ, I'm glad to be a bloke in this production. They're all stepping nervously from foot to foot as they shake their scripts.

Tim & Lorna, the vocals coaches are muttering to themselves at the front. They've both caught sight of me and smile, but the "Sandys" are too wrapped up in themselves to notice.

"Leah... Sharon... why don't we try it from "Mascara flows"? Sharon-" He nods towards the blonde. "You follow Leah's lead."

I smirk. Makes Sharon "Sandy" then don't it?

Leah's got a sweet voice. I could get used to it, but yeah... brunette. I don't fancy suffering three months of that kinda dye job!

[b]Mascara flows[/b]

I look up expectantly to Sharon. She's kept her eyes between Tim & Lorna and her script. God love her, she's shaking, shifting her weight. But as she joins Leah at the next line, God, I sit up and take notice. She's... I don't know what.... Sandy, I suppose.

[b](Mascara flows)
Right down my nose
(Right down my nose)
Because of the storm
(Because it's raining!)[/b]

Sharon flinches, suddenly feeling more confident as she realises such a confident delivery came from her mouth. I look over to Sonny, the choreographer and we exchanged stunned... blinks. There's nothing else we can give, too amazed, mouths gaping. We just have to keep watching her. For the undertone, Sharon's is definitely the stronger of the two and she's keeping my attention like no-one I've ever heard sing.

[b]I don't even have my corsage, oh gee
It fell down a sewer with my sister's ID![/b]

Leah takes up the verse once again and Sharon steps away from her, glancing anxiously at the script before forcing herself to look up into Tim & Lorna's eager faces as she delivers.

[b]It's raining on prom night
Oh what can I do?[/b]

[i]"Oh dear God, please let him feel the same way I'm feeling right now - make him wanna see me again!"[/i]

[b]It's raining from the skies
It's raining tears from my eyes
Over you[/b]

[i]"Let him know that I'm the only girl in the whole wide world for him and that someday, we'll make that special vow that'll bring us together forever and ever!"[/i]

[b]It's raining on prom night
Oh what can I do?[/b]

And as Sharon joins Leah again, you can tell whose show this is. She blows her out the water. Suddenly, poor Leah has become the undertone, maybe without even knowing it.

[b]Oh what can I do?
It's raining rain from the skies
It's raining tears from my eyes over you
Ooooh, raining.... raining on prom night...
Raining...[/b]

Sharon falls back on her heel as Tim, Lorna, Sonny and the other potentials behind her start applauding manically. In fact, she blushes as she hugs Leah and takes to staring at her script again, like she doesn't believe herself worthy. I grin. Up for the lead in a West End revival in the greatest musical on earth and she's still modest.

She's cute. Really cute.

Lifting myself away from the wall, I sidle over to Sonny, leaning over his shoulder and reading the clipboard he holds. He shields it, demanding;

"What d'you want Rickman?"

"I wanna know who she is..." I nod towards Sharon.

"What's it to you?"

"Well... she might just be my leading lady y'know mate!"

"You're in?"

"I bloody am!"

Whooping, Sonny pumps my hands. "Well done Dennis, knew you could! So you're here to pick and choose then right?"

Through the commotion we're making, they've all started to look and mutter. "Keep it down!" I laugh nervously through the side of my mouth. "Just tell me who she is..."

He shakes his head disbelievingly and flips a few pages, running his finger down. "Says here she's a TV actress or summat."

[i][b]"Name?!"[/b][/i]

"Sharon Watts..."

Nope, the name didn't ring a bell, and I couldn't understand why, because the more I looked at her, the more I was sure I knew her from somewhere. I guess it must just be the telly though. I mean, I ain't the kind of guy that sits at home, hunched forward like a geek ready to read names off as the credits roll. Besides, I can already tell I'd prefer to be in her company rather than be sat watching her on screen. 

She's incredible to watch. I've just been stood here against the wall, watching her go through the rest of her audition. She's professional and an impressive mover too, but she's got this kinda innocence about her that is just too cute for explanation. She gets nervous and she starts giggling, apologising to everyone as she gets flustered. But then she regains her composure and leaps right back in there. Not literally, but she's got the kinda enthusiasm I could get used to.

Sonny's crouched on the floor, flipping through the pages on his clipboard, giving me a weird look everytime he looks at me, looking at her. I dunno what it is about her exactly, but none of the other girls are holding my attention like she is. Sonny gets up, his empty coffee cup in his hand, ready to creep past and go grab a re-fill. But as he goes, he leans into me and whispers; "Tongue away Dennis, you're scaring the ladies!"

So I swipe at him with my hand and keep on watching. Sharon catches my eye one more time as she stands round, talking in a rush with the others as Tim & Lorne mutter between themselves. She looks pretty coy, like she's only just realised I've been stood here watching her the whole time. We exchange hesitant smiles and that's when I turn from the room as wordlessly as I entered, with a look of understanding in the direction of Tim & Lorne.

Time to see if, as the lead, I really do have any sway with my director eh? I want that woman on stage with me. She's obviously too good for TV. Pretty, talented, dedicated, and no need for a dodgy dye job likely to give me nightmares.

I dodge Sonny in the corridor, returning with his latest coffee.

"Don't want blondie's number then Dennis?"

I grin as I throw my weight against the entrance door, hoping to catch it and force it open before it slams shut on me. "If I needed your help, Sonny, I'd ask yeah?"

I turn my back, stepping out into the air as I take out my phone and scroll through the phone-book before stabbing at the key and lifting the handset to my ear.

"David Webb."

"David! Dennis Rickman!"

"Ah, Dennis, yes... congratulations are in order I believe?"

I grin, scratching at the nape of my neck. "They are. Thanks for that, I can't believe it. It's just... amazing-"

"It should be. You're costing us enough!"

"I'm worth it, I promise. Here, listen, Lois sent me down to Riverbank today, said I should look over the final Sandys..."

"I thought she might. Anyone catch your eye?"

"Er, yeah, actually. Name's Sharon Watts. TV actress apparantly. Blonde. Voice like..."

"Sandy Dumbrowski?"

I laugh. I've been trying to nab this role for four months but just the sound of poor Sandy's name and I crack up. It's so stupid!

"Yeah, I reckon. She can really dance too."

"I should hope she can. She is on the shortlist."

"Well, I think she deserves more than that. I think she should get the part."

It's David's turn to laugh then. Kindly. I know I haven't overstepped the mark; he'd have no problem telling me if I had, he's good like that, straight up.

"Oh do you now? Well news flash Dennis, chemistry isn't just going to be born just cos you like the way this woman works!"

"So give her a run-through. Just... a chance. C'mon David, you know she could do it, or else what's she still doing here eh?"

He sighs, apparantly recognising defeat. "You want me to pencil her in Dennis, I'll do it. But no-one, and I mean no-one is refused til we know that you and Sharon could work together, understood?"

"Yep." I nod.

"Cos if she can't stand you then we're onto a no-hoper here aren't we?"

"Cheers for that!" I laugh anxiously. "So what do we do now?"

"We do nothing. You turn your arse around and tell whoever's in there with the last of the girls right now that you need them to break. Send the rest of them home for the day. Bring Sharon to the theatre after lunch and we'll try a few scenes OK, take it from there? Actually, why don't you take Sharon out to lunch Dennis? Introduce yourself, get to know her a bit. I mean, I assume you intend to, seeing as you're in my ear recommending the woman as your opposite number no sooner than looking at her!"

"I get the message!"

"Good, now go."

"Yes, boss!" I say teasingly. If he could see me, I'd salute, just to take the piss. But as it is, I just hang up, put my phone away and turn back the way I came, deliberately entering the dance studio loudly, the doors crashing open.

"Tim? Lorne?"

"Dennis!" Lorna beams, waving me in.

"What can we do for you mate?"

I can feel the buzz of six voices muttering about me, six pairs of eyes following me across the room as I move up to the front and draw Tim & Lorne into a huddle around me, muttering; "I've told David I want Sharon..."

"Ah, good choice!" Tim assures me with a smile.

"I think so." I return with a nod. "He wants me to take her over to the theatre this afternoon, give her a run-through with a couple of scenes, see if she's up to it. But until we know that, I kinda need you to get rid of the others..."

Nodding in understanding, the two disband from around me and I step back against the wall, watching them work their magic. Lorna draws Sharon away under the pretext of the two of them poring over a script and discussing Sharon's timing. Lorna's hand is pressed into Sharon's to keep her by her side as Tim thanks the others and dismisses them for the day. They get up slowly, collecting bags and whatever and he casually herds them out, leaning around the door and watching them walk down the corridor.

Tim turns around when he sees fit and whispers; "They've gone."

Lorna laughs. "So why are you whispering?"

The pressure of Lorna's hand gone from her arm, Sharon steps back, her eyes surveying the emptied studio with questioning.

"They've gone? Oh right, well I'll get out your hair for the day then?"

She tries to turn and move across the floor to retrieve her bag but Lorna lunges for her arm and with an apologetic smile, draws her back.

"Er, not quite Sharon. See, there's someone here we'd like you to meet. Or rather, who'd like to meet you, isn't that right Dennis?"

I straighten up from the wall, giving out a small smile as I nod. "That's right."

"Sharon, meet one Danny Zuko... otherwise known as Dennis Rickman."

Silently, she splutters, eyes widening in surprise. "The Dennis Rickman? You're- You're playing Danny?"

"Looks that way." I tell her, letting my hands drop from my pockets.

Composing herself once again, Sharon steps forward, extending her hand. "Oh right well, congratulations. Sharon... Sharon Watts."

I just stare at her. For a long enough length of time to make her smile nervously. I know now. Being stood this close to her, finally able to take in every detail of her flawless face, I know where I know her from and it's not any TV show. So I press into her hand, stepping closer to her, bowing my head and kissing her cheek. She seems surprised, but I don't know why.

"Don't worry Sharon-" I tell her warmly, whispering against her ear. "-I know who you are..."

"I've not really done any "theatre" theatre, y'know? Panto's about as far as I go, which is pretty pathetic given that I'm nearly thirty-six, but it's good fun!"

I set down my fork, hoping I don't look as shocked as I feel. She's nearly thirty-six? Christ, no wonder she don't seem to remember me; how long has it been?

I've brought her down to Café de Fleur. Which she called "quaint" and I swear to God, I've never heard anyone call anything "quaint" in my whole life. The sun was still out so we went and grabbed a table on the balcony, with Sharon swooning over all the flowers spilling round the place. Me, I can't tell a daisy from a geranium, but as long as it ain't dead, I figure it must be doing OK.

Not so Sharon. She winces and leans round the side of the table, cursing under her breath.

"What?" I ask, leaning round in concern, trying to catch a look at what she's up to.

Flushing a little in embarrassment as she catches me looking at her, she rolls her eyes. "I forget to change my shoes again didn't I?"

"Sorry?"

"You ever tried walking across town in 50's heels Dennis?"

I purse my lips in mock thoughtfulness. "Not recently."

She humours me with a blast of that perfect giggle. "It's a killer. And not to mention a bitch because I've got a really comfy pair of trainers in the boot of my car but I keep leaving the studios without changing the bloody things." She yanks each shoe determinedly from each foot and I hear them drop heavily onto the floor, almost relieved for her. "I tell ya, since I started going through these auditions, I've really been playing up to being blonde."

"Being Sandy?" I tease, taking a sip of my wine. Get me for sophistication; sat in a French restuarant drinking wine.

Sharon smiles. "Not really. I kinda wanted to be Rizzo. More stamina, more of a bitch! But Sandy's better for two reasons. One, I'm selfish and want as much stage time as I can get-"

Smiling in spite of myself, I nod in approval. Least she's not trying to hide it!

"-and two..." She twists the ends of her hair around her finger. "She is blonde."

I hunch my shoulders. "Don't think that really matters does it? The hair-stylist on this production can do amazing things with horse hair!"

"Do you mind?" she gasps in horror, amongst another giggle. "I happen to keep horses."

"Ah. Scrap that then. You could always have dyed it!"

"Mmmm!" she groans in protest through a mouthful of wine, shaking her head. "No way, no how! There's only been one time I've ever had to dye my hair for a role. Bright red it was, gorgeous colour really... and it was just for a couple of episodes of Hotel Babylon, so I thought, where's the harm, it'll be out in a couple of washes right?"

"Wasn't it?"

"Oh yeah! Cos I had an allergic reaction to everything! The dye, everything they used on top to make it set, to wash it out. My scalp practically fell off I swear!"

"Shit... did you make it through the shoot?"

"Course I did. I'm a professional aren't I? It was just every time the director cut, I turned round and burst into tears with the pain!"

I can't help but laugh so try and mingle it with a bit of sympathy. "Awww!"

"Thanks!" Then she bites into her shimmering lips and toying with her fork, at last looks at me, hesitant. "Look, I don't wanna seem rude or anything, but what's this about?"

I have to admit I'm taken aback. "Sorry?"

"I don't know... lunch and everything. I mean, why me? Why not one of the others? Like, they all knew who you were months ago..."

"That what all the weird looks were for then?"

"Not... weird..." Sharon covers awkwardly. "Just... interested, y'know?"

"No. No, I don't."

"Well, you're the star right... we're the wannabes, clinging to your coat-tails..."

"Really?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Then I think you might have got the wrong show..."

"I don't know I've got anything, do I?" she throws back with a challenging look.

"I dunno. I saw your last audition today..."

Sharon groans, pressing her hands over her face and then reaching for her wine-glass and taking a deep sip. "Go on then, how bad was I?"

"Bad? You must be joking, you were bloody brilliant. At least I thought so."

Her features soften. "Really? Well, I guess that counts for something. Gonna hire me then?"

I bow my head, laughing softly as I let my fingers trail down the stem of my glass. "If it was up to me, then yeah, in a shot. But it ain't. So... David-"

"The director?"

"That's him. Wants you to come over to the theatre with me, go through a couple of scenes with the cast?"

"What, like a screen test?"

I nod. "Yeah, like a screen test. So... you gonna come or what?"

As the enormity of realisation hits her, she doesn't know whether to look stunned or thrilled or embarrassed. Somehow, she manages to look all three all at once as she brushes hair from her eyes. "Well... when?"

"Erm..." I pick at my salad. "...soon as we're finished here actually."

I almost jump out my skin at the sound of her fork clattering on top her plate. I look up in surprise as she scrapes her chair back, bent down as she pulls her hefty heels back on.

"I'm done!"

I just stare at her in awe. Earlier, she seemed so reserved. Polite, able to make conversations, but definitely guarded. And right now, she looks like an eight year old on Christmas morning. She's so excited and it's... God, this word is becoming a habit, so cute. So I can't help but smile and get up too, dropping a few twenties in the middle of the table and ushering her out so we can climb into my car and drive down to the theatre.

She's desperate to break into a run. I can tell by the way she's holding herself. I press into her shoulder to steady her and tell her; "If you go flying, I won't carry you..."

She stops and gives me a disbelieving look. But as the smirk creeps up onto my lips, she realises I'm taking the mick and shoves me playfully. "That's not funny!"

"Oh shit, Sally, I'm sorry, I missed again didn't I?"

I giggle apologetically as I squint at my script. God, I'm so nervous it's unreal. These are true wonders, a whole cast of West End stars, and me, I just can't get my hand to stop shaking. But Sally, God bless her, waves her hand dismissively and smiles to settle.

"No panic sugar, let's just go again eh?"

Sugar. Christ, she even sounds like a Rizzo. Bet she looks amazing in character too, cos I'm envious just looking at her in Betty Jackson jeans and a purple V-neck top. Even though the whole cast is stood round the stage in their everyday clothes, apparantly assembled for this run-through solely for my benefit, I still feel totally out of place, even in the 50's heels! I'm under-dressed somehow, not good enough.

Even David Webb turned up in jeans and there was still a floor show going on in my stomach like I was waiting to meet royalty. I've caught glimpses of him through the auditions, called him a few times to talk through my progress. He's always been so kind, assured me how well I'm doing, and yet now that him and few random people from the production team are sat in the stalls watching me, and seemingly only me with such interest, I feel like I'm failing everyone.

Fluffing lines, missing my cue, or worse, giggling.

Oh for God's sake Sharon, stop giggling. You're not a fuckin' school girl!

So I clear my throat, casting my eyes anxiously down to the script. I can't believe I actually need to do so much as that. No-one alive has seen this film more than I have, I know the bloody script word for words, backwards even! But as I stand there muttering to myself, Nick wanders off stage and calls my name.

"Here Sharon..." 

I look up expectantly, but I'm already too late, two pom-poms flying through the air towards me. I just manage to catch one, but because of my script occupying my other hand, the other slides down to the floor.

"Sorry. But you'll be needing them in a sec..." Smirking, he nods towards Dennis who just rolls his eyes and smiles at me.

Grinning, I turn towards Sally and the "Ladies" as they were introduced to me, who return the look and gesture a hard throw.

"Oh God-" I groan quietly, turning away to face Dennis once again. "-the cheerleading outfit. Oh God!"

The girls giggle sympathetically as the lads, assembled like a pack behind Dennis, bless them, give out a cheer that makes me blush and glare at them all at once.

My hands are shaking. Really shaking. It's pathetic but...

"I don't think I can do this..." I let my script drop heavily onto the floor. Dennis looks at me, unnerving me with the reasoning in his eyes. He steps forward and presses a hand into each of my shuddering shoulders, steadying me as my nerves weaken.

"Yes, you can."

"How do you know?" I demand with a weak laugh.

He tilts his head down to the pom-pom still abandoned on the floor. "Cos it's me that's gotta come up with the gayest laugh in existence and then take them in the face. Me that's likely to ingest some of the strands and choke."

My laugh is fuller then. Does he seriously think he's helping? "What, and you still want me to do it?"

"Course. I mean... you want the job right?"

"I think so..." I tell him weakly. 

He laughs it away. "I do too. So... prove it to the big guys eh?"

I can't help but smile and not even a nervous glance in David's direction can shift it as Dennis steps back, ready and waiting. 

I pull in several agitated breaths, shifting my weight from foot to foot as I straighten up, a pom-pom in each hand. And somehow, I'm already psyched, the adrenaline pulsing, crocodile tears ready in my eyes to tell of Sandy's frustration. After all, the newly-discovered boyfriend's an arse. Who the hell hasn't suffered that?

Recognising that I'm ready, Dennis lifts his head, moving arrogantly forward in a swagger that for some reason is really holding my attention. Just to prove his confidence (or to rub in the fact he actually has no full lines remaining in this scene!) he drops his script over mine on the stage, biting into his lip and waiting. Just waiting.

"You're a fake-"

Ooh, nicely done Sharon! Keep going...

"-and a phoney and I wish I'd never laid eyes on you!"

Having hissed out the last word, I hurl the pom-poms right at him. Not that they're hard to let go of, my palms so drenched with sweat. I turn around immediately, feeling like my ankle's about to give. I see out the corner of my eye that David stands up, raising his hands and thankfully calling time on the scene. I breath a sigh of relief, even if the knot of nerves in my stomach doesn't lessen.

"Sharon... would you like to go and grab yourself a coffee from up front?"

No, not really.

But all of a sudden, everyone seems on edge so I just nod. "Uh, yeah... OK."

But I don't manage a sip. I just sit in the foyer, holding the cup, barely noticing as it burns into my fingers. I have a really bad feeling about this. I mean, what am I doing out here when the rest of the confirmed cast are still in there? Oh God, maybe that's it. They're confirmed and I'm not, and David's listing all the reasons he's about to kick me out. I can't help but think of all the things I did wrong, everything I could have done better.

Oh God.

"Sharon?"

So immersed in my misery, so horribly sure of what's coming, I leap out my skin as Nick calls my name. He smiles apologetically as he registers my reaction and raises his palms cautiously as he comes closer. Why does his smile look so damn uneasy upon his lips?

"Fancy coming back in?"

"Why?" I raise suspiciously.

"Just... c'mon!" he returns, beckoning me.

Sighing heavily, I put down my cooling coffee cup and pull myself up from the chair, the feeling of dread intensifying with every step we take together back towards the stage door. Why are we going back onto the stage? What is this, some kind of public humiliation?

But as Nick pulls back the door, all that meets me is applause and cheering at a volume you'd just think I'd seen through a whole West End run to standing ovations every night. Except, this is the cast standing, me paralyzed, not knowing what to think or where to go. So Nick leads me in and all of them swamp me; grinning and hugging me, congratulating me.

What?

"Well done, sugar!" Sally beams, pulling me round to face the stalls and ultimately, David and his team. My throat's run dry.

"In case this mad lot here haven't made it obvious to you Sharon; we would love to welcome you to this production!"

As Sally squeezes my shoulders proudly, a cheer goes up around me strong enough to take me off my feet.

I've... I've got the job?

Almost involuntarily I scream in amazement, clamping my hand to my mouth as my tears pour down. "Oh my God, oh my God!" And I cling to Sally and she giggles as she holds me. But then she forces me to straighten up because Kacey is trying to force a jacket onto my shoulders. I twist and turn trying to get a better look, and then I realise... I'm wearing a Pink Ladies jacket!

The ten year old fan-girl in me has just achieved a huge, huge dream and died a happy death amongst the loveliest, craziest of people.

Tears pouring readily from my eyes, I whirl round and catch sight of Dennis... Dennis Rickman, huge star, sex symbol, my opposite number no less; leant calmly against the wall toking innocently on a cigarette as he observes the madness with an amused look on his face. He meets my eye and his smile widens, just a little. And he just nods, like he approves.

Someone truly believed in me....

"Put your money away, Sharon - this is your celebration!"

I flush, trying to protest as Bonnie reaches over and pulls down my bag so I have to stop rifling and let it drop to the floor. I still haven't gotten over the fact that she is Bonnie Langford. Bonnie Langford. The woman's a legend, and in herself so, so nice, she makes me want to start squealing. And I told Dennis I was professional. Yeah, right. 

I can't believe the names they've got in this show. Dirty Dancing's supposed to be becoming a stage musical, and yet Patrick Swayze's made himself unavailable. Patrick Swayze! I swear, I thought the rest of them were pulling my leg; after all, he hadn't been at the run-through. But he was waiting in the pub the rest of the cast dragged me to to celebrate and he definitely knew what we were doing there. This time, it was the twenty year old fan-girl in me that expired on the spot. I wore out my Dirty Dancing tape three weeks after I got it, I've watched it so much. Hell, if I hadn't have just gotten the role of Sandy, I'd be trying to find out where those auditions were. But I don't need to, cos Patrick Swayze is playing Kenickie!

Sally saw my face as Patrick had smiled and gotten up to say hello. She'd grinned and leant over to whisper; "Much as I love him, I seriously don't get how Rickman got the lead in this show when they coughed up for Patrick, know what I'm saying?"

I kinda did, but couldn't say as much because well, I couldn't say anything.

"The cute blonde!" Patrick nods as the lads laugh. "Wise choice lads!"

Oh God, am I blushing? Am I blushing? Patrick fuckin' Swayze just called me cute!

He extends his hand and I just stare down at it dumbly. I don't know what I'm supposed to do! Well obviously I do but I can't... can I?

Patrick just laughs, shaking his head and deciding against the whole gesture. In that next moment, I inwardly curse myself. But before I've even managed to do that, he's pulled me forward into a hug, kissing my cheek.

"Congratulations Sharon."

My stomach drops. He knows my name!

So, recap. I've been sat in a swanky wine-bar with twenty-five stars, each of them wanting to buy me drinks. How can they all be so lovely? I mean, look at them - I'm a no-one compared to them and yet they want me! Something's missing somewhere right? It has to be!

And yet, they're all so easy to be around. Aside from Dennis & Patrick, I've pretty much been getting to know all the others through the auditions. A lot of them are understudies anyway so would come in and run through scenes with us for the auditions.

I've been sat chatting (and constantly blushing I'm sure!) with Patrick and Sally for about twenty minutes, Nick pushing drinks into my hand and leaning over me to hand Richard a WKD. Richard Fleeshman, not even 18 yet, but hired to play Doody almost as soon as he got out his guitar. Between him and Dennis, they'll be pulling in the young girls that are gonna make the stage door a barrel of laughs every night. And Patrick, definitely there for my generation, I can tell ya.

And it's him that holds my attention until I hear someone murmur anxiously; "Could we... get a photo?"

My back stiffens with interest, looking over Patrick's head. Two, say... twenty year old girls, quite smartly dressed, black trousers, fitted jackets like they've been working in one of the posh office blocks up the road, are hovering nervously over Dennis. He just looks up at them, almost bewildered, but smiles and pulls himself up, stepping between them. The one with the auburn hair breaks off and happily takes the photo before swapping places with her friend and grinning all the more as Dennis slides his arm around her waist too.

The camera flashes and it takes a few seconds before she'll step away. "Thanks Dennis. We... We think you're amazing..."

He nods, but is so not arrogant. His smile's almost coy as they rush off, hardly able to contain themselves before they've left the bar. I smile to myself as he sits back down, bemused. I bet they didn't even buy a drink.

Patrick smiles as he turns back to me, having watched the whole episode too. "Woulda been me fifteen years ago."

I feel myself flush again. Cos I know I'd have done something like that.

"Don't little kids get into Dirty Dancing anymore?"

He smirks. "Not before they've done it themselves, y'know? It's this gig that gets all the new teen intake. In fact, I swear, I've seen four year olds in the jackets coming in to see this show - how the hell do they understand what they're watching?"

"They don't. S'all for the jackets!"

"Hmmm, I heard someone got pretty excited when they were given theirs!"

I giggle, knowing for sure that I'm blushing now! "Didn't wanna take it off I swear!"

Finding that my bottle is empty, I get up, insisting on getting Patrick a fresh one too and sneaking off to the bar to honour my intentions before anyone can spot me and tell me off!

"Same again, please!" I say warmly to the bartender, who everyone addressed as Chris. Looks like they've all been frequenting this place for a while.

And as I look round, I flinch in surprise at the sight of Dennis, an apparantly empty bottle swinging in his own hand, moving slowly towards me. I smile and he returns it. 

"Alright?"

I nod dumbly. I don't know why, but as he stands beside me, leaning over the bar to force his empty bottle into Chris' hand so he can dispose of it; the floor of my stomach is writhing with nerves - even though he's not chastising me.

"That was weird..."

"What was?"

"Random girls asking you for a photo in the middle of a pub. Does that- Does that happen a lot?"

He shrugs. "Fair bit, I suppose. No big deal though. Long as I don't find 'em camping outside my flat, it's fine. They want a photo, they can have one. Means something to the people paying £50 a throw to see you on stage then fine. What ain't fine is fuckin' photographers being so interested in me taking my rubbish out y'know? I've started doing it at three in the morning!"

I laugh softly and we stand there for about five heavy seconds Before Den turns in on his hip, facing me.

"You really don't have a clue who I am do you?"

I laugh nervously, throwing him an odd look as I tuck some of my hair behind my ear. What a bloody stupid question.

"Course I do. You're Dennis Rickman for God's sake. OK, sure... I didn't know you'd done TV at all, but yeah, everyone knows who you are."

He hunches his shoulders. "If you're talking my job then... maybe, I dunno. But that ain't what I'm talking about."

"It isn't?"

"No." Biting into his lip, Dennis sighs lightly. "We've met before."

"We have?"

He nods, deciding to come right out with it as he toys with his hands. "Couple of years ago, we..."

"Heads up guys!" 

I almost jump at Chris' address, three bottles clanking on the bar-top in front of us. My contact with Dennis broken, I shiver as I pull away mine and Patrick's bottles away from the cluster. Dennis has something new to take the attention of his hands, running them anxiously up and down the smooth, cool neck of the bottle.

"...we had... a thing-"

"A thing?" I question, mind reeling. Is he sure he's talking to the right person? "What, like... a chat, a drink?"

He smiles, but this time it feels more awkward. What's he talking about? He takes up his bottle, pushing off the lid with the uprise of his thumb and suddenly my dry throat thinks he's got the right idea. He takes a deep swig and says; "Bit more than that. No... from what I remember... we saw each other for a while..."

I choke on my own daring sip. "Sorry?" I gasp, trying to regulate my breath as I cough. "We... what... couple of days or something right? Couple of-"

"Months."

Seriously, he must have got the wrong person, right? Surely I'd remember... Dennis Rickman?!

Reading my stunned expression, a laugh, barely a whisper escapes the corner of his mouth as he takes in more steady sips of beer. "I wasn't expecting you to remember, it's alright. It's just... yeah.... we were together for three months. Least I think it was you-"

Yep, see, wrong person.

"-cos you never told me your real name, did you... Dee?"

Shit! Maybe not...

Praying to God Dennis didn't actually see me flinch, I bow my head, smiling nervously. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

Seconds slide by and silence in itself unnerves me. Does he believe me or not?

Then he smiles gently, his shoulder relaxing as he straightens up, sweeping up his beer bottle. "OK." He takes a light swig and moves past me. I lean heavily against the bar, trying to force in a breath as I clutch my own bottle. I blink slowly. Did that really just happen?

My mind reels. Because I do remember him. I just... never imagined it was him, y'know?

OK Sharon, don't panic, he's cool with it. Pick up the drinks and move on!

But, even as I steel myself, picking up the bottles and weaving through the throng back towards Patrick, the whole exchage just whirs madly in my head. Dee. How did she even come to exist? What was I thinking? I mean, I'm not into telling lies usually, but apparantly then they rolled right off my tongue.

Patrick's easy and mindless chatter makes me relax a little in spite of myself though which is good. I manage to smile in the right places, and even laugh. But as I lean eagerly foward to hear the punchline to his latest anecdote, I catch Dennis' eye, through the crowd of our now fellow colleagues. And suddenly, that knot that was in my stomach is back and feels tighter than I can bear.

And yet still all he does is smile, managing to continue with the conversation he's having with Bonnie & Sally all at once. It still feels like he was searching me out though, even if when he finds me, I don't seem to be all that important to him. But... I must have been right, I mean, three bloody months and I never once figured that it was him. But he knew. Is that what this has all been about? Because if it is, why is he being so damn easy-going and nice? Why can't he just demand answers? Not that I have the guts to give them to him but still!

"Sharon, you OK?"

"Wha'?" I answer distractedly, snapping my head round to face Patrick. Oh God, I've been staring at Dennis for ages, and he turned his attentions fully back on his conversation ages ago. "Oh I'm... fine, yeah. Just a bit... out of it y'know? Like I'm here, and... so are you and-"

I realise I'm gabbling and feel myself flush once again. Luckily, Patrick doesn't have to try and find any covering words, because my phone happens to spring into life from inside my bag under the table. That in itself only settles me for a second before a new kind of dread kicks in.

"Excuse me a second..." I grab my bag and pull myself up as I rifle for my phone.

Justin.

I accept the call, raising the handset to my ear, but I don't even get a chance to say hello.

"What are you doing in Jinx?"

"Having a drink, what do you think?" I turn round wildly, searching for him. If he knows I'm in here, then he must be within seeing distance. I really wish he wouldn't check up on me like this. He's supposed to be my boyfriend, not my keeper. He makes me scared to leave the house sometimes.

"Did you get the job then?"

"Yeah, I did. Baby, I meant to call but... your phone wasn't on and... they wanted to take me out for a drink, y'know... to celebrate?"

He ain't amused, sneering almost. "And what happens if I wanted to take you out to celebrate?"

"Just, please don't be like this."

"Like what?"

And at his tone, I know I've gone right over the mark and sigh apologetically, suddenly wishing I was anywhere but here. "I'm sorry. Look, just tell me where you are and we'll-"

But the line's dead. The bastard's hung up on me. Oh God, I am so for it! Tossing my phone back into my bag, I let it drop carelessly back to the floor, searching desperately for him. Is he on the street outside? In here somewhere?

I'm obviously drawing attention to myself cos Sally creeps over in concern with the other girls. I flinch as she reaches out to touch my arm, whirling round and feeling really foolish when I realise it's them.

"What's up sugar?"

"Nothing." I fudge, forcing a smile. "What makes you think anything's up?"

Sally rolls her eyes as the others bite pointedly into their lips.

"Whoever it was on the phone has got you right on edge Sharon, you look like you're about to do a runner!"

Distractedly, I keep searching over their words, my spine locking as I catch sight of Justin in the doorway. "Ummm, well, I kinda have to go..."

They each look horrified. "But this is your party, you can't abandon us!"

"I know and I'm sorry but... Justin!"

He's found me, moved through the crowds and the tables and stood behind Billie. There's a loose smile on his lips and my stomach writhes nervously because I don't know what it means. Is he alright or worse, am I in trouble?

My throat runs dry as all the girls turn round and come face to face with my man. They smile politely and thankfully a warmth takes his beautiful blue eyes. I might be OK for a while.

"Hey babe." he smiles, leaning past Billie to kiss me. "This is a private party or can anyone join in?"

I grab his hand, pulling him closer to me. "You're not anyone Just. Wanna meet some people?"

Just for a second, his lip seems to curl and my stomach drops.

"Can I get a drink first?"

No. No, baby, please don't.

"Y-Yeah. Yeah, course you can." I squeeze his hand and let it drop from mine as he steps back towards the bar.

The girls say nothing. I stand there, hunched like a naughty schoolgirl, hating the piteous looks coming my way. They're too nice to say anything to my face, but for God's sake, I haven't even known these people for one full afternoon; how the hell do they know what goes on in my life? And surely that's my business anyway?

Anti-social cow. Really, I thought she was lovely. Well, of course I did, I was sleeping with her for three months and she's gotta be a bit more than lovely for that. And I know it was her, whatever she says. Guess she's embarrassed to admit to lying. I'm pissed off she thought she had to, specially seeing as the dispshit boyfriend seems to have gotten her real name.

I don't think he deserves it either. I mean, sure, he had the chat, could plaster a smile on his face and be the right proper charmer when he wanted to be, which didn't really seem to be that often whilst he had a drink in his hand. He seemed to me to be forcing it out after a while. I mean, what works on a roomful of women most probably isn't gonna work on a man. He didn't even stay an hour, which meant Sharon disappeared from her own celebration, looking pretty sheepish.

Justin didn't seem to appreciate everyone crowding round Sharon to say goodbye. But it means something when you're more slipping away with someone causing you embarrassment rather than slipping away with someone cos you're, I dunno... involved? And I don't like how vulnerable the woman suddenly becomes when she's around him. This morning, in the studio, she was confident and sassy and that was how I remembered her. If I met her now, I wouldn't believe I knew her from anywhere. She tries not to show it, her smile and words ready on demand, but she's been totally on edge ever since Justin first went to the bar.

She's had one eye on him the entire time, but every time he realised that (when he wasn't by her side that was, and that in itself was never unless he was by the bar!) she'd look away, start talking to someone. Anyone, I observed, except me. It did occur to me that maybe Justin knew about me, but if Sharon herself is denying ever knowing me before today, how likely is it she's gonna have told Justin all about it? 

We kept to opposite sides of this place the whole time, and she could barely bring herself to smile at me. Maybe it wasn't just me. Cos you could really feel it. The atmosphere crashed around us all as soon as this guy came in. He made everyone nervous. Well, except me, he just pissed me off and drove me to drink almost as much as he did.

Well, not quite. Somehow, he was on his fifth pint by the time he decided it was time to drag Sharon home. And as everyone said goodbye, I kept my distance, thinking that if I so much as touched her, he'd flip, never mind knowing the rest of it.

We all stayed for another drink, exchanging worried looks and trying to work out how someone like Sharon really was so loyal to someone like Justin. But we couldn't come up with any reasons when we considered what we'd seen.

"It must be what we don't see." Nick shrugged, sipping his pint.

"Yeah-" Sally offered cautiously. "-maybe he's... good in the sack?"

"Sharon's not that shallow." I snapped, entirely unamused by the offer.

"I doubt he'd be much good at anything the state he was in." Billie said to Sally, smiling to soothe her pained look.

But it didn't help. Because we were all thinking that exact same thing.

"Did anyone take her number?"

Fuckwits we are, absolutely no-one had. We were cursing ourselves cos we were worried about her, and yet there was fuck all we could do, for the night at least.

And that in itself passed painfully. I couldn't sleep for wondering if she was OK. But I supposed, there couldn't be anything about this bloke she hadn't dealt with before. Not that that proved any comfort but still...

Waking up to morning light, I don't even check the clock. I get up, get in the shower, get dressed and grab my keys. Car or bike, car or bike? Unable to make the decision, I just get into the car, pressing my foot determinedly to the accelerator as soon as I'm out on the road. I turn the radio up loud, but it don't help the mania in my head. I drum my hands restlessly against the steering wheel as the twenty minute journey to Riverbank crawls by.

I don't really have a logical reason for turning up for work this early except the vain hope that Sharon will have escaped early and.... well, be OK. It's not... absurd being worried for someone it turns out I never actually knew anyway is it? It's just... that guy... he changed her and it weren't for the better. 

Swinging round into the car park, I catch a flash of blonde in my wing mirror. As a result, I pull off the shittest bit of parking ever known to a bay. Would have done better if I'd bought the bike, but I don't think I'm safe to ride the thing this early. Shit, I need a coffee.

I don't even like coffee.

But whatever. I rip off my seatbelt, tear out my key from the ignition and bash the radio into silence before kicking at the door and slamming it shut with the twist of my hip. Then I turn, leaning against the roof of my car, hands laced together, in the direction of the blonde flash, expecting to just come face to face with the amber light from a boullard or something. But I wasn't seeing things. Cos Sharon's pacing around her own car, hands wrapped in her hair in frustration. Justin slams the passenger door and glares at her.

"Well?" he demands.

"Oh for Christ's sake, Justin, it's just a job! A bloody good one! One I want to do if you can imagine that! What d'you want me to do, say no to thousands a week in the West End just so I can stay home and polish your fuckin' trophies?"

He glares at her, real venom is his eyes. He makes me wince and they don't even know I'm here as far as I know.

"Don't take the piss!"

"Alright, fine!" She tosses her keys at him and storms off. "You just piss off!"

And for a second, I can almost smile, daring to hope that the confident woman I saw in these studios yesterday has found her way back. But as Justin moves round and climbs furiously into the driver's seat and tears out of the car-park, she rushes past me and even above the screeching of tyres, I can hear her sniffling back tears. I move out round my car and reach for her arm.

"Sharon?"

She gasps and chokes frightfully all at once, needing to breathe but wasting her precious energy on producing the fat miserable tears that pour down her flushed face. Brushing them away hurriedly with her other hand, she forces a smile to her lips that I might have believed did I not know the truth.

"Morning Dennis." she says brightly.

I smile weakly. "You OK?"

"Course!" she shrugs nonchalantly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well..." And I glance pointedly in the direction of Justin's exit path, but she won't play ball, just waiting expectantly. And I kinda realise, I can't go meddling in her life. So I know her face, her body, so what? I have no place in her personal life and if this is how she needs to play it then fine. We just need to be able to work together. I'll just... be here is all.

When she realises I have nothing to say, she moves past me, murmuring; "Let's get going then eh?"

I follow her into the studio. She seems to relax almost immediately, like she's just entered a different world, can be someone else. Well, here's hoping eh? I want the woman from yesterday to come back, otherwise this show isn't gonna work and I know she can do it. She can. She turns around, smiling gently as she throws off her bag and jacket, giggling as she realises the mess such an exertion has left upon the floor. She throws me a look, but I just shrug, hardly caring. What's she expecting; that I'm gonna start telling her off?

"Coffee?" I offer.

Spinning around from the mirrored wall, she narrows her eyes in confusion.

"What?" I ask, not quite understanding this reaction.

"You don't drink coffee do you?"

I smirk, somehow not able to help it. I move a little way forward, stepping towards her, my hands stowed away in my pockets. "Uh huh... and just how would we know that, Sharon?"

I swear to God, she blushes. But the colour dies away almost immediately, like she's more embarrassed that it exists at all. "S-Sally told me."

I laugh, knowing she's fibbing. But hey, if she wants to run, then that's fine. We have got a three-month run ahead of us after all. "You sat round with Sal, talking about me?" I question doubtfully.

"Hey! A girl needs to know stuff about the guy whose pockets she's gonna be living in for the rest of the year."

Cute. But not true Sharon and you know it. You know it all already.

"Then why didn't you just ask me?"

"Alright then!" she says softly, apparantly accepting the challenge immediately. "How many sugars do you take?"

I smile, amused. "Two."

Sharon bows her head, nodding and leaves the room. It's amazing how quiet this whole studio sounds now, so I move over to the sound system, pulling up the well concealed cupboard door and fiddling with a few buttons so the speakers dotted around the ceiling come alive. Then I search for the backing CD, flipping it over and reading the track-listing, ticking off the tracks in my head that are gonna require my expertise. Really must get rehearsing some of these over again now everyone's set.

But having said that, maybe it's just too damn early. Maybe we just need to wake up a little first, Sharon and me, and actually wait for some of the less nocturnal cast members to appear.

So I flick on the radio, needing the background noise alone. I have absolutely no idea what I'm listening to, but I'm not throwing stuff at the wall, so we must be alright for now.

"There you go."

I whirl round, and there's Sharon, a steaming mug of tea in each hand.

"Sorry, did I scare ya?"

"No. No, you're alright." I take the mug she offers into my own hands and we both back up, slouching against the wall. Silence prevails, but as we both dare to break through, we dare all at once.

"So have you-?"

"So what are you-?"

Sharon giggles as she realises we're in a tangle of words. "Sorry." she murmurs again, as I smile apologetically. "You go."

"I was just wondering, what the hell are you doing here this early, you an insominiac too?"

"Oh yeah!" she agrees bitterly. "Er, weren't exactly much chance for sleeping last night."

"Eh?"

"Justin." God, her sigh is so heavy it's painful. "I swear, my bloody landlord's gonna chuck us out if the rows get any louder."

"We didn't go down very well then?"

"Honestly, I don't know what his problem is. I didn't mean to just disappear like that, I felt awful, after you'd all been- but he... he gets into states and it's not really good for him to be around people after that."

"Well, what about you?"

"Oh-" Sharon waves her hand dismissively. "-I've been with Justin for nearly six years, I know what I'm dealing with, it's fine."

I almost splutter on my mouthful of tea. Six years? So where the fuck did I fit into this?

"You alright?" she questions in concern.

"Fine." I assure her, gulping it down. "So... how long have you been living together?"

"Er, we're not... officially. He's kinda just moved his stuff in when I weren't looking y'know?"

"What, so he weren't invited?"

"Course he was. I mean, not in so many words, but... we're complicated. I'm sure you and your girlfriend-"

I shake my head immediately. "Not seeing anyone."

She blinks, surprised. "Really? I'm sure I read-"

I laugh. "If you believe what you read Sharon, then I've had it off with almost everyone in the industry. Heat magazine, they're my favourite. All bloody sweetness and light when they interview, but the articles that don't come from me do my head in. Last week, I was shagging Suranne Jones, week before that it was Katie Melua. I swear, you can't be seen talking to anyone that's anyone."

Sharon cocks her head in thought. "Good job you got lumbered with me then right?"

I click my tongue in my cheek. "Give it two days Sharon, we'll probably be engaged."

She bows her head and giggles into her tea. "I'm not taking any cheap rubbish!"

"Oooh, we've gone up in our estimations haven't we? Was all that sitting going doey-eyed at Patrick I reckon!"

Pulling the mug back, she gasps indignantly. "I was not going doey-eyed!"

"Oh, you were so swooning darlin', and you know it!"

"I was not- God, if I had have been, Justin woulda-"

But she trails off. Like, she freezes. She won't look at me either.

"Would have what, Sharon?" I press.

But she shakes my words away, bending her knees to set her mug down on the floor, stood against the wall. Then she straightens up, smiling like she said nothing. And that makes me all the more sure that it was definitely something. Or maybe I'm just being over-suspicious. Maybe it's just cos I don't like the bloke.

Or maybe it's cos it sounds like Sharon was sleeping with us both at the same time.

She pulls her script from her bag and rattles it at me as she smooths out the pages.

"Right, c'mon... some of us have scenes to rehearse..."

"Just because you gave me your ring doesn't mean we're gonna go all the-"

Nope, she's gone. Almost dropping her script as she leans forward, giggling. She catches the way I'm looking at her and she colours a little, but is more concerned with the disbelieving way she's shaking her head.

"I'm just not gonna get that line am I?"

I smile. "Yeah, you are. You already know it, you just can't say it!"

"That's cos the woman's a tit!"

The smile becomes more of a full burst of laughter. I can't help it. "So much for your dream role Sharon!"

"Awww, no, she is, bless her. It's just... I might have over-watched the film a bit, but Jesus Christ, how much encouragement does she need? Anyone else woulda just slept with him!"

I raise an eyebrow. "Right... in the car... in the middle of a drive-in movie?"

Sharon hunches her shoulders, smirking. "I woulda."

"Dream casting you then ain't ya?"

"Says the man being paid how many thousands to grope me on stage twice a day!"

Laughing quieter this time, the sound directed down at my own script as I feel myself start to colour also. "My agent would call that the "artist perks"."

"And am I right in assuming this agent would be a man?"

I nod. "Was last I knew!"

"Always comforting..."

Glancing at her with an anxious smile in place for a second, I look down again, trying to find our place on the page. 

But Sharon breaks the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

I look up expectantly.

"How d'you do it?"

I laugh nervously, not quite understanding the question. "Sorry?"

"The fame thing. You just seem so level headed and laid back about everything and I know I gave you all that "I'm a professional" stuff yesterday, but you more than anyone must know that's a bunch of clichés!"

"Yeah." I mumble awkwardly, scratching the nape of my neck. "Didn't really wanna say anything-"

She smiles, almost thankfully, but carries on speaking, so caught up in her words, it must be to her like I never spoke at all. "Now it's like, "Bloody hell Sharon, you got the job!" and I'm just... here with you, and Patrick and Bonnie, and it's like my bloody head's gonna explode!"

"Why?"

"See, that's what I can't work out. I have a horrible feeling I'm star-struck."

My laughter then is full and she flinches in panic, gaze on mine immediately, her shimmering eyes scanning my face for signs she's offended me. But she hasn't. Not at all. It's just... she's just listed me as someone that makes her "star-struck". She was hardly a girl I met at a stage door at any time. So it's all bollocks. Even if I was nothing, I know I was more to her than being a "star". It was nothing like that. And I like her, I really like her and even that in itself frustrates me, because she is so obviously trying to deny we ever had anything and she... she has to remember. Or has her fuckwit of a current boyfriend really screwed up her mind so much that she can't remember anything past him?

"I'm pathetic aren't I?"

"Piss off are you!" I scoff. "You went through what everyone else did to be cast and you nailed it. So you're not Elaine Paige or one of the Pussycat Dolls-"

"OK, now I know you slept with one of them! Sally told me you met 'em at the FHM awards or something..."

"Sharon, seriously, stop listening to what Sal tells you!"

She falls silent for a second, a little stunned. But she just continues to stare at me and then creases into giggles. "Sorry."

"It's alright... now can I please get on with bigging you up here?"

She nods. "Be my guest." Then she flips her hair over her shoulder, apparantly a little more composed and she waits expectantly, head cocked to the side. 

"Grease is gonna make you bigger than that, trust me!"

"Well, let's hope so eh? Because unlike the PCD, I do not lip-synch."

"Oh you'll be dying to once we've gotten through rehearsals darlin', be bored stiff of the score you will!"

She gasps, looking appalled. "No I won't! Grease is the best!"

"Alright." I bite thoughtfully into my lip. "Then how about I get you every bit of merchandise going on this tour, wrap it up and hand it to you for Christmas? I guarantee you'll throw it back at me - and I'm telling ya, I'm ducking when the coffee mug comes my way and I don't give a fuck who gets it in the face!"

Giggling still, Sharon tucks hair behind her ear and then bravely extends her hand. I step forward and press into it.

"Alright then Dennis, you've got a deal, as long as you teach me how to stop giggling at everything and everyone!"

"Ah, no can do! We've got the publicity shoot later on. Photographers love a giggler... make you look even more angelic and sweet and innocent-"

Tutting, Sharon rolls her eyes, knowing that in herself, these traits are probably the last she wants, although I reckon they'd probably go down pretty well with the bastard boyfriend.

"-though of course, the rest of us... we know different!"

"Morning guys!"

Dennis and I, settled happily on the floor with another cup of tea, poring over our scripts and throwing lines of dialogue back and forth, look up expectantly as Richard strides into the room, swinging his guitar from his back.

I blink. "Did you just lug that all the way here?"

"Nah. Everyone's gone to get coffees and whatever. Sally gave me a lift in."

That settles me a bit, and at that a whole train of horrible thoughts is set off. Richard's 18 sometime this month. 18! I'm old enough to be his mum and I'm playing one of his "classmates". I don't know whether to flush scarlet with the shame of it, or burst out laughing. But of course, the latter wins out. I have seriously gotta learn how to control this!

Dennis turns his head and gives me a look, although I think he might be halfway to understanding me anyway because his lips are curved into a smirk. "What?"

"I so can't do this job!"

Dennis just rolls his eyes and reaches for his tea. "We had this conversation."

I laugh. "I'm serious! I'm past it!"

He coughs indignantly, spluttering on his mouthful. "Excuse me?"

"Well, how old are you, Dennis?"

"Thirty one next month."

"Uh huh, and what's your age range on your CV?"

"Eighteen to forty I think. I honestly have no idea!"

I click my fingers triumphantly. "And that is cos no-one will have dared make you play anyone older than... thirty-four? Thirty five at a push?"

He shrugs and exchanges a worried and yet humoured look with Richard. I can tell they both think I've lost totally lost it!

I sigh in exasperation. "The point is, I'm closer to fifty than I am to eighteen these days!"

"Jesus, Rich, you reckon we should just kill her now and put her out her misery?"

Grinning, Richard shrugs. "Has she signed her contract yet?"

I nod feverishly. "Yesterday."

"Sharon darlin'..." Dennis muses, playing with his hands against his knees, bent up to a chest. "...tiny, tiny point-"

"Mmmm?"

"How old's Patrick?"

I smile weakly, realising that my childhood crush is old enough to be my dad. "Point taken."

Pulling himself up, Dennis steps over to me. "Give that guy a quiff and a tub of Olay-" I'm giggling again... "-and he looks about twenty! So, just shut up worrying and believe that this bloody team can make sure you've got the whole "sweet, innocent and virginal" thing going on by this afternoon. Which, by the way, photographers also love!"

"Pervs..."

"Awww, don't worry, I'll protect ya!"

"Hmmm, I bet you will!"

I turn away to the noise of what appears to be all of the principal cast spilling in a rush of chatter and calls for more sugar!

"'Eya you lot!" Nick calls. "Sonny not in yet?"

Dennis shrugs. "Your guess is as good as mine, mate. Been here too long!"

"Ah, bollocks to him then!" Billie declares, tossing away her little paper packet full of sugar as she leans out into the corridor towards the bin. "Oooh, morning Rich!"

"Hiya Billie."

Billie's eyes shine at the sight of his guitar. "Lorna called your rehearsal then?"

Richard strokes the wood. "Uh huh."

"D'you wanna give us a run-through?" I ask, quite curious. 

But Richard shakes his head immediately. "Er, no, you're alright..."

There's immediate uproar going through the entire cast. "Oh, c'mon!"

"You can't say that!"

"Wake us up a bit Rich!"

Bonnie's swinging her bag off her shoulder and leaving it next to mine against the wall and moving over to fiddle with the sound system anyway. I watch with a smile as a perfectly manicured nail sits expectantly over the play button and Richard, laughing to himself at our eagerness at such a stupid hour of the morning, gives in. We're a cast for God's sake, we're supposed to get involved.

"Alright! Alright!" And he gives Bonnie a look, tilting his head to the side and gesturing for her to come join the rest of us, cheering over with, settling ourselves like a class of five year olds (instead of largely falsified eighteen year olds!) on our knees on the floor.

"Right, uh, OK..." Richard strums a little and laughs nervously. "...imagine, big hair-"

"Does yours get any bigger Rich?"

"-cool jackets-"

An appreciative cry goes up.

"-and men in showers and scarily tiny towels!"

All of us girls are looking round, trying to catch another's eye as we smirk. I don't one of us here hasn't seen Grease on stage at least once and this scene is bloody memorable. (And stored on my phone somewhere from the second time I went!)

Richard hoiks up the guitar a little and begins playing, counting into his rhythm as his script dictates. Shit, I know this play too well!

C, C, C, C, C, C
A, A, A, A minor
F, F, F, F, F
G, G, G, G, G seven
C, C, C, C, C, C
A, A, A, A minor
F, F, F, F, F
G, G, G, G, G seven

And yet what sounded like nervousness as he counted away the notes melts away into the kind of voice, accentuated by that star smile, that makes everyone sit up and take notice. I'd heard of Richard Fleeshman before of course, heard him sing, but you can tell, just being sat here, that everyone, even the likes of Bonnie, someone who has been in the business for years, is in absolute awe. He's so young and yet totally into what he's doing.

Half of us can't help but start swaying gently along, even though us girls know that on stage, we have no place in this scene. This is one for the lads, but I'm not ashamed to admit I've been dying to hear this, and I adore the way he's swinging his hips as he gets lost in the words, holding onto his guitar.

What's that playing on the radio? Why do I start swaying to and fro?
I have never heard that song before - but if I don't hear it anymore...
It's still familiar to me, sends a thrill right through me
Cos those chords remind me of 
The night that I first fell in love with
Those magic changes
My heart arranges
A melody that's never the same
A melody that's calling your name and begs you please come back to me
Please return to me!
Don't go away again, I'll make them play again
The music I wanna hear as once again, you whisper in my ear

The rest of us take up what we know will be the T-Birds interjection, totally spell-bound by this one lad, smiling and tapping anxiously against our thighs as we sing out the notes in one great swell of willing voices. 

C! A! F! G!

And Richard's smiling wider than anyone as he carries on through us all, really holding every note. I'm bloody jealous.

Whoa, my darlin'... oh yeah

But of course, I let it pass me by, truly loving the feel of regressing into being a kid, sat there, still singing out. It's just as exhilirating being the audience, because Richard, just by the look on his face, feeds off being in front of people that can get swept away in what he offers. That's why I love the theatre so much. Reactions are so immediate. Laughter, smiles, and it's all here right now. We have a bloody good energy.

C, C, C, C, C, C
A, A, A, A minor
F, F, F, F, F
G, G, G, G, G seven
C, C, C, C, C, C
A, A, A, A minor
F, F, F, F, F
G, G, G, G, G seven

Richard side-steps with the next line and most of us push ourselves a little bit further up onto our knees, because we know what's coming upon the second. The great slide, which means he's not allowed to go flat on his face as he goes skidding across the stage or lose the height of his note. But he pulls it off flawlessly. I wonder how badly he must have worn down his mother's laminate trying to get that one, bless him. He's up in a spin and we can't help but drown out the rest of his verse with the applause and cheering. 

I'll be waiting by the radio and you'll come back to me someday I know
It's been so lonesome since our last goodbye but I'm singing as I cr-y-y-y-y
While the bass is sounding, while the drums are pounding
Beatings of my broken heart will rise to first place on the chart!
Oh, my heart arranges for all of those magic changes

He doesn't seem to mind though, what eighteen year old lad would? He just grins, slightly raising an eyebrow to encourage us all back into our interjection.

C, C, C, C, C, C
A, A, A, A minor
F, F, F, F, F
G, G, G, G, G seven
C, C, C, C, C, C
A, A, A, A minor
F, F, F, F, F
G, G, G, G, G seven

And he sings out over us, and we're all stunned. Thrilled kinda stunned. His voice is so bloody strong. I'm glad I haven't been put up for this yet, cos this kid, he's just worried me even more. I know every vocal is different and all that, but I swear he's put me to shame. Though of course, Dennis has to be something pretty special or he might have had some serious competition going on for the lead in this musical. And like the pathetic school-girl I have readily become and should hope to be for the stage, I get this stirring of excitement as it hits me again. I get to hear him sing every night. He's my leading man!

Richard is indeed something special, not even a shudder of hesitation in his delivery, more likely it's us, the walls that are shaking, but still, I think I got me the right guy...

Wow, oh whoa. Wow, oh whoa-whoa. Wow, oh whoa-whoa. Wow, oh whoa-whoa. 
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah
Ohhhh, Ohhhh, Ohhhh, Ohhhh, Whoa!

I turn my head, looking for him. I catch sight of him, sat on the other side of Nick, looking damn proud of the baby of the Birds. It's sweet. He meets my eye and laughs soundlessly. I let my gaze drop immediately, feeling myself colour as I grin. Composing myself, I straighten my back, and we, the newly assembled West End Cast of Grease, give one last burst in honour of Richard Fleeshman. 

La-la-La- la- doo doo wop!

And then, we're all in fits of laughter as we applaud him. God, I love my job.

"See?! What did I tell you?"

Sharon just rolls her eyes. "Alright! I'm hardly gonna get ID'ed in the pub am I?" 

I laugh, stepping around the girls, majorly happy and giggly now they've all had to get the Pink Ladies jackets back out. Nick went to grab the "Grease" for the lads from make-up and said they were all down there, squealing their heads off as Mandy from wardrobe brought them in. Sharon apparantly had a mini-sulk. The photographer has imposed a shooting order on us and he wanted Sandy "One" first. So the outfit got sent back while Sharon sat there without her own jacket, challenging everyone in the department to make her lose the eighteen-ish years so she might be 18 again.

And I have to say, I'm feeling proper smug, because Bonnie told me that not only had they done it, and bloody hell, she's right, they have, they didn't use hardly any make-up. Apparantly sweet and innocent works well on Sharon and they spent the most time playing with her hair, and even that was cos it's "such good condition, Nadine couldn't stop playing with it!"

If it wasn't for the yellow ribbon, tied in to hold up the middle section of her glossy hair as the rest hangs easily down, rest on her shoulders, then I'd say she could get away with being ID'ed every soddin' day if she wanted. But yeah, definitely the ribbon that gives away the fact that she's not. But that's not always gonna be there is it...?

"I dunno." I tell her smartly. "How about I take you out for a drink later and we find out?"

She sighs. "I'd love to, but I can't."

"Why?" I question, suspicion prickling.

But I don't need her to answer me. Because she doesn't, and that gives me every confirmation I need. She just smiles and moves past me, pulling me with her.

Jennie, the publicity manager, stops chattering with the photographer and rounds on the two of us with a smile. "Ah, my stars! Fantastic. Right, Dennis, I think you and Mr. Woods have met before?"

I smile, offering Woody my hand. "Yeah, we have. Guys & Dolls weren't it?"

"'01?"

"Yep, that was me."

"Brilliant, and you are?"

He turns expectantly to Sharon, who hunches her shoulders and offers her hand in my place. "Sharon Watts."

"Right, well... none of this Mr. Woods rubbish, it's Woody, alright?"

Sharon smiles. "Fine."

"I can't quite place the name Sharon... you done much theatre before?"

Jennie steps in. "This is Sharon's West End debut!"

"Oooh, new blood eh?"

Sharon giggles anxiously beside me, but the good thing about Woody is, he's a professional, he knows how to handle anyone in the spectrum. He gets to work straight away, adjusting the lighting, getting us in front of random backlights or scenery from the production. It starts off as us at opposite sides of the lens, like scene entrances or whatever. But when you're having to stare at the same person in exactly the same kind of way for a minute or more for the sake of angles, you start really fighting the urge to laugh.

I can tell by the way Sharon's looking at me, eyes narrowed in worry. But it's too late, I'm gone.

Woody sighs, stepping back with his arms folded like he might have expected as much from me.

"I'm sorry!" I manage, pulling myself together a few seconds later. "Nervous twitch."

"Hmmm. Well, I think I'm done anyway, so shift your arse over there. And Sharon, if I told you to put your arms round his neck, d'you reckon you could resist the urge to strangle him?"

Cocking her head to the side in what looks like serious thought, Sharon steps up to me and reaches, pressing her hands into my shoulders. "Hmmm..." But her lips give way to a smirk and she lets her arms slide as instructed around my neck, her hands pressed into the nape to draw me closer as I lock my arms around her waist.

Woody seems satisfied all at once and starts clicking.

"You sure you've never done this before? You definitely seem to know what you're doing!"

"No! I only started rehearsals this morning... taking my lead from the professional over here!" Sharon nods towards me and Woody rolls his eyes. It's a good job I like the man and respect what he does really, ain't it?

He twists his wrist. "Right you two, face each other and..."

We shift accordingly, well aware of what's coming. "Oh here we go... the deep and meaningful!"

I bow my head and wait for the clicking. It comes and so do the flashes, but there are many pauses. This is another one that's gonna be exhausted for angles. This is the one that's probably gonna be trying to sell the whole show. So, we can't blink, we can't move. We're just there.

"You alright?" I ask quietly, well aware that she's shaking in my hold.

She smiles, like I of course knew she would. "No!" she confesses, offering a small smile with it. "Bloody legs are like jelly..."

"You're not gonna faint or anything are you?"

She shakes her head certainly. "No, I'm not. Why, are you hoping?"

"Yeah!" I return with a warm sarcasm. "Never done the "damsel collapsing helplessly in my arms" before, I'd shove it on my CV and then go do a period drama for ITV!"

"You are a strange, strange human being, Dennis Rickman!"

"What, for wanting to do a period drama? It worked for Colin Firth didn't it? And what about you, you must have done one!"

She bites into her lip to suppress a giggle. "Nope. Boobs are too big."

I snort out a laugh that doesn't go unnoticed. Jennie looks disapproving, but I don't care. "What?"

"I'm not joking! Corsets are impossible. So much bloody cleavage coming out over the top, I daren't even open my mouth!"

And that's it. I'm gone. No longer holding her, I've had to turn away and smother my laughter with my hand, waving the other to excuse myself from what will no doubt be Jennie and Woody's objections.

"I'm sorry!" Sharon covers, having gone really red. "That time was my fault!"

Again, Woody rolls his eyes. "Doesn't matter. I think I'm done for this set. So Sharon, why don't you go off to change and I'll get started on some of the others while we're waiting?"

She nods and rushes off. I'm forced to pull myself together and laze around with the lads on bleachers, oozing cool in the jackets and greased up hair. And though I have no more laughing fits, my attention is still stolen away from the demands of the camera. Because with everyone milling around, cast, crew and a permitted randomers, there's one face here that don't fit. Skulking around.

I lean over to Patrick and ask for the time.

"Just gone twenty past three... why?"

I just smile and shake my head. Sharon was sent off at ten to and the girls have told me that curling Sharon's hair for the changeover takes about twenty-five minutes. She should be just about ready. Except, now I'm anxious.

Thankfully, Woody calls us off a few minutes later and focusses his attention on the girls. So no-one notices as I bugger off in the direction of where hair and make-up are functioning in this place through rehearsals. Except one person maybe. What the fuck does he think he's doing here anyway?

Knocking on the far end door, I slide in following a loud invitation of "Yeah?"

Nadine's still buzzing around Sharon's curls. I loiter behind her and Sharon catches sight of me in the mirror as she naughtily twists the latest set curl around her finger. "Not really me is it? Very Sandy though, what d'you reckon?"

And as Nadine steps back triumphantly, apparantly finished, Sharon pushes herself up from the chair. And if I could put into enough words as I need to to describe how good she looks in something as sleek and tight as her final costume, I'd be here til our final night at Christ.

"Amazing." I tell her honestly, and she beams.

"D'they want me back yet then?"

"Er, yeah, in a second. I just thought someone oughta tell you, Justin's out there."

It happens again. Just at the mention of him, everything that is Sharon dies. The enthusiasm, the warmth, the confidence. Everything. Her smile crashes from her face and she shudders, just once, but it so obviously involuntarily.

"Wh-What does he want?"

I shrug. "Hasn't spoken to anyone, he's just appeared."

"Oh. Right, well..." She tries forcing a smile, but it ain't working, not with me.

And I think she realises, because she moves quickly past me out into the corridor. I turn and race right after her. "Sharon!"

She keeps on going. But I can accelerate her pace in those shoes and pull on her arm. She whirls round, almost in accusation, a danger in her eyes and her arm raised from the elbow like she's ready to strike out at me. But then she realises it's me and the venom dies away into a crumpled look of apology as her arm flops down.

"Please Dennis, let go..."

"Why?" I demand, more determined to get an answer this time.

"Because I have to leave. I have to leave now!"

"Because of Justin?"

Obediently, I release her and she smiles gratefully but begins pacing in front of me. "He can't see you."

I humour her with a small smile. "Bit late. He's already seen me."

"No, you don't understand! He can't see you... touching me."

And at the panic in her eyes, I just about manage to laugh. "What? Sharon, we work together-"

"Alright, fine!" she snaps, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "Then he can't see me touching you, that any easier for you to understand?"

"No! What do you mean, touching?" Then I stop, just wondering. I don't think I really meant to say it aloud, but it comes out anyway. "Does he know that me and you-"

"I told you-" Sharon interrupts angrily, with an accusing thrust of her finger. "-you've got the wrong bloody person! Whoever you're looking for Dennis, it isn't me alright?"

Then why are you so damn angry, darlin' huh?

"Alright." I return slowly, nodding. "So we work together, so what? Sharon, I-"

But she shrugs off my approach, shrieking; "Don't! Just understand, he can't see you touching me!"

I feel pathetic. I'm messing everyone about. I loitered, trying so hard not to be seen, not by anyone, especially not by Justin, and I murmured in one of the assistant's ears that I'd just been sick and didn't feel able to continue. Which is rubbish and maybe we all know it. I'm no diva, I know I have no right to be calling the shots like this. I'm fucking lucky to have landed this job, surrounded by such a strong cast, and yet I bet it already sounds like I'm wimping out, not even able to get through one photo shoot.

But she turned round, took one look at me and decided that I was too pale. Ill. Except I'm not. I'm just scared and I can't let it be known. So I smile thankfully as the targeted assistant shuffles off to make my excuses - because I don't dare step out of the shadows. I turn away immediately, my chest tight with panic. I'm not gonna wait and be told it's OK to run. Because I need to go and that's the end of it.

As easy as it is in shoes as dangerous as these, I race back to my dressing room. And Dennis is stood there in the middle of the room, hands stuffed casually, accusingly, in his pockets.

"Do you mind?" I snap, throwing the force of my weight against the door to slam it shut without considering that I actually need him to walk through it and leave me alone first. "I'd quite like to get changed!"

"Why?" he challenges. "We've got a set to finish out there and you know it but- What are you running from?"

"What the hell is it to you?"

"Why don't you wanna see Justin?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but it's my perogative to not be able to stand the sight of him alright?"

"Yeah? Cos you know what Sharon, that ain't how it sounded to me! It sounds to me like he won't be able to stand the sight of you... you with anyone! I mean, for God's sake... this is work!"

I laugh bitterly as, realising he's not about to leave, I start savagely brushing through my hair to be rid of the carefully inputted curls. My hair's practically still hot so they drop obediently, allowing me to smooth it down. "I'd love to be as naive as you, Dennis, really I would! You don't know what he's like!"

"No, I don't. So c'mon, you tell me, what's he like? Why are you still there?"

I glare at him. "Because I love him!"

Dennis humours me with the weakest smile of disblieving. "Yeah? You love him so much you let him scare you out a room?"

Scoffing, I cry; "It's not like that. It's not. He'd... just get the wrong idea, that's all!"

"Jesus Christ..." he sighs, turning away for a moment. "...what's there to get the wrong idea about? We're gonna work together for a couple of months, that's all. Trawling through scripts and doing the same score to death! Chances are, we'll never see each other again!"

The words just come out, in a tumbling bitter whisper. They weren't meant to, they really weren't.

"That what you thought last time was it?"

And of course, he gives me a challenging look, trying to figure me out. I turn my head away immediately, feeling myself flush scarlet with embarrassment and shame.

"You tryin' to admit to something?"

"Like what?" I bristle coldly.

"Sounds like you were about to tell me!"

"Oh, for God's sake Dennis, leave me alone will ya?"

"Fine!" he concedes tiredly, shrugging. "But soon as Woody's gone, you know David's gonna want us on it. He's got Tim & Lorne in again later."

"Never bloody stops does it?"

"Well, you took the job darlin'... unless of course you'd rather go home?"

I throw him a tight and unamused smile as I stride across the room, forcing him out with my approach as I lean against the door. "I'd rather you kept out of my business! Got that? I'll see you later!"

Except later just wasn't late enough. I heard Justin went off in a right huff when someone, and God, I pity the poor person the job fell to, tried to calmly usher him off the premises. So whatever he did read into what he saw of me and Dennis during the shoot, I know it's gonna have gotten ten times worse by him being forced to leave. He's either gonna know it was me with my stupid nervousness that asked he be made to leave, or he's gonna assume Dennis wanted to keep me all to himself. Neither of us are gonna be popular with the man like, ever.

I wish I could be stronger. But I... I just wanna enjoy having this job. It's a dream, truly, and I did it for myself. I dared. I can't lose that now I might just have made it. Bring on the 12 hour days, the heavy make-up (or not as is Sandy's case!) and the poodle skirts, I can take it, so long as it keeps me away from home. I can really be me out here.

Except, when Tim & Lorne arrive, I realise it's not technically me they need. They need Sandy and they need her with the strength that I as Sharon, don't have. One of the stage hands calls me through and I realise that, in this anxious interlude, absolutely everyone's left the building for the night. Must have been one hell of an atmosphere I built up earlier, it's not even half five. Are they all so desperate to escape me as to give up on this show that early in the day?

Lorne catches sight of me loitering in the doorway of the studio. She rushes silently over, pushing a flimsy coffee cup into my hand which feels thankfully warm against my tremoring hands.

"Hey Sharon, looking good... love the jeans by the way!"

"Oh!" I blush, looking down instinctively. "Thanks!"

"No problem, you'll have to tell me where you got 'em later, but right now, just want you and Dennis to run through the opening number. The Sandy amalgamation? See how you blend and that?"

"Oh Lorne-" I groan desperately. "I've been smoking like a chimney back there... voice'll be shot!"

She just rolls her eyes and beckons me in. Dennis is leant lazily against the piano stood against the wall, score sheets in hand, muttering about ranges or something to Tim as they pore over the pages. I step up nervously, hardly able to smile as Dennis looks up and blinks, a little stunned to have even caught sight of me here. I just clear my throat, to cover awkwardness before it dare arise. I straighten up, forcing my heel heavily down on the floor.

"Right so obviously... you'll enter from the ends of the stage, Sharon, you over there and Dennis, you'll be just about... there, that's it. And Sharon, you know when to appear right?"

I nod. "Yeah."

I step back, aware that I'm gonna spend every night waiting in the wings for my cue to come steal this little piece. Just as well Dennis gets the chance to carry this in all its entirety cos I bet I'll screw it up for him. I seem to have a talent for that. And it's not just him either. Just... mainly. Poor bastard.

Not that he seems to feel that vibe. He's like me, gets totally lost in the music that places a demand on him. He is spell-binding, gives his heart and soul to everything and you can tell, even in it's apparant effortlessness. He turns and leaves his score sheet rested on top the piano as the first beat sounds and he begins to sing.  

Sandy
Can't you see I'm in misery?

As he turns back to face Tim, Lorne and their possible constructive criticisms, he catches my eye and looks right at me for the next line, which makes my stomach drop nervously. But he just smiles, shaking his head gently, like he's amused. Then he lifts his head high, confident and steady and I begin to shiver for a much more pleasant reason. Bloody hell, if I wasn't in this thing, I can promise ya I'd be one of those nuts that queues up at five in the morning at the box office determined to bag the best seats.

We made a start
Now we're apart - there's nothing left for me!
Love has flown, all alone - I sit

Just to be able to look in his eyes. There's such a passion there, about everything he's doing. And me, what I'm doing? Shirking perhaps the best opportunity of my life, messing those that matter to the success of this production around because I don't want to be around the man I chose. Something's seriously up in my life. But the beautiful thing is, right now, I don't have to care. About anything. Because I'm here, knees weak and bloody hell that took some admitting, lost in the one voice I've been told to embrace.

I wonder why-y-y-oh-why
You left me, oh Sandy!
Oh Sandy!

And yet, right upon the cue line, I'm certain my voice is going to shatter. Dennis is so damn strong in his own right and I'm terrified. Not even gonna hold out for thirty seconds song on stage by the feel of it. But I sneak another glance at him and realise it's not just in his words I have to take my cue. We're just the people up on the stage, everyone's gonna take you on face value. So I have to stand tall and confident. 

Sandy
Some day, when hi-igh school is done
Somehow, some way 
Our two worlds will be one

They tell you to find a focal point somewhere in the theatre and always come back to it when you get nervous. I'm slightly stuck there, because I can't take my eyes from Dennis, biting into his lip as he looks across at me, closing the distance between us in a casual side step as he waits to join me again.

In heaven, forever 
And ever, we will be
Oh please, say you'll stay

But of course, as characters, we're lost to our own turmoil, apparantly unaware of the other's presence. As Sharon and Dennis however, we're not doing a very good job of ignoring one another as we blend in this final serenade. I'm not quite sure what it is about him that relaxes me so much, but whatever it is, I like it. I like the way that every time we catch each other's eye, there's a flicker of a smile in the corner of his mouth, that I'm fighting this urge to giggle.

Oh Sandy (Oh Danny)
Oh Sandy (Oh Danny)
Oh Sandy
Oh Danny!

All sung out however, such urges dissolve into an exchange of relieved grins

"Brilliant guys!" Lorne beams, pulling himself up with a groan from the floor. "Perfect!"

"Yeah!" Tim agrees with a certain nod, waving his mountains of paper dismissively. "Why don't you piss off to the pub like everyone else?"

They don't wait for a reply of any sort, say their goodbyes and leave the studio, presumably for the night. Which leaves me and Dennis stood there. And my stomach's writhing with nerves as I consider what waits for me if I can't drag this out any longer. But Dennis, with one request, cautiously laid out, offers himself up as my saviour, whether or not he knows it.

"So what d'you reckon Sharon?" he asks, hands stuffed in his pockets as he glances at the floor. "Can I take you for that drink or not?" 

I'll admit, I was pretty surprised when she agreed, without hesitation even though it showed in her face. I deliberately bypassed Jinx, knowing that if things got edgy or the bastard boyfriend came looking, thinking she was out past bedtime, then he'd know exactly where to come to drag her off and I weren't having that. Sharon's her own person, she should get a chance to be her once in a while. I asked her if she was up for a wander, and she just nodded, following me out, murmuring that she was thankful she'd remembered to change her shoes this time around!

I'd just smiled and we'd walked, talking idly about how we thought the rehearsals were going. Then Sharon slowed up and threw me a quizzical look. 

"What?" I'd asked her, laughing nervously. But she didn't say anything, shaking her head to dismiss my anxious curiousity.

But as she'd walked on, about a pace ahead of me, I watched her shiver. I levelled with her, pressing my hand into her shoulder. "Hey, are you alright... cold?"

"It's August, Dennis, why would I be... yeah, I am a bit."

And she blushes, like she's embarrassed to admit it. But at least she has! I swing off my jacket and hook it over her shoulders. She tries to shrug it off, but I don't let her go.

"Take it. I don't need it, do I?"

Her lips flicker, ready to give more argument, but she can see in my face that it's fruitless, so she relents and simply says; "Thanks Dennis."

I shrug. "Suits you."

"Mmmm." Sharon ponders, sliding her arms in and pulling it around her form. "Smells good too, what's on it?"

"My auntie Shelia's impeccable taste in Christmas presents!"

"I'm impressed. I thought aunties just gave out scratchy jumpers you'd never be seen dead in?"

"Then you don't know the Rickmans. Classy lot, or so I'm told. Nah, my auntie Shelia, she works on one of the glossies, full power career woman y'know?"

"I've heard of 'em, just never got a chance to be one of 'em!"

"Oh, I dunno. You're doing alright for yourself at the moment!"

"Am I?" she raises doubtfully. "Can't even get through my first whole day without my bloody boyfriend turning up and kicking off!"

"Well-" I begin awkwardly, wanting to reassure her without really knowing how. "-he didn't exactly "kick off", he was alright really, just a bit moody, y'know?"

"Yeah? Well that's not what I heard. And anyway, you don't know what "a bit moody" means when it comes to Justin." She flinches almost as soon as the words are out of her mouth and she rounds on me immediately. "Forget I said that." She sighs heavily and then adds; "In fact, don't let me mention him again tonight alright, otherwise the whole working relationship we're supposed to be building is gonna be shot to pieces before we've even started!"

I just look at her, taking in her words. She's so much more when she's away from him. She doesn't even wanna talk about him, because she's a better person without him. Can see in her eyes she don't care to see it though. She's only saying it cos she thinks she needs to. She doesn't mean it and at some point tonight, she'll go back to him and... what does "a bit moody" mean? What's gonna happen to her?

Oh Rickman, shut up! I scold myself as I usher her into the anonymous pub on the corner. Ship & Castle it's called, so damn normal, it's fantastic and the total opposite of Jinx, where they rely on the flow of famous faces passing through their door. Here, no-one could give a toss which is just great and makes you more willing to be open as a person. I've been hiding out here through most of the auditions and workshops and it hasn't let me down yet.

Sharon peels off my jacket and tries to hand it back to me. I refuse and instead ask what she's drinking. White wine spritzer, and I take it upon myself to make sure she gets a large one, smiling as I catch sight of her abandoning her bag beneath the table and getting up to go and drop my jacket over the stool opposite. I come back, a glass in each hand and skillfully straddle the stool as I set the glasses down.

"There you go..."

"Thanks Dennis, I really appreciate this..."

"It's just a drink!" I shrug as I settle on top of my jacket. "S'nothing."

"Well, still... I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" I echo, perplexed. "What for?"

Her eyes widen in disbelief. She starts toying with a beer mat, shaking her head slowly, like she doesn't believe I can't already know.

"Just... the way I've been. Snappy... I mean, the shoot... I feel like I'm messing everyone about and I swear, that's not what I want - especially not for you. You're the star, you deserve better than me, biting your head off and screwing up the whole thing. It's just... Justin-"

"Ah!" I cry triumphantly, raising my glass to my lips as I stare pointedly at her. "You told me not to let you mention him again!"

She laughs gently, like it's in spite of herself, tucking hair behind her ear. She seems resigned to her self-imposed rule, but I feel like an idiot for saying anything. It's obvious she wants to talk and I should be listening, not cutting her off.

"Look... I didn't mean that. If you wanna talk about him then, that's fine."

"No it's not. Rules are rules after all and you must be pretty bored of me by now."

"No." I return certainly. "You're pretty intriguing actually..."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, that's the bit I haven't worked out yet. You just are. I mean, without certain distractions, you're so into this role, I can't believe it... never known anyone so passionate..."

"I told you... there's nothing better out there. Except maybe Chicago, in which by the way, you were an absolute revealation!"

"You saw me in Chicago?"

Sharon leans back, smiling coyly as she cradles her glass. "Half the country saw you in Chicago, Dennis - and came back again!"

"They did?"

"Well yeah! Me and my girlfriends went three times! Jill Halfpenny, I met her after the second time and she was lovely, course you knew that, but I was just like "Wow, I wanna do what she does!" No way did "jobbing actress" cut it after seeing a show like that!"

"Oh yeah, I get it!" I laugh teasingly. "You nabbed Jill for a bit of gushing and didn't think to wait around for me?"

"Didn't dare. Natalie woulda fainted coming within ten feet of ya. She hated me enough when I told her you were playing Danny, I think I've been disowned for getting the part y'know!"

"We'll chuck her some passes, she'll be fine!"

"I'm being serious y'know - she'd faint! We went to see Jason Donovan in Joseph and His Amazing Tehnicolour Dreamcoat right, waited at the stage door and as soon as Jason walked out, she was on the floor."

I'm fighting the urge to laugh. "You are joking aren't you?" 

Sharon shakes her head desperately, covering her face with her hand as she giggles. "It was so embarrassing! What was worse was that Jason was really concerned about her, he stayed until she came round. And when the silly cow did, he was the first thing she saw and she thought she'd died. Literally, she asked if she was in Heaven!"

"She sounds... interesting!"

"Oh yeah, that's our Nat alright."

"I've got no problem with meeting her y'know."

"You already have."

"Eh?"

"Guys & Dolls. She practically blew a month's wages on going to see that! Now, I never did. I've seen it, but I'm not as partial to "stalking" as Nat. She went ten times I think, met you about 7, so that begs the question Dennis, where were you for the other three times?"

"In the pub probably."

Sharon glances round with a giggle as she takes a sip. "I'd never have guessed." I just grin and as she puts down her glass, she looks up and says; "I wouldn't mind being in Guys & Dolls y'know!"

"Not surprised. It's a right laugh... toured with Bonnie for a bit. Love that woman."

"She was Miss Adelaide, wasn't she? She your Doll?"

"Nope."

"No? Who'd you play then?"

I roll my eyes, certain she must be teasing me. "Sky! Wouldn't have settled for anything less either, he's great!"

"Ah, Sky Masterson! I remember! Denounces the worth of all Dolls and then marries the missionary a couple of days later! Yeah, class act! Love the score though, bet you were amazing."

"Well your mate musta thought so!"

"Maybe I shoulda gone with her a couple of times eh?"

I nod. "Maybe you should. You'd have made a great Sarah y'know."

Sharon just rolls her eyes. "Shut up. I haven't even gotten through one day of Sandy yet!"

"Yeah I know. But I can just imagine being stood at the side of the stage during Havana, watching you pissed up on the bar!"

"Havana..." she muses thoughtfully before her eyes sparkle knowingly. "My God Dennis, can you actually dance like that?"

"Course I can! Honestly, wasn't your mate paying any attention?"

She laughs softly, sounding awestruck as she murmurs; "I'm so jealous..."

"Well, don't be... I'll put you through your paces if you want; we'll be heading the next revival before you know it!"

Taking a deep breath to suppress the lastest wave of giggles, I let go of my glass and push myself up. Dennis presses his hands into the stool and rises too, pulling his jacket up as he goes.

"Sure you don't want another?"

Swinging my bag onto my shoulder, I ease open the zip to begin rifling for my phone, switching it on and waiting anxiously. "I'd like to-"

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

23 missed calls, 11 texts and 8 voicemails. And I don't for a second consider myself that popular. I've been with Dennis for four hours, it's barely half past nine and it's still light outside. I bite back a defeated sigh.

Dennis just stares at my phone, smiling knowingly. "-but Justin wants you back right?"

"Yeah. I best go, I'm supposed to be squaring a shopping spree with him tonight - Sal and the girls wanna go down Oxford Street tomorrow. If I don't make it back before then... well, he'll probably stop my pocket money or something!" Then I catch the way he's looking at me as I laugh. "Dennis, I'm joking. He's not that bad!"

"Really?"

"Really! He just... likes to know where I am, that's all."

Dennis' shoulders slope back as he straightens up defiantly. "He shouldn't need to. You're your own person, Sharon."

"Well... yeah..." I agree in an awkward mumble. "...but I'm Justin's girlfriend too..."

"So? Don't mean he owns you. Go shopping for God's sake - blow every penny he's got and tell him to deal with it!"

I laugh gently, daringly amused by the whole idea of doing just that. "I would but... Justin and me... we've got pretty different tastes y'know? He wouldn't appreciate me taking his money to waste on... stuff he don't approve of, y'know?"

Dennis just looks at me quizzically, holding back a nervous laugh as he tries to understand it. "Like what? Clothes, shoes and handbags? So what? It's not like he's gotta wear 'em! Buy whatever and bloody well flaunt it!"

"But..."

He just shakes his head, dismissing my latest protest as we head towards the door. He holds it open and lets me pass, stepping out beside me on the pavement.

"D'you want my jacket back?"

I giggle nervously, feeling pathetic. It's summer for God's sake, it's warm, and yet I'm stood here shivering. Justin would only say it was because I'd gone out in next to nothing. No, that's not what he'd say. He'd say I looked like a tart, which is fine when I don't leave the flat, but as soon as I step foot outside the house - I'm giving everyone the come-on. I hate to think what he's gonna say when I tell him where I've been all this time with my phone switched off. Maybe that was a mistake. Felt pretty daring when I did it, but I just thought... it'd be nice to talk to someone without my phone going off every ten seconds. Dennis deserves better than that - he's gonna have to tolerate me for months as it is. 

I suppose I could lie... say I was out with the girls. But I'm rubbish at lying and what's worse is that Justin knows it.

"D'you mind?"

Dennis doesn't answer, just pulls off his jacket and returns it to my shoulders. I shudder gratefully into his warmth.

"Thanks."

He shrugs with a smile. "Right, we heading back to the studios, want a lift home?"

"My car's parked right next to yours, Dennis-"

"Right...."

"-and we've both been drinking."

"Fair point." And he pulls his phone out the back pocket of his jeans. "Shall I call us a cab?"

"Uh... look, I don't mean to be rude, but d'you mind if we don't? I don't think Justin-"

I flinch as I realise I've gone straight back to him. How does this happen all the bloody time? What about being just Sharon? Independent, individual person, who can drink with who she likes for as long as she likes and wear whatever she likes with it? It's probably just the drink talking, but I suddenly feel stronger. Like I might really be able to stand up to Justin, just once. I mean, I hate going behind his back, so why not just be honest? I'm not about to go doing anything that threatens him and me am I? I just wanna go shopping with a few new friends, that's all.

"Oh yeah, course. Sorry."

I shake my head, not wanting to hear Dennis' apologies. "Look, I need to go grab some stuff from my car anyway, so let's just head back and then we'll sort it all out yeah?"

He nods and we walk the rest of the way, not really speaking at all. I feel edgy, but relaxed all at once, if that makes any kind of drunken sense. We're not talking, maybe not needing to, or maybe without the words, the inspiration to start. But we keep catching one another's eye and smiling. It's awkward, but it's not. He's such a nice guy and he's got the cutest smile ever.

The studio car park is deserted apart from mine and Dennis' cars, side by side. Makes me smile for some reason. Keys finally in hand, I unlock the car and pull open the door, leaning in to pull my black cardigan up off the backseat. I slam the door shut and straighten up, smiling at Dennis as he leans against my car, his foot bent up lazily behind him and pressed into my backlight. Cheeky bastard.

I lean into the passenger side and yank my CD from the player, rifling in the glove compartment for the case. Holding that in the same hand as my jacket, I nudge the door shut with my elbow and lock up again before moving round to stand by Dennis. As he sees me coming, he lowers his foot, but I giggle and shake my head, letting him know it's fine.

"Here..." I say, shrugging off his jacket.

"You gonna be alright without it?"

I wave my cardigan at him, pulling it on and fastening the middle hook. "Fine! See?"

He nods approvingly and I grin; turning round and balancing my bag on the roof of the car as I rifle again for my phone, withdrawing it triumphantly, I swing my bag back onto my shoulder and scroll through the phone book, lifting the handset to my ear.

"Hiya... can I get a cab from the Riverbank Studios to Marsden Drive please? Five minutes? Fantastic thanks... yeah, I'm Watts. Thanks a lot, bye!"

I slide the phone back into my pocket and stand, turning the CD case over in my hands.

Distracted by the tapping, Dennis peers over and asks; "What's that?"

"Oh! Bon Jovi CD... mine, I hasten to add. Hapless fangirl over here!"

"Yeah? I'm pretty into them an' all; what album's that?"

"Have A Nice Day." I tell him, tilting it so he can see the cover art.

"Oh yeah, I saw them on that tour! Fucking incredible's an understatement?"

"Did you? Me too! Best £300 I ever spent. Spent the whole night screaming my head off, I wasn't that far from the front and... oh my God! It was amazing!"

Dennis laughs. "Yeah, I think I remember hearing you!"

"Oh shut up, you couldn't hear nothing in there - not apart from Jon anyway. I couldn't speak for a week after that gig... had huge blisters on my hands as well, but it was so worth it! I'd go again like that-" 

I click my fingers and Dennis grins. "Yeah? We should go next time they're around!"

"Oh my God, definitely!"

"Great! Except now I've said that, they'll probably pitch up in Hyde Park or somewhere in November when we've both gotta be on stage for another month!"

"Oh sod that!" I scoff dismissively, laughing. "This is Bon Jovi - we're off!"

Grinning, Dennis glances down at the floor, scuffing the toe of his shoe in the gravel. "It's a date then!"

"You bloody bet it is - soon as we've got one anyway!"

My phone trills, shattering the fallen silence.

"Oooh!" I withdraw it from my pocket and recognising the number of the cab firm I just rang. "Cab musta just turned in."

"Oh right... OK."

I straighten up, turning to face him. He just looks at me, a smile curving his lips and I wish there were words in my mouth to speak. But they're aren't. Until, feeling my phone weighing down my palm, a mad thought enters my head and I let it tumble out my mouth before it dares to die away.

"Am I alright to nab your number?"

Shivering self-consciously, I wait for a knock back. But it don't come. 

"Course."

I sag with relief, grinning as I watch him pull out his phone.

"Stupid really, I've had the same number for nearly ten years and I still don't bloody know it. Ah, there it is. Ready?"

"Shoot..."

"07-843-610-25-8."

I tap it in as the digits come. But as I press Save a message pops up.

Contact already exists. Overwrite Dennis?

He's never changed his number? I've never gotten rid of it? Wow.

"Sharon, are you alright, d'you want it again?"

Pulling myself together, I shake my head, smiling as I click my phone shut. "Nope, all done."

As I turn, a cab swerves into the car park, pulling up in front of us.

"This is me, then."

"Yeah... well, I'm gonna piss off to the tube."

My eyes widen. "You're getting on the tube?"

"Yeah! It's the only way to travel! Honestly Sharon, you don't need to look so surprised. I'm not actually John Travolta, I'm not gonna get mobbed."

I purse my lips thoughtfully. "You can't be too careful. You never know how many Natalies there are in this world."

He smirks, rifling in his pocket. "Well, that'd be what my extensive collection of caps are for!"

I nod approvingly. "Nicely done."

Then he moves round and pulls open the door, leaning against it as he waits for me to step up and climb in. But I pause, tucking hair behind my ear as I look at him.

"Thanks for tonight, Dennis. I had a good time."

"Me too."

"I'll be better in the morning, I promise."

"Yeah? Well, then maybe we can do this again."

"Yeah! Yeah, I'd like that." And I stretch up, kissing his cheek and giggling gently at the way he didn't seem to expect it. "Night then." I whisper as I bow my head and climb into the passenger seat.

He closes the door firmly after me, smiling. "Night."  

It's nine thirty and Sharon's still not here. I'm starting to worry about her. No-one else seems that fussed, but I have a horrible feeling I must have packed her off to a load of aggro from Justin as soon as she got home last night. And the trouble is that no-one else knows it. David isn't that bothered either, working the scenes around her absence. Nick & Kacey have had Lorne and Sonny going through their duet, but me, I've just been pacing in the wings, not able to take in anything on my script, just... worrying.

"Sal!" I gabble, reaching to grab her arm as she sails past me, muttering lines to herself. She blinks expectantly as she recovers from the shock of my interruption. "Why haven't heard from Sharon this morning have you?"

"Nope. But she best show up, I'm really looking forward to testing that girl's stamina down Oxford Street later. You don't know how many store cards she's got do you?"

I throw her an odd look and she just rolls her eyes. 

"Damn, that's what I thought! Never mind." Then she pauses, biting thoughtfully into her lip. "You worrying about her, sugar?"

I cast my eyes down, mumbling; "Might be."

She nods knowingly and I hate that I've most probably made her suspicious as Hell. "Try giving her a ring eh? Hurrying her up?"

I nod, moving out of the wings and heading backstage as I yank my phone out of my pocket. I scroll feverishly through my phone book and almost scream with frustration, cursing hotly beneath my breath instead. She took my bloody number!

Stamping my foot angrily, I shove my phone carelessly back into my pocket, looking desperately up and down the corridor. But the only one that comes into view is John, one of the stage-hands, beckoning me back to the stage because "Sonny wants to give the school dance a shot, see whether you lot are gonna sink or swim!"

I roll my eyes and obediently head back, sidling up to Sal. "Anything?" she murmurs, turning her head as I stand behind her. My sigh tells her all she needs to know. I'm not about to tell her I'm such a twat, I never took Sharon's number and can't even check. She squeezes my hand for a second and sends me off to Alicia. "She'll turn up, Dennis, don't panic."

"OK, guys!" Sonny calls, pulling himself up from a crouch and clapping his hands loudly to gain our attention. "I don't wanna run through this whole thing yet. I just wanna see if we've got the choreography done for the hop, or I'm gonna have to rethink everyone's places and that's just gonna be a bitch. So... Sal..."

"Son?"

"Danny's ready to dance..."

Sal catches my eye and giggles, shaking her head as she leans pointedly against Patrick. "Nope. Not interested."

"Perfect! So Dennis, you and Ali..."

"Yep." I assure him tiredly. "Know the drill, Sonny!"

"Glad to hear it!" he nods approvingly, glancing round. "So where's my Vince Fontaine?"

Bradley straightens up, microphone swept up in his hand. "Over 'ere Boss!"

"Well, get with it then guys - let's hand jive!"

Glancing at Ali, we roll our eyes at one another.

"It's too early for this!" I moan quietly.

She just grins as she spins out beneath my hand and takes her place, severing our contact. "You never know, might be a laugh!"

"Well, do you have any idea what you're doing?"

Ali shrugs and nods towards Sonny. "Isn't that what he's for?"

"S'what I thought!"

I'm moaning unnecessarily though. They put us all through this routine during the audition with the principal dancers. Soon as Bradley starts warbling at us, it comes back easily enough. It's just remembering what bloody order the moves come in is all. We all manage to keep to our places really well; there's no human pile-up or anything like that, but as you look around, no-one's in sync. And Ali's right, that does make it pretty laughable. Everyone's just throwing each other out, hoping they don't drop to the stage or get kicked in the shin. 

And above Bradley all you can here is the laughing and the occassional "Oh shit, that's not right is it?" and "Is that really supposed to go there?"

"Calm it people!" Sonny demands at the top of his voice, making us all abandon our numerous attempts. "Do none of you remember how this one goes?"

Hanging our heads like naughty schoolkids as we suppress the next laugh, we return a chorus of "No!"

"Ack, I despair, really I do!" he declares, stomping up onto the stage. "Ali, get out here!"

She splutters indignantly. "Why me?"

"Because sweetheart, this is your gig - and you're supposed to be the one putting our leading man through his paces!" Sonny glares at me and Ali rolls her eyes as she goes with him.

"Sorry." I mouth, but she waves her hand dismissively before she takes up her place and waits as Sonny instructs Bradley to go from the top.

As I watch, I realise that Ali knows what she's doing. It was obviously me screwing it up for her. She's got every swing, drop and kick going there, and to all the right beats in the bar too. Sonny's definitely the man too, holding her with total confidence. Least she can trust him, me, I'll have her in Casualty before lunch I reckon and I ain't talking the TV show either.

"Everyone got that?" Sonny questions, looking round us all after the second run through. Everyone nods dumbly and he seems satisified as they pair off. "Just remember to stand back and be involved when Zuko and Cha Cha over here kick off right?"

"Means us, Dennis!" Ali mumbles, laughing nervously as she steps into my hold.

"I know." I assure her. "I was a good boy, I paid attention - so let's kick his ass!"

She giggles through our first flurried turn. "Why not?"

Absolutely no bloody reason why not. It's a simple enough structure. It's about six different movements repeated at different speeds. Which is fine as long as you're on the ball, otherwise you're just falling over each other. But no, me and Ali really pulled it together! Even Sonny was impressed. Made a point of sending Bradley off for a coffee though; wanted to see if we still knew what we were doing without the musical backing.

We did of course, me and Ali, not to be beaten!

"Bloody hell - you can dance like that!"

Spine locking at recognising that voice, I whirled around, anxious to see her and be sure she's really here. But as I see her, my mouth gapes. "Sharon!"

I seriously feel like I've just stepped out the final scenes of Grease just to set eyes on her. She's wearing a black halterneck top, a black bolero cardigan covering her shoulders. And I can tell that everyone's eyes are suddenly upon her, most likely travelling up her long legs. At least they seem long. Know they can't be, cos she's hardly over five foot, even in shoes with a heel like that. But it's not the shoes that are doing it. It's the tiny black ra-ra skirt. She looks absolutely fuckin' incredible.

"Bloody hell sugar!" Sally cries, this first direct address being the one that disturbs the mutterings of approval. "Where have you been? Starting the shopping without us?"

Sharon beams, holding her coffee cup tighter in her hand as she moves out onto the stage. "Course not. Just a girl making the best of herself, that's all. Sorry, were you worried? I didn't mean to be late!"

"Guess we should have expected it seeing as your car's been here all night!"

"Yeah, alright! Sonny... Brad's just finishing his coffee, he'll be back in a sec..."

"No rush." he tells her, waving his hand. "Might put this lot through it again without him."

Sharon backs up against the side of the stage, sipping at her coffee. "Hop, right?"

"That's the one."

She nods approvingly. "Hmmm, looks fun." I glance up at her and as she catches my eye, her own flash dangerously, lips curved into a teasing smirk. "Not that I'd know... seeing as a certain someone leaves me at home-" She adds loudly; "Don't they Dennis?"

I can't help but laugh at her dig and step back from Ali, throwing Sharon a challenging look. "Alright, alright, I get it! So... you wanna dance?"

She straightens up, tilting her head up as she muses over it. "Yeah!" she returns certainly, turning to the side and pressing her coffee into John's available hands in the wings. "Yeah, I do actually!"

"Oooh, bloody hell, Dennis, what are you doing?"

I can't stop giggling. And this time I'm not embarrassed, even though I can feel everyone's eyes on the two of us. Because Dennis is just grinning as he holds me loosely against his own ready frame.

"You wanted to be put through your paces didn't you?"

"Oh!" I scoff, waving my finger accusingly. "You can just shut up - we were talking Guys & Dolls then!"

He stops, just for a second, raising his eyebrow questioningly. "You reckon you could get through Havana before this huh?"

"Ah, but... I don't have to get through this, do I? That's the whole point! You ditch me and bag Ali remember?"

Bowing his head, he smirks, shrugging his shoulders lazily. "What can I say, character's a shit!"

And the daring shimmer in his eyes is the last thing I see before he throws his weight across to the other foot and and sends me spinning out as he clasps my hand. And I'm still giggling as I feel myself drop, waiting to feel my back crunch against the floor. But it doesn't happen because Dennis' arms surround me and as I lean back against his hold, I raise my hand to grope for his shoulder and hope for some stability.

Leaning over me, he glances down and whispers teasingly; "Alright?"

Biting into my lip, I try to nod steadily. But just looking at him, I crease up. He grins again and pulls me up against him, both feet fixed firmly to the floor. I wrap my arms helplessly around his neck, and stand there, giggling hysterically into his shoulder as I cling to him.

"Oh I'm sorry!" I gasp, trying to force in breaths as I laugh still. But I feel Dennis shake his head, also laughing too hard for no apparant reason, totally unable to form words. We seem to make a bit of a hyperactive pairing.

Though you can feel how amused everyone else is to have been watching us, you can't miss the eye-rolling and the tutting as everyone moves back to their places. 

"Listen to 'em..."

"Bloody hell, how old are they?" They think we're total kids - and we only managed half the pace of that routine before we were literally falling over each other in hysterics - and I guess the shoes didn't really help either. Bloody hell, I totally take my hat off to Ali. Least it's obvious she has fun doing this!

"Sorry Ali!" I gabble, turning round to glance at her. "D'you want him back?"

She smiles politely, nodding as Sonny calls out to try and hurry her up.

Dennis throws me an indignant look. "You want rid of me or something?"

"Nope." I assure him sweetly, shaking my head. "Just wanna finish my coffee."

"Ah." he nods knowingly. "That's alright then!" And he steps out round me, bowing his head as he passes my ear and whispering; "You look amazing by the way..."

I'm a little struck by that, blink before I dare to turn round and look at him. A smile curves his lips, relaxing me a little as my stomach inevitably tightens.

"Get out of here..." I return with a laugh, practically beaming even though I'm shaking my head in disbelief as I push him gently away.

He raises his hands in defeat and steps back in Ali's direction, amused as he turns away, refocussing his attentions on his actual dance partner. 

I walk from the stage, back into the wings, sweeping my coffee from John's hands and taking a deep sip. I splutter immediately. "It's cold!"

John laughs, nodding. "Yeah, that tends to happen when you leave it for ten minutes! You looked good by the way, you and Dennis are a bit of a pair aren't ya? Shame Sonny don't think like the choreographer did on the film..."

"Sorry?"

"When they made the film... they were meant to be going off the scripts and numbers from the stage show right? Only... it turned out little Olivia, ie, you... could dance and she was given that bit of the dance wasn't she?"

"Oh, yeah... well, I'm glad that's not in the script, I couldn't cope with Dennis having to throw me round the stage every night." He gives me a dubious look. "OK, well, not throw exactly, but Jesus Christ, John, I'm knackered!"

He smirks and I turn away, giggling nervously as I peek out on the action going on on the stage, watching with awe the precison of striding legs and striking arms - and there's before the strength of Bradley's voice. He looks pretty flustered under the lights though bless him, like he's just tripped out onto the stage. But still, there's an energy to his delivery that makes it sound as though he could keep this lot dancing like that all night.

And I could certainly watch it for that long. Ali's bloody dynamite and Dennis ain't much worse off!

John stoops to my ear and, concealing a laugh, asks; "You checking out your leading man?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm not checking him out, I just wanna know he's doing alright without me, that's all!"

"Course he is babe, you forget - this ain't your scene!"

"Yeah well, it woulda been if I was Olivia Newton John wouldn't it eh?"

"True. But then you'd have been looking at John Travolta out there!"

"Hmmm, Dennis Rickman... John Travolta..." I muse teasingly. "You're right, that's a bloody tough call!"

"Nah it's not. I was watching you two out there... you're made."

And I dismiss the way he's looking at me so pointedly, eyebrow raised by rolling my eyes again and giggling, yes, again.

"Shut up."

"Gladly." he murmurs smugly. "But only when you prove me wrong!"

Honestly, what's he getting at? He makes it sound like it's a crime that me and Dennis manage to get on like we do. I'm glad we do, I never thought after... but he's hysterical, makes me feel at ease with myself. If anything, it's pretty sad that I need anyone to do that, but things are on the up now. Look at me, landed my dream job, surrounded by the most talented, kindest people imaginable and it feels like I fit somewhere. And there's still the joy of the entire run to go. Life's not all that bad. I'm settled, far less of those gut-wrenching nerves knotted inside me. Not bad for... God, is it only two days? Doesn't feel like it, not with all these months of auditions and workshops.

Me and the girls went through a few of our scenes before lunch. Which generally meant Sal having to act like a bitch to me through every single one while the other girls pretend not to notice and giggle. Which just made me want to join in, but I held fast, concentrating on Sal's steely eyes. She's impressive, if I didn't know she was lovely, I'd seriously worry she had a problem with me, she's that damn good.

But when David tells us to break, she throws her arms around me. "Riz's such a bitch, I'm sorry, sugar!"

I laugh as I hug her back. "Don't be, she's a fabulous bitch - every show needs one!"

"True but... I'll buy you some goodies down Oxford Street later, I promise! Wanna head off for some lunch?"

Then... Then I flinch. Damn me for not thinking through my promises.

"Sorry girls!" I stammer, glancing apologetically round. "But I can't do lunch, not today. Justin's taking me out..."

"Oooh!" they coo. "So that's why you're dressed up!"

Dressed up? I thought this'd pass for casual. But I just shrug, smiling. "Can I... meet you here later on? Sal, I'll give you a call when I'm on the way back yeah?"

Sal shrugs. "Go for it, sugar. Have a good time yeah?"

She leans forward, kissing my cheek, and I beam, stirrings of excitement happening in my stomach. Promises of swanky restuarants weren't what I expected when I got home at half-ten at night and my phone had been switched off all that time. Justin hates it when he can't contact me. But he was fine. Kissed me, said he'd missed me. But he didn't ask who I'd been with, which I was glad of, cos I don't think I could have lied. I hate it.

But it was all OK, because he wasn't drunk, perfectly rational and loving. Made me remember why I love him so much. And I made sure he knew that I did love him. And it was then that he offered to take me to lunch after my morning of rehearsal at the theatre. He dressed it up, promises of champagne and candles and every romantic thing. I was gobsmacked, couldn't wait. So excited, I coulda burst. That's why I've been in such a good mood all day. And I like the way it feels.

"I intend to, Sal, don't worry! Later girls!"

"Make way! Make way! Ladies with serious-"

"Back ache!"

"-addiction coming through!"

Nick rolls his eyes and I bow my head, grinning at the sound of the girls bustling through the bar and in a great giggling mass, already gasping out their desperate need for drinks, they throw down their, I dunno, thousand bags each on the floor and either collapse haphazardly on barstools, lean heavily against the bar or fall groaning onto the squashy sofas, pulling off their shoes and rubbing at their feet, complaining how sore their soles feel.

I shake my head despairingly as I turn back and start throwing out orders as they come. But then I catch sight of Sharon. Patrick can instantly tell of my unease as he follows my gaze and waves me off dismissively, promising me that he'll sort "this bloody lot!"

I smile gratefully, not really knowing if I've got any sort of right to go over to Sharon. I mean, she looks happy enough, God knows how many bags around her feet as she leans back on the sofa, chatting to Billie, laughing like only she does. It's just...

When Billie moves off with an appreciative cry to help Nick distribute the drinks between the needy girls, I take the chance to sink down beside Sharon. Her palm pressed lightly into her chest, she smiles fleetingly as she turns her head and notices me, not saying a word.

"D'you not want one?" I nod towards the girls, milling round with wine glasses in their hands.

She just shakes her head. "Shouldn't. Had too much earlier..."

"Yeah? I heard Justin took you to some posh restuarant earlier..."

"Yeah..." she says, somehow not able to smile as she nods, stroking her hair behind her ear. "...actually, he took me to Café de Fleur-" And she colours, like she's embarrassed. "You know, the place we-"

"I know." I nod.

"It's beautiful there."

"You reckon? So why are you... didn't it go OK?"

Her lips set omniously and she lets out the smallest most defeated sigh. "I'm not sure. I'd promised the girls I'd go shopping didn't I and I don't think... Justin got the impression I was clock-watching..."

I shrug. "So what's one lunch date huh?"

"What's one shopping trip?" she shoots back immediately. I just know they're Justin's words, not hers.

I purse my lips thoughtfully, glancing down at the bags surrounding our legs. "Expensive. Cos by the look of this lot I'd say... you've got three new pairs of shoes, four handbags you're never gonna use, a skirt, couple of tops... pairs of jeans and God knows how much jewellery you'll never take out the boxes. Am I right?"

Sharon slumps back, blinking at me, stunned. "You didn't even look in the bags! How did you do that?"

"Hey, I've known women all my life, you're not hard to work out!"

Blanching her lip, she mumbles; "So now I'm transparent too eh?"

"No..." I straighten up in confusion, leaning forward to deliver my apologies. "Sharon, I didn't mean it like that..."

Her features soften and she dares to smile. "I know you didn't Dennis, sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me at the moment..."

"You're knackered?" I offer. "Skint?"

"Yeah." Sharon agrees weakly, no convinction whatsoever held in her words. "Yeah, that's probably it."

Except I can tell it's not. And something's still really bothering me.

"You got changed..."

And the look on her face... the confidence and self assurance she was exuding this morning, well... it's still here, only, it ain't real. Something's happened and I'm convinced it's got Justin's bloody name written all over it.

She shrugs. "Got cold..."

I just about manage to smile at that. "Yeah, yeah... I can see how that could happen..."

It's difficult to smile at her then and I hate that it is. It's just... she's putting a brave face on whatever's up and there's no way I can get her to tell me what. Probably best, cos I'd only get extremely pissed off and wanna throw my weight about and well, that's too like someone we already know.

So I try and pull myself up but find I'm pushed back against the sofa as Sally bounds over, leading the other girls with her. I love how they seem to be so damn clueless, these grins on their faces as they perch, bunched up together on this tiny glass table.

"Gone through her bags yet?" Billie demands with a laugh.

"What?"

Sal rolls her eyes. "Have you checked out what our Sharon's blown her first wage packet on?"

"No..." I reply cautiously, throwing Sharon an odd look. She just smiles awkwardly and looks away, finding something else to focus on instantly.

"Ah! Trust us Dennis, this girl could shop for England..."

"Yeah, I can believe that!"

"So c'mon!" Kacey declares, diving on the bags, rattling them determinedly as she roots through. "Get showing him, Sharon!"

But she doesn't say anything, so Kacey just takes that as her cue, and y'know, I don't think she was supposed to. 

"Ah - this!"

The girls cheer as she lifts out and lovingly smooths a bright red bustier. Can instantly imagine how amazing Sharon musta looked in that.

"Took me five minutes to do her up." Billie tells me pointedly.

"Was so worth it." Sal sings out, looking at Sharon and totally ignoring the way Sharon's gone just as red. "I'd shag her if I saw her out in this!"

"Jesus Christ, Sal!" I splutter with a laugh. "You on the turn?"

She just grins. But Sharon doesn't. She leans over and yanks it out of Sal's hands. "He's not interested, Sal!"

"So?" And the rest of the girls throw her equally quizzical looks, not understanding. I mean, even I know that's not the point. They shop, they show off, that's the drill right? 

But Sharon sounds pretty pissed off, snappy almost.

"So I should never even have bought it!"

I lean back, turning my head and refusing to take my eyes from her. "So why did you?"

The way she looks at me finally, it's like she feels guilty. What the Hell is going on with her right now, for God's sake?

"Well, isn't that obvious?" Billie smiles. "She wants to keep her man happy!"

"Ah right." I nod. "So are you... heading home then?"

Blanching her lip until she hears my words, Sharon at last seems to relax, smiling, like she's grateful. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I should be..."

I'm not trying to offer her an escape or anything - I just don't want her to feel uncomfortable in my company. So if she wants to go, then she can go.  

"Hang on!" Sal cries, pulling herself up from the table to level with Sharon as she rises. "How are you gonna get all the sodding bags back?"

"I'll call a cab Sal, s'not hard babe..."

"Don't be daft! D'you want a lift?"

Sharon gives her a look, eyebrow raised. "Not from you I don't. You've been drinking."

I'm up before I even realise. "I haven't."

Sharon just blinks, looking at me in complete surprise like I've just grown an extra head or something. "Sorry?"

"I'll take you back."

Then her features soften and she smiles, but shakes her head. "Oh Dennis, no really, it's fine..."

"It probably is." I agree, shrugging. "But why fork out on top of this lot eh?"

And she seems to recognise she's beaten. I turn and go immediately, promising to go up and get my car and bring it round. When I arrive back, all of the Ladies are stood, huddled together, giggling as they proudly clutch at all Sharon's bags. She definitely don't hold back on the shopping does she? I slam the door shut and toss Sal my keys. She practically falls back off her heel trying to catch them, but holds them triumphantly in her fist and yanks open the boot with a groan, gesturing for the girls to slide the bags into the boot. Sharon hugs and kisses them all and they wave her off, promising to have "another few dozen drinks for ya!"

Sharon just rolls her eyes and turns back to me. I smile, pulling open the passenger door. She pauses, her hand pressed gingerly around the door. "You don't mind doing this, do you?"

"Would I be offering if I did?"

And she shakes her head gently and obediently climbs in. I walk round to the driver's side having stolen my keys back from Sal and we pull away from the kerb, me honking at the horn just to satisfy a group of tipsy women's urge to scream and holler needlessly. I bloody love 'em.

"Alright?" I ask, glancing quickly over at Sharon after a few minutes. 

Sharon laughs softly. "I shouldn't have let Justin take me out drinking should I; could get meself home otherwise!"

"Well... you had a good time, didn't you?"

"C-Course."

Hesitant much?

Silence falls for about five more minutes, until: "I just don't like putting upon people, that's all."

"Oh shut up!" I laugh. "That's not what you're doing and even if it was - you're allowed to let your hair down."

She looks across and smirks. Then she reaches and pulls the bulldog clip from her hair, shaking her head to let her hair tumble down loose. "I will then!" But as she runs her fingers through the waves, she frowns and ducks down, straightening up with her handbag sat in her lap as she rifles through it. "Knew it!" she mutters hotly. "Can't find me bloody hairbrush. This is me by the way..."

"Wouldn't worry about it." I tell her, lifting my hand from against the steering wheel and waving it dismissively. "You look great, you have all day."

I pull at the handbrake, recognising that she's pointing out her flat. I unclip my seatbelt and climb out, keys in hand to open the boot and pull out all the bags.

"Hey!" Sharon protests, racing round in a rush to assist me. "No way should you be doing this!"

"Why?" I question with an amused suspicion. "What shouldn't I see?"

"Nothing." she assures me, smirking as she leans over me and sets the last of the bags down on the ground. She steps back and I slam the boot down. And I realise Sharon's just staring at me, a smile curving her ever glossy lips.

"What?"

"You." she nods, pressing her hand into my arm. "You're lovely, you know that?"

I grin disbelievingly. "I think someone might be a tiny bit drunk-"

"Nope. Well, maybe a little, but you're still lovely."

"Cheers darlin', you an' all." And this time as she leans easily towards me, I'm prepared, pressing her cool cheek too.

And she drops back onto her feet with a contented sigh as she dips down and starts gathering the bags, throwing me a look as I stoop to help her.

"Dennis, I'll be fine. I was lugging all these down Oxford Street remember?"

"Alright. If you're sure."

"Am." she assures me brightly, swinging round. "Night darlin'."

I turn back towards the car and almost instantly hear this almighty crash. Out the corner of my eye, I see Sharon leap back, flinching. I whirl round again and realise that the commotion is in fact Justin, rip roaring drunk and obviously so, staggering all over the place, his eyes cold and manic, storming from the flat to greet Sharon. You can almost smell the five gallons of booze from here.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he bellows, slurring.

"Sh-Shopping..."

"Yeah? Still dressing up like a whore for the likes of 'im eh?"

I straighten up defiantly. "Don't think I like what I'm hearing mate..."

"Yeah? Well I ain't your mate, so why don't you just piss off and stay away from 'er?"

I could almost laugh if Sharon wasn't so rigid. "Oh yeah? And how you gonna make me eh?"

"Dennis..." Sharon sighs weakly, eyes closed to block out the words she's heard pass around her. "Just go, yeah?"

What?

"Sharon, I-"

"I'll be fine."

"But he's-"

-making my skin crawl. Seriously, she needs to explain the attraction here.

Smiling cruelly, he steps up and snakes his arms around her like chains and I swear, I swear I see her flinch. But I can see she's not gonna let me help her.

"I'll be fine." she repeats, forcing a smile to her lips. "Really."

  

I don't know what time it was I actually managed to get to sleep. I was up most the night, pacing and cursing myself for ever leaving Sharon there. There with him. But what could I really have done? She wouldn't have let me do anything because she's, I dunno, blind? It was so obvious he could have hurt her - and I left her there! He could have done anything to her!

I tried calling her so many times, I don't think there's gonna be room on my phone bill for any other number. I got through to her voicemail straight away - each and every God damn time, meaning that her phone was switched off. So many times I coulda left a message, but what could I have said? "Oh hey Sharon, your boyfriend beaten you to a pulp yet, darlin'?"

So silence prevailed and I drank probably just as much as that bastard had downed. All I know is I woke to the sound of my mobile screaming out some tinny ringtone at me. It pulled me out of the heavy slumber pretty quick, because of course, my first thought was that it would be Sharon. I leapt up, snatching up the shuddering handset, practically wrenching the halves apart.

"Yep?"

"Dennis... David Webb. You remember me right, man paying your wages til Christmas?"

"Yeah..." I say slowly. "David, what-"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but it's almost eleven thirty! Now I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt for a while, but now Dennis, now you're taking the piss!"

"It's what?"

"Eleven thirty." he repeats curtly. "And if everyone else can be here at 9am, then damnit Rickman, so can you!"

"Alright, alright!" I gabble, forcing back a groan as I rake my hand through my hair. "Look, I'm sorry, I had no idea- give me half an hour, I'll be there, I swear!"

I hang up, tossing my phone onto the bed and already throwing off my trousers. Bashing through my chest of drawers, I drop a pair of jeans over my phone and randomly grab a t-shirt before enduring the coldest and therefore the quickest shower ever. I throw on my clothes and jam my phone in the back pocket. I stop at the door, taking my keys off the hook and jamming my feet into my trainers, not even bothering to tie the laces before I'm out down the stairs, slamming doors and starting my car.

Shit! How have I managed this? David coulda fired my arse then and there if he'd wanted and then where would I have been? Screwing up the one role I've always really wanted. And for what?

I could probably be fired just on the basis of my parking as I reach the theatre. It is the theatre today right, not the studios?

Jesus Christ, I need a fag.

But I just don't have time, racing across the car park and slamming through the stage door, thundering backstage and pretty much tripping out onto the stage.

"Ah!" David cries loudly. "You made it then!"

"Look-" I gasp, throat constricting guiltily. "-David, I'm really sorry. I had... a rough night, I'd... only just woken up. It's not an excuse I know but... I swear, it won't happen again."

He tilts his head back, throwing me a quizzical look which just makes me feel worse. But at least I still feel employed.

"I know it won't." he nods. But then that's it - he just looks back to everyone else.

"Right, everyone... I want to try some of the Company numbers this morning..."

Except, as I look anxiously round all the familiar faces, throwing out nervous smiles of apology and simultaneous greeting, I realise one is missing, sidle cautiously up to Sal.

"Pssst." I hiss in her ear. "You seen Sharon this morning?"

Besides the anxiety I'm feeling on her behalf, I ain't about to be reprimanded for my time-keeping if Sharon ain't even here yet.

But Sal smiles. "I seem to remember we've been here before Dennis..."

"Yeah, I know, but... is she here?"

"Oh yeah." she assures me, nodding. "But most of the Company stuff don't include her does it, poor cow? Well, at least not the first act. Don't require you much either actually."

"Yeah, I know. So... maybe I should sneak off eh? Go find Sharon, go through some scenes?"

Her eyes widen and she puffs out a warning breath. "You could try darlin', but I wouldn't advise it. She's still in her room."

"What do you mean "still"?"

And when Sal lets out this miserable little sigh, turning fully to face me, that knot that's been in my stomach ever since I left Sharon last night tightens so much I feel like I'm about to be sick.

"I mean... and this ain't comin' from me alright - one of the make-up girls said Sharon was in before anyone, eight maybe."

"But... her car's not outside."

"That's cos that Justin dropped her in, innit? Apparantly she phoned through from her dressing room to the make-up girls, asked for some foundations and concealors and stuff. Reckons she'd run out."

"Well... she might have done." I shrug awkwardly. But Sal throws me a withering look and I know I'm wrong. I just... didn't wanna be, y'know?

"You didn't see how much she spent at the Clinique counter yesterday. No way had she run out of anything. And she made 'em leave it all outside the door an' all. That ain't right, Dennis."

"Sal, you're scaring me... what are you trying to say?"

She shrugs. "I wish I knew, sugar, really do."

And I'm gone, my lack of presence unnoticed from the stage as I rush backstage, practically tripping over even the depth of the carpet. And yet, somehow, I'm hesitant when I reach Sharon's dressing room. I have a really sick feeling about what Sal was getting at and I don't wanna be proved right. But if I care about Sharon at all, which I do, I have to check. So I lift my fist and rap on the door.

"Wh-Who is it?"

"Sharon, it's just me. It's Dennis..."

"Oh... right! Two seconds..." I count 'em away, the way she seems so bright only serving to make me even more uneasy. "Come in!"

I pull down the handle and step into the airy room with my eyes cast down, just not wanting to look up. But she bounds right over to me, pressing her hands to the side of my tense shoulders and lightly kissing both my cheeks. She's just this blur of blonde hair, soft skin and the sweetest scent of passionflower. "Mornin' darlin'!"

"Uh... yeah!" I return pathetically. "Sorry, not really here for any reason. Just... got in late and, well, Sal said you were back here so-" I look at her properly for the first time, and blink, a little stunned. "Love the sunnies."

"Thanks! Gorgeous aren't they, little bargain from yesterday!"

"Except-" I continue awkwardly, biting into the cushion of my lip.

"Except...?" she prompts.

I sigh. "Well, it's miserable outside Sharon, or didn't you notice?" Guess she wouldn't, not wearing 'em.

She just shrugs, turns away and starts pointlessly clattering around with make-up on her dressing table. "It's not about practical use, Dennis, it's about making a statement."

Like Hell it is!

"Oh yeah?" I press stiffly. "How come it needed making today?"

"Cos I only got 'em yesterday..."

But I ain't buying it. She's inside for fuck's sake and she ain't that soddin' blonde. I shove my hands roughly into my pocket and demand quietly; "What's the extra make-up for, Sharon?"

"Dunno what you're talking about..."

"Yes you do. The foundation and concealor you were begging off the make up girls at eight o'clock this morning?"

"Oh Dennis, for God's sake! It don't matter how old you get, that's what women do - nick make-up; what the Hell did you think testers were there for?"

I roll my eyes. I know when I'm being fobbed off. So I nod towards the stuff she's rearranging with increasingly shaky hands. "They don't look like testers to me..."

"Oh-" she scoffs defensively. "-so I wanna try something new on someone else's budget... so sue me!"

I step up behind her, pressing my hand into her shoulder and pulling her roughly round to face me. She struggles.

"Get off me!"

"Take the sunglasses off, Sharon." I demand, shaking her a little.

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Proper diva now darlin'.... yeah, that's me!"

"Take them off!" But she remains defiant. So I'm left with one option. "No? Fine, then I will!"

She leaps back, shrieking; "Alright! I'll do it, I'll take 'em off. Just... take your hands off me."

They drop obediently away. Sharon sighs and turns her head so that her gaze is averted from mine as she lifts her hand, shaking more furiously now and pulls the sunglasses away from her eyes. She folds them up and puts them in her pocket. Then she stands rigid for a few seconds as I take in the sight of her black eye in horror. It's not black at all. It's purple and red and angry looking.

"Happy now?" she asks, trying to sound savage, but instead, her voice is thick with emotion, threatening to shatter.

"Did Justin...?"

"What do you think?" 

But he's too horror-struck to offer me any sort of opinion, which is good I guess, because that's definitely the last damn thing I shoulda said. I turn around again, this time straddling the little stool in front of the dressing table and sitting down, wrenching the top of a concealor in preperation and roughly beginning to apply the thickest layers of foundation. I can see via the mirror that Dennis just doesn't take his eyes off me. His expression now is more like one of the sickest awe.

"He did, didn't he? He hit you!"

I laugh breezily. But the sound's hollow now, he's not gonna believe it. But I still have to say it. For my own sake, so Justin's not disappointed in me like he was last night.

"Knew it, you thought wrong. I... walked into a door."

Dennis throws up his hands in exasperation. "So original Sharon, well done! And was Justin behind this door or what?"

"No!" I snap defensively. "I was trying to go up the stairs in a new pair of shoes. Heel's fuck knows how high, right and I went flying! C'mon, you said yourself I was drunk!"

"A little bit! I said a little bit!"

"Well, maybe that's all it takes!"

"And is that all it takes for Justin to flip his lid an' all? C'mon Sharon, you tell me, what was it?"

"It wasn't anything! Jesus Christ, why d'you always have to think so badly of people?"

"People?" he echoes scornfully. "Oh no, not people Sharon, I haven't got a problem with people! Just egostistical bastards who think it's alright to raise his... what, hand? No, their fist to a woman!"

I laugh again, hardly believeing his cheek. "So you're saying it'd be alright if I was a bloke?"

"No, of course not!"

"No? Well maybe Dennis, maybe a woman can deserve it just as much as a man does eh?"

He blanches his lip and looks at me thoughtfully. "So he did hit you then?"

I bristle, continue applying all the layers of make-up all the more furiously. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to. You're blaming yourself Sharon and why?" I ignore him and he sighs, moving forward and pressing on the edge of the dressing table as he crouches down at my side. "Why can't you see you deserve better than this, than him?"

"You don't know what you're talking about." I hiss. "I love him."

"Maybe." he agrees softly, nodding. "But he doesn't love you. And why should you love him? C'mon, I'm interested, what is there to love?"

"He's been good to me..."

Dennis looks away, laughing coldly and I hate that I find I'm hanging my head, wringing my hands in my lap. Because I don't believe me either.

"So good to you he what? Sent you across the room? To the floor? Casualty?"

"Don't be so stupid!" I know not to go there for God's sake. Cos they'd only do what Dennis is doing. Ask questions I just don't want to answer - because I don't know how. I don't know how to justify it. But... it has to be my fault doesn't it? All these things I do that make my poor baby so damned angry. I mean, if I just... didn't do them... but I never learn do I?

"Anyone- Anyone else in this world would be better for you, Sharon. You just... You don't see what you are."

Cheeks burning, I mumble. "I'm an idiot. I'm just a fuckin' idiot!"

"Only if you stay...."

Stopping blending in the make-up just for a second, I turn my head and look at him full in the face for the first time. He looks so damn kind. But then so did Justin once.

"Why are you here Dennis? How come you're making it sound like you care?"

He sighs softly. "Cos I do. You've got so much Sharon, you shouldn't waste it."

"What?" I demand doubtfully. "What exactly have I got?" And though I don't bestow my attention long enough to make him think it'd be worth telling, finally covering the mess that is my eye convincingly with these inches of make-up, he still delivers.

"You're talented and I mean that, I couldn't have wanted to work with anyone else!"

"Oh Dennis, c'mon... you saw my last audition..."

"Yeah, and it was enough, for everyone. You're one of the friendliest people I've ever met in one company - you're really easy to be around, you're a laugh, and believe me, a lot of people in this job aren't like that- You're determined, maybe, sometimes not for the right reasons but... you've landed your dream job and I know more than anyone that it didn't just happen. You knew you wanted it and you earnt it on your own. That took guts Sharon. And if you'll let me get shallow-"

"Go on then, I'm not busy..."

He grins, looking down for a second before murmuring; "-you're gorgeous with it."

I can't help but smile. "I can't believe you just said that when you're one of what... five men in the history of ever that have seen me without make-up!"

But the smile he returns isn't meant. "You mean as opposed to the thousands that have seen you without a black eye?" I bite anxiously into my lip and look away. Dennis sighs, perhaps knowing he's pushing it. "Look, Sharon, I know I haven't really got a right to be saying any of this to you, but I do care, I do, and you're wasted on that guy." He pulls himself up and I can't help but follow his movement, looking up into his face. He smiles gently. "That's the last I'm gonna say about it OK? We've got scenes to get through."

Nodding, I climb up too, heading for the door. But Dennis reaches and pulls me back, shaking his head.

"Wouldn't. David's got 'em all out there singing and dancin' their wasted little hearts out."

I wince empathetically. "Before lunch? Cruel, cruel man."

"I know. But the point is, we ain't needed. So... shall we just crash here? You've got your script right?"

"Course."

I turn away and rifle in the never-ending depths of my bag. My hand closing around the thickness of the script, I pause thoughtfully, speaking before I turn around again, afraid that otherwise I'll sound as weakened as I feel. "Dennis?"

"Yep?"

"You won't... tell anyone about this will you?"

He sighs. "It's not something I'll go spreading round, no. But Sharon, you have to do something about it."

"And I will." I gabble. "I promise."

"That's my point though yeah?" Dennis tells me gently as I sink down next to him. "You're not on your own. You want help, you've only gotta ask."

"That's sweet Dennis, really, but what sort of person can't sort out their own life?"

"An honest one."

And again, I smile. Somehow, he's right.

"Look, I won't tell a soul on one condition."

"I thought you just gave me it?"

"Alright then, another condition. You come out with us lot tonight yeah?"

I moan reluctantly. "Oh Dennis, I can't. You should know that now..."

"Sharon, he ain't ever gonna get through a fifty-strong cast, no way."

I rattle through the pages of my script. "What, and you reckon I wanna be the cause of a bar brawl do ya? Ten celebrities named and shamed in tomorrow's paper? Yeah, great. I don't really fancy a matching swing on this side thanks. Neither me or this production can afford the make-up."

"He wouldn't touch ya. Sharon, I mean it, we wouldn't let him!"

"Whose we?" I demand, suspicion already prickling despite all his assurances. "You're not gonna tell anyone!"

"No, I'm not! But Justin turns up blind drunk, you don't think us guys think enough of you to protect ya?"

"Right... so Justin gets drunk, and I can justify being sat in some bar with you lot can I?"

"I ain't tellin' you to get drunk Sharon, make your own choices. Just... let your hair down a bit... relax. You shouldn't have to live like this. You're your own person, remember? Strong..."

"No, I ain't."

"Yes, you are. And I won't take no for an answer. So will you come out tonight?"

"Alright." I agree weakly. "Just... don't keep me out past bedtime eh?"

He grins again and tilts a salute with his fingers. "Scout's honour."

"You were in the Scouts?"

"Well, not exactly..."

I didn't dare go home at the end of the day. Fed Sal some line about leaving my keys at home, which she seems to buy because she knows Justin dropped me in this morning, so she has no problem with me going back with her and rifling through her clothes for something to wear tonight. In fact, she seems to delight in rifling through her wardrobe on my behalf.

"I can't wear that!" I gasp, still trying to protest as Sal grins, turns me round and pushes me gently in the direction of the bathroom. There's the LBD and then there's the Absolutely Bloody Miniscule Black Dress. I know that me and Sal wear the same size clothes, except maybe a size smaller on top if she can get away with it. But I'm having a hard job believing that this dress isn't really a size ten cruelly masquerading as a fourteen, there's so little of it. If Justin saw me in it, he'd... flip.

And somehow, for the first time in the whole of this relationship, that's the deciding factor that swings it to the contrary. Maybe tonight I just won't care what he would think or do. Maybe tonight I'm just gonna remember that I am my own person, like Dennis said. I do what I like, drink however much I like, and perhaps more shockingly, I can wear what I like. So I wear the dress and I nab a pair of fishnets from Sal's drawer. As it turns out, we have the same size feet too, which is why it ain't a good idea to go shoe shopping with this woman, but tonight I love her anyway because she lets me have my pick of an extensive shoe collection. I nab her black ankle boots with the spiked heel.

Purse in hand, I'm ready to go. But I remind her I'm not about to get rat-arsed.

"Oh me neither sugar!" she tells me with forged innocence I will never, ever believe. "Me neither."

We wave a cab down at the kerb and head into town. I'm already shivering. Don't know whether that's with nerves or with actual cold - not exactly wearing much am I?

I relax a lot once we're back in the fold of the cast. I get a lot of hugs and compliments to keep me warm. Apparantly, the dress was a good choice - all the girls want it!

And never have so many of the lads wanted to buy me a drink. Made me laugh, which felt odd in itself, but good. It's so nice to be appreciated.

"Was about to give up on you..."

At the sound of Dennis' voice in my ear, I whirl round in surprise, it was so unexpected. I laugh nervously as I face him. "What d'you mean?"

"I told Sal eight."

"Did ya?"

Smirking, Dennis nods. "What time d'you make it Sharon?"

Feeling myself flush, I glance down at my watch on my wrist. "Quarter to ten... oh God, Dennis, I'm sorry-"

But he grins, shaking his head. I'm not being reprimanded then? "Don't be sorry, it was worth it wa'n't it? You look incredible."

"Yeah?" I question, not quite willing to accept the compliment. "Not what Justin would say, he'd-"

"Right." Dennis interjects firmly, palm raised to cut me off. "Not hearing it Sharon, OK? Now I'm gonna go and I'm gonna get you a drink-"

"No, Dennis, you don't have to-"

"-and when I've done that, I'm gonna get you another one... alright?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Nope. So what you drinking?"

"White wine spritzer, thanks."

He turns and is lost to the whole crowd of our lot as he makes his way over to the bar. Billie rushes over with the hugest grin on her face, grappling at my arm and shaking like she's about to burst.

"Did you see his face?"

"Sorry?"

"Babe, he was so checkin' you out!"

"No, Bil, it's not like that..."

Not anymore.

"Ali! Tell her!"

"What's that, hon?" Ali answers brightly, wandering over.

"That there's no way Dennis, or any guy in this whole place in fact, ain't checking Sharon out tonight!"

I throw Ali a glance, looking for help to drag me out of this one pathetic corner, but she shakes her head. "Sorry Sharon, but Billie's right. Looking like that hon, they're all gonna want ya. Lucky bitch."

But I'm not lucky am I?

"Excuse me ladies!" Dennis calls, moving around Ali to pass my drink over. "As promised."

"Thanks." I mumble, staring down into the glass.

"Sharon..." he murmurs carefully. "...you're shakin'. You alright?" When I just keep looking down, he bites into his lip, thinking he understands as he draws back. "Girls... sorry, can you give us a second?"

"Course." Billie nods, throwing me a look like Dennis is supposed to be about to ram his tongue down my throat or something. I wish I could make her understand like he seems to.

"Seriously Sharon-" He steps a little closer so that our exchange won't be heard. "-are you sure you're OK?"

I don't know what I'm supposed to do, so sort of sigh, shrug and smile all at once, before draining my glass. "Could do with that other drink now."

He smiles and takes the glass. "Your wish and all that..."

And as he goes off again, I'm inwardly cursing myself. I've just got to loosen up or I'm pretty much gonna explode in this great big gush of misery. So much for being easy to be around, for being a laugh. But I can be like that. I want to be like that. So, I guess with this determination Dennis was telling me about earlier, I move round and by the time he comes back with the second glass, I'm in hysterics talking to Nick and Patrick. Y'know, it is easy being around people, long as you know what you're listening for. I mean, I haven't had a tense moment with a single member of this company. And yet I can barely live in my own home, what's with that?

"Ohhh, sorry!" Dennis laughs, sidling up to me, pressing his hand into my hip to help me straighten up from the giggles before he hands me the glass. "Someone's relaxed a bit!"

"Obviously don't take much for her, mate!" Patrick laughs.

"Mmmm!" I protest through a mouthful of my drink. "Do you mind?"

"No love, not at all." Nick chips in, looking me up and down. I throw him a stern look I could never mean. I love Nick too much, he's a darlin'. They all are.

"I'm spoken for!"

"Oh they all are, darlin'... don't mean I can't bag a dance though do it?"

"You know what Nick, if I hadn't seen you dance, I wouldn't believe you could!"

"Oh well, thanks very much!"

"Pleasure... c'mon then!" And I pull his hand, leaving Patrick holding my empty glass as I drag Nick off to dance, at last ready to really enjoy myself for a change.

Last thing I hear above the chatter and the blare of the music is Patrick laughing and calling after me; "I'll get you another shall I?"

I grin. "Do that!"

And I just let go, knowing I'm getting attention and knowing that I'm not ashamed or embarrassed of anything I'm doing. I'm having fun with lots of fun people. And I'm sick of being made to feel like that's a crime. I'm gonna have me a good time - and I'm gonna stay out for as long as that one time lasts.

Nick's worn out after twenty minutes so the Ladies gather around me and we dance. Good thing about women is that they multi-task. Get rat-arsed as they dance, a glass held so skillfully in her hand. Except when Kacey crashes off her shoes, that's the Ladies done a while. Except Sal. Got proper stamina that girl and I love her for it. She drags Patrick out to the floor and of course, anyone in the history of the world that seen Dirty Dancing knows this man can dance. And I'm here dancing with him. Ah, Jennifer Grey - eat your heart out honey!

I catch sight of Dennis a few times too, chatting to Nick and Richard, at the bar for Richard, dancing with Ali, then Billie. Everyone's having a good time, and as I drink more, the happiest kinda haze invades my mind. It feels like no-one can touch me, or break this. I'm finally somewhere I belong, somewhere it feels right.

That is until someone grabs me roughly by the shoulder, causing my neck to jerk painfully as they pull me round.

"Ow!"

But rather than expecting to find myself having it out with some fifteen year old about personal space and not getting in the way of a legal woman wanting to have a good time; I find myself staring into Justin's bloodshot and maddened eyes. I go cold. But I'm not frightened. My legs weaken a fair bit, but I'm not frightened. Probably only because I've drank... half as much as he has - a whole brewery gone stale on his breath by the stench of it.

I turn my face away, but that don't mean I can miss his seriousness as he snarls; "Home... now."

And where... four or five hours ago I would have obeyed, now I can't even stand to have him touching me, throwing him off with a scowl.

"No!" I reply stiffly.

His lip curls and I know I'm digging. But what's he gonna do? Bury me in front of fuck knows how many witnesses? I refuse to be made to feel so damn scared all the fucking time. I haven't done anything wrong.

"Now! I ain't havin' ya going round town looking like a second-rate hooker! Maybe you ain't no better than that eh Sharon? Except no-one... no-one would pay to have ya darlin', nah. But I reckon you're owed a few kickings of a weeknight!"

He thinks he can scare me into submission. That's original. "C'mon then Just!" I yell, only as the anger spill outs realising how damn loudly it does so; hating it but just not able to hold it back. "Hit me, go on! Give me your best damn shot darlin' - you usually do!"

His eyes dart manically around as he realises that everyone, my friends, my colleagues, have all stopped, staring awkwardly at this whole ugly scene. He hates it, but then so do I. I don't want this. But maybe there's just no other way. So I wait. I wait for my warning. Disobedience is after all not tolerated.

"I'm getting a bit sick of you-"

I thought I'd wince. But I don't. I explode. It's the last thing I wanted to do, outbursts aren't me, but I can't take anymore of him.

"Yeah? Well I'm getting a bit sick of you an' all, Justin! All your soddin' moods, all your rules, all your pathetic insecurities. I don't know what you've been trying to do to me, but I know I don't like it. And you know what else? I don't have to take it! There's nothing wrong with the person I am! I like who I am. It's you I can't stand! Telling me you love me then making me think I'm nothing. But I'm not, Justin, I know I'm not! I'm something. I don't know what, but bloody hell, it's gotta be better than whatever you are! Just leave me alone!"

He stares at the floor for a moment and stupidly, so stupidly, I think he might be ashamed. But he's not. The bastard's smirking.

"Finished? Good. Now we'll go."

I don't know what makes me do it, I barely know how I do it. Even I flinch at the sound of my palm connecting with his cheek. I hit him hard. You can see the handprint. He presses the sore skin gingerly, but I look away, looking over his shoulder at Dennis, lip blanched watching the whole scene nervously. He's a whole step in front of anyone else, ready to come and help me should I have needed it, it seems. But he's listened and he doesn't think it sounds like I need him. Except, just at this one second, I do. I have absolutely no nerve at all. But I don't want to cave in. Not now. Dennis just looks at me. Doesn't say or do anything. It's all in his eyes, this... look of amazement. Amazed by me... proud of me.

But Justin could never be that way. He's glaring at me so dangerously, I'm seriously expecting to be on the floor within seconds. It wouldn't be the first time. But now, there really are enough people around here to protect me. And I dare to think they would.

"You'll regret that. You will."

My breath's caught in my chest and it hurts. But I daren't breathe it as he turns away and storms through the crowd. I still don't feel scared. Oh God, it's worse than that. I feel sorry. I want him to forgive me. He's my Just, been mine for years; my friend, my lover. I try and call his name, but my voice shatters. I'm a failure.

"Justin!" I cry out, feeling sobs shake me as I try desperately not to cry the tears burning so readily in my eyes. 

I can barely breathe, stagger blindly through the crowd, staggering out onto the pitch black street searching frantically for him.

"Just?" I whimper. "Justin?"

"Sharon!"

Ignoring Dennis as he calls my name, I stumble away, practically tripping over my own feet.

"Sharon!" 

I can hear his footsteps pounding against the pavement and I just wish he'd go away. But he pulls at my wrist, gasping for breath as I reluctantly face him.

"Don't... Don't go after him. Don't you dare, not after that! Sharon, I'm... I'm so proud of you."

"Great!" I hiss. "Feel good now do you Dennis, now you've seen out your good deed for the day? No, really that's great! Do you have any idea what you've just made me do? Get the Hell off me!" And I wrench my hand away, glaring contemptously at him.

But I'm woozy, distraught even, really can't support my own weight. My ankle goes beneath me and I crash to the hard, unforgiving pavement in a very attractive heap. I hear the tights tear and I feel my knees begin to sting. I let out one self pitying groan but try and pull myself up immediately.

"Sharon..."

"Stay away from me, Dennis!"

"How can I? Look at the state of you!"

"The state of me?" I holler, whirling round. "The state of me! Let me tell you about the state of me huh Rickman? The dress, it's Sal's. The tights are Sal's, which thanks to you, I'm gonna have to pay for. The shoes are Sal's and the make-up? Well that's courtesy of Max fuckin' Factor and David Webb Productions. That's the physical state, which is your fault!"

"My fault?"

"Yes!" And cruelly, I mimic him in a high and discerning tone. "Oh you're your own person Sharon, you're great Sharon, relax Sharon... come out with us..." Well I did Dennis! I've been listening to you all fuckin' day, telling you things I never wanted anyone to know. I trusted you!"

"Yeah, and you still can."

"Oh you bull-shitter! You saw what happened in there. Thanks for your "help" by the way."

He shrugs awkwardly. "You were doing fine on your own."

"Yeah? Or maybe... maybe you were just scared of him huh? Yeah, that sounds about right. Got all the big talk haven't ya, little man?"

"Sharon, are you hearing yourself?"

I nod furiously. "Loud and clear. And you know what I'm saying Dennis? I hate you! All your fucking bravado has just cost me-"

"What Sharon?" he demands. "What has this cost you exactly? Nothing. You've lost one bona-fide scumbag, I'm so sorry. We all heard him in there Sharon. Soon as he saw you, he was tearing you apart and you're better than that!"

"Am I? Am I really?"

"Yes!" Pressing his scrunched fists to his temples, Dennis is exasperated. "Why won't you see that?"

"Because you made me take it! There, in front of everyone... everyone with some sorta opinion of me! Do you know what that did to me? I really thought... Dennis, I saw you stood there and I really thought I had someone on my side, just once. But the truth is... you were too late, you still made me take it."

"I know." he mumbles, biting guiltily into his lip as he casts his eyes down. "I know and I'm sorry."

I shrug as I turn away and slowly begin to walk, somehow comforted as well as irritated that he keeps up this pathetic pace beside me without invitation. "Don't know why. He didn't say anything I didn't know he would. I don't dress right, I don't... look at people the right way. I do everything wrong."

"Yeah?" Dennis says softly. "Well, you be honest with me here Sharon. What's Justin ever done right?"

"He... He was there."

"We're here now." I throw him a doubtful look, but he won't receive it. "Me, Sal, Nick, the girls..."

"Yeah." I mumble. "Sal and the girls... you know if Justin had seen any of them in this stuff-" I gesture down to my own ruined outfit. "-he'd have been all over them in the corner. I'd just have had to look the other way or-"

"Why'd you take that Sharon, why?"

"Why?" I echo miserably. "Because... I've never known any different. Before... meeting you... I never thought I was worth more than that. Justin... he's everything. Always has been, and I know it's pathetic but I'm scared. I'm scared cos I don't know what I'm supposed to do without him."

"Be you."

"He is me."

But Dennis shakes his head. "Be who you really are." He reaches and presses gingerly into my wrist. He wants to reassure me I know, but I only wince in pain. He looks stricken to realise it. "You fell hard just now didn't you?"

"Wasn't exactly a graceful landing Dennis, didn't you see?"

Smiling weakly, wanting to spare me the embarrassment of recollection, he catches his hand around my grazed elbow and leads me gently around the corner of the bar. "C'mon, sit down." 

Ankle throbbing, I sit down on the few stone steps coming from the side door. Dennis towers over me, casting a shadow that makes me nervous. Wanting to relieve the pain, I reach down and unzip the boots, pulling them off and rubbing my ankle, gazing miserably at my bloodied knees. The left one is pouring a proper gush of blood through the huge snag in the ruined material of the tights. I press my fingertip gingerly over it, wincing as I try to stem the flow.

It's then that Dennis settles himself down beside me. "D'you want me to have a look?"

"Why? You got a magic "make-it-better" rub like me dad an' all." At his confused look, I confess; "I haven't cut my knees like this since I fell off my rollerblades when I was seven..."

"Oh right." he smiles, hunching his shoulders as he looks back up at me. "No, sorry, all out of magic rubs. But I did do first aid once..."

"What? At the Scouts?" I tease humourlessly.

But Dennis laughs. "Yeah, that'd be the joint. Ouch Sharon, that's pretty deep."

And it's like, outta nowhere, he's gently wiping the blood away with a packet of tissues balanced on his knee. I bite into my lip, trying not to wince at the pain. I should just be grateful but-

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

And seeing how implicitly he means it, I sigh. "No, it's alright. Serves me right, going out like this..."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, look at me, I am dressed like some hooker. I could go and stand on a street corner now and no-one would be any the wiser!"

"Jesus Christ, where does this come from Sharon? You know the man spouts bollocks, you should never have listened to it."

"But I have haven't I? For years. And you know what? I can't remember one time he's ever said I look.... nice even. It was always... cheap... like a whore. I hated feeling so ashamed. I believed him. I didn't want to, but I believed him. No self-worth at all, thinking that any man that wasn't Justin was just gonna..."

"What, jump you?"

"Yeah, maybe." I shrug, realising now how ludicrous it sounds. "He just said I'd be used and that... that was never what I wanted. I... I got so confused, cos I... I met you guys, in fact, I met a lot of guys who'd... say nice things to me, about me, and never want more than that. It didn't make sense-"

"You mean it never tallied with what Justin was tellin' ya? That's cos it was never true Sharon, never. We're not all like him, y'know. You can look nice... you'd never even have to try. Cos you're beautiful..."

I turn away. "No I'm not."

"Hey!" he says, looking up, reading the shame in my face and nudging me. "How can you be so ashamed of a compliment? If it makes you feel any better, it ain't exclusive. I happen to think that Sal's beautiful and Billie's beautiful and... but that don't make you worth any less does it? You are beautiful... even now, tights torn to shreds, blood pouring from your knees and your toes going blue... that's a skill Sharon."

These words, they seem to be leaving his mouth so easily, he's not forcing them, reluctant to say them. He wants to - he means it. That's amazing and he's- 

"Thank you..."

He glances up questioningly, not quite understanding what I'm thanking him for.

"Thank you for caring..."

And he smiles, that sweet knowing smile as he continues to tend to my knees. "Hey, you're my leading lady... can't let anything happen to you can I? I need you."

"I don't wanna be a responsibility, Dennis. I should take care of myself."

He nods. "Yeah, you should. But if someone wants to care of you... just for a change... you should let 'em, it ain't a crime."

"No, I know but- look at me... fifteen year olds can go out, get their stomach pumped by the end of the night and still have more dignity than this. I'm such a mess-"

"No, you're not. You're a little bit grazed and bloody, you'll heal. And, for the record, you're not a responsibility. No, I like to think of you more as a... protége. Getting you ready for the big time... name up in lights. You can see it can't ya... SHARON WATTS."

I laugh weakly, flinching miserably as Dennis moves away from my knees, the blood by now all gone thanks to his care and attention. 

"Nah... doesn't sound right..."

Dennis laughs softly, giving me an odd look. "Well, what else are we s'posed to call you eh?"

He sat beside me on the step, talking so kindly. And guilt makes my stomach churn. I'm sick of lies. So I take in a shallow, apprehensive breath and force myself to shift on the step to bring my body in line with his and look into his face.

"Dee. Dee Richards."

Hearing her, I look down, somehow trying not to smile. But that's not what Sharon sees, leaning anxious forward to try and catch my eye.

"Dennis?"

And the poor cow, she sounds so bloody anxious and there's no need for it. She must know that. I knew we'd get here. And it's OK.

I just turn my head and smile at her as she sits there, hugging her bloodied knees as she shivers beside me. "I knew it was you." I tell her softly. She bites guiltily into her lip and stares into her lap, wringing her hands. So I reach over and press one of mine over them, trying to gently wrench them apart again.

"Hey... it's alright!"

"Why? Why is it? Why can't you just... be angry with me, shout at me...?"

"Cos that's what Justin'd do right? I ain't him. Really, it's OK."

She nods awkwardly and it's not like she believes me at all. "Don't you even wanna know why I lied?"

"No." I say, sighing in defeat. "I know why you lied. I'm not stupid Sharon, I did the maths. '99 right? And you told me you and Justin have been together six years. You were still with him."

But she shakes her head jerkily. "No. No, I wasn't. I finished with him, I swear... you have to believe that."

"How can I? You spent the whole time lying to me, pretending you were someone else. And you really didn't have to do that."

"Yes I did."

"Why? Can't you tell I like who you are, who you really are?"

Sharon looks up and laughs softly, like she's dismissing me. "You can't say that. Not even I know who that is. You don't... not when someone else has been controlling you for so long. In the beginning, I knew... I knew how bad he was for me, I did. So when I met you... I thought-"

"Maybe I don't wanna know, you ever thought of that? It's done..."

"Ain't forgiven though is it? And I don't blame you Dennis, really I don't. I thought you were great. I dunno how I never figured there was no way you could just be some good-looking guy I met on a street in London somewhere. I knew you were... sucessful and everything but I never cared about any of that. You were just some... perfectly normal bloke that just wanted to know about me, like I mattered. And I know I told you that Justin's had me scared for however many years that anyone else... they'd just use me... well, it'll sound wrong but... I wanted you to."

She's right. It does sound wrong, and I have no understanding of whatever the Hell it is she's trying to say.

She smiles, like she kinda expected I wouldn't get it. "I guess I just knew that being with you, it'd be fun. Not some iron-clad committment, just... fun. But I'm not stupid. At least... I didn't think I was then. When I left Justin, he knew I musta had a reason. And I couldn't help it, I-"

"What? What did you do Sharon, what did you say?"

"That even if I wasn't wanted past the morning, then I'd still be with a better man than him." She looks down, face flushed with apparant embarrassment as she giggles. "I felt really proud of myself. And he wanted to take that away from me. D'you remember, when I came to you, I-"

I squeeze her hand. "You were really shaking. Wouldn't tell me what was wrong."

"Well, I wasn't about to tell you I'd just ditched my psycho boyfriend when you might have chucked me out in the morning was I?"

"I didn't though, did I? Three months Sharon..."

"Dee."

"Whatever!" I snap, not meaning to, hating that I do. But it doesn't seem to affect her. "Seriously Sharon, who is she? Is she someone you know or-?"

"Made her up."

"So how much of what you actually told me was true?"

"All of it. Apart from my name and... the fact I was still living with my mum. I can't believe you bought that to be honest, not at my age. But I- Justin never left me alone. I'd be wanting to see you most days and sometimes I couldn't even get out the flat because of him. I didn't want you to know what a mess I was in. If I wasn't Sharon then... part of my life was still worth it. I never wanted you to know that I- I'm sorry Dennis, I'm so sorry."

"I don't need you to be sorry, it was too long ago for that, OK?"

Sharon nods quickly and I'm not sure whether or not her eyes are shimmering with tears.

"Just tell me... once, and I swear I'll never ask you again. I don't ever remember having a blazing row or anything; in fact, from what I remember, you went off all sweetness and light, so how come we split up?"

"Ah, you know what they say. You always let the good ones go..."

"That's not a reason though Sharon."

"Well maybe I'm too ashamed to give you my reason alright? Stuff happens, makes things go wrong, that's it."

She looks up at me, and Jesus Christ, she looks so damn scared, I almost feel ashamed of myself and she's here telling me I haven't done anything wrong. She looks like she's about to cry, and I can't stand the idea of it, but I can see her weakening in front of me. 

"Oh God, c'mere... it's alright, it is..."

Shifting against the step, I slide my arms around her, expecting protests, but hearing nothing. 

She just sighs heavily and lets her head loll against my shoulder, mumbling; "I really fancied seeing Guys & Dolls an' all."

I laugh in spite of myself. "Then why didn't ya, you daft cow?"

I feel her shake as she laughs too, this soft little giggle, straightening up and offering me a wide-eyed look of disbelief as she reaches down, picking up Sal's boots one at a time and forcing what by now must be her absolutely frozen feet back into them.

"Cos I'd have had a hard job explaining meself to Nat wouldn't I? She's there, going all fan-girl over ya and me? I'd have just thought "Bloody Hell, he's amazing and I totally messed him about"!"

Smiling, I shrug lazily and assure her; "I'll live... really."

"Yeah, I know. But Nat wouldn't. Besides I... I was too scared I'd see ya, like properly. Bloody petrified you'd remember me and- it just felt too soon."

"So what about Chicago?"

Wiping quickly at her eyes, Sharon lets her hand drop heavily back into her lap and smiles. "You're really enjoying this aren't you?"

I smirk for a second and then shrug. "A guy likes to be popular."

"Oh, I bet he does. Well news for ya Dennis, I weren't gonna miss Chicago, no matter who I'd been sleeping with. It just so happened you were good. Really good."

I can't help but say it. She left the opportunity wide open. "Which bit?"

Gasping in feigned horror, Sharon lifts her hand and whacks me across the leg.

"Ow!"

"Well! I paid to see you in that show three bloody times! That's £100 each me and my girls shoved in your back pocket mate, you should show the fan-girl some bloody gratitude!" And still grinning, she shakes her head in disbelief.

"Alright." I concede, amused as I raise my hands in defeat. "I'm sorry." And as a few moments contented silence passes us by, curiosity begins to burn. "What would you have done then?"

"When?"

"If I'd seen you when I was doing Chicago? It's not like I did forget you is it?"

"No, I know. I guess it was a... test really. I mean, this was, what... 2003? I figured it was time I got over myself. Dunno what I woulda done if we had met though."

"Let me guess-" I roll my eyes, smirking. "-Natalie?"

Sharon giggles as she nods. "I'm sorry but, imagine it! You, some huge drop dead gorgeous stage star and me, stood there like "Yeah Dennis, we were sleeping together for a bit!" Do you know what that'd do to her... what she'd do to me?"

"Yeah... I have a fair idea!"

"Y'know... it really threw me, actually meeting you at my last audition. I never thought you'd- I thought if I just pretended I had no idea who you were talking about, it'd just... go away, be easier with Justin and that?"

"Did he ever know about..." I bite into my lip, hastening to use the word. "...us?"

Sharon smiles weakly, shaking her head in the same beat. "If he had have done, I could never have taken the job. And I wanted it so much. Working with you, it's like... I dunno, but it's good, really good. Even worth the hangovers."

"Oh, well, I am honoured!" And as she beams, I lean in and inform her; "Don't worry, I keep a big packet of Synadol in my dressing room, I'll put you right in the morning."

"You angel."

"Unless..."

"What?"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't go home."

She blows out a tired raspberry of defeat from between her lips, shrugging her tense shoulders. "I have to. Where else can I go?"

"Come back with me." I offer uneasily, so certain she'll reject it before all the words are even out. "Just for tonight... "

Sharon groans, shaking her head. "No. No, I told you, I don't wanna be a responsibility."

"No, I know. But I really don't want it on my conscience if you go back there and he hasn't taken the hint. What if the bastard really flips out this time eh? Cos to be honest Sharon, I don't think you can afford to lose much more blood."

Glancing down at her knees, she laughs in spite of herself. Then she turns her head to look at me, a warm smile curving her lips. "You're really selling this, aren't ya?"

"Just one night. We can sort everything out in the morning."

"Can we?" she questions tiredly, pressing her hand to her forehead. "I'm not so sure."

I pull her hand down, pressing mine firmly into it. "Well I am. C'mon, I'll take ya now..." 

Sharon didn't really say much on the drive back to mine. In fact, she sat there, wringing her hands and trying not to make it obvious she was looking at me. And every time I met her eye, she'd flush, as if she was embarrassed at being caught. Then she'd smile, weakly, but it'd be there, and say "Thanks..." in a murmur. I don't need her to thank me, I just need to know she's alright. And maybe she will be now.

She seems a lot more vibrant when we pull up outside my flat. She climbs steadily out, looking up, almost in awe as she slams the passenger door shut after herself. "Well... this is definitely grander than the last place I remember you being in!"

"Grander?" I echo dubiously, moving round the car to go and stand beside her. She glances at me, and realises I'm trying not to laugh. Immediately, she bows her head, apparantly fighting the same urge. "It's a flat, Sharon, c'mon!"

And we are laughing as I pull on her hand and lead her up. I open the door, leaning over her to grope for the light-switch. Then I back up, gesturing for her to go in. "After you..."

She gives me a hesitant look but smiles again and goes inside. Having pulled my key out of the lock and closed the door, I find her in my lounge, stood with her back to the window, looking staggered as she takes it all in. She sees me stood there and informs me breathily; "It's huge! No, seriously, my whole flat would fit in this room!"

"I doubt it! It's not that big!"

"No? Then our estimations really have changed since we were last in the same place, Dennis!" Then she turns to the window, lifting her hand to gesture to the curtain. "What you hiding behind there?"

"Ah, c'mere, I'll show you..." And I reach up over her to pull the curtain across to the other side of the window, revealing my view. 

I stand on this other side as she takes it in, spell-bound. "Wow."

"Hmmm, s'what I thought. Not bad for a corner of London is it?"

"A corner? Dennis, you can practically see the whole of London from here!"

"Yeah." I tease. "But only on really clear days and they don't happen in London." She grins, so I go ahead and offer; "D'you wanna drink?"

"Oh-" she sighs reluctantly. "-I don't think I should. I've had too much as it is."

"Well, alright." I shrug, striding back across the room towards the door. "But drinking alone ain't a good look and you're forcing it on me, Sharon!"

"Alright!" she giggles, raising her palms in defeat. "One, and that's only so you can save face. Want a hand?"

"Uh, no. I can manage! Sit... make yourself at home, I'll be two seconds!"

When I come back with the glasses, brimming with wine, I'm glad to see she's curled up comfortably on the sofa, feet tucked up alongisde her as she strokes at her sore ankle, Sal's boots on a heap on the floor on top of Sharon's bag.

"Here." I say softly, offering a glass carefully down into her hands. She takes it, looking up with a gratefuly smile. I leave my glass stood on the coffee table and go back into the kitchen to grab the rest of the bottle. I set it down beside my glass, taking that up into my hold as I step over the boots and sink down beside Sharon, who's staring wide eyed at the bottle, before her gaze slides to me.

"You're a bit keen aren't you?"

"Yeah well, it looks pathetic being stood there half-empty, don't it?"

"Pessimist."

I laugh. "Sorry?"

"Well, it's what they say isn't it?" she tells me as she takes a sip. "If you look at a glass, or in this case, a bottle and say it's half-empty then you're a pessimist! You're supposed to look on the bright side, be an optimist, it's still half-full."

"Right, so which one are you?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Pessimist or optimist?"

"Well, in this case, it don't matter does it, I'm only having one glass!" She gives me a pointed look but I just look dubiously back at her and she creases into giggles. As she composes herself, swinging her hair determinedly over her shoulder, she declares proudly; "Optimist."

I nod approvingly. "I'll drink to that."

Sharon raises her glass. "Optimism."

"No, I meant the rest of the bottle! It's still half-full after all."

Giggling still, shaking her head in disbelief, Sharon clinks her glass against the edge of mine. But her eyes don't leave me and she doesn't sip. "I really appreciate this, y'know."

"I told you, it's nothing."

"Yeah, well, it is to me. Thank you." But as soon as she tilts her glass to her lips, her phone starts to shrill. She groans into the deep-red liquid, pulling the glass back. But as she looks at me I can tell she's apprehensive, frightened even.

"You don't have to answer it." I tell her seriously.

But she sighs, shaking her head as she swings her legs down to the floor and scoots forward on the sofa, putting her glass on the coffee table and then leaning down to rifle in her bag and withdraw the phone. She sounds like she breathes a sigh of relief as she glances at the flashing screen. She answers the call, lifting the phone up to her ear and turning to face me as she settles back, smiling almost.

"Natalie."

I smile back. My number one fan no less!

"How are you? Oh no, I'm fine, we... just had a bit of a... oh, if you want the truth Nat, I told him to piss off. No, really. I almost did, but someone made me see it weren't worth it, that he's not worth it. Who? Dennis, Nat, sorry babe." 

And Sharon grins at me. I can't help but return it because I can only assume that the frantic fizzing coming from her phone is Natalie's protesting. 

"Yep, well you were right, he's an absolute darlin'. I think he's trying to get me drunk but... calm down Nat, I'm joking. I'm already rat-arsed, but someone won't drink alone, even in the comfort of his own bloody home. Yeah, I'm staying with him tonight, keeping out of Justin's way."

I'm so bloody mesmerised by her, it's unreal. And I feel really proud of Natalie for having the ability to make her giggle in a way that's obvious she really means it. It's so good to see her... be herself.

"Oh!" she gasps, giggling still. "I'll tell you what Nat, d'you want me to go and take photos of his bed?" And as she catches my eye and a proper burst of laughter shakes her, almost making her double up. "Oh my God babe, I wish you could see his face! Yeah, look, I should probably go, I'll see you soon OK? And if you promise to restrain yourself, chances are you'll be seeing Dennis an' all. Alright then babe, love you. I'll be fine! Bye!"

And she's still grinning as she throws her phone back into her bag and reaches to settle back with her wine. 

"I love that girl. Not sure she loves me quite as much anymore, but I still love her."

"How'd she take it?"

"Jealous as Hell bless her, couldn't you tell?"

I look down for a moment, smiling. "I meant about Justin-"

"Oh right!" And she flushes pink again as she giggles helplessly. "Really proud of me apparantly."

"Well, that makes two of us then don't it?"

Sharon just gazes at me thoughtfully, letting her fingertip glide around the rim of her glass. "Nat's right y'know. You are a darlin'."

"Yeah but, you knew that!"

She beams. "Guess I did, didn't I?"

And that kinda recognition in itself could have proved awkward, but it just doesn't. We sit there, laughing and talking, telling each other stupid jokes and throwing round even stupider anecdotes about times on set or times when we've gotten really drunk and made absolute arses of ourselves - maybe even together. It's not hard to talk about the times we were together either because we had so much bloody fun. And it's good to talk about it all again because I really had forgotten just how much fun it was, she was.

So all these worries she has about what she's supposed to do about the apparant mess her life is in are lost to the laughing - and the rest of the bottle of wine and another on top. It's half-past eleven when I find that Sharon is fast asleep against me. I can't believe I'd forgotten too how bloody peaceful she looks when she sleeps. Not wanting to disturb her, I carefully got up and lay her down on the sofa. I would have carried her to my bed and gladly swapped places with her, but she's drunk, so am I. I don't want her waking up in my bed and freaking out cos she can't remember what we said or did. I'm not even gonna let her think it. She just needs to get some rest.

I grab the spare duvet from the airing cupboard, a pillow too. And I cover her sleeping body, gently lifting her head to slide the pillow beneath her.

"I'll sort it Sharon." I whisper. "I promise."

I gather together the drained glasses and empty bottles and leave the room with one last glance at her, drawing the door silently shut after myself. I leave the glasses and bottles on the side in the kitchen, bowing my head and leaning heavily against the sink as I try and work out what the Hell it is I'm actually supposed to do to "sort it". But I realise, there's nothing I can do at this time, except in the short term. I go out into the hall where the light is still on and pull my phone from my back pocket.

"Sal? Sal it's me. Listen, I know it's late, sorry about that, but can you do me a favour? Go over to Sharon's and grab her some stuff? Clothes and that? No, I know, her keys are here... she's here. She's staying with me. I'm not letting her go back there tonight, so if you... come over and get 'em, will you go for her? I mean, I'd do it but I don't think I'd get past the front door even with a key. Cheers babe, you're an angel and I mean that. See you in a bit."   

It's only when I've sent Sal off with Sharon's keys that I really start to think about what I've done. I'm such an idiot. I've just sent a perfectly innocent woman straight into the lion's den cos I'm too damn scared to go myself. And Sal's gutsy, sure, she can hold her own and well, but she ain't no match for a blind drunk, woman-beating schizo and I knew that. So I've been pacing my hall, pounding one agitated fist against my palm, continually checking my watch and wondering, with a sickening feeling in my stomach, whether or not she's OK.

I keep going back and checking on Sharon, simply because I can, just to know that she's alright, even if I can't know about Sal just now. I've tried calling her enough times, but it just goes straight through to voicemail, meaning the bastard thing's not even on.

It's quarter to one when there's a knock on my front door. I'm wrenching it open before the sound has even stopped.

"Whoa-whoa, sugar, where's your fire?"

"Sal! Thank God, babe, are you alright?"

She gives me an odd look as she side-steps past me into the hall, dropping the overnight bag that's on her shoulder onto the floor. As soon as she's done that, I pull her into my arms, hugging her tight. She laughs nervously, the gesture obviously unexpected. Cautiously, she wraps her arms around my neck.

"Dennis, what's the matter with you?"

I pull back, hardly aware of the words leaving my mouth they're such a gabbling rush of built-up worry. "I... I thought Justin might have... Sal, was he there? Did he... Did he hurt you, cos I swear, if he did..."

Sal raises her palm, cutting me off. Firmly, she asks; "Where's Sharon?"

"In the lounge." I gesture with my thumb over my shoulder towards the lounge door. "She's sleeping."

"Right." she nods, accepting this immediately. "Now you tell me, what did he do to her?"

I bite into my lip and look away. I don't wanna betray Sharon like this...

"Dennis!"

I stare down at the floor, just knowing that however much I don't want to, I have to tell her. I'm sorry Sharon.

"He hit her Sal. That's what all the make-up was for. She's got a layer an inch thick covering the bruises. He gave her a black eye."

Her pretty painted mouth gapes. "What? The bastard. Why, why would he do that?"

I shrug. "Cos she dresses like a slut and looks at people the wrong way apparantly."

"Bollocks!" Sal seethes, dismissing the claim without even needing to think about it. No-one needs to after meeting Sharon.

"I won't let her go back to that Sal, I won't."

"Good on you darlin', but you can't stop her if that's what she wants."

"Well it ain't. I know it ain't."

Sal raises a doubting eyebrow. "Do ya? Really?"

I sigh, not sure I can make her understand. "Sal... when she's with us, she's... Sharon, she's who she really is. Funny, sexy and confident and he... he just takes it all out of her. She knows she's better than that."

"Yeah well, that was one Hell of a dressing down he gave her in that bar, poor cow."

I feel myself begin to shake with the resurgance of anger. "She don't have to take that again. But I shouldn't... I shouldn't have sent you over there, it weren't right."

She sighs despairingly, the roll of her eyes dismissing me. "Don't worry about me, sugar, it was like taking candy from a baby. So pissed he was barely conscious. I coulda walked outta there with the telly and he wouldn't have noticed. Twat."

"You don't have to tell me..."

"It just don't seem right, her having to be here when he's in her home-"

"He'll have to get out then, won't he?"

"He don't seem the type to just get up and go quietly, Denns - especially not if Sharon means it when she says they're over."

"They are." I tell her, certain of it.

"Dennis..." she says slowly, a warning held in her tone. "...don't go getting any stupid ideas alright?"

"Like what?"

"Like turfing the bastard out yourself, that's not your call. I'm sure Sharon appreciates everything you're doing here, now, tonight, but don't go playing the hero, OK?" I don't say anything, so she just accepts that I've heard what she has to say and looks down at the bag. "Right, she's got her toothbrush, nightie, personal stuff and a couple of changes of clothes in there, jeans and tops and stuff. Tell her that if she don't like what I've grabbed, she can always come back round mine and go through my wardrobe."

Recognising that she steps forward to leave, I open the door. "I will. Cheers Sal, you don't know how much I appreciate this."

Narrowing her eyes, she studies me for a second and then smiles. "Mmmm, I think I do." She stretches up to leave a kiss on my cheek, which I return willingly to hers. "Night Dennis. I'll see you and Sharon in the morning."

"Yep. Sleep tight Sal."

And she leaves, leaving me stood in the hall with a bagful of Sharon's stuff. I pick it up and carry it through to the lounge as quietly as possible. I don't wanna disturb Sharon, I just want her to know her stuff's here as soon as she needs it. With that, I go and sink gratefully into my own bed, so drained by this one night, I fall asleep immediately.

Surprisingly, I awake with the alarm at seven. I slam it down immediately, pulling on a random t-shirt before I get up and pad cautiously into the lounge, gently pushing the door open. The sofa's bare. Sal's boots are no longer in a heap on the floor. The overnight bag's gone. Sharon's gone.

Sighing heavily, dragging my hand through my messed hair, I go through to the kitchen and flick on the kettle, thinking that maybe I'll know what I'm supposed to do for the better once I've got some caffeine inside me. After all, I don't know where she's gone do I? Work? Or home? To him, to forgive him? She wouldn't do that, would she? Not after everything we said. But, oh God, she was drunk, (come to think of it, I don't feel all that clever myself!) she's not gonna remember half of what we said last night is she? Argh! Why didn't I realise it'd be like this?

I slam my fist onto the countertop in frustration - and hear a piece of paper tear. I look down and am greeted by swirly writing I'd always know to recognise.

Dennis,
Morning darlin', how's your head? Just wanted to let you know that I woke up stupidly early and I didn't wanna disturb you so I headed off to the theatre. I guess I'll see you there. Thanks again for everything.
Sharon xxx
PS: I nabbed a shower, I hope you don't mind - I'm really sorry if you find you've got no hot water!

I smile at the last line. Like that matters! I'm just glad I know she's alright - and that she didn't go anywhere near that evil bastard.

I make a cup of tea, gulping it down while it's still piping hot, which definitely proves to be a mistake, my throat still burning long after I've enjoyed a thankfully warm shower, dried off, got dressed and gotten in my car to head off to the theatre.

I park at the end of the road, leaning over to pull my cap from the glove compartment and put it on. This is a commercial street, loads of school-kids walking down here to catch the bus from the main stops round the corner. Last thing I want right now is some fifteen year old having a squealing fit and getting her mate, inevitably named "Britney" or something equally chav-tastic, to yank out her camera phone on me. I dive into Costa and pick up an iced tea and a chocolate flapjack, which unfortunately feels really rough on my throat. But the iced tea soothes it and I sip at it gratefully as I pass through the theatre car park and through the stage door.

There's a real buzz of activity going on which I'll admit surprises me this early in the morning. Everyone seems to be in already, flapping through scripts or warming up to try some routines.

"Dennis!" Sal calls, waving her hand from the edge of the stage as she catches sight of me in the wings. As I take off my cap and shove it into my back pocket, she wrinkles her nose at the sight of my iced tea. "That looks bad sugar, what's it for?"

"Don't ask." I advise, by now a bit sick of its over-sweet taste. I turn and dispose of it. And when I look back, Sharon's striding across the stage towards me. "Sal..." I whisper through the side of my mouth, having forced a smile to my lips. "...you won't say anything to Sharon about what I told you will ya?"

"Not that stupid, Dennis!" she whispers back. "Don't worry."

"Here he is!" Sharon beams. I straighten up, a little perplexed, especially as she reaches up to pull me into a tight hug. Of course, I let my arms drop around her, holding her too, but it don't mean this makes anymore sense.

"What was that for?" I question when we break apart.

"The best night's sleep I've had in six years."

"Really? You left a bit early for that, didn't you? Thought it must have been the sofa..."

She gives me a bright smile, shaking her head simply. "Slept like a baby, really. And... thanks for going to get my stuff, you really didn't have- I mean, Justin musta been- oh whatever, just, thank you." And she throws her arms around me again, stretched up to nestle into my shoulder and whisper; "My hero..."

From behind her, Sal's look says it all.

Don't play it, Dennis. Don't you dare play it!

"Sharon!"

I pull back from Dennis with a nervous smile, turning round and nodding as Lorne waves me over to centre stage. "Oooh, have to go, curtain up. See you later yeah, the drive-in scene needs a run-through!"

He just nods and I accept that, striding back. I've got this uneasy feeling in my stomach though and I don't quite understand what it is. Have I done something wrong; said too much, gone too far? I'm just... grateful, that's all. He didn't have to help me - he didn't even have to like me after the way I treated him. But he did, he treats me like a friend, was the one that showed me I'm better than what I was settling for.

For the first time, I'm lifting my head proudly as I walk. I feel like... me. It wasn't just a good night's sleep I got last night, I had my eyes opened an' all, and that's clever given how much I drank. But I don't feel any worse for it. In fact, I feel better than I have, since... ever. I'm looking around and just thinking; "Wow." Look at me, leading leady in the West End production of Grease, greatest musical on earth. This isn't school hall am-dram anymore. I could really be something. I just want to prove myself.

"Right!" Lorne smiles, offering me a score sheet. "Reprise of Sandra Dee this morning please Sharon..."

Feeling myself flush, I quietly confess; "I've had five fags since I got here, Lorne."

She gives me the reprimanding look I expected, but she's still smiling with it and shakes her head. "Don't worry, we'll just see how you sound for now, we'll worry about the particulars later. You ready?"

I glance nervously around all those that are still milling, all involved in their own thing, but still very able to cast judgements on me should they so wish. But I guess I need to get used to audiences. So I nod and prepare myself, going with the bar and singing slowly, allowing myself to become immersed in the lyrics, even as I find that I have to wander across the stage.

Look at me, there has to be
Something more than what they see
Wholesome and pure - oh, so scared and unsure
A poor man's Sandra Dee

I glance down at the stage as that last line of the verse leaves my mouth. I'm instantly reminded of Justin and find that, with that thought, I'm smiling. Cos like Sandy appears to be, I was scared. But I'm not anymore. Because I'm free. Everything he did, was to belittle me, control me, thereby giving a man I thought loved me permission to control me. Well, the bastard can't have it anymore.

When they criticise and make fun of me
Don't they see the tears in my smile?
Don't they realise there's just one of me
And it has to last me a while?

Cos I'm moving on. I sing proudly, liking what I hear, the strength of my voice surprisingly unaltered by all those cigarettes. Maybe it's cos the words are true. Like Sandy, I need to get rid of everything I was made to think I was and start being who I truly am. And hey, I consider, glancing over at Sal & Dennis and realising that's she's blinking, looking stunned and Dennis is just grinning outright, apparantly proud of me still, I've got some great help on hand! 

Sandy! You must start anew
Don't you know what you must do?
Hold your head high, take a deep breath and cry
Goodbye to Sandra Dee!

I look to Lorne for feedback and she lets out a low whistle. "Well!" She clears her throat. "I think we can safely say that was... brilliant! Go have another cigarette girl!"

I beam and go off to do exactly that, but Nick steps into my path, shaking his head with a grin. "I wouldn't if I were you babe."

"And why's that?"

"Well, Woody's here i'n't he?"

"The publicity photographer?"

He nods. "That's the guy. Needs to finish his set with you and Zuko over there, don't he?"

I turn around and glance at Dennis, who, immersed in talking, heads bowed to Sal, doesn't notice me. I smile weakly in resignation and turn back to Nick. "So... what shots does he want. d'you know?"

"Yeah, I do as it does. Wants us lot jumping all over Greased Lightnin'. They've bought the car in, there's a huge lorry blocking up the car park!"

"Your moment's arrived huh Nick?"

"So totally and utterly!" he beams, nodding as he rubs his hands eagerly together. "Been waiting for this since I was seven."

"Oh, so just them thirty years then?"

"Cheeky cow, I'm only twenty-eight!"

I huff, sighing dramatically. "Oh to be young again!"

Nick laughs, pushing my shoulder playfully. "Stop being so bloody melodramatic, you. Point is, you don't have time for that cigarette. Woody's already setting up."

"But... I haven't got changed!" I protest, gesturing heavily down to my jeans and Calvin Klein t-shirt.

He just waves his hands dismissively. "Don't worry about that, he knows he's gotta give us all time for that. He'll just sit back drinking tea and eating biscuits. But in the meantime, walk this way my darlin'-" Clasping both my hands, he leads me forward as he paces back across the stage, stopping only when he surmises that I am now stood in an adequate spot.

"Perfect."

I giggle. "Nick, what are you-"

He glances pointedly at Richard, stood strumming his acoustic guitar.

"Need an audience, don't we?"

"What for? Morning Rich."

"Hey Sharon." Richard smiles, before turning to Nick. "Look, are we gonna through this or not?"

"Well that depends." Nick responds, his eyes not having moved from me. "Is the leading lady gonna stick around to give us her opinion or not?" He bends down, swinging his own guitar up into his arms and pulling the strap over his head.

Realisation dawns as I look between them. "Your duet!" I gasp. "Course I will guys, go on!"

They both beam at me and then turn their attentions to the strings of each guitar. "OK-" Nick murmurs. "-A-one, a-two, a-one-two-three-four!"

La la la la, la la la la  
La la la la, la la la la  
La la la la, la la la la  
Oh-oh-oh, rock n' roll party queen.

These two have got a gorgeous blend. Richard just seems even more impressive because his voice is just as mature and strong as Nick's, you wouldn't believe there's ten years of age and therefore experience between them. 

Nick takes the first line of the verse...

Little girl, you know who I mean

Richard takes the second...

Pretty soon, she'll be seventeen.

Then they join up again and truly, they are mesmerising. They're singing so softly and yet the two of them together are so lost to what they're singing, they're buoying each other up perfectly, somehow making this whole delivery loud and proud. I can't tear my eyes away from them. 

They tell me her name's Mary Jean
Ah-ah-ah - rock n' roll party queen.
Friday night and she's gotta date
Going places, just-a staying out late
Dropping dimes in the record machine
Ah-ah-ah - rock n' roll party queen.
Ba ba ba ba ba - oh no! 
Can I have the car tonight?
Baby, baby; can I be the one
To love you with all of my might?
I... I... I... I...

At the last line, Nick flashes me a cheeky smile that just makes me giggle, completely drawn into the empassioned shimmering of his eyes. Richard glances between us and shakes his head in disbelief as he grins, he and Nick picking up the next verse. As they become immersed, they both step up to surround me, swinging their hips as their guitars rock side to side in their hands. And they're both grinning like naughty school-boys, of which Richard still is, the dirty little bastard, as they sing shamelessly at me.

She's the girl that all the kids know
Talk about her wherever she goes
I could write a fan magazine
About my rock n' roll party queen
Ba ba ba ba ba, you should see her
Sha-a-ake to the latest dance
Baby, baby; don't call it puppy love
Don't you wanna true romance?
I... I... I... I... I... I... I...

And to escape the proximity they hold me in, I have to twist and turn, a smile still most definitely on my face as the colour of embarrassment creeps in. Embarrassed I may be, but I still love them, am still having a laugh as they inevitably have me dancing between them, caught in the middle of what is now a definite serenade.

Rocking and a-rolling, little party queen
We're gonna do the stroll, hey party queen
You know I love you so my party queen
You're my rockin' and my rolling party queen
Party queen! Party queen!
Rockin' and a-rolling little party queen!

I'm still giggling as I clap and hug them, declaring how bloody brilliant they were before asking; "Can I go and get changed now?"

 
"Can we expect any more interruptions this session, Sharon?"

Blanching my lip, I glance down guiltily as I back up against Greased Lightnin', pressed my palms flat against the bonnet. I can feel my cheeks flaming. It really didn't go unnoticed how damn much I messed everyone around them. Damn you Justin! I think bitterly. Where the Hell do you get off, forcing me into these situations?

"Er, no!" I assure him, clinging to the last shreds of my confidence. "No, that problem's sorted, I promise."

Dennis catches my eye as he moves up beside me, smiling gently, in the kinda way that says the very expression was meant for my eyes only. It's like no-one else has noticed him.

Oh, they have physically. He was one of the first to get changed, pulling his belt through his black jeans and throwing on his T-Bird jacket, just as eager as Nick to get jumping all over this poor car. She looks good, somehow still gleaming despite all the footprints I should be able to pick out. I stood far back, watching them and trying to smother my helpless giggles, knowing I couldn't distract them. But it was so funny. They were all fighting not to burst into a verse of "Greased Lightnin'" itself as they jumped and flipped and scrambled and posed. It was like watching a load of already hyperactive six year olds being let loose in a candy store.

"So we can get on then?" Woody presses. 

I nod certainly, glancing at Dennis. "Where'd you want us then, Woody?"

Dennis bows his head, snorting out a laugh. 

I whirl back to him in suspicion. "What?"

"Nothing!" he says a beat later, perfectly straight-faced. "Just-"

"Sharon, if you could just... lie on your front on the bonnet, that'd be brilliant. Imagine you're... star-gazing or something. Keep your head up, keep looking right at me..."

Dennis moves right out my way as I push through my hands to lift myself up onto the bonnet, easing off my shoes as I go, afraid that they might damage the paintwork. Bending my knees up to my chest, I swivel round and stretch out, my hands dropping casually over the edge of the bonnet as I hold myself up, my boobs acting like a second prop! I giggle privately - about time they were good for something!

"And Dennis-?"

He smiles knowingly at Woody. He leans in to me as he sees my quizzical look and murmurs; "Word of advice Sharon, don't ask where I'm going darlin'..."

I have no idea what he means, apprehensive stirrings happening in my stomach that only intensify as he presses his foot into the headlight and pulls himself up with a groan of exertion onto the bonnet.

"Dennis!" I cry as he continues stepping across it and not... perhaps lying beside me as I might have expected. Oh Hell, I don't know what to expect. And I think I kinda like it too, is that twisted? 

I try writhing to face him, but as soon as I do, Woody's demanding; "This way, Sharon!" and I have to turn dutifully back. But I feel the front of the car lurch as Dennis crouches down beside me and advises; "...and whatever you do, don't look up!"

"Wha'? Why?" I question, looking up just as he swings his other foot over my form, straddling my shape as he stands above me, meaning I'm looking directly into his crotch.

He laughs. "I told you not to look!"

"Oh calm down!" I giggle, straightening up a little as I lie there, looking readily at Woody. And I find that I'm smirking to myself, thinking it's alright Dennis - I've seen more than that before now.

"And... strike it! Can you go back a bit with the comb a bit, Dennis? Fab... more tension in your left leg; remember you're "cool", this is just your broad on your bonnet-" Seeing my indignant look as Dennis laughs, Woody beams. "Smile Sharon. Leading lady remember, ah, that's it, brilliant, hold that!"

And we go on like this for about ten minutes, Dennis pretending to stumble and lose his balance each time he changes position, making me think each and every damn time that he's gonna end up crashing down on top of me. But we're fine, that is until Woody gives us a "2-second breather!" and Dennis leans down against his hands and lets himself drop heavily down beside me, making me scream in surprise.

"Oooh, sorry. Just wanted to see how you're doing down here!"

"What, you mean, with you posing up there? Badly!"

Copying my stance and resting his chin against his palm, he rolls his eyes and sighs; "You're so bloody dramatic."

Click!

I blink against the flash of the camera and Dennis laughs, crying; "Oi, Woods! That weren't fair, we were off-guard!" 

But Woody just shrugs. "Spontaneous shots are always the best Dennis, you know that. And anyway, I didn't know you could get her to relax like that!"

"Oh yeah!" I announce sarcastically. "He's charmed."

"Awww!" he teases. "That's sweet, thanks. C'mon then-"

"C'mon where?" 

Dennis just grins and pulls himself half way up, offering down his hand. Cautiously, I take it, laughing as he pulls me up too and I almost stumble against him, but he manages to hold me steady.

"You OK?"

"Fine." I smile, nodding. "Just, uh... what am I doing up here, least of all with you?"

"Woody!" Dennis calls, totally ignoring my teasing question, at least for the moment. "You want her relaxed? We can give you relaxed, can't we, Sharon?"

Not quite sure what the shimmering in his eyes means he's planning, I know I have to go with it, nodding confidently. "Mmmm-hmmm. Dennis, what are you... oooh!"

OK, how's this for random? I appear to be dancing barefoot on the bonnet of a mock-up of the most iconic car in theatrical history (long as you're not counting Chitty Chitty Bang Bang that is!) with the West End's sexiest star - and all in the name of making me relax! Yeah, right, this is so gonna do it, worried stiff I'm gonna go flying off the edge!

"Rickman!" Woody laughs, watching us dubiously. "You wanna tell me what the Hell this is?"

"Well, yeah, sure. Sharon hates the fact that Danny, i.e. me, ditches Sandy at the hop. Can't stand it. So I'm thinking she's due a couple of dances. Hey, don't look at me like that; you want her to loosen up and if you'd seen her move like I have, you'd know there ain't any other you can make her looser!"

"Oh my God, you actually just said that!" I gasp, hitting him playfully in the chest. "You bastard."

But he just flashes me a cheeky grin, pulling me up against him. "You know it!"

I beam at him, recognising something in his face. "You were made to play this guy weren't ya?"

"Absolutely. Ain't no other way to touch up the good girls."

"Yeah? Well, guess what? This girl can give you a run for your money..."

"Was kinda counting on it, darlin' - Woody! Do your stuff mate!"

And we're there, stood on the bonnet, pressed up against each other, arms wound tight around each other; turning this way and that, hands reaching here and there, all the while fighting back total giggle fits. And when he can't, oh, it's such a gorgeous sound. He sounds so damn innocent, but I just know it's not true, which is what sets me off with him. I think I love him, he's adorable. And it's me he's got no choice but to be looking at with those smouldering eyes. God, I am so bloody lucky. I can't believe I ever screwed up the reality of this.

"Right, I'm done!" Woody announces, some hilarious twenty minutes later. I don't think he really needed half that last reel, he was just humouring me and Dennis larking about, with every pose and pout, letting our hands trail everywhere our characters, especially me done up as "innocent" Sandy, would never allow. "Expect to see your faces slapped everywhere in the next few days."

"Can we stay away from the back ends of buses this time, Wood?"

I almost double over, laughing. "What?"

"It's true!" Dennis assures me, sounding utterly aghast. I pulled out a side road... behind the studio we were rehearsing Chicago before the previews right, and there's me, ten foot tall, slapped over the back end of a bus! My mates had a field day."

"Awww, Dennis!"

But Woody leaves without a word, more a secretive smile as he packs himself up, dutifully pumping hands as he goes.

Dennis leaps off the bonnet, turning back to me as I sit down against the edge, ready to slide down. But he catches me and find that he's swinging me down to the floor in his arms.

"That was a bit artistically done, wa'n't it, Dennis?"

He grins. "Looked good, di'n't it?" Then he cases both my hands eagerly and pulls me away.

"Hey... where are we off?"

But he doesn't tell me, just looks at me with that mysterious shimmer in his eyes. He leads me out onto the stage, where everyone else seems to be huddled, still poring over score sheets and scripts. When they see the two of us, they start cheering and clapping, abandoning all the paper.

"What have you done?" I demand slowly, gaze fixed squarely on Dennis as he stands proudly in front of me.

"One last blow-out. Well, while we're still here anyway... we're back in the studios tomorrow afternoon. Sonny wants to dance us stupid, the bastard."

"You scared Dennis?"

"Me? Nah darlin', this ain't my debut!" He gives me a pointed look, but I shrug it off. This guy is never getting the better of me.

But that said, I still don't know what he's up to, entirely unable to bring my eyes away from him. He's enchanting. Pulling up my hand, he pushes me out so I spin beneath it. I giggle, looking over at him excitedly. He peels off the beloved jacket and tosses it aimlessly at Nick, whose followed us in, the rest of the T-Birds behind him. They too catch sight of us both and settle themselves at any found spot on the stage.

"Dennis...?" I question again.

"Alright, alright, OK! Well just cos I feel like making an absolute tit of myself for you Sharon..." He rolls his eyes. "...from my Danny to your Sandy..." He steps up and extends his hand, wanting me to press mine into it. I do so out of nothing but interest, feeling so many pairs of eyes on me. He straightens my arm with one tug, and I think I understand as he pulls me in, spinning from the hip and giggling as I feel my back slam into his chest.

"...the hop!"

I smile in disbelief, declaring quietly "You're mental..." as I spin out again, swinging my hips and striking definite poses with my arms, Dennis having released my hand as soon as I moved out.

Well honky-tonk baby, get on the floor
All the cats are yelling, they're shouting for more!

We turn in towards one another certainly, our movements deliberately rigid and therefore jerky as we avoid touching. Then at the beginning if the second bar, Dennis grabs my hand, leaning the other way and forcing me to fall to the remaining side. And if the bastard lets me go, we all know I'm on the floor!

My baby likes to rock, my baby likes to roll
My baby does the chicken and she does the stroll!

So it's a good job he holds on really isn't it? He pulls me up to my own height a beat afterwards and it's only as I catch how intently he is watching the circuit of my hips against the encouragement of his own that I realise I still have bare-feet.

Well shake it! Shake it! Shake it! Shake it! 
(Yeah, shake it!) Shake it! Shake it! Shake it! 
Yeah, shake it!
Everybody's shakin'! Shakin' at the high school hop!

Dennis' hand against the underside of my thigh, he pulls it up in one movement to rest against his hip, the both of us twisting our torsos to face our audience before he forces his weight down through his hips, thereby forcing me to lean back as he comes forward. So not only is he certain to let me end up on the floor, he's gonna break my back with it! 

Well sock hop baby! (Roll up her crazy jeans!)
Gonna rock to the music (Gonna dig the scene)
Shimmy to the left, cha-cha to the right
We're gonna do the stomp til broad daylight!

I straighten up and we spring apart, the rhythm of our hips just active to tease one another. Damn, I always knew Sandy should have had a real shot at this hop, specially if her Danny dances like mine does. My Danny.

Well shake it! Shake it! Shake it! Shake it! 
(Yeah, shake it!) Shake it! Shake it! Shake it! 
Yeah, shake it!
Everybody's shakin'! Shakin' at the high school hop!

I stand with my back to Dennis and spin in towards him. He catches my intention immediately, hand sliding up the back of my leg and straightening it for presentation's sake as he lifts me casually into his arms and turns one hundred and eighty degrees before setting me down in front of him, my back still to him. Then I turn to the side, glancing at him out the corner of my eye as I stamp my foot (not hard you understand, still have bare feet here!) and let him pull me back in to him and dictate the circuit of my hips against his once again.

We're gonna alley-oop on Blueberry Hill
We'll party with Lucille - won't be standing still!
Hand-jive baby! Do the stomp with me!
A calpyso, do the slop - I'm gonna bop with Mister Lees!
Well shake it! (Whoa!) Shake it! (Whoa!) Shake it! Yeah, shake it! 
(Yeah, shake it!) Shake it! Shake it! Shake it! 
Yeah, shake it!
Everybody's shakin'! Shakin' at the high school hop!

He takes my hands, holding me against his now like a casual dancer and we swing swing to side, back and forth, anything we feel like, all the while grinning at each other, even the ab-libbed crazy footwork somehow in sync. What a team, eh?

Hop! Hop! Hop! Shake, rock n' roll-roll! Rock, roll and shake, shake!
Shake, rock n' roll-roll! Rock, roll and shake, shake!
Shake, rock n' roll-roll! Shakin' at the high school hop!
Shakin' n' a-rolling at the high school hop!

"I'm tellin' you-" Dennis declares, looking me up and down like he's in awe, still idly playing with both my hands even as we pull back from one another. "-not even Olivia Newton-John can dance like that!"

"Ah well, she's been taking lessons!" I tease, giggling still. "Now can I go and get my shoes? My baby toe's stinging like a bitch!"

 
I'm flicking through my script when Sharon sails past and tells me she's off to get changed.

"OK, see you back there in a second yeah?"

She nods and I let my gaze drop again, trying to find the damn drive-in scene she said we should go through. But there's so many strokes of lurid highlighter and scrawled notes in the margin, I don't know where the Hell I'm looking and give up with a frustrated groan, deciding that Sharon's got it right and I should probably go and get changed too. 

I go and collect my jacket from the guys and move off towards my dressing room. I back up against the door, already unbuckling my belt and pulling down my fly. I change back into my own faded blue jeans and pull the white t-shirt off, returning to my Edward Monkton "Beware The Deadly Donkey" t-shirt. God, I love this thing. Resting each of my feet in turn against the stool in front of the dressing table, I tie the laces of my trainers, collecting together my costume and returning it to the wardrobe girls so they can run it through the laundry with the other hundred costumes of this production.

Then, going back to pick up my script, I go cautiously down the corridor, tapping on Sharon's door.

"S'open Dennis..."

I smile, liking that she knew it would be me. I push open the door and slide into the room. It's so much like organised chaos in here, make-up and clothes and photos everywhere. The rest of the Ladies have slowly been moving in here and it's been taken anyone twice as long to hurry them up to work because they've all been sat round giggling over God knows what.

"Hey..."

"Hiya!" she beams, swinging her leg from beneath her to rise from the sofa. Her eyes fix open my chest, tracking the words and then she bursts out laughing. "Love the t-shirt! Not quite so sure about the hair though, what's in it?"

"Don't ask." I sigh. "Still waiting for it to melt!"

She giggles softly and glances down at her script, seeing mine in my hand. "Ready then?"

"Mmmm-hmmm."

"Actually hang on..." She quickly reads the stage direction. "...sit down, makes more sense..."

Obediently, I flop down, resting my script on the arm. Sharon comes and sits beside me, giggling at the way she has to keep her back so rigid and maintain the distance between us. Shaking my head with a humoured smile on my face, I glance down and take my cue to kick off the scene, faux American drawl immediately in place.

"Why don'tcha move a little closer?"

I can see the flicker of a smile fighting not to appear in the corner of her mouth. "No, this is all right." She's not allowed to smile otherwise my next line of dialogue is so screwed.

Tease.

"Well, can't you just smile or somethin'?" No, Sharon - don't! I turn towards her, resting my knee in the cushion of the sofa as I drop my script into my lap. "Look Sandy, I practically had to bust Kenickie's arm to get his car for tonight. The guys are really P.O'ed at me. I mean, I thought we were gonna forget about that scene at the bleachers with Sonny and Rizzo and everything? I told you on the phone I was sorry!"

She tilts her chin defiantly. "I know you did."

"Well, you do believe me don't ya?"

The tiny little sigh she gives out as she turns in towards me is absolutely gorgeous. "I guess so." she begins, not even needing to check her script as it rests against her knee. "It's just that everything was so much easier when it was just the two of us."

"Yeah, I know but... hey, you ain't going with another guy, are ya?"

This time, she can't keep the smile in, colour flooding her face as she glances coyly down at her page, probably not even taking the words in, just amused by how the accusation once applied to the two of us.

"No." she smirks, levelling with my gaze again. "Why?"

"Oh! Uh... erm, nothing! Well, I... ah! I was gonna ask ya to take my ring." Sharon looks quizzically down at my bare hands, leaving me to mouth "Shut up!" when she looks up at me.

"Oh Danny-" she coos obediently. "-I don't know what to say!"

"Well, don't ya wan' it?"

"Mmmm-hmmm."

"I shoulda gave it to you a long time ago. I really like you, Sandy."

Glancing down at our place on the page, I can't help but smirk unashamedly, and Sharon notices immediately, trying to find where I'm looking. "Oi, what's that look for, Dennis?"

"Only the best bit of the entire show..."

"The grope!"

"Don't suppose you wanna rehearse that too, do you?"

Throwing me a look, she smirks too, mocking Sandy as she presses her palm to her chest and cries; "Oh! Danny, you're hurting me! Never figured what was up with that girl..."

She trails off as her phone shrills from on top the cluttered dressing table. She looks at it nervously and then turns back as she pulls herself up, gesturing for me to wait one minute.

She sighs heavily as she goes over and picks the phone up, glancing at the screen. But she accepts the call anyway. "Yeah? I know it's you, for God's sake, I can read. Look, don't start, just tell me- what? Nothing! And what the Hell's that got to do with you anyway? We're over Justin, and that means I want you out of my-"

Realising that she's talking to him, I scoot forward, listening for everything I can pick out. And I hate that she's pushing her fingertips into the cushion of her trembling bottom lip, become more and more affected by whatever venom he's pouring in her ear. She realises I'm watching her and quickly raises her hand to swipe away tears brimming in her eyes.

He's made her cry.

"I just wanna be me. There's nothing wrong with that - there's nothing wrong with me. We don't work, Just. We never have. We're bad for each other and... you're killing me and you just don't care! C'mon, you tell me, did you ever? I don't want you. I want you out! Yeah? Well, you do that! You don't scare me anymore, you pathetic bastard. So, kill me, go on. You know where I am!"

And she wrenches the phone back, ending the call and throwing the thing violenty down. I push myself up to go to her. 

As I stand before her, she turns away, shielding her crying eyes from my view with the screen of her hand. "Don't. Please don't."

But I reach for her still tender wrist, pulling her hand down. Her face is so stained with tears, I can't stand it. This morning, she was genuinely happy and now? 

"Oh God Dennis, it's such a mess..."

Without a word, I draw her into my arms. She's tremoring as she rests there.

"He won't go. He won't get out of my life. Won't leave my flat either, says he'll see me dead first. And I know it sounds pathetic, but I believe him. I do."

"No way, Sharon. Nothing's gonna happen to you, darlin', I promise."

"But you can't! You can't be involved in this!"

"I already am."

She pulls back, throwing me an ugly look. "Why?" she demands. "Cos you rescued me last night? Fuck off, Dennis. I needed a friend, that's all, and I'll always appreciate that you were there, but nothing that goes on in my life has anything to do with you-"

I return a stormy look and she blanches her lip as she glances almost guiltily down, adding;

"-anymore."

"That was low, you know that?"

Shaking in frustration, perhaps at me, or perhaps herself, she covers her face with both her palms for a second. "I know. And I'm sorry. But I can't keep putting upon you-"

"You're not!"

"Yes I am." she declares defiantly. "You told me to be my own person right? How can I do that if I can't even deal with what's happening in my own life? I made it this way, didn't I? It's me that's gotta put it right. Please... just keep out of it."

~*~

But I just can't do that. I can't. Not now I know that all the laughs and smiles, they're all fake. She's falling apart. She don't want anyone to know that, I just happened to be the one there to see it happen. And I won't let it. She's better than all this, maybe even better than me, but that isn't gonna stop me. This spineless, evil and controlling bastard is not gonna have a hold on her for any longer. He's getting out of her life and he's doing it today.

I sneak out of the theatre when Lorne permits a break at half-eleven. I get in my car and I drive to Sharon's. I stand on her doorstep, incessantly pressing the buzzer up to her flat for no other reason than I'd really love to get this guy really riled.

I force myself to smile as the evil, slimey bastard wrenches up the door and demands savagely; "What?"

"Justin!"

"Do I know you?"

I run my tongue along my bottom lip, shifting my weight and feeling decidedly cocky. He really has got this coming. And I intend to enjoy every bloody second of it.

"Oh I'm sorry. Let me introduce myself!"

My fist catches him square beneath the chin and he goes sprawling back across the hall with the force of it, leaving the way clear for me to step into the hall, slamming the door shut behind me.

"What the Hell-"

"Get up, you arsehole or I'll drag you up..."

"No way! You've lost it..."

So I lunge down for him, dragging him up the wall by the collar. "I said get up!"

Groaning as his back slams painfully into the wall each time. "It's... Dennis right?"

"Mmmm, that's right. Dennis. I'm the guy that's been working every day with Sharon, the guy that's seen what you did to her! Make you feel good did it, beating a woman? Did she scream? Did she beg you to stop? Well c'mon!"

I fling him back, and he just stares at me, trembling but otherwise paralyzed in fear. Now he knows how Sharon felt.

"I'm waiting Justin." I hiss warningly. "And if there's one thing you should know about me, it's that I don't-" He keels forward as I swing my fist into his stomach. "-like to be kept waiting!" 

At this second punch, I can tell he wants to sink to the floor, but I ain't about to allow that, pulling him roughly up by the shoulders and flicking his chin to force him to look at me.

"You're scum, you know that? Sharon's well shot of you. Isn't she?"

However weakly, the bastard dares to smirk and I let my hand close dangerously around his throat.

"Isn't she?"

Struggling to breathe, he nods jerkily.

"You know what this means don't you, Justin, hmmm?"

"She finished with me!" he chokes. "What more do you want?"

"I want you out!" I bellow, bashing him purposely against the wall again. "You crawled your way into her home as soon as you were in her bed! And guess what, mate, she never wanted you there! You have no damn right to be here, and you will get out!"

"Whose gonna make me? You?"

I give him a tight smile, squeezing a little harder. "Oh, I'll drag you out of here piece by piece if I have to, don't you worry. You make me feel sick. Piss off back to the sewer you crawled from eh? Sharon's got a life to live, and if you don't disappear from here Justin, today, then I promise you... yours is over."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I don't like that word. Conjures up all sorts of images. Let's just call this a friendly warning shall we?"

Loosening my hold around his throat and listening piteously as he takes in a painful sounding breath of much needed air, I step back, watching him lurch to support himself.

"Nice seeing you again, Justin."

~*~

"I'll see you all back in the studios tomorrow, guys, good job today yeah?"

The whole cast is grinning and nodding, stuffing scripts into bags and downing the last of their coffees before swinging on their jackets and shipping out. I grab Sharon's arm as she moves past me and she levels up, smiling as she tucks strands of hair behind her ear.

"You alright?" she questions softly, her shimmering eyes moving slowly across my face.

I smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was... just... wondering if you fancied a drink or something?"

Smile still in place, she says; "D'you mind if I don't? I kinda wanna head home and shrivel in a piping hot bath-"

I shrug. "That's fair enough. Just... d'you want a lift home?"

Turning her head to the side, she narrows her eyes and asks; "Why?"

"It's just a question..." I return nervously, hunching my shoulders.

"Yeah, I know. But it sounds like you don't believe I'll be alright on me own."

"Am I not allowed to care about you then?" I demand tersely.

"Dennis..." she breathes quietly, pressing her hand over my arm, realising she's inadvertently stung at me. "...I didn't mean it like that. You know how much I appreciate everything you've- look, if you're going my way and you're sure you don't mind then yeah, a lift'd be great, thanks."

And though I don't show it as she moves past me, I hate how she smiles at me - like she's the one in the wrong. Because she's not. I can't let her go back to that place without being sure that Justin's truly gone. Cos if he ain't...

Then I'm screwed. Because, though I never realised it, he's got me in a definite corner. Because I would happily tear the scum-bag limb from limb. And if he wants to prove that to Sharon, then...

No. I made sure he knew I meant it. He'll be gone, he will. But I'm still so uneasy as I drive, laughing over the way we can't seem to agree on a radio station because I hate that song and she can't stand that presenter. So instead, we settle on talking about how well our day went, nailing scenes and high notes.

"Where'd you get to earlier anyway?"

"Huh?"

"This morning. You disappeared for an hour, Lorne was practically fitting! Where were ya?"

"Oh! Doctors... they screwed up my prescription, only noticed this morning..."

And I hate that, seeing as I'm lying to her, she's giving me such a look of concern.

"Nothing's wrong is it?"

"Nah! I just suffer a bit, that's all - hayfever and that."

She nods, accepting it. Makes me wince regretfully, cos as easy as it seems to have been for her to lie to me, I hate doing the same to her. Not now we've got an understanding about the past. 

Sharon releases a small defeated sigh as I pull up outside her flat, slowly unclipping her seat-belt, like she's reluctant to go.

"Don't suppose you want a coffee, do you?"

I give her a small smile as I raise my eyebrow and remind her; "I don't drink coffee."

"Oh yeah! Well, tea then!"

"Yeah, alright."

I climb out, ramming my keys into my pocket as soon as the car is locked and going round to her side, walking up a step behind her all the way. We climb the stairs and she's nervous as she raises her front door key to the lock. A relieved smile curves her lips when she recognises that it slides in perfectly. 

"Well, he hasn't changed them, that's something I suppose."

"Yeah, well, you know I'm here right?"

Stepping into her hall, Sharon turns and tells me firmly; "That's not why I asked you up here y'know. I'm not scared of him..."

I have to bite forcefully into my lip. She leads me through to the lounge and I just know she's glancing round for Justin. He's not here.

"Look, sit down, I'll be back in a second..."

Her keys still jangling in her hand, she rushes past me. I settle myself uneasily on the edge of her sofa, hands laced together as I wait. Cos I know full well she's gone to scout round in every room for him.

"Dennis!"

She calls my name and I'm up immediately. We collide in the hall. I catch her, but she just giggles and throws her arms around my neck. 

"He's gone!"

"What?"

"Justin, he's really gone. His clothes are all gone!" And she squeals, hugging me tighter, before she draws back again, kissing my cheek. "Thank you!"

"What for?"

What she replies makes my stomach lurch guiltily. "For not getting involved, for letting things work themselves out! And they have! I can't believe they really have!"

Oh bloody Hell Rickman, what have you done?

The next afternoon rolls around and I'm the first one back in the studio. Feels kinda liberating to be driving myself around as well - in my own car. Not a scratch on it either so maybe, just maybe Justin's gotten the message. We're over and me, I've never felt better. Grabbing my ballet bag (yes, I've still got my ballet bag!) off the backseat, I go inside, changing into my black vest-top and leggings. I head into the empty studio, slightly unnerved by the mirrors and catching sight of myself from fifteen different angles.

But I just smile and settle myself on the floor, stretching gently and eventually arranging myself into the lotus position. I love yoga. It relaxes me and they call it a work out an' all, and I guess I'll be needing it with the pace of these dance routines. I've been there for about twenty minutes, eyes closed, when I hear a second voice.... Nick.

"What are you doing?"

I flinch as my eyes snap open. I didn't hear anyone come in and now I'm looking at practically all of our principal cast. I swear, they must have been loitering in the corridor, waiting for their moment to come and scare the life out of me.

I smile and ignore him, simply carrying on.

Billie sounds more impressed. "Oooh, nice one Sharon, that yoga or pilates?"

"Yoga." I answer serenely.

Nick chuckles. "Is that the one where you can get your leg around your neck?"

I laugh softly, realising it's time to give up. I pull myself up from the floor, brushing my trousers down. Then I move over to Nick and whisper teasingly; "Only with a bottle of tequila inside me!"

The rest of the lads cheer appreciatively. "We'll hold you to that!"

I giggle. When I glance up again, Dennis is stood there. It's like he's trying to catch my eye but doesn't know whether he should, bless him. But as I smile, he is assured and murmurs; "How was the lie-in?"

My smile is softer as I nod. "Slept like a baby, cheers."

"Good..."

This contentment is shattered when there is a loud demanding clap and we all whirl round to see Sonny stood there. "Right, you ready for this? You lot, clear out, go chew over some script or something. Right now, I want my leads! Sharon? Dennis?"

I grin as everyone else files out, taking my place in the middle of the floor. Dennis steps up behind me, and I turn my head to whisper; "You best be ready for this, Dennis..."

"Oh-" he smirks, bowing his head a little. "-I could out-step you any day of the week darlin', don't worry."

"Is that right?" I question, whirling round and pacing back a length, beckoning him. "Then bring it, Rickman, c'mon, I ain't scared."

"Like that is it?"

I nod eagerly. "Mmmm-hmmm!"

"Oi, oi, calm down kids!" Sonny calls, shaking his head at the childishness of us. "Right, I need to talk you through the movement of your last number. Lorne put you through the vocals yet?"

Exchanging a bemused look, Dennis and I shake our heads. "No..."

"Bollocks. Well, never mind, don't want you to be... overfocussed anyway. One step at a time an' all that. So... Dennis, turn in that way mate, next to Sharon, that's it. And... side-step, no, looser c'mon - swing your hips, Ah, beautiful! And other way, that's it, smile! That's smile Sharon, not hysterics!"

"Sorry!"

"Right, Dennis, if she backs up into you, let your hands rest just above her hips and slide down. We'll have to match that up to the beat later. You want the backing?"

We agree, and soon the unmistakable beat of You're The One That I Want is pounding through the whole studio, making us grin. Another most definite reason to have taken this job.

"Right Dennis... hands!" 

Dennis nods, but is hesitant as I stand with my back against his chest, hands hovering. Sonny scoffs.

"Dennis! You're supposed to be in total lust with this woman - you can't be afraid to touch her!"

I giggle. "Yeah, Dennis, c'mon. What d'you think I'm gonna do? Bite?"

Laughing gently, he holds me, murmuring against my ear as his hands move sensually down; "Never know with you..."

"You'd have to ask me really nicely!"

And that's done it. Melted away all the nerves. We have an absolute riot, and Sonny despairs because we just can't stop laughing, swinging each other round the room like a pair of kids and just, getting back into being Danny & Sandy, strutting and circling our hips to tease each other. Definitely no inhibitions about touching anymore.

And even though we haven't been through this song together, we can't help but start singing, even if it does take us a few bars to work out what words we're supposed to be singing, which just makes it even more hilarious. We start off watching each other's movement really carefully to make sure we're in sync, but as we get into it, we seem to work perfectly together anyway and just get on with having a laugh.

You better shape up 
Cos I need a man
And my heart is set on you
You better shape up, you better understand
To my heart I must be true

Countering me forcing him into a backward stride, Dennis grins, pressing his hands into my swinging hips as per instruction. Not that Sonny's giving any more, he's just watching us, spell-bound. Guess it's cos we're acting like eighteen year olds, doing nothing but teasing each other mercilessly, rocking  back and forth against each other. 

Nothing left
Nothing left for me to do
You are the one I want
You are the one I want
Ooh-Ooh-Oooh, honey!
The one that I want
You are the one I want
Ooh-Ooh-Oooh, honey!
The one that I want
You are the one I want
Ooh-Ooh-Oooh, honey!
The one that I need - oh yes indeed!

But then I step away, turning my back and throwing him a flirtatious and beckoning look over my shoulder. He just smirks, letting his gaze travel slowly down. Waiting for him to begin delivering his own line, I turn my heel. 

If you're filled with affection you're too shy to convey
Meditate in my direction - feel your way!
I better shape up cos you need a man

And when he's done, I press my hand commandinglt into his chest and deliver my own line a lot stronger than I ever thought I could. Well, rock on Sandy Dumbrowski eh?

Cos I need a man who can keep me satisfied
I better shape up if I'm gonna prove

Dennis slides behind me, pushing his hand into my hip as he goes so that I slide out to his other side. We're swinging our hips and rocking side to side to avoid ever standing with our bodies in line, our eye contact never severed. God, I'm having so much fun, and I actually feel like Dennis - talented. And he's such a darlin'. I guess I always knew that, but I let him go. Any girl that really does get to be the one he wants is damn lucky - think of all the front row seats she could have!

You better prove 
That my faith is justified!
Are you sure?
Yes I'm sure down deep inside!

And if I wasn't the cow lucky enough to be the one he's paid to be all over every night, then maybe I wouldn't mind being her myself! Least there's no danger he wouldn't treat her right, and that's special, especially when I can prove to you how many scum-bags there are in this world. Still, I pulled the long straw here, cos for the pleasure of working with one of the planet's must gorgeous and genuine men, I get a nice big, fat cheque in my bank account every week. And this is how I earn it, in a fit of giggles, showing off shamelessly to our choreographer. And I don't think I could do it better with anyone else. Dennis Rickman is incredible.

You are the one I want
You are the one I want
Ooh-Ooh-Oooh, honey!
The one that I want
You are the one I want
Ooh-Ooh-Oooh, honey!
The one that I want
You are the one I want
Ooh-Ooh-Oooh, honey!
The one that I need - oh yes indeed!
You're the one that I want!

And what's even better is, I don't sound awful singing alongside him. I can't do, or else Sonny wouldn't be pulling himself up, looking stunned and shaking his head as he says; "Well, Lorne's got nothing to worry about there, I can tell ya!"

~*~

The day just went on like that, getting better and better, even as every part of our bodies started to burn and ache, it still felt as though there was nothing we couldn't do, the whole production, every movement, every look really coming together. I was on such a high, feeling so damn confident for the first time in a long time, and despite the pain we all bemoaned suffering, I was well up for it when at around six that evening, Sonny told us all to piss off home for a job well done and Sal rounded us all up to go to on to a club.

I've never danced so hard in all my life, and that must have been pretty scary given that it was actually really early in the evening. But there was just such a good atmosphere, drinks flowing everywhere. And I downed them all, taking every one that was offered and loving that I didn't have to feel guilty about it anymore. Cos I'm free. And damn, I love it. Means I could dance with whoever I wanted; even Nick, complaining of the hamstring he'd "shredded" turned out to be a right little dirty dancer.

These are just the greatest people. No unease, no accusations or suspicion. Just laughter. Raucous waves of the stuff. And fun. They can really let themselves go, and Hell, so can I. I'm the leading lady after all, and I should lead by example.

But by eleven o'clock, I was roaring drunk. Not as embarrassing as the last time. I could stand up well on my high-heeled shoes, but I became pathetically giggly. Everything was hilarious. Everyone else seemed to be in a similar state so it didn't really matter but still, I was drunk. Started to feel a little woozy and declared I was "off out for some fresh air."

At least, that's what I meant to say and it's in my head and everything, but when it transmits to my tongue, it comes out as "Foutfahfesharrrrr!" followed by a lot of giggling. And yet almost everyone seems to have understood my slur perfectly well. See, I think proudly, I fit in here.

Staggering outside, I gulp in lungfuls of cool night air gratefully, looking up and down the well-lit street. That's when I catch sight of Dennis, propped up against the wall, head bowed. For a moment, I think he might be so drunk that he's fallen asleep standing up, and the idea makes me giggle loudly. But hearing me, he looks up questioningly, smiling as he sees it's me.

"Forgotten who I am yet?"

Teasing him, I mull it over, stroking my chin. "Let me see... are you... George Clooney?"

"D'you wanna piss off love, I'm a good ten years younger than him, thanks!"

"Yeah alright, make me feel even older why don't you?" I moan as I go over to him, my shoulder hitting the wall.

"You're not old Sharon... you're drunk."

"Me? I haven't even started... and what about you eh? We've been here hours, you must have had... ten bottles of lager?"

"Seven."

"Oooh, get you, Mr. Particular."

"Yeah well, I'm pacing meself i'n't I? Don't really fancy having a bangin' head in the morning."

"Then you need to get some adrenaline going round that pretty little head of yours, Dennis; come back inside, we'll have a dance."

He looks at me doubtfully, a smirk on his lips as he raises his eyebrow. "What, me and you? No way Sharon, thanks to you, I'm gonna need physiotherapy..."

"Ha! So much for out-stepping me!"

"Oh leave me alone!" he laughs, rubbing at his calf through his tight jeans. "I can barely bloody walk."

"Well... I'm very good with my hands..." I say quietly into his ear.

"Yeah..." he murmurs hesitantly back, glancing down to his own hands, occupied with rolling a cigarette. "...I remember..."

I bite into my lip, realising how uneasy I have made him, and the wickedness that the God knows how much alcohol inside me makes me love. I cock my head, looking at him thoughtfully. But he won't meet my eye so I glance down too.

"How long have you been trying to roll that?"

He laughs nervously. "Too bloody long."

"Maybe you should stop... they're bad for you anyway."

"Course they are. Isn't that why you want 'em? Cos they're a bad decision, the worst choice?"

"I don't understand..."

"Well yeah, maybe you would if you weren't so drunk. Oh look, Sharon, just go back inside yeah?"

Mesmerised by the way his hands are starting to shake, the way the whole of him is starting to shake, the way he's becoming so wound up, I press my hand into his arm, murmuring; "I like it out here. I like the company."

Shaking uncontrollably now, he throws me off and demands; "Go back inside."

"Why?" I question, glancing down at the never quite made roll-up that has ended up on the floor. "What's wrong with you?"

"Please Sharon!" he pleads, rounding on me and gripping my shoulders. "I'm asking nicely..."

His eyes are crazy, smouldering like mad and the wickedness just flames.

"I told you... you have to ask me really nicely..."

And in that next moment, I know I've pushed him as far as I can. Because his lips crash down on mine, kissing me fiercely as he holds me hard against the wall, his tongue ravaging my mouth. And God, it feels so good. No way is the way I kiss him back, grappling to force his lips harder down on mine just because I'm drunk. He's been waiting, I know he has. And I was brought up to know it's rude to keep anyone waiting. I want to taste his hunger, dizzy with incomprehension to know it's for me. Just feeling him touch me, his hands casing my jaw, I'm on fire. Not just free anymore.... released.

But as quickly as it happened, it's over and he's gone, giving me one deep look as though... he's terrified. And me, I just can't suppress the satisfied smirk on my lips and that don't appear to help him. Because he's gone, leaving me slumped against the wall, suddenly feeling painfully sober. Did that really just happen?

Knowing that it did, I go right after him, fighting my way through the dozens of dancing bodies creating a distance between us. Craning my neck, I catch sight of him at the bar, and before I can force my way over to him, I've seen him sink three very large vodkas in very quick succession.

"Dennis!"

He glances at me, offering a tight smile as he slams his glass back down. "Drink?" I shake my head. "Sure? Cos I'm having one!"

As he stretches his arm across the bar to offer his empty glass back to the bloke behind, I pounce on his hand. "What's going on Dennis?" 

"Don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do! You don't just kiss someone like that and then-"

"Then what Sharon?" he cuts in, his eyes ablaze with interest. "So I kissed ya, it don't mean nothing!"

"Is that right?" I challenge, watching him knocking back another vodka. "Then why'd you do it, hmmm?"

He just looks at me, his lips set in humour almost. "Cos I fancy ya darlin'. Like crazy and I thought, seeing as you won't remember none of this in the morning, now'd be a good time to try my luck, get it out my system!"

"Trying your luck? Well, don't you wanna know how you did?"

"Nah, you're alright. I've gotta work with ya for the next three months, I don't fancy knowing that you've been there, done that and didn't like the t-shirt."

"Oh Dennis, d'you know me at all?"

"Well, the made-up name was a bit of a bitch there really darlin'."

"Oh screw that. I'm talking me. You've said it yourself... I'll see something I want... and I'll just go for it..."

"Sharon! Dennis!" Sal yells, throwing her arms around us both and totally shattering the moment of understanding. "We're all heading off to another club now, you two coming or what? Nick's just called like... a fleet of cabs!"

"No thanks Sal." Dennis tells her, forcing a smile to his lips.

"Spoilsport." she pouts. "What about you Sharon?"

"Yeah. I'm in."

"Great, c'mon then babe!" She squeezes my hand, throwing Dennis a look. "Let's leave Sad-Sack to it!"

I laugh uneasily and pull my hand back. "No, go on. I'll be over in a second, OK Sal?"

She beams, already staggering off to go and join everyone else. I turn back to Dennis, knocking back another vodka. "Partying the night away eh? Darlin', your legs must be hollow!"

I roll my eyes dismissively and sidle up to him. "Dennis, look at me..."

The muscles in his back tense, but he turns obediently. I reach and I prise the empty glass from his hand, setting it down on the bar-top. Then I lean in and softly kiss his lips. He's surprised at first, doesn't know what to do, but realising that I don't intend to stop, he straightens up, pulling me closer against him, each of us eagerly tasting the sheen of alcohol on the other's lips.

As we draw back, he releases the softest, most disbelieving sigh. But I just smile, feeling like some naughty teenager. And I love that Dennis can't help but smile too as I bow my head against his and murmur;

"Talk in the morning yeah?"

 
Only, when the morning comes, my head's bloody banging. And I don't for a second think it's got anything to do with the alcohol. Sharon had way more than I did and- oh God - Sharon! Yeah, see, I knew there was a reason I didn't sleep til almost four. Like I say, this isn't the booze, I've always been able to hold that. 

So when I probably should have been slurring and letting the room spin, I was still pretty much sober. Not Sharon though and when she came outside, looking so damn gorgeous in that skirt and the heels she was determined to still walk in, no matter how much she'd drunk, I just couldn't... I couldn't stop it. And it was so much harder because she was so obviously drunk and being so damn... stubborn and flirtatious with it, I had to, especially since she wasn't about to remember any of it. I just wanted to know her... like I used to.

Except... that's the whole point. She won't remember, will she? She's more likely to come to me for the painkillers this morning, not more of the same. And the want's not gonna go away is it? Damn you, Rickman.

As I drag myself with a reluctant groan from my bed and get myself ready to face, well, the nothingness, down at the theatre, I'm cursing myself all the while. I kissed her because I wanted to, needed to, and I did it then to save her the embarrassment of knowing that. But we have a problem, right there. Cos she kissed me back. She didn't throw me off, demand to know what I thought I was doing. She let me, she kissed me back with the same kinda ferocity. And I want that again.

Walking, head bowed into the theatre, the first thing I catch sight of is the girls, stood together in a locomotion, wearing their Pink Ladies jackets and giggling between themselves and singing out random lines from Summer Nights.

# Tell me more, tell me more, did you get very far?

Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a car? #

And it's like Sharon appears in the middle of them, her jacket hooked casually over her shoulders as she turns to face them, drinking in the attention with an innocent smile. She's killing me.

No, scrap that, she's looking right at me. I try and smile, but her's just fades.

"Dennis..."

"Hiya..." I return weakly.

Shrugging off her jacket, she hands it wordlessly to Kacey before moving over to me. She glances down as she stands there in front of me, like she's tremoring apprehensively. She pulls in a deep breath, finally looking me in the eye and asking; "How are you?"

"Alright, I suppose." I shrug. "You? How's your hangover?"

The softest laugh escapes the corners of her mouth as she smiles, flicking hair gently from her eyes and tilting her head to the side, a quizzical look in her eyes.

"Nope, no hangover. So you can stop with the worried look."

I flinch defensively. "I'm not worried."

"I should hope not. You kissed me first." Seeing my startled look, she nods. "Yes I do remember that bit, darlin'."

"Right. And you're not about to lamp me one?"

She bites into her lip, shaking her head. "I'd be a bit of a hypocritical bitch if I did, don't ya think? Besides, I don't remember fighting you off..."

I smile in spite of myself, hesitant to raise my next words. "So... what are we gonna do?"

"Well... I don't know. Maybe we should just... see how we go yeah?"

I blink. That wasn't what I was expecting her to say. And then I remember, she don't know the truth. She doesn't know what I did. And I still went ahead and kissed her, admitted things in that one moment she's better off not knowing. But if she means it, God, I can't turn my back on that!

"Seriously?"

"Well, I'm not asking you to marry me, am I? So yeah, seriously. It'll be fun."

And even though I'm blanching guiltily at my lip, the urge to grin wins out, and Sharon looks back at me the same way.

"Right, c'mon you, we have scenes to exhaust!" And she pulls on my hand, leading me to the middle of the stage, bleachers and tables set up around. She's barely a full pace forward when she turns round, striding backwards. "You still in agony?"

"Oh... I might have exaggerated a little!"

She beams. "You, Dennis? Surely not!"

"Shut up."

Giggling, she drops my hands and paces back towards the girls, clambering over the bench to settle herself between 'em.

The guys rush down from the bleachers, causing a lot of creaking and clanking before descending on the table set up on the other side.

"Please tell me we don't have to do the scene, I haven't even looked at it!" I whisper anxiously to the huddle.

"Ah, no worries mate, David hasn't called us for that." Nick assures me, hands raised, before pointing out our director in the stalls. "He just wants the warble, and you're up for that right?"

I glance over his head towards Sharon. She sees me looking and smiles coyly. God, she's so gorgeous.

"Yeah!" I grin, slapping Nick's shoulder. "I'm up for that man, c'mon!"

"From the top then!" David calls, watching us T-Birds slide down into position on the table and bench. I sit in the middle, the rest of 'em rocking gently as soon as that unmistakable beat kicks in.

Summer lovin', had me a blast!

Sharon picks up her line flawlessly, the girls swaying around her just the same. And she has that same irrepressible smile on her face as she rises slowly, her hands pressed into the table. This feels good, and even more so when our voices join. I fuckin' love singing with her.

Summer lovin', happened so fast.
I met a girl, crazy for me.
I met a boy, cute as can be 
Summer day, drifted away
To oh! Oh those summer nights

And I love even more the egostistical rising of the guys from around me, oh so ready to give out that iconic pelvis thrust on that beat.

Uh wella-wella-wella-  UH!
Tell me more, tell me more!
Did you get very far?
Tell me more, tell me more!
Like does he have a car?
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh...
(Do-do, do-do, do-do, do-do, do!)

Getting totally into it, I climb confidently up onto the surface of the table, swinging my hips. I glance over at Sharon, waiting for her to deliver her line. But I shouldn't have thought I had to wait, because she's stood up on the bench, smirking, head held high as she clicks her fingers to the rhythm of her hips.

She swam by me, she gotta cramp
He went by me and got my suit damp!
I saved her life - she nearly drowned
He showed off, splashing around!
Summer sun, something's begun
Then oh! Oh those summer nights!

Her girls leap up and I swear, they have better thrusts than us lot! But the guys surround me on the table, their eagerness for detail definitely coming through.

Uh wella-wella-wella- UH!
Tell me more, tell me more!
Was it love at first sight?
Tell me more, tell me more!
Did she put up a fight?
(Doo-be-doo, doo-be-doo, dooby-dooby-dooby, oh!)
Uh huh! Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Uh-huh!

I just keep grinning. Because in answer to the question, no she didn't. And there's that pang that screams I don't deserve the chance she's given me, not after what I did. But I did it for her, so she'd be able to move on from everything she's been through. It's about time she had fun. Not that you can call this anything else. She's up on the table now too, beaming over at me whenever she judges she'll get away with sneaking a glance.

I took her bowling in the arcade
We went strolling, drank lemonade 
We made out under the dock
We stayed out, til ten o'clock!
Summer fling, don't mean a thing
But oh! Oh those summer nights!
Whoa-whoa-whoa!

The guys rise up from around me, their hands clamouring, their words strangely as harmonious as they are pleading. And bloody Hell, listening to the girls, I could bow to Sally, I swear. She sounds like such a bitch! And I can see that Sharon's proud of that self-same fact as we exchange a grin. She looks so relaxed up there, she's mesmerising. I only remember I'm supposed to be shimmying across the table when Patrick's shuddering shoulders nudge me.

Tell me more, tell me more!
But you don't have to brag
Tell me more, tell me more!
Cos he sounds like a drag!
(Shoo-bop-bop, shoo-bop-bop, shoo-bop-bop, shoo-bop-bop...)

Sharon catches my attention again as she settles on the edge of the table, singing out for David's benefit and damn, does he look like he appreciates it. I stand tall before allowing my knees to weaken and slowly twisting down to the covering of the guys. I count the beats through Sharon's next line and shoot back up again, so hyped to sing with her again.

He got friendly, holding my hand!
She got friendly, down in the sand!
He was sweet, just turned eighteen!
Man, she was good, you know what I mean, oh!
Summer heat, boy and girl meet, then oh!
Oh those summer, nights!
Whoa, whoa, whoa!

And to watch her girls, it's like they're all on Smarties or something, singing out and flicking their hair everywhere, every well made up eye trained on Sharon. Not that I can blame 'em. I can't take my eyes off her, even as the guys pull me back down to their level of attention.

Tell me more, tell me more
How much dough did he spend?
Tell me more, tell me more!
Could she get me a friend?

Nope. Even her mate Natalie wants me. But I don't care. Cos I want Sharon. And she wants me too...

"No! Dennis, you can't do it like that!"

Laughing as he turns to look at me, Dennis protests; "It's my fag, I'll roll it how I like thanks!"

"Yeah, if you don't wanna smoke it for a week!" I scoff teasingly, rolling my eyes as I lean back against the wall. "And I thought you were desperate!"

Sighing gently, he slumps back beside me, smirking as he looks up and tells me; "You do my head in, you know that?"

"Yeah? Well, let me roll the fag and I'll stop won't I?"

His gaze averted from mine, he pulls his baccy tin from his back pocket and tilts it in my direction, let his own effort drop to the floor. I pull the tin open, resting it in his palm as I pull out a rizzla and pinch at the heap of tobacco. "Nasty habit you've got there." I murmur, looking down at the abandoned effort. 

"Is that right?"

"Yeah, it is, damn waste of tobacco. But then, I can't see why you'd wanna smoke this stuff anyway. Drum is so much nicer."

He laughs. "Yeah? Few thousand less deadly chemicals? No, thought not."

I purse my lips. "Picking on me already eh? Well... this isn't a great start is it, Dennis?"

"Well, you know what they say. Things can only get better an' all that."

I look at him doubtfully. "Oh what, you mean better than you and a pelvic thrust at ten o'clock in the morning?"

"Well... if you put it like that-"

"There you go." I say triumphantly, offering him one perfectly made roll-up from between my forefinger and thumb. "Wasn't so hard, was it?" He reaches for it, but I swipe it away. "Ah-ah! What d'you say?"

"You're gonna be hard work you, aren't ya?"

I smirk proudly as he rounds on me, holding me against the wall. I'm even more satisfied to feel his lips cover mine, kissing him eagerly. God, I'd forgotten how good he was at this.

"Thank you." he murmurs cockily as we break apart.

Giggling as he prises the roll-up from my hold, I stretch up and brush away the residue of my lip-gloss from his lip. "You're welcome..."

Grinning, Dennis lifts his lighter from the tin, closing it and putting it back into his pocket before sparking up a flame and lighting the tip of the roll-up, taking a long and much-needed drag. Blowing the plumes of smoke gently out his mouth, and I have to admit, looking sexy as Hell doing so, he turns, his shoulder pressed into the wall as his head lolls against it, and offers me the smouldering roll-up. And even though I don't approve of the tobacco he's smoking, I am dying for a smoke, so take it, toking.

"What?" I question, unnerved by the way he's watching me so intently.

But he smiles, apparantly having picked up on that. "Nothing. Just want you to know, I don't do this with everyone."

"What? Sneak round the back of a theatre in the middle of morning rehearsals for a smoke?"

"Yeah-" he laughs gently. "-somethin' like that. Sal reckons I've given up. But no, I meant, I don't just go into every production assuming I'll be "in there" with the leading lady."

I splutter on my mouthful of smoke. "Down boy, you're not "in" anywhere. And anyway, who says I'm a lady huh?"

"God... you're amazing..."

"Well, you can't be that bad yourself can ya?"

"Oh I dunno. I can when I try..."

"Oh yeah? And when are you gonna do that exactly?"

Stealing the half-smoked roll-up from me once again, Dennis teases; "I was thinking lunchtime might be a good time to start. Billie & Sal have decided we should all go out for lunch, celebrate how well rehearsals are going or somethin'-"

"Sweet." I observe with a weak smile, shrugging. "But d'you mind if we... keep this between us? I'm just not ready for another big show of togetherness, y'know? Not after Justin..."

"Hey-hey, it's alright. I'm not about to do anything you don't want, I ain't like that."

"No, I know. That's why I'm really looking forward to this."

"To what?"

I shrug. "Just... being with you. You're great... I know how lucky I am..."

He scoffs uneasily. "You're not lucky."

"Yes I am!" I insist. "Not many people get second chances, Dennis. I intend to take mine. I don't wanna ruin it. I just wanna enjoy knowing that, for once, something don't feel like it's gonna go wrong from the outset."

"Yeah... me an' all."

"Yeah right!" I laugh, rolling my eyes. "You, the hottest, most in-demand man in the West End since... ever?"

And though he grins, obviously loving the compliments, he don't sound convinced, murmuring; "That don't make me invincible."

"It does to me..."

He smiles uneasily, pulling me towards him and wrapping his arms around my waist. "Well, what about you eh? Can you really get your leg around your neck?"

I can't help but giggle, teasing; "I guess you'll never know..."

"Ah! You're killing me."

"Oh! I best go then!"

"Oh no, don't..."

I step out of his hold, carefully swinging the hand that does not hold the roll-up. "Have to, Dennis, c'mon..."

~*~

Never mind killing him, the rest of the day crucified me. David set off us in groups to go and practically swallow our scripts. I got sent off with the Ladies, which I didn't mind, honestly. It was just that, I could think of better things to do the next time I set eyes on Dennis rather than fling scenes back and forth. And lunch, oh God...

I couldn't help but point out there was no way twenty people could waltz in anywhere and just expect to be accommodated. Sal just looked at me, eyebrow raised and said; "Honey, look around. All we have to do is drop a few names and it'll be like taking candy from a baby." I wasn't really comfortable with such an idea, but I figured, safety in numbers right? And as it turned out, Sal was right. One look from her, to Patrick, to Dennis and to Bonnie, and the entire staff of this gorgeous little restaurant on the corner were falling over themselves for us. And though we knew we couldn't get drunk, the wine was flowing anyway.

"To the expense account of our very own David Webb!"

Not sure whether I believed the intent in that statement, I just went with it, warmed by my first few sips of wine, beaming as I joined in the toast. Looking around, absolutely everyone was already laughing as they drank. I love this lot, truly.

Surprisingly, Dennis was one of the first to recognise that we proved to be at least four bottles of wine short as a group. Don't quite know how, seeing as he drinks the least of anyone I appear to know, but somehow, I appreciated it.

"Sal, sit down will ya, I'm on it!"

But she still reached over, hooking her arm around his neck and kissing his cheek as she sipped at her wine. "You're darlin'."

"Yeah..." he laughed gently, gaze somehow finding me, beyond the notice of anyone around us. "...I've been told."

"D'you want a hand?" I asked quickly as soon as his gaze dropped from mine. Not wanting to give him time to refuse, I was already up and half-way to the bar. I could feel his eyes on me, my back burning. I just crossed my arms across the bar-top and waited casually.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

I turned my head, smirking. "David's expenses apparantly."

"Why, isn't he paying you enough?"

"Nope. I know for a fact you're getting £100 more a week than I am."

He bowed his head, laughing quietly. "D'you know how wrong this conversation sounds?"

Reading the look on his face, I'd tried not to crease into giggles. "Best just get the drink in huh, before we've got a mutiny on our hands."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Watch Sal, alright, no stopping her if she wants to start drinking."

I shrugged. "She'll be fine. Deep professional is our Rizz. She'll wait til... six o'clock at least!"

"Yeah?" Dennis asked, having already requested to bottles of red and two of white. "What about you?"

"Me? God, I'll probably have to join Alcoholics Anonymous if I'm supposed to keep up with you lot."

He'd spluttered indignantly. "I barely drink in comparision to that lot, thanks very much."

"Yeah, cos we both know what happens to you after a skinful, don't we eh?"

Edging closer, he murmured against my ear; "Didn't hear you complain at the time..."

I smirked privately, flicking hair from my eyes as I straightened up and locked my hands around the two bottles of white wine that had been placed in front of me. "That's cos I was brought up to understand that if you start... you finish."

"Always thought I'd like your parents..." Dennis teased, dutifully picking up the two red bottles to take back to the table. 

Billie swang up from the seat to the left of me to descend on them. Laughing, Dennis surrendered them to her and moves past her to settle himself in her vacated seat. As her eyes widened in surprise, I was entirely unable to look up from the table for the coy smile to have spread across my lips, Dennis just looked innocently back at her.

"Oh sorry Bil, just assumed you'd actually be wanting a corkscrew to get into the bloody thing..."

And I loved how no-one seems to question him being there beside me, but then I guess that's cos they don't know why, not really. We were there, our own people, chatting easily to everyone, possibly except each other. And we didn't really need to at all, cos, as Billie came back, triumphantly swinging the uncorked bottle in her hand, his hand sneaks across my lap, dropping over my own hand. As it did so, he was looking at me cautiously out the corner of his eye. He knew I could feel him and I knew that if I brushed him off, he'd understand. So that's why I didn't feel the need, smiled brightly at him to let him know it's OK.

Except..

"What are you two doing under there?"

Billie craned her neck to look beneath the table. And with a regretful sigh at a volume for only me to hear, Dennis released my hand.

"Nothing... pass us the bottle yeah?"

I didn't see anything of Dennis again til the next morning. And even when I did, I felt like some rebellious school-kid, pulling him round the side of the theatre to kiss him hello. And when it was that I finally managed to pull back from the talent and intrigue of his mouth, he was just holding me, arms around my waist as I leant casually against the wall; it was like he was in awe, not speaking as his shimmering eyes travelled slowly over my face. I was about to ask him what the Hell was up when my phone trilled.

Groaning with a light reluctance as he stepped back from me, letting his arms drop, he was grinning by the time I pulled my phone from my bag. And so was I once I read the screen.

"Nat! You alright babe? Oh I'm good, really good. Oh no... no reason." I flicked my hair out my eyes as I held the phone to my ear and smirked pointedly at Dennis.

He just mouthed "Liar!" and cleverly let his eyes settle anywhere except my face.

"Today?" I questioned of Nat's offer of meeting up to go shopping. "Oh Nat, I can't, I'm working." I can't help but giggle as she inevitably asks after Dennis. "Yes, he'll be around! Won't you Dennis?" 

He blinked in surprise as I lifted my head and beamed right at him, if only for the sake of Natalie's hyperactive explosion. 

"No, I'm not talking to myself, thanks. He's stood right in front of me, wan' a word?" As she vehemently protested, I couldn't help but at least tilt my phone in his direction. "Here Dennis, Nat for you... oh calm down girl, I'm joking!" 

But she's not, decides she should check out where her best mate's working these days. Subtle, Natalie, really.

"Well, alright, I'll see you in a bit, but Nat, best behaviour OK?"

She made her promises well, bless her, and Dennis looked... well embarrassed as well as amused, cos we both knew it weren't necessarily me my supposed best friend wanted to come see. We split in the corridor, Dennis going off to find the lads so they could "actually go over that fuckin' bleachers scene!" 

I go straight into the studio and find my girls giggling like Hell, as they chuck pom-poms around, cheering the actual troupe on. That's Hayley, leading on a load of the dancers. And it's only when Sal spots me and whirls round, raising a cheer that I remember, I'm supposed to be in on this routine. Oh God, how embarrassing.

Natalie arrives about half an hour later, and about ten minutes after that, she's joining in the chant shamelessly, picking it up immediately and hey, anything to see me, that is, her best friend, make a tit of herself eh? I would start to wonder why I ever agreed to this role, but I know it's because I'm having such a laugh.

"You know what you need to practise now right Sharon?" Hayley teases at my confused look. "The fall. Y'know, when you're practising before your scene with Dennis?"

I gasp, teasing Nat as I whirl round and take in her face, lip blanched as she tries not to squeal with the delight of a fan-girl. "Dennis, Nat! Dennis!"

Colouring, she shoves me playfully. "Shut up, bitch."

"Well, why else are you here huh?"

She shoots me an indignant look, but I raise my eyebrow and her coy smile wins out. "Come to help out my best girl haven't I?"

"I swear, you only love me now cos of this job."

"I'm hurt Sharon, really." But there's all of a five second pause before she's asking, "Can I try on your jacket?"

Awww, no bless her, Nat's fabulous really. She really gets stuck in to trying to help me with the scene. And you know, I'm fine at making like I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing with the pom-poms (as it happens I do, because Sonny exhausted this routine with us girls in the workshops and auditions!) but when it comes to forcing myself to slip up and fall back on the floor, I can't make myself drop, my back too rigid.

Nat really tries to help me, apparantly having recovered from being in the same room as the star-studded Ladies. She stands behind me, making it a "drop of faith", which is fine. I trust her. It's when she lets go I'm worried about. "Oh Shall, c'mon!" she urges. "You can do this!"

"No!" I laugh, pulling myself up again. "I can't!"

But, Nat giggling helplessly by now, we try it again and again, her offering less support each time I sink back against her. I'm preparing another drop when I catch sight of Dennis stood in the corner, leant against the wall, coffee in his hand, smirk on his face. Bastard.

I roll back on my heels. "Why should I get covered in bruises and make a tit of myself just for him?" I complain, glaring at Dennis.

"What the Hell are you doing?" he laughs, striding across the floor. But then he sees the pile of discarded pom-poms and nods knowingly. "Ah! So where's the outfit Sharon?"

I roll my eyes. "Probably taking up the hem on the skirt again... pervs!"

Back straight, I pull on Natalie's hand, adoring her for staring at the floor rather than looking at Dennis. I drag her over to him, her hand becoming clammy in mine. 

"Anyway... ah, you don't need to be told who he is, but Dennis.... introducing your most devoted stalker darlin'... my Natalie."

As Dennis laughs, Natalie lifts her head and hisses; "Sharon!"

But I just shrug. And Dennis is looking at her really intently, making her blush. "You know, you do look familiar, Natalie. How many times is it we've met again?"

"S-Seven!" she stammers.

"Best make it even then eh?" And I swear, as he kisses her cheek, she dies. A happy death. She's stock-still. That is until Sal claps her hands, drawing out attention and making poor Natalie jump like she's never heard a noise before in her life.

"You two gonna go through your scene or what?" Sal questions, glancing between me and Dennis. That seems to animate Nat one Hell of a lot.

"Yes!" she tells Sal certainly. "They are! C'mon Sharon... please!" And she's trying to not look into Dennis' face and God, he looks amused, his eyes fixed on me, just waiting for me to give in.

"Nat, I am not hitting that floor..."

"But you have to!"

"Why? You see me go arse over tit every time we get train-wrecked, what's so special-" But she can't hold off and I roll my eyes despairingly as Dennis grins. "I didn't need to ask did I eh? Get yourself down on the floor Nat, eh, you'll have a great view of his arse then won't you babe?"

"You are so embarrassing."

"It's what friends are for. Be nice to me darlin'." I tilt my head towards Dennis. "I have his number..."

Shaking his head in disbelief as he moves past the two of us and stooping to gather up my pom-poms, Dennis throws them at me and then moves back to whisper not so secretively against Natalie's ear; "Ignore her, she's just sore..."

Nat grins. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna catch her this time."

"That's the way darlin', let her fall!"

"I can hear you y'know!" I call, rattling the pom-poms pointedly. "Ow!"

I just went with it, let myself fall, and why? It hurts! Natalie, the cow, just bursts out laughing. Dennis, needing a few seconds to recover from his own hysterics, moves around her towards me, offering down his hand to pull me up. I'm not even on my own two feet before his arms surround me and he's murmuring; "Perfect, darlin', absolutely perfect!" amidst a laugh.

I push him off with a smirk. "Get off, you. You're a bastard."

"Hmmm, yeah!" he muses thoughtfully, rolling his tongue in his cheek. "But I'm your bastard. Least I should be by the time this scene's over!"

"Oh yeah right!" I scoff. "Til the next time, right Dennis?"

"Yeah, what page is that?"

"Wait til you hear this, Nat!"

"What?"

I nod towards Dennis. "Him, going all American. You'll melt..."

Smirking, Dennis tells me; "She's seen Guys & Dolls, Sharon..."

"Oh well, screw complimenting you then!"

He shrugs. "No, go ahead darlin', really. Only, you're still supposed to be on the floor..."

Huffing at his cheek, I clamber back down, only to throw him a dirty look at having to pull myself back up again straight away. But I know we're both loving this, privately teasing each other in front of poor Nat. If she, in fact, if any of these girls knew what was really going on, I don't think we'd ever hear the end of it. Good job we have Danny & Sandy to hide behind.

"Hiya Sandy. Wh-What happened to your ear?"

"Huh?" I question, turning away from him and carefully picking my way across the floor. "Oh nothing, it was just an accident."

"Hey, look, I hope you're not still bugged about that first day of school. Couldn't you tell I was glad to see ya?"

Trying my damn hardest not to smirk, I swing round, my high ponytail tickling at the back of my neck as I look down, wringing my hands. "Well, you could have been a little nicer to me in front of your friends..."

Ah, I can barely say the words, not with conviction anyway. He's darlin' to me, in front of everyone. I don't know why he's bothering, seriously. But I think I can understand why poor Sandy wanted Danny so damn much.

"Are you kiddin'? Look, you don't know these guys. They'll see you talking to a chick and they'll think she puts... you know what I mean."

Yeah, I do and that's exactly why the smirk dances out across my lips despite all my best efforts to hold it back. "I'm not sure. It looked to me like maybe you had a new girlfriend or something..."

And it's Dennis that creases up. God, I think I love him. "I'm sorry girls!" he chokes out to the despairing troupe of cheerleaders, and Hayley at the fore, ready to jump in and deliver her lines as Patty. "But I can't do this seriously, not with her!"

Nat laughs. "Her accent's not that bad!"

"It's not that Nat. I'm a bad influence on Dennis over here. I don't know what it is, maybe I look at him wrong or something..."

Composing himself and straightening up, he sails over to me, pulling me round by the waist. "Stop it!" he pleads in an amused whisper. "You're killing me here..."

"Yeah? Well I'm bruised and sore cos of you and I don't even know what your bedroom looks like yet. We're even Dennis..."

When we're told to piss off for lunch at half-twelve, Natalie decides to head off shopping anyway, roping Sharon in walking her back to the Tube. And from the look Sharon gave me as she softly agreed, I figured that it was rude of me not to at least offer to go with them. I think I adore Natalie y'know. I do remember meeting her, on several occassions and she always seemed so level-headed, even if she did trip over the number of words she was trying to get out in the 3 minutes each of these meets must have been. And now bless her, she's settled, but she can't seem to get over how normal any of us are.

When I started walking with her and Sharon, Sharon's hand woven lazily through the crook of Natalie's arm, Natalie was blushing, like I couldn't possibly just be a guy that was gonna walk down the street, like I'm too grand for that or something. And it seemed only fair for her to know I ain't nothing like that. So we just started talking. And it was easy enough. Well, as easy as it is to knee a car when you step off a kerb and to swear at the top of your lungs. Cos that's what started us off, me walking straight into some rust-bucket.

I muttered something about driving one of the same make when I was younger. Sharon's off in fits, the cow, but Natalie holds them back, more indignant as she declares that she still drives one.

"When I say "still", I mean not anymore. Bastard thing's conked out on me, hence why I'm getting the soddin' Tube everywhere!"

And for some stupid reason, that in itself makes me laugh and we're off talking about the weird and wonderful things that happen on Tubes. Natalie had me beat though, and I had someone recognise me once and actually ask to sit on my lap.

"That wasn't me!" she giggles, before going on to tell me that she had some semi-pro rugby player proposition her, arranging to meet her on the Hammersmith line the next day. She apparantly took District for a month after that, just to avoid a repeat.

Conversation wanders, and it turns out that Natalie's a lot like Sharon, which must be why they're such great friends. They both love blowing their money at the theatre and on gigs - Natalie's a die-hard Bon Jovi fan too! My kinda girl.

"I just wish they'd tour again, they're killing me here."

"Yeah well, me and Sharon have already made a date to be there, even if we both have to walk out on the job, right Sharon?"

"We've got understudies!"

Natalie turns to me. "Who's yours?"

"Nick."

"Ahhh, what, the one Sharon keeps making eyes at?"

I blink, and am grinning in the next second, just to see Sharon's face.

"What?"

"Oh Sharon, shut up, you can't lie to me, I know you too well."

You sure Nat?

"Get real, Natalie. I'm not getting into all that again."

"Awww, why not? He's a nice guy... isn't he Dennis?"

"Yeah, great." I agree with a sincere nod. But there's this thing... I really want to laugh but I can't. Because although Sharon's trying to keep a face on it, she's so obviously uncomfortable, eyes cast down, trying not to bite at her lip. Natalie slides me a worried look and sighs, realising her error. She rounds on Sharon and pulls her into a hug.

"Oh babe, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. Last bloody thing you need after..."

Sharon holds uneasily onto her, looking at me over Natalie's shoulder.

"You OK?" I mouth soundlessly.

She just smiles and even though her eyes don't leave mine, she speaks loud enough for Natalie to hear her too as she says softly; "I'm fine, really."

And that seems to relieve Natalie a lot and she pulls back, clasping Sharon's hand. "I love you, Sharon Watts, you know that don't you?"

Sharon beams and swings her hand. "Natalie Jared, I know, darlin'."

"I wouldn't ever want you to be anything other than yourself. And you don't need a man, any man for that. Just... be happy being you."

"I am!" she assures her, giggling gently. "I'm doing alright just now."

"Yeah, apart from the bruises."

Sharon stares pointedly at me, a smirk curving her glossy lips. "They call that suffering for your art, Nat."

"Suffering?" Natalie scoffs, by now jabbing at the keys of the ticket machine in the Tube station. "Yeah right, I'd take your job any day of the week? Need an understudy?"

"I've got Ali... sorry babe." Sharon shrugs apologetically and follows the way Natalie's looking shamelessly at me. "You can't have him."

"Don't want him."

"Oh Nat!" I laugh, walking beside her up to the platform. "That hurt!"

But she just turns on her heel, rolling her eyes. "You'll be seeing just as much of me as her, don't worry. Can't have my best friend up on stage next to you and not be there front row every other night ready to take her out on the piss!"

"Ah, nice plan. Can I join ya?"

She rolls her tongue thoughtfully in her cheek, her pretty eyes shimmering. "Somehow Dennis, I can live with that!"

I like her, she's cool. And Sharon's still giggling, shaking her head in disbelief as she lets her arms surround Nat, hand snaking down into the back pocket of Natalie's jeans, yanking out her mobile.

"Oi! What are you doing?"

Sharon's hands are shaking as she presses adamantly at the keys, the naughtiest glint in her eyes as she hands it back. "Dennis' number... don't say I never do anything for you!"

"Sharon! You can't just-" Oh bless her, the train's pulled in and she's proper blushing by the time she manages to look at me again, phone shaking in her hand. "Do you mind?"

How can I?

I shake my head.  "Course not. Look, have a good one yeah? Great meeting you again... Nat."

She almost staggers back as she moves to actually step off the platform. Laughing still, Sharon blows her a kiss. And we're stood there, side by side as the train rolls out, but as soon as it's gone, and with it, Natalie's apparantly not so well trained upon the pair of us, Sharon turns in to face me, murmuring; "Thank you..."

"What for?"

Glancing down for a second, she smiles softly. "I'm not sure exactly. Letting me tease the Hell outta ya today? For being a friend? Not dropping me in it with Nat? She is gonna kill me."

"Why? She loves ya."

"Yeah but... I told her I wouldn't be ready... for Nick... for anyone after Justin."

I shrug. "And that's fair enough. Justin was... and anyway, this was only a couple of days ago. I'm not asking you to be "ready" for anything OK? You want me to back off, I will..."

"No!" She shakes her head feverishly. "It's not that. Probably should be, but it's not. I just... need to take my time."

I nod in understanding. "So do that. Nat's right y'know. You don't need anyone else to be happy in yourself."

"But I do, don't I? I'd never have realised I was happy in myself if it weren't for you."

"Yeah right, like no-one else woulda got sick of what Justin did to you."

She smiles weakly. "No-one else woulda made me see it the way you did."

"Yeah well, I don't want anything from ya for it Sharon."

"Shame, darlin', really. Cos I kinda wanted you to buy me a drink..."

I grin as she steps up to me, setting the pace by sliding her arm around my back. Gently, I put my arm across her shoulders. If she wants to tell me that's not OK, then I'll leave off. It's fine. I've got all the time in the world. But she doesn't. She smiles, and reaches round to start toying with my hand.

"I don't know if I can." I tease as we begin to walk off. Eyeing my watch, I inform her; "We're almost quarter way through a lunch hour, which means Sal and your girls are already halfway down a wine glass and I don't wanna actually get caught holding your hand under the table."

Smirking, she advises; "So don't. Learn some self control..."

As comfortable as I am in Dennis' company, sat in some classy wine bar, with both of his hands sat comfortably around his glass as we talk easily about everything and nothing, there is one thing... one person that bothers me. Not hugely, just enough to make me laugh nervously everytime he catches my eye. Cautiously, I lean forward, and Dennis; having followed my eyeline pushes his glass across the table to meet me, shoulders hunched to accommodate this new position.

"Who's he?"

"No-one I've seen before."

"You don't think he's a journalist do you? Or a photographer?"

"What-" Dennis teases, lips curving into a smirk as he reads the unease from my face. "-just cos he won't stop staring at you?"

"Hey, it's not me that sells the papers darlin', is it?"

He nods in acceptance as he sips at his drink. "Except the only thing wrong here is they're probably hoping I'll be seen out with someone else's co-star... like, I dunno..."

"Whoever's playing Baby in Dirty Dancing!" I laugh. "They'd be running stories about you "feuding with Patrick" for weeks!"

"Ah.... you're good. Ever think of going into journalism?"

"What's that... an invitation to make your life Hell?"

"Ummm, yeah, if you like. Make up for the bruises!"

I glance down, giggling gently as I shake my head in disbelief, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Y'know, Nat's never gonna let me live that down..."

"Well, tell her I'd like to see her do better."

"Tell her yourself!" I smirk. "She'll be calling you soon enough."

"I'm not sure y'know, she seemed pretty embarrassed."

"Well, what right's she got to be embarrassed huh? I gave her the bloody number. You didn't mind, did you?"

God, I am an insensitive bitch. I can't believe that thought only just occured to me. Dennis just hunches his shoulders and somehow I feel worse.

"No, course not..."

"But...?" I prompt awkwardly, definitely feeling the word stick in his throat.

"Well, it kinda felt like you did it to... get her off track y'know?"

A weak laugh escapes the corners of my mouth. "She wasn't on track. She thought that... hours after getting rid of the psycho ex, whose bruises I am still hiding by the way... I'm going after Nick and... look, I just need it to come from me. Why are you looking at me like that?"

Here's me, off ranting and he's just looking at me with the softest smile curving his lips. "Because you worry too much, you know that? What d'you think I'm gonna say, Sharon? Or do? You're doing what you need to, and I do respect that. I'm not about to get heavy. I just like being with you, that's all."

"Tell me that again in three months eh?"

"Personal best right?" As I flinch uncomfortably, he smiles again. "Sharon, I'm teasing! Day at a time right, I ain't asking any more than that. Except maybe to get through a couple of our scenes without getting hysterical."

"You don't get hysterical Dennis!" I point out, eyebrow raised. "You giggle."

"Oh you liar!"

"Yeah? So why won't you look me in the face?" I tease, waving my hand in front of him to gain his attention. As he relents and looks at me, a little less coloured, I let my gaze stray tellingly to the guy in the corner. "Besides, you told me photographers love a-"

"What's making you so sure he's a photographer huh? I mean, you might not believe this, but it's just as possible that he fancies you and's waiting for me to piss off..."

"And will you?"

He bows his head, laughing gently before inquiring; "Is that a request or a question?"

"A request?" I scoff. "You must be joking. I can see the grease dripping off him from here."

"He's making you nervous though i'n't he? I mean, what are you gonna do if he is a photographer?"

"Nothing." I assure him sweetly, carefully and casually folding my arms across my chest as I lean in towards him and whisper; "But you're gonna have to stop doing that!"

"What?" Dennis blinks, laughing nervously as he straightens up. "What am I doing?"

"Well-" I purse my lips thoughtfully. "-it might just be me, but-"

"But?"

"You're staring down my top..."

Bewildered, he slumps back. "I can't believe you just said that."

I grin and push my glass towards him. "I thought I better break your concentration. You can go grab me another drink."

Rolling his eyes, he takes the glass and gets up to go back towards the bar, but not before murmuring; "No throwing yourself at our snap-happy friend OK?"

"Wouldn't do that to you. Hell, I couldn't do that to myself!" And as I grimace, Dennis laughs and moves contently off. And bless him, it's not like he was leering. My bust is ever so slightly hard to miss. And yet, here's me, completely captivated by the way the swing of his hips makes his jeans strain across his behind.

But as he stands at the bar, my concentration is severed almost immediately by the din created by Sal, Nick & our very own guys & gals spilling into the bar. Ah, there goes a private moment then!

Dennis turns halfway around, recognising the evasion as Billie, Ali & Richard are sent dutifully off to the bar for the rabble. He glances over his shoulder, gaze settled on me. I jolt a little, convinced I can read the disappointment in his weak smile and hunched shoulders. But it coulda been a lot worse I suppose, so we just resign ourselves to it.

"What are you doing here?" I ask Sal, trying to project some brightness into my tone as she kisses my cheek.

"Well, we've just done lunch haven't we? Thought we'd grab a drink before heading back to the grindstone."

"Oh c'mon Sal, it's hardly a chore is it babe?"

"Well, no, we're lucky girls really babe, me doing the bump n' grind with one Mr. Swayze..." As I smirk, Sal rolls her eyes before her glossy lips curve similarly. "You have a dirty mind Sharon... I reckon having to spend all this time with Dennis is having a bad effect on you."

"No way." I protest immediately. "The guy's a legend."

"Mmmm, and not too much of a chore getting lost in those eyes for ten hours a day huh?"

Giggling, I shrug. "It's a tough job..."

"Yeah, and you're the charmed cow that gets to do it."

The drinks in hand, the group of us head over to the sofas. I sit on the end, and Dennis is settled on the arm-rest. I keep having to bite into my lip because I want so damn much to touch him, in any way, and by my own rule, I can't. Now who needs the self control Sharon?

I feel really bad for whoever it is that has to clean away all our smeared and drained glasses. As a collection, it looks awful and none of us had more than one!

We walk back to the theatre, a gaggle of migrating laughter and loud chatter as we call out each other's names over everybody else's heads. I almost deliberately find things to say to everyone walking behind me because I know Dennis is there. I can't stop looking at him, smiling. Christ knows what he's doing with me.

As it turns out, David don't want me or Dennis on stage. He's got Sonny back trying to work out everyone's positions for the company numbers. So Dennis and I go off on the pretext of dragging ourselves through a few more scenes minus the hysterics. And honestly, I try. We both do. Sat there on the sofa in my dressing room, apparantly composed and ready. But we're at the bottom of the third page, having spent the whole time sneaking each other looks that have nothing to do with either Danny or Sandy.

His mesmerising eyes shimmering, lips curved into the softest smile, with the sexiest hint of a smirk in the corner, he shakes his head and leans over to pull my script from my hand, dropping them both over the arm of the sofa onto the floor.

"OK, I'm sorry but I have to do this... you're driving me crazy..."

Proud of answering such a charge, I'm smiling even before he's kissing me, pulling me against him and hungrily peppering my lips, each return deeper. God, I have never been so involved by the insistence of one mouth. I lace my arms around Dennis neck to bring his lips harder down upon mine, kissing him with just the same urgency.

But between kisses, I can't help but tease; "This isn't in the script..."

"Mmmm, well maybe it needs an overhaul..."

I giggle softly, sucking gently at his bottom lip so he'll invite my tongue.

But just as I'm relaxing into the frenzy of our tongues dancing around one another, there's a knock at the door that forces us to spring guiltily apart. It's just as well we do too, because there are no words before Sal sails in, right over to where her jacket is hung up on the wardrobe door.

"What's the matter with you two?" she laughs as Dennis paces, scratching guiltily at the nape of his neck as I lean down for our scripts. Dennis and I both look down, blanching at our lip. As Sal gasps, my back stiffens, terrified she's figured us out.

"Oh God... you're doing that scene aren't ya?"

"Wh-What scene?" Dennis stammers.

"The drive-in. Damn, I'm sorry. Maybe we should get a Do Not Disturb sign on the door or something - Grope In Session!"

"Sal!" I cry.

But she backs out, pulling on her jacket. "No, no, I'm gone. You carry on. I'll see you later. Oh God, I'm sorry. I'll buy you both a drink later in the pub to make up for it!"

It's only when the door clicks shut that either Dennis or I actually breathe. That felt just a little too close.

And yet it seems we're OK. We get through the end of the day without incident or embarrassment... just getting through the scenes, the whole cast having a laugh like always. And we're not getting any dodgy looks from Sal or anything and we both know that woman's as sharp as a knife. If she'd gotten it, she'd say something.

The lot of us head off to a bar when David calls time at six for good behaviour. (Well, aside me and Dennis, perhaps! I think another lecture about us giggling like school-kids is due soon, but ah well!) The drinks flow and the dancing gets more energetic. By 8 o'clock, we're all a little more than tipsy and Billie's rushing round, pleading shamessly with people to do karaoke.

"Sharon? Dennis?"

"Yeah!" I grin, already knowing by the power of observation what's coming, the alcohol buzzing in my system making me feel more confident. "I'm up for that!"

Dennis straightens up cautiously. "Why are you looking at me like that? No!"

"Oh go on!" Billie simpers, lacing her heands together. "It's not like you can't sing."

"Well exactly. And don't that totally undermine karaoke?"

I shake my head disbelievingly. "You're scared."

His eyes flare in accusation. "Piss off am I!"

"Then c'mon! I promise I'll hold your hand all the way through..."

I can see he's weakening. "Just don't make me suffer anything sugary OK? Or anything from Grease, or I promise, I'll hurt you both!"

I grin. "Oh no, don't worry... I've just thought of the perfect- Bil, c'mere..."

She leans over and I whisper the track in her ear. She beams and jumps off the stool to go and install the track in the queue. But she's back a minute late, waving her hands erratically.

"You're up!"

Dennis groans, picking up his vodka and knocking it back in a gasp. I pull the glass forcefully from his grasp and set it down on the table, taking up both his hands as he stands up.

"What have you done?"

"Oh Dennis, just live a little darlin'."

Every one of our cast is up when they see me leading Dennis over to the little stage, crowding around, cheering and clapping.

But Dennis won't take his eyes from the floor of the stage. As the music starts, he smiles knowingly, recognising it just as I knew he would. I edge up to him and whisper; "It wouldn't kill ya to trust me a little more would it?"

"Oh you're good, Sharon. You're really good..."

"I know." I reply smugly, turning in to face him and countering a back-and-forth strut that seems to be born of the beat. And I'm already grinning, because it's Dennis I'm looking at and yet I kinda want Justin here, just to see the look on his face. Cos I'm stronger now, and that's thanks to Dennis. (And maybe the drink too, but anyway! Focus Sharon!)

(Bon Jovi: Unbreakable)

You said you made me and you'll break me
You said you knew how to shake me
Uh huh-uh huh!
You built me up; you said you're taking me down!

Teasing, I press my hand lightly against Dennis' chest. He smiles and snatches it up and away, holding it fiercely in his. That is, until I step out, spinning beneath it with a giggle, making everyone down the floor cheer and woop louder as they copy the say of our hips with the same enthusiasm.

You came like a really grey Monday
I prayed like it was a Sunday
You say you'll stay 

I can't help but join at the last line of his verse, with it declaring that whether Dennis sees me or who I pretended to be, this time, I'm more than happy to stick around. With the next line, I sing out strong and independent just thinking "God, look what I came from!"

But I won't run away - I'll be standing my ground!
Seen all the screaming and fighting
Lived through the scheming and lying
I'm fine - you can't deny-y-y-y, I'm

Grinning still, Dennis sings with me, rocking against me, his hand pressed into my hip. And that makes me wish even more that Justin might have been in this crowd tonight. Maybe not as appreciative as all the rest, but Hell, I'm having fun. Gotta use my bundles of talent for something haven't I? And as ever, the words are here. Good old Bon Jovi eh? Making a point of proving to Dennis that he is, and me too now, invincible all in one. Not bad for one night's drunken confidence.

Unbreakable! Unstoppable! I'm invincible!
Come on, bring it to me cos I'm always gonna be unbreakable-oh-oh!
Reliable! Undeniable! 
Come on, give it to me cos I'm always gonna be unbreakable!

Lifting my head, I let him pull me gently i against him, lazily hooking one arm around his neck. And I just love how he can't seem to stop himself smirking as he looks at me. It's a good job he has me on hand really, he has too many inhibitions. Or maybe not, because the jutting of his hips sits perfectly against my own.

Don't need your diamond cards or cold cash
Don't need to sell myself so don't ask!
Uh huh-uh huh!

I push his arm down and slide past him. But the last syllable is barely out my mouth when he pulls forcefully on my hand, bringing me back in line against him as he stands behind me.

Took a pass on a pass - I'm be leaving right now!
News flash, I'm causing a commotion!

But I force him away by pushing my weight through my toes and bouncing back a step, which he accommodates well, stepping to the side, circling his hips before turning in on one to face me.

Jump back! I'm poetry in motion!
Think fast, talk trash!
Well, I ain't talking back but I'm combing you out!

He strides forward a pace and I bite into my lip, pressing my hand into my hip and lazily awaiting his closeness, singing out with him, loving the truth of every word. I'm totally sorted, even up here, getting pissed, surrounded by all my famous talented also almost pissed friends. My life actually has an order, and on top of that, I'm still having fun.

No time for fussing and fighting
Lived through the screaming and the lying
I'm fine - you can't deny-y-y-y, I'm

As the adrenaline buzzes, Dennis layering my every word with his own delivery, knowing it and better still, believing it for the truth; this one perfectly delightful thoughts whirls continually round in my head.

Screw you Justin, honey! You can't touch me anymore.

Cos I look one way and I see my friends. I look the other and I see someone better than a friend. Someone selfless and sexy, and someone that so shoulda been made Karaoke King when he used to be up for this stuff. I should so get him back into the habit - if he ever had it. He preserved my strength after all, gave me back my confidence - and still with that gorgeous smirk in the corner of his mouth! Maybe it's about time we started working on his strength eh?

Unbreakable! Unbreakable! 
Unstoppable! Unstoppable!
I'm invincible! I'm invincible!
Come on, bring it to me cos I'm always gonna be unbreakable-oh-oh!
Reliable! Undeniable! 

His eyes are glittering like crazy as he lets his arms loosely surround me again, each of his hands pushing against each of my jutting hips to pull me into his hold, beckoning me as, both of us smirking like those school-kids David readily accuses us of being as we sing out the last lines, buzzing and feeling totally untouchable.   

Come on, give it to me cos I'm always gonna be unbreakable!
I will be unbreakable!

Guess that's why the two of us work the stage, cos it's like the whole place erupts and Jesus, if our audience manages half of this enthusiasm on opening night, I will come off stage a happy, happy Sandy! Cos I made it! I am unbreakable.

Dennis has begun to laugh, swinging my hand lazily as we leave the stage, securing the mikes in the stands again. We get swamped by all these familiar faces, a blur of arms and shrieking smiles. It doesn't feel like I manage to breathe again until I'm perched on a stool by a table (a table Billie was stood on; wouldn't have liked to her falling off those shoes!)

The next hour passes in a blur of drinks I never asked for but am handed anyway because "You deserve it! That was amazing!" Across from me, shaking his head in disbelief at the fuss but steadily drinking his way through his growing line of drinks is Dennis. And both of us are grinning everytime our gazes meet. 

I kid myself that it's cos my feet are burning with pain, but I slip off my shoes beneath the table, gently stroking up past Dennis' ankle, still fighting the urge to touch him and needing to make it less obvious. He blanches at his lip in surprise as he realises, but says nothing, just smiles privately as he drinks from another glass.

But my idle movement is interrupted when Nick stretches out across the small table, an arm around both of our shoulders'.

"Another drink, mes amis?"

I smile brightly, but shake my head. "Not for me darlin', no. Thanks, but I think I'm gonna head off."

Dennis looks up at me in surprise. Nick's not fazed however, just pecks my cheek and goes off to "...grab you one, Rickman yeah?" not even considering Dennis might refuse. But, oh, I hope he will.

"You're not seriously going are you?" Dennis questions as I dive off my stool and slide beneath the table to retrieve my shoes. 

I sit back up, pulling them roughly on, running my tongue cheekily across my bottom teeth. "Mmmm!"

And I stand up, moving around the table until I am level with Dennis. 

I lean forward the tiniest way, against his shoulder and murmur against his ear, "I was kinda hoping you might want a coffee..."

He turns around a way to face me, smiling as he repeats himself. "I don't drink c-"

But I smirk, pressing my fingertip to his lips, gently shaking my head. "Who said anything about drinking?" 

OK, none of this is going in. I feel properly drunk, and despite all the offers to make me as such, I know I'm not. I'm not, because I didn't have time to get there. I got up and left, somehow completely unnoticed with Sharon. We both tried to look separate ways but found we couldn't do it. Our smiles were kinda nervous but they couldn't help but be there. We both knew what we were going towards, and it's not like it was new. Except it is, isn't it? I knew "Dee"; and in the crazy whirl of thoughts that's buzzing round my head, it occurs to me I never thought to ask what the was short for. Probably a good job though, cos otherwise that woulda just been one more lie for Sharon to tell me.

And now, she's not gonna. She's told me the truth, that's what this is all about. That and the fact that even before she's turned the key in the lock of her front door, she's kissing me like she'd go mad without the outlet. Mind you, I know that feeling. Not that I woulda done anything about it if she... oh, but I have, haven't I so fuck that thought. Who needs thoughts anyway? Actions speak louder and all that. Unless that is, you're with Sharon and she happens to trip up the stairs. I managed to catch her before she landed anywhere, but she was giggling like Hell.

She managed to manouvere herself around me without going flying back down the stairs we had conquered. She slipped her hand through mine on the way round, pulling it tight. Moving around the banister, I soon find my spine in contact with the wall. Not that I have time to recognise the dull thud of pain, because her mouth is crushed against mine, her tongue fighting to invade my mouth.

The urge thus satisfied, she pulls abruptly back, still clutching my hand. I straighten up and let her lead me away from the wall into her room. And all I can think is; She's so gorgeous.

Except, as she wraps her arms around my neck, letting me pull her firmly against me as I sink down onto the bed, something about her changes. It's subtle, but it's there. She seems to stiffen a little. And yet there's so much animation still within her as she straddles my lap, peppering my lips still. I press my hands gently into the small of her back and she's... she's tremoring. Oh God, is she OK?

No. Because she pulls in a huge, and probably sobering breath as she straightens up, looking at me with those big eyes.

"I'm sorry..." she murmurs, almost like she's guilty. "...I can't do this..."

She pushes her hands against my shoulders and gets up, turning her back to me.

"I'm sorry..." she says again, voice thicker with emotion.

I sigh gently as I move over to her, murmuring; "Shut up..."

But as I rest my hand over her shoulder, she whirls round, such an obvious fright alive in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Why?"

"I got you here... I asked you here, I... you must think I-"

I shake my head, dismissing her as I case her shoulders. "Listen to me... I don't want anything you don't want."

"But I do!" she protests desperately, shoulders sagging in defeat. "I just... oh God, I can't."

"That's OK..."

"No, it's not! I'm not trying to play you, I'm not, I swear!"

"I didn't say you were..."

"I just... can we take it slow?"

But she's not hearing me. She looks so scared and I can't stand it. What does she think I'm gonna do? Bring up the bruises upon her that haven't even faded away yet... be just like Justin?

Oh God. I don't know if she sees me wince or not but it definitely happens cos I feel it, shamefully an' all. I look down, biting into my lip to try and stop myself blurting something I shouldn't. Cos if that is what she thinks, then Christ, she has every reason to, if only she knew what I'd done. And despite her apparant reservation, I know she doesn't. Because if she did, then this is the last thing she's be doing, especially in this way. She'd be ripping me in half I have no doubt, and no way in Hell would she be the one apologising to me. And I suddenly feel like I have absolutely no right to be wanting what she was offering. Because if she knew the truth...

"Look, Sharon, I'm gonna go OK?"

She gasps quietly as she looks up at me, evidently horrified by the whole idea. "No..." she protests, shaking her head as she bites anxiously on her knuckle. "...no, you don't have to do that."

I nod. "Yes I do. The last thing you need right now is me here." 

I reach over to stroke tenderly up her shuddering arm as she folds both across herself like she needs protecting from the cold, or worse, the shame. I wish I could tell her it's not her that needs to feel it, but just like her... I can't!

"Call if you need me alright? I'll see you tomorrow..."

She nods fiercely, and I'm terrified that she's about to start crying. I hate it, I hate it so much. She don't really want a guy like me. She never did. And that's cos, contrary to what she feels right now, she's smart. It's only me, in all my ways and forms that dares to take that from her. And I'm not about to do it this way.

So I smile weakly and turn away, ready to walk out of there and... oh God, I don't know what. But I'm not even two paces away from her when she raises my name.

"Dennis?"

Guilt makes me turn around. But of course, she don't see that, gives me this apologetic smile she'd regret if she knew.

"I really am sorry."

Ouch. How many times is that now?

I shake my head. "Don't worry about it."

I leave. I have to. I am such a shit.

~*~

And that feeling don't leave me when I get to work the next morning. Cos Sharon's there, flapping through her script, somehow still immaculate through all that use and even though she's occupied, she looks more incredible than I have ever seen her. Stood against the wall in tight black capri pants and the highest heels she's get away with walking in. She can't have been in long cos her turquoise jacket is still on her shoulders and she has her sunnies perched on her head, misplacing a few perfectly groomed hairs. 

She's murmuring in agitation to herself as she tries to ram the lines into her head. Cursing hotly under her breath when she looks distractedly up, she stops dead when she sees me, stroking anxiously down the edge of her script as she concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other and moving over to me, without raising her eyes from the floor.

I count in three breaths I don't dare to breathe before she looks up at me, flicking her hair back. That's a nervous twitch, I swear.

"Morning." I say softly.

She smiles, but bites into the cushion of her lip almost instantly.

And I have to admit, I feel her anxiety, and laugh nervously, scratching at the nape of my neck. "Uh, yeah... how'd you wanna play this?"

"Honestly?"

"Mmmm."

She takes me by surprise, I'll say that. Because she kisses my cheek and wraps her arms tight around my neck, pulling herself up against me. "Thank you so much..."

"What for?"

"For giving me time, not pressurising me or flipping out..."

I smile as she drops back onto the balls of her feet, pulling back from me. I hold the end of her script, pulling it straight, my thumb covering hers. It seems to be all the reassuring touch both of us need.

"Yeah well, some of us know you're worth it..."

And she beams, flipping the pages of the script roughly over my hand. I release my hold obediently and step to her side to read the pages over her shoulder.

"Am I worth a Company number at half-nine in the morning?"

I squint at the pages. "Do we even have a Company number?"

She shrugs. "Nope. But if you think I'm missing out on this..."

Proudly, she points to the title and I groan. We Go Together...

"It's too early for that!" I protest with a laugh. "It's all tongue twisters and weird hand gestures..."

"It's what they're paying you for!" Sharon teases and I know I'm beat. Grinning, I pull on her hand and like a flock, the whole cast rushes out to the call to be on stage, clambering up onto the bleachers with a lot of crashing and clanking. Giggling, Sharon drops my hand and somehow without falling off her shoes, even though that looks like a painful possibility, she rushes into the stalls to shamessly plead with David to let her gatecrash. I can't believe she's actually excluded from this scene, she's totally got the hyper energy for it.

And David, wide awake if only for the very large and very strong God knows what measure espresso he's just drunk, shakes his head in disbelief and then gives her the nod. She turns around, shrieking joyously and all the Ladies are stood up cheering, ready to pull her up and offer her a place on the bleachers. And all you can hear is them shifting on the bench and giggling as they try and logically gesture through the whole hand routine.

David whistles up to them to shut 'em up, and taht in itself is almost adorable. They really are like a pack of school-girls. I can't stop grinning, even though I can tell in the tension in my wrists I have no fucking idea what I'm doing, and whoever choreographed this scene - Sonny then, needs to be shot. But Hell, everyone knows the beat and all hail the nonsense, singing proudly and moving however we can be arsed - after all, no-one's allowed to get up!

We go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong
Remembered forever as shoo-bop sha wadda wadda yippity boom de boom
Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop; that's the way it should be- wah-oooh, yeah!
We're one of a kind like dip da-dip da-dip doo-wop da doo-bee doo
Our names are signed; ah boogedy boogedy boogedy boogedy shooby doo-wop she-bop
Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop
We'll always be like one, wa-wa-wa-waaah-one!

Nick and Patrick slide down onto their knees in the bleachers as the extras sing out around us Birds, thickening the tone and enticing every one of the girls, whose glossy mouths are guaranteed to be set in a smirk as they offer back their harmony, before singing out, rolling their shoulders and flexing their fingers - maybe just an excuse to showcase the perfectly manicured nails?

When we go out at night and the stars are shinin' bright
(Oooh-wop...)
Up in the skies above
(Oooh-oooh-oooh!)
Or at the high school dance, where you can find romance
(Oooh-wop...)
Maybe it might be lo-o-oh-oh-oh-ove!

Then, each bird taking a Lady, they divide up the nonsense verses between 'em as directed, leaping up and strutting and shaking, all the while trying not to crash through the bleachers. 

Rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong
Shoo-bop sha wadda wadda yippity boom de boom
Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop
Dip da-dip da-dip doo-wop da doo-bee doo
Boogedy boogedy boogedy boogedy shoo-be doo-wop she-bop

I have absolutely no part in this diversion, so create my own; totally unable to stop looking up at Sharon, out of place in character, but never more herself or involved in one scene. She's perfect for it, but then I knew that. She can't stop beaming and she's totally lost to the whole atmosphere, just watching as everyone pairs of and gets up to shake and make an arse of themselves hiding behind their character. Laughing still, she catches my eye and smiles, gesturing lazily between the two of us as she flicks hair from her eyes and mouths;

"We should so be doing this!"

But as everyone joins up again, I'm forced to look away with a disbelieving shake of my head, just trying to work out where the fuck my hands are supposed to go. Over the knee, over the other, drop, change... what?

Sha-na-na-na-na-na-na-na yippity dip de doom
Rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong
Shoo-bop sha wadda wadda yippity boom de boom
Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop
Dip da-dip da-dip doo-wop da doo-bee doo
Boogedy boogedy boogedy boogedy
Shoo-be doo-wop she-bop
Sha-na-na-na-na-na-na-na yippity dip de doom

Patrick jumps up, but we're all hunched like school-kids waiting to see their teacher sit down on a chair smothered with Superglue because we all know that Mark, playing Eugene, has to jump up and dance his worst and shriek his worst scales.

Wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-wop-

And up he springs and we're all rocking back cheering. The man's amazing. And yet in character, we have to shout him down when all we want to do as his colleagues is keep applauding him.

Rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong
Shoo-bop sha wadda wadda

"Shut up Eugene, or you get a smash in the face!" Patrick yells.

"Asshole!" Nick mutters, wave of laughter tearing through us all.

You can almost hear the deep intake of breath as we straighten our backs and press our hands into our knees, slowly singing our way into the verse, which is a real test as to whether you'll get tongue-tied or not. But for me, it's never gonna be that! It's the hands! And the pace they're supposed to be moving at as the music speeds.

And I can't do it!

Happily, I don't seem to be the only one, most of us losing momentum at the increase of beat and laughing at our failing, flinging out our hands in defeat and shaking our heads.

"Don't any of you know what you're doing?" David demands despairingly as he gets the music cut off. "Cos if my leading man's clueless, I fear the rest of you are a lost cause!"

And the only one that can speak out to support David is Sharon, surprisingly. She pulls herself out and seems to sail down the bleachers, striding towards me and the boys.

"For God's sake... Pat, shift up." He does so obediently and Sharon settles herself between the two of us, pointedly letting her hands drop against her knees. She signals to David to start up the backing again and we go back in for the slow verse, everyone hunched forward to watch the way that Sharon moves her straightened arms and ultimately her hands across her knees.

"OK, just.... look! Honestly, I don't know how you can be so hopeless. Rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong.... mmm? Shoo-bop sha wadda wadda yippity boom de boom-" Yep, got that... "Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop... goes over that hand yeah? And- dip da-dip da-dip doo-wop da doo-bee doo-" 

Oh God, I need to laugh so much. She's got, like, two dozen people watching her like a hawk, just to take in a flick in her wrist! And we all sing happily along with her, the movement somehow making more sense as we do so, but Jesus, we all most definitely feel thick as shit. How many times has this woman honestly seen this thing?

"Boogedy boogedy boogedy boogedy, shoo-be doo-wop she-bop - no, it goes there! That's it - sha-na-na-na-na-na-na-na yippity dip de doom-"

We give out a quick cheer as we realise that we've got it - even if it makes your wists click and ache in ways it probably shouldn't. David cuts off the music again for a second and slumps back in his seat, quietly astounded, his eyes fixed upon Sharon, who steadily colours.

But David grins at her and has the backing begun again. Sharon happily stays between Patrick and me, and we all give this whole weirdness our best damn shot.

Rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong
Shoo-bop sha wadda wadda yippity boom de boom
Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop
Dip da-dip da-dip doo-wop da doo-bee doo
Boogedy boogedy boogedy boogedy
Shoo-be doo-wop she-bop
Sha-na-na-na-na-na-na-na yippity dip de doom
Wop-bop-a-loo-bop, Wop-bop-a-loo-bop
Wop-bop-a-loo-bop, Wop-bop-a-loo-bop
Wop-bop-a-loo-bop, Wop-bop-a-loo-bop
Wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-wop-bam-boom!

Or not. Maybe we all fancy being in the film version instead. Cos we get up, and create this wave of pulling each other closer, putting arms around waists and backs as we swing out hips and rock back and forth, by now totally yelling the lyrics at each other, showing off and loving it, waving arms everywhere and tryin' out the bump n' grind. Sharon's in absolute hysterics against me, arms wrapped around my neck as she rolls her hips back and forth to counter me.

We're for each other like wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-wop-bam-boom!
Just like my brother is; sha-na-na-na-na-na-na-na yippity dip de doom
Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop, we'll always be together!
Together!
We'll always be together...
(Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop...)

But I make sure I get the last laugh. Hey, if John got to touch up Olivia when she looked this good, then I get to do the same to Sharon! I pull her up against me, and I know she wasn't expecting quite such a difference in the space between her and the floor, but she's still smiling her head off as she locks her long legs around my hips and turns her head quickly to face David, her curls bouncing off the side of my face.

Wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-wop-bam-boom!

Ah! What's she got in this stuff, she smells gorgeous!

~*~

We're still buzzing from that one run-through at the end of the day when I walk her back from Costa's to her car. We snuck out cos Sharon was dying for a coffee. Me, I still hate the stuff, but there's something to be said for it if I get to walk up the street with my arm around her, feeling hers across my back. It's right, it is. It's still secretive I guess, but what's anything got to do with anyone besides us? And us works well. This is definitely the kinda involvement I want. We just don't stop laughing or teasing each other. Or rather, Sharon still mercilessly teasing me because "You didn't know what to do with your hands! I'm disgusted, Dennis Rickman, truly, what am I gonna tell Nat?"

So I give her an honest answer, grimacing as I gulp down the mouthful of Americano Sharon insisted I try. "Tell her never to drink that!"

Sharon giggles, taking back the sturdy cup. "I'm seriously gonna have to work on you..."

"Well, yeah, but only if you want to..."

"Oh I do, don't worry about that!"

But then she slows up, her arm dropping away from me. Her eyes are narrowed as she studies my face. "Dennis, you are alright with this, aren't you?"

"No!" I laugh. "That was vile."

"Shut up, dipshit, you know I don't mean the coffee. I mean... this. You and me... on a go-slow?"

I smile, gently stroking strands of hair away from her face. "Fine..."

"Is it?" she pushes doubtfully.

"No, that's why I'm still here i'n't it?"

Recognising my sarcasm she grins and shoves me playfully with her shoulder as she slides her arm around my back again, nestling into me as we begin to across the car-park.

"You're fantastic, you know that?" She tilts her head to look up at me. Only, a breath later and that's not all she's doing, her lips barely pressed against mine. I stand still, turning in on her and pulling her closer, needing to feel her close and taste more.

"Well I do now." I whisper smugly as we break apart. "Right c'mon, d'you wanna get home tonight or- oi, what are you doing?"

Well, she certainly ain't groping me as I mighta hoped. It might well have been her plan the way her hand was going just then, but she's delved into my back pocket instead, pulling out my cap.

"Ooooh, disguise for the stalkers, I like it Dennis, really!" And she pulls down her sunnies from her head to cover her sun-affected eyes and then jams the cap on, turning proudly. "What d'you think?"

And I just look at her, staggered. "You look so.... cute!" And she does, there's something about the bunches... I love 'em, even if they did only occur to Sharon as a good idea after two glasses of wine at lunchtime. She looks adorable, and with the cap and the pout too... ah, she's killing me.

"Cute? Wow, that one's new on me. Best get me a picture, it'll last longer!"

I know she's teasing, but maybe I can't help but do the same, pulling out my phone from the other pocket.

"Oh Dennis, no!"

"Shut up!" I laugh, thumb poised over the capture button. "And smile!"

She does of course and she has got one of the sunniest smiles I've ever seen. I'm grinning too as I press the button. She's such a poser. My poser.

"Even cuter!" I nod approvingly at the screen. But Sharon cringes, giggling with it as she hands me the cap again and leads me the last few paces towards her car.

The cap and phone back in my pocket, I take her coffee from her as she unlocks her car. This done, she opens the door and turns back to me, taking the cup and resting it on the roof of the car.

Then she pulls me down to her, pressing my lips hungrily.

"You up to much tonight then?"

She shrugs. "Nope. Was just gonna sit at home. Me, wine, DVDs, waiting to see if this gorgeous guy was gonna call me..."

"Oh yeah?" I smirk, peppering her lips again. "Who's he?"

"Ah, no-one you'd know..."

Except, being at home with the said wine and wobbly stack of DVDs, knowing he's not gonna call because I left him there... ah, damnit, I can't stop thinking about him. And every time I do, I'm grinning like an idiot. He's great, isn't he? So damn patient when he coulda just... it's not my style to mess anyone around like this, especially not someone as irrepressibly gorgeous as he is, and just don't get me started on the talents of the man or...

You know what? This seriously isn't working. I'm watching Chicago for God's sake, how am I supposed to stop thinking about him? I'm not, perhaps worse still, don't want to. I think, and this is a nervous realisation, I think I miss him. I throw the cushion I've been cuddling against my stomach to the side, flicking the remote to stop the DVD. I push myself up and turn off the TV. I force my shoes back onto my feet from their heap and grab my keys, hardly knowing what I'm doing, just somehow knowing I have to.

I get in my car and drive. I could only be going to one place and bloody Hell, he best be in, or I'll... nope, I'll do it anyway, stopping off at an off-licence and grabbing a couple of bottles of wine from the chiller. I'll get wasted. Always a good plan that is - I just never liked to do it alone.

Which is why I find myself stood shivering outside Dennis' flat. Didn't think to grab a jacket. Yep, he best be in. I am so not freezing for this pleasure.

Pulling in an apprehensive breath, I at last manage to summon the courage to lift my fist and rap on the door. I've counted away five seconds before it's opened and Dennis is stood in front of me. He drinks in the image of me with a look of bewilderment.

"What are you doing here?" 

Wordlessly, I smile, raising the wine bottles to his attention. He steps to the side so that I can pass him and move into the hall. The door's barely closed with a click before I turn to face him and declare; "I guess you could say I'm trying to get you drunk..."

He rolls his tongue thoughtfully in the side of his mouth, walking over to me and taking one of the bottles into his own hands, lazily examining the label before his gaze is trained with interest upon my face again. "Uh huh, and why would you wanna do that?"

"Well cos... I was told... drinking alone isn't a good look. And you're forcing it on me here, Dennis."

Recognising his own words, he bows his head, laughing gently. "Alright. Go through... I'll go and grab some glasses."

I nod, very much approving of this idea. I head off towards his lounge, but turn back in the doorway, catching Dennis' arm as he moves into the kitchen, pulling him back to level with me. Then I stretch up and tenderly brush his mouth, loving the surprise I taste on his lips. It makes me smile as I pull back, murmuring; "Hi..."

He grins, amused by my rather muddled greeting. But I don't care, cos I've done what I needed to now and I'm gonna carry on like that, a new and exhilirated kinda confidence fizzing within me.

I sink down on the sofa, kicking off my shoes into a pile in front of the coffee table. My elbow propped on the back of the sofa cushions, I rest my head back against my palm, pulling my fingers idly through sections of my hair. I can't stop smiling and I haven't even started drinking yet. I haven't done anything today, except... laugh and have fun and think how lucky I am. I meant what I said about second chances. They're precious and few, there's no point in wasting 'em.

Yesterday, I panicked. And everything I said to stop it were the right things, the rational things. He didn't have to, but Dennis understood and accepted them. We got on with our job without awkwardness, all the laughs still there. And I realised that I had a friend there, one that it seemed it was gonna be hard to break. But that's the thing about realisations, once they start coming, they don't stop. I realised I didn't want a friend, at least, not just a friend. If Dennis can really support my every wobble and indecision then, what exactly is there to lose, what is there to be scared of, to wait for?

My smile wider, I swing my legs up beside me, watching the doorway contently, just waiting for Dennis. He comes in with the uncorked bottle and sets it down on the coffee table, turning round and leaving again without a word. Ten seconds later, he's back, a brimming glass in each hand.

"There you go..." he says quietly, delivering one into my hands as he climbs skillfully over my shoes to sink down next to me, his torso twisted so he faces me. "So... why am I being plied with alcohol exactly?"

I cock my head, hair tumbling down as I smile sweetly. "Do I need a reason?"

"No, just... mmmm!"

I smile as I lean over, putting down my wine and peppering his lips, needing to return again and again with more desperation, wanting to taste his first sip of wine.

"Hey..." Dennis breathes as I draw back, stroking along his jawline with the pads of my thumbs as I rest my forehead against his. "...you OK?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno, but-"

I'm not interested in "buts". They only represent hesitation and I have no want or need for that and to be honest, I don't think Dennis does either, not really. I know, since I've asked him to, he'd wait. But why should he? And that's exactly why I cut off his words with a fiercer kiss.

And when it is that I draw back this time and he looks at me with a kind of a stunned awe. "What's gotten into you?"

"What... you think I'm drunk?"

But he can't answer, without the words to justify what he thinks. So I smile gently and prise his glass from his hands, turning to set it down next to mine. Maybe that's it; terrified he's gonna slosh red wine all over the sofa.

"Well, I'm not. And I don't need you to be either. Do I?"

I'm there, sat back on my knees on the sofa, burning with a nervous anticipation as I look questioningly at Dennis, just hoping and praying that in this one day, he hasn't given up on me. His hand strokes down over my hip, the poise of his fingers making like he wants to pull me closer, but he blanches his lip and tells me; "It depends what you want..."

"What do you think?"

At least he answers me honestly I suppose, sighing as he reaches for his glass and takes in a deep sip. 

"I think you've come round here, psyched up for something you don't really want."

I fall back, groaning quietly. "Dennis darlin', d'you think that, just once you could stop..." I grapple for the words but just don't find them. "...caring so much? Why can't you just be... selfish?"

Silently, Dennis pulls himself up from the couch. "I've already done that, Sharon."

"Have ya? When? Musta missed it."

"I kissed ya, didn't I?"

"Yeah." I agree, nodding steadily. "And just like it seems you're doing now, you had an attack of conscience. You walked off. And I coulda left it at that. But I didn't... that must tell you something."

He narrows his eyes, his gestures frantic as he tries to comprehend it all. "But yesterday, you..."

I shake my head. "That was yesterday."

"You said you wanted to take it slow. And I respect that OK? You don't have to... force this cos you think I won't... cos I will."

"I know that."

"What, so, twenty-four hours is suddenly slow for you is it? Cos if it is, then darlin', we're working to totally different time scales."

I sigh and get up too, padding over to him. I pull his glass from his hand, taking a sip myself and gasping it down before I ask; "Why are you fighting this so hard?"

"Cos if I don't, the morning after you've got planned is gonna hurt more than downing those two bottles on my own. And I don't want that. Not for me, and not for you. Not after everything you've been through."

I smile weakly. "I'm not asking you to make me better Dennis."

"I know. I just don't know what you are asking."

Swishing the wine lazily around in the glass as I look intently at him, I turn and set it down again. I level with Dennis and find I'm tremoring with the most uncomfortable of nerves as I brush his lips again, as soft as a whisper.

"I'm asking you to just go with what feels right. Unless-" I bite into my lip anxiously as the hideous thought occurs. "-it doesn't."

"It's not that and you know it." Dennis sighs and pushes me back. That stings.

"But I don't do I? Cos you won't... tell me... show me..."

"That's cos yesterday-"

"Oh stuff yesterday!" I snap, hating that I do, but being entirely unable to stop myself. Can't he see I've changed my mind? I rush at him, cupping my hands around his face to force him to look at me, to know the determination that flares inside me. "And stuff being ashamed... or scared. I've got you, there's no room for any of that anymore. I want you.... and all the care and good intentions in the world aren't gonna change that, Dennis. So live with it, and admit we've got something."

"We have." he shrugs, no apparant issue in admitting it. "But you can't go back after this. And the last thing I want is, us, in the best job ever, ruined because..."

"Because I wanna sleep with you? God, you and your bloody neuroses are making me sound like a total slapper. I don't get what your problem is, Dennis, really. It's not like we haven't... done it... before!"

But that doesn't amuse him in any sorta way. "I wish you'd get this..." he mumbles, glancing down at the floor.

"Well darlin', I'm trying but you're not making it very easy. If you don't want me, then tell me. I'm a big girl now Dennis, I've known worse men than you, I can live with it and I can walk into that studio tomorrow without a problem-"

"It's not that..."

I'm getting exasperated now. "Then what is it? I'm not down on bended knee asking for marriage and babies. I just want you... for as long as it works, for as long as it's fun. Or... am I just supposed to pretend I'm not attracted to you anymore, cos y'know, David's gonna wanna know where Sandy & Danny's chemistry burnt out..."

Dennis smiles knowingly, but it's not a happy smile. It's a smile of resignation. "So is that what I get then Sharon? Another three months?"

"I don't know." I confess, shrugging awkwardly. "But I wanna find out."

Lifting my head confidently, I move over to Dennis, sliding my arms around his neck before kissing him, with a building passion everytime our lips collide.

"Tell me you don't want me..."

"I can't..." he murmurs feverishly between kisses.

"Good. So tell me which door am I looking for?"

I feel him smile, hands falling away to grip mine and maybe lead me off.

"Are you sure?"

"Mmmm-hmmm. Cos this morning you're so worried about? That's the morning I'm gonna let everyone know about us. It don't mean we send out house-warming invites or anything. It just means we enjoy being together, that's all. So... which... door?"

He smiles and at last I can convince myself that he means it as, still gripping both my hands, he steps back, leading me into the hall. I can see where his gaze is straying and know instantly which door it is we're talking about. But we're not moving anymore. Rolling my eyes, I drop one of his hands and lead him the few steps across to the door, reaching for the door-handle. But before I can push it down, Dennis' hand is over mine.

"Are you really sure?"

I release his other hand, raising mine and caressing his face before I stretch up to brush his mouth, my words punctuated with kisses as I push down the door-handle. "Stop... caring... so... much..."

~*~

And maybe that's what he did. I'm not sure I know. I never knew that sex with... anyone could so tender and intense all at once. I can't believe that in these six years I forgot Dennis could make it that way. I wonder now what was behind it, lust or emotion. I mean, I'm not waiting on any great declarations of love or anything - sex is sex, right? 

It was just, feverish from his kisses and closeness, I had to murmur into the curve of his neck as I littered it with anxious kisses that I'm not on the Pill. I felt the shuddering pulse of gentle laughter in his throat as he understood. He kissed me again, the kind of kiss it's cruel to sever - and he did just that, sliding off the edge of the bed and pulling himself to his feet, leaving the room. Wow, I thought, this guy's modest, not carrying half a dozen condoms in his wallet. And I kinda liked it, even if I was missing him and the moment we were so ready to create.

He slid back into the room cautiously, and noticing his bare feet before anything else, I was glad to realise that the bashing around must have been him kicking off his trainers at the wall and not wrecking his medicine cabinet in a desperate search for a condom. Not that I can ever imagine Dennis Rickman need fear getting desperate.

Smiling again as our gazes met, he sank down on the edge of the bed.

"Well?" I prompted, pushing myself up onto my knees to kiss him again. "Are we in luck?"

"Mmmm-hmmm." And he presses the little packet onto the duvet. "Just... tell me again that you're sure. Cos... this can wait... I can wait for as long as you need me to."

"Mmmm, I know. But what if I can't? Give it a week and I will have lost ya to Baby..."

"Shut up." he advised softly, rolling his eyes. "I'm not interested in anyone else."

"Can't stop 'em being interested in you though can you?" I tease, wrapping my arms around his neck as I crush my lips against his, savouring his taste. "Like me for instance. So yes, I'm sure."

~*~

And I was right to have been an' all. Because he's amazing and together... we're incredible. How did I ever manage to forget that it coulda felt that good? I reckon we could be having "fun" together for a long while if the sex carries on like that. I'm lying, spooned up to him, my head rested comfortably in the curve of his neck, still fighting to bring my breathing into any kind of sync as I recover. He's got quite a technique, this guy. I've never been forced to hold off from climax for so long, and God, it's never felt so good to let go.

I guess he's waiting for some show of regret, but how the Hell is it ever supposed to arrive?

So I precede the inevitable murmur of "You alright?" by turning my head and smiling gently;

"Love your colour-scheme. Mmmm, totally worth seeing."

Head tilted against the pillow, Dennis narrows his gorgeous eyes, trying to comprehend me, his lips curving into a disbelieving smile. "What?"

I'm giggling immediately, head bowed further against his chest. "I don't know... oh God, Sharon, shut up!"

He laughs warmly, the pad of his thumb stroking around my shoulder. "Look, are you... are we OK?"

I lift my head and smile certainly. "We're more than OK..."

"Really?"

Pressing my hand to his cheek and encouraging him with this pressure to turn his head and rest it against the pillow again to face me, I ask; "What d'you think I'm gonna do, Dennis, huh? Get up and leave, make like nothing ever happened? Cos I'm not. It's me that's been pushing for this. No more disappearing acts, I promise."

He edges closer, kissing me. The insistence of his mouth pulls me in deeper and it's a struggle to even make myself breathe I'm so lost in him, in needing to touch him, be close to him. 

But when the ability to form words returns to me, I add, "Except maybe a tiny little one."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"Home."

I sit up, the duvet wrapped carefully around my naked form - not that there's much point trying to hide anything from Dennis now. I've drawn my legs up to my chest, ready to swing them down to the floor by the time Dennis' hand falls over mine.

"Why won't you stay?"

"Why?" I echo, smirking as I turn around, sinking back on my knees and looping my arms around his neck, stroking idly in the nape with my fingertips. "That's easy. Because I want to. And I figure that by saying no, by not getting what I want, you're just gonna be even more incredible next time."

"Hmmm, so this is gonna be a next time then?"

I answer him with another kiss. "You just better hope I can get through working with ya first... "

And with that, I clamber up and start gathering up my clothes, no inhibitions about scuttling around his bedroom naked, more than well aware his eyes are upon me. I leave his room without another word, dressing in the bathroom and then going to collect my shoes from their heap in the lounge. And I pointedly don't go back into his bedroom. I just leave. And that may seem cruel, esepcially seeing as all I want to do now I've been awakened as to what I've been missing, is stay in his bed. Maybe it's absolute submission I'm taking it slow with. After all, gotta keep 'em keen haven't you?

I spend the rest of the evening in the flat doing nothing much at all, and damn happy like that too. I drank wine, (probably the same amount I woulda forced into Dennis earlier had he needed me to!) ate strips of chocolate and curled up on my sofa in my dressing gown, steadily working through my whole DVD collection of rom-coms and musicals. I've watched Bridget Jones' Diary, Chicago, Moulin Rouge and of course, Grease when my phone buzzes at my elbow. It makes me jump, and it's only then I realise the time. It's quarter to midnight!

A stirring of panic swirls in my stomach. Something must be wrong right? But as I lift the phone, squinting at the screen, I realise it's OK.

Text message received 
from Dennis

Read now?

Just wanted to say sweet dreams x x x See you tomorrow.

And I'm grinning like an idiot. How adorable is that? Totally unexpected, but still here, staring up at me.

I tap through the menus to reply.

Tomorrow... <3 x x x

The message apparantly having sent, I put my phone back down on the arm-rest, ready to reach for the DVD control and start on some Breakfast At Tiffany's before I head off to bed. After all, I have work in the morning...

But my fingertips have barely closed over it when I hear a complete bashing around in the hallway. I get up immediately, terrified. Someone must have booted the door in. It's late, they probably think I'm asleep and now they're gonna...

"Justin!"

Nope, no-one's come to rob me. At least I don't think they have. Because it's the bastard ex stood there - having just let himself in with his own key. Damn, didn't I make him return that?

Well obviously not.

"Don't worry." he mutters darkly. "I ain't staying. Just came to get the rest of my stuff."

"Well, that's alright then!" I declare sarcastically. "Do you have any idea what ti-" But I'm cut off, because he's wincing as he tries to turn to face me, his hand pressed into his tender seeming side. "What's wrong?"

He turns his head, facing me for the first time. He has a gash on his chin, surrounded by the angriest looking bruise.

"Justin... what the Hell has happened to you? Who...?"

He laughs bitterly, his eyes narrow as he glares at me. "You wanna know who do you Sharon?" he spits.

But I won't be intimidated anymore and lean against the wall, my arms folded lazily across my chest. "Yeah I do!" I smirk. "I wanna know who you pissed off enough to give you a pasting - I'd like to buy 'em a drink!"

"Oh well, that's convenient, that is, cos you won't have to go far. Assuming you're still working that is." He cocks his eyebrow questioningly.

"Course I am. What are you..."

"That Dennis." he says bluntly. "Came round here, showed me what was what."

I throw my head back, releasing a laugh cold and high and slowly clapping my hands. "Oh that's good Justin. That's really good. Fits in really well with all your other lies that does. None of your stuff is still here and you know it. You took it all with you! And you, you've got a serious problem. Maybe you just can't handle the fact that Dennis is a better man. Doesn't need to use his fists to get what he wants... cos I let him have it all anyway..."

"You slept with him?"

"Mmmm, today. And I'm telling you Justin, he put you to shame. Not that that would be hard... seeing as you never were..."

I can see the madness in his eyes and I have no doubt that he wants to hit me. Let him, it's no word of a lie. And he must know it too because no such blow comes.

"You're pathetic, Justin."

"Yeah?" he sneers. "Well, that don't make lover-boy any better. This was him Sharon."

I lift my head defiantly. "I don't believe you."

He smiles cruelly. "Didn't think you would." He pulls in a breath. "But you two must be together a lot, yeah? Scenes, routines, all that? In each other's pockets in fact."

I shrug. "It's not a bad thing."

"Oh, I bet it isn't. But you tell me Sharon, where was he on Monday, say about... half-eleven?"

Hating that he's backing me into a corner, I'm forced to think on it. Oh God... he disappeared. Lorne was frantic. But he told me...

"He was at the doctors... s-sorting a prescription."

"Course he was. Y'know, I think you're right... I did take everything with me." He throws his keys up in the air, and they crash at my feet. I'm glad to have them, but I'm rigid and have to leave them on the carpet. I hate him, I hate him so much, glare at him venemously as he opens the door. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Sharon!"

"Get out."

I hate him because he's right.

OK, I must be nervous. I've been in the studios for half an hour and I'm already halfway through my second coffee. That's right, coffee. And I've been chewing gum in between as well, which is one of the habits I really can't stand; reminds me of all the leery chavs that stand on street corners swigging cider at six at night and narrowly avoiding a slap with it. But there's just too damn much nervous energy inside me. I need to use it, any way I can. I've tried pacing round with my script, but nothing's going in. And anyway, every time I look down and skip over one of "Sandy's" lines, I'm thinking of Sharon and remembering where all this nervous energy came from.

I can't stop thinking of what she said yesterday before we... she said that today, she was gonna let everyone know about us. I'm so looking forward to that revelation, just to see their faces. But, more than that, it means there's no more skulking around, no more secretive looks. Just us, public like any other couple.

Ali arrived about fifteen minutes after I did, and having exhausted all other avenues to settle my concentration, I roped her into going over the hop routine. Probably not the greatest idea, psyching up to the soddin' hand-jive before nine o'clock in the morning, but we get into it, and well.

Everyone else just seems to appear around us, slinging off jackets and dropping bags on the floor before shaking out scripts and going through scenes, or more likely, stopping to watch me and Ali, providing the backing I so expertly forgot we even needed.

"Dennis!"

Stiffening a little as I hold Ali, I begin to tingle, recognising Sharon calling my name from the doorway. God, I'm pathetic, aren't I? Guess she really does something to me then. Ali steps obediently back, breaking our hold, and I turn to face Sharon's approach. Oh God... I don't know how to play this. Am I allowed to kiss her or do we... say something first? Play it safe Rickman, c'mon.

"Hey..." I say gently. Sharon lifts her head and beams, quickening her step. Then she's stood in front of me and God, I want so much to touch her, in any sort of way.

But then there comes something, just in that split second that I could never have reckoned on.

Thwack!

Cheek burning with pain immediately, the first thing I can really register is the sound of everyone reeling in surprise. Well, they're not the only ones. I straighten cautiously up, and Sharon's sunny look... it's gone, pure venom raging in her eyes.

"I know it was you, you bastard! I know it was you!"

"What-"

"Don't you dare deny it! Don't you fucking dare!" 

And she flies at me in this fit of anger. She's crazy and in that second, her clawed hands raining down on me, striking me without caring where, I know exactly what it is she knows. She knows I did for Justin. And I don't know whether to try and defend myself or just cower and let her hurt me.  

"I hate you!" she screams. "Why?! Why did you do this to me? I hate you! I hate you, I hate- get off me!"

It's only as the blows stopped coming, I can take in the stunned faces - the hatred in Sharon's as Nick holds her away from me.

"Leave her alone, Nick." I advise weakly.

"But mate... your face... you're bleeding..."

I am? Gingerly I raise my fingertip to my cheek, wincing as it presses into an oozing cut.

"He deserves it!" Sharon spits, wrenching herself savagely free from Nick's hold. "Get off me for God's sake! I'm not the animal here - am I Dennis?" Her voice is really swaying with emotion, and I have the most horrible feeling I'm about to make her cry. And all I can do is stand here without excuse or reason. "No, I'm just a... a what?" She steps forward. "You tell me Dennis huh? Go on! You're usually good at spinning lines! How about "I respect you, Sharon"?" Her fist slams furiously down on my shoulder. "You lying arsehole! So c'mon, you tell me what I am. Some cheap little slut that lets herself get battered by her bastard boyfriend?"

"No..."

But her eyebrow arches dangerously. She really wants to challenge me. She wants me to flip out.

"Needed protecting did I?"

"No.... yes!"

"Well which?" she demands, hot and angry tears brimming in her eyes.

"I wanted to protect you-" I mumble honestly. "-of course I did - I care about you."

But she shakes her head fiercely, rejecting my every word. "Just stop lying! You don't care about me! You never have. If you cared about me, you'd have stayed away! I asked you to stay away!"

I look guiltily down. "It was too late by then..."

Maddened, she strikes me across the other side of the face. That's gonna be a nice set then.

"Sharon!" Sal barks, pulling her away, letting her arms surround Sharon's shuddering form. And it's as she rests there that I can hear, that everybody hears her begin to cry. Sal soothes her, stroking through her long hair. And all the while, Sal's glaring at me. "What have you done?"

I say nothing.

"Dennis!"

"He hurt her, Sal. I couldn't... I couldn't... He had to know he couldn't..."

She sighs heavily as she cradles Sharon and I hate so much how disappointed she sounds in me. "I told you not to play the Hero. I told you that wasn't your fight!"

Sharon pulls free of Sal's arms and whirls round to face me, her eyes narrowed in hatred as she wipes the tears away. "Sal told you? And you still...? What the Hell's wrong with you Dennis, what do you want? My gratitude?"

"No of course not but Sharon... why are you cutting your heart out for him? He's scum!"

"But you were supposed to be my friend. Someone I could go to, confide in. And now you're no better than scum! You're no better than him!"

"H-How can you say that? I'd never hurt you, never!"

"So what is it you think I'm doing right now? You came with me to the flat and you- you knew he wouldn't be there. And I was so happy that he was gone. I... I put my arms around you... I thanked you for letting things work themselves out! Why couldn't you just stay out of it? They would have worked themselves out!"

"How Sharon? When? He threatened to kill you, remember?"

"He'd never have-"

"Killed you?" I question. "What, like he'd never hit you? Why not, Sharon? Because he loves you?"

"Alright, fine!" she yells venemously. "So he never loved me, he never gave a shit about me - but at least he never lied to me! I trusted you! And... what was this about, what? Get a nice kick out of it, did ya?"

"It wasn't like that!" I protest, shaking my head weakly. She must know it wasn't like that.

"Then tell me what it was like, cos I... yesterday I thought I-"

She folds forward a little, her shivering hand pressed over her mouth like she might be sick. She shakes her head desperately as she straightens up, staggering back and declaring; "Y'know what? I can't do this. You make me feel sick..."

"Sharon!"

"I'd leave it mate." Nick advises cautiously, pulling me back from my mid-step to race after her as she rushes out.

Shit! I've totally blown this, haven't I?

I shake my head fiercely, taking in all the stunned faces and gaping mouths around. Sal's look is the one that hurts the most - she's so obviously disappointed in me. I shoulda just listened.

"I can't... I can't!"

And I race from the studio, almost spilling out onto the street in my panic as I look round for Sharon. But there's no-one on either end of the street and I turn back with a very audible groan of frustration, wondering what the Hell it is I'm supposed to do to make this right.

But then I see her. She hasn't just stormed off, needing to be as far away from me as possible. She's hunched on the steps up into the side entrance, hidden well by the askew alignment of cars in the parking bays. I move cautiously forward, not wanting to be seen or even noticed. Not yet. First I need to know for myself how she is. And it's a bit of a pitiful sight. She's shaking, because she's so furious. She has a cigarette rammed between her lips but she's completely unable, for the fury I have evoked within her, to spark her lighter.

Guilt stabbing, I reach into my back pocket for my own and crouch down beside her, offering out a flame to the tip of the cigarette. The venom in her eyes does not waiver as she sees it's me, the disgust remaining prominent in her face as she leans down and then back, taking the first much needed drag in deeply.

Without any words at all, I put the lighter back and settle myself heavily beside her, wringing my hands and praying I won't have to be the one that shatters this tense silence, cos I know how insincere I'm gonna seem to her now.

"How could you?" she hisses coldly. "Why did you?"

Stupidly, I don't answer. Instead I ask my own question. "How did you find out?"

She throws her head back, releasing a laugh cold and high. "Incredible - hasn't got the nerve to even try and deny it!" Turning her head, she glares at me. "Justin came round last night. Said he wanted to collect the rest of his stuff, but of course, what he really wanted was to show me your signature!"

I glance guiltily down at my hands.

"I don't mind that he was beaten, I couldn't give a toss. He's covered me in enough bruises to stop me ever caring. He deserved it. But why was it you? Why?"

"Because... Because we're talking about you..."

"Yeah? And were you talking about me when you were slamming your fist into his face?"

"I was angry. You broke down in front of me Sharon, I couldn't stand it. He had everything that was yours and I ain't just talking that bloody flat. He stole your self-respect, your self-worth, your dignity..."

"What, so what you've done, that's you restoring it for me is it? It doesn't work like that, Dennis. Sal was right, none of this was your fight. I just needed you to be a friend. And you let me down."

I hunch my shoulders. "Well, I know that now, don't I?"

"I think you knew it at the time. But you just didn't care."

"No!" I protest vehemently. "That's not true. I'm not a violent person, Sharon, but he deserved it. He was destroying you and if I didn't care about that, about you, then I could never have got as angry as I did."

"Oh!" she says scornfully. "So that's how you prove to someone that you care is it? Punching someone else's lights out? There are other ways, Dennis."

"I know. But would there really have been any other way to get through to Justin? Really?"

But Sharon doesn't think to answer me, just staring at me. The venom has lessened slightly, but she's not impressed, her eyes narrowed and her pretty lips twisted in disgust as she holds the half-smoked cigarette between her shaking fingers.

"D'you know what really gets me? It's not that you went after him, or even that you went behind my back - and I can't stand being double-crossed; it's that... yesterday... you let me talk myself into your bed, knowing what you'd done - knowing how much I'd hate it. And I truly thought... all that hesitation... I thought you were thinking about me."

"I was..."

Sharon shakes her head, taking another desperate toke. "Not in the way I thought you were. Because I thought you were a gentleman, not wanting me to push myself into something I didn't want. But I did, didn't I? Because I didn't know what you'd done. Everything that's gone on... it's down to your conscience, isn't it? What did you think? That if we started... seeing each other... it'd be any easier when I found out? Cos it ain't!"

She stubs the cigarette viciously out on the step.

"This hurts. You lied to me and I thought you were one of the good guys. Being there, listening to me.... what was it? Some grand plan to get me to..."

"No! No way!"

"Well it happened anyway, di'n't it?" she spits bitterly. "You shoulda stuck with Dee... you're both lies. I should never have let you see the real me. Cos you used me. You did this and then you made me think we had something. It didn't matter what... because all you needed to do was get Justin out the way. And I suppose I should thank you, but my problem is, you're no better than him now." 

And she pulls herself up, ready to walk away from me, still hating me.

"Sharon, please..."

But she just glares at me, shaking her head, never to accept a word.

"No. You're a user, Dennis... and I don't need you in my life."

I know that the way I blew up in front of everyone is gonna be able anyone's talking about all day. And I can't stay around to hear the murmurs, or worse, the way they'll stop as soon as I walk in the room. I hate atmospheres and right now, I'm too damn angry to be in the middle of one, with a smile on my face - acting at acting with Dennis without trying to hurt him again. I sat on that step, smoking a cigarette that tasted vile on my tongue, and I looked at him, feeling no remorse at the way blood shone on his cheek, from the cut I inflicted in my anger. Because I was still angry, so very nearly screaming at him to get away from me. I was repulsed by him, and I hated that realisation so much.

Because, even for this short space of time, he really mattered to me. Dennis was the friend I really needed and when I needed him. And it didn't have to be him, not after everything that went on between us all those years ago. But it was. We were there, laughing, joking, it was easy. And if I'd had the nerve when Justin was still hanging over me, I could have let him know I was still attracted to him. It didn't have to happen the way it did. And had I known what had preceded it, then it would never have happened at all. I'd never have been so pathetically weak, and then maybe I could have kidded myself I still had that friend.

I try and keep it all in. I try so hard. But as I get into my car, the tears begin to fall. And I'm not sure what I'm crying for. There's too many thoughts going round for anything to make sense. I make it home without realising that's where I am. I twist my keys from the ignition and slump back in my seat, catching sight of my tear-stained face in the rear-view mirror. Miserably, I wipe them away, smudging my eye make-up so fantastically, I probably need to start crying all over again.

I climb the stairs to my front door, my whole body feeling heavier than it ever has before. I'm drained.

I go inside and pour myself a very large glass of wine, taking the rest of the bottle with me, simply for comfort. I wile away the rest of the night there, curled on my sofa and watching all the mindless TV I can stand. I don't know whether my eyelids droop as an effect of my lack of energy, the fact I've just completely guzzled the whole bottle of wine, or because I'm bored. And maybe I couldn't care. At least if I sleep I can forget this whole miserable mess for a while.

Except, at what the display on the video record tells me is only half-past nine, there's a definite knock at my front door, which startles me awake. You can't get in here without buzzing at the outer door. You need a key. Justin's come back, he must have done. The interfering bastard, he ruined it, he ruined it all...

It's only as I cautiously open the door and spy Natalie stood there, big grin on her face, hopping excitedly from foot to foot, that I remember. Justin left his key. And Nat's had the spare since I moved in here four years ago. I'm OK.

No, I'm not.

"Oh..." I say weakly, leaning heavily against the door, safety chain on. "...it's you."

"Well, you don't need to sound so bloody enthusiastic do you?" she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "C'mon babe, let me in, I'm dying here."

"What's wrong with your own bloody bathroom?" I mutter thickly, pushing the door a little way further closed to pull off the safety chain and open it all the way to admit my best friend. She rushes inside with a grin.

"Not for a pee, you silly cow! This!" And not far off from screaming, she waves a well read leaflet at me. 

Tiredly, I reach to take it from her grasp. But what I'm looking at isn't registering, like my addled brain's closed off. Lucky Nat's hyped up enough to let me know what I'm missing eh?

"Bon Jovi are touring! Our prayers have been answered. You best call Dennis, tell him to get his credit card out, cos he'll need it. £100 a throw this time, but God, it's gonna be so worth it-"

But I'm not listening, not really. I stopped the second she said his name. And I shatter, right there in front of her, more tears than I ever knew it was possible to cry, even after I'd been beaten myself, are pouring from my eyes, the stress of which making me double up as sobs tear through my chest.

"Sharon? Oh babe, what is it?" Her arms surround me and I cling to her as I cry. How has he done this to me?

"I... he... oh God, Nat!"

"OK. OK, I'm here... shhhh. It's gonna be alright. C'mon..."

Assessing her options quickly with darting eyes, she clasps my hand and leads me through to my bedroom, forcing me to settle on the bed. She sinks down next to me and as the mattress bounces beneath me with the impact, I manage a weak smile which humours her as she clutches still at my shivering hands.

"What's happened Sharon?"

"You'll... You'll hate me."

"Oh... I'll never hate you!" Natalie reassures me, putting her arms around me once again. "You're my best friend."

I bit guiltily into my lip, preparing myself for a U-turn on my gorgeous Natalie's part. "Yesterday... I..." 

I struggle with the words but Natalie, she holds onto me and gives me time to find them. But there's no way I can dress this up. It is what it is however much I wish it wasn't. 

"...I slept with Dennis, Nat."

She blinks. And if I wasn't so damn distraught, I would have found it in myself to laugh at what she says next. "Well, one of us had to, babe, and I didn't think stalkers would be his bag, know what I mean?"

"Yeah." I nod weakly, wiping my eyes again. "But it was..."

"Don't say "bad" or you're gonna kill a fan-girl's fantasy."

"No. No, it wasn't. I wish it had have been because it should never have..."

"Well, why not? You get on well, don't you? I saw you in the studio together and I... oh my God, how long have you been... seeing each other?"

"This woulda been 4 days..."

"So you and him were... the day I was in the studio? Well, you jammy... hang on. What d'you mean "would have been"?"

"It was too fast. I'd only just got rid of Justin, I shouldn't have- but then neither should Dennis."

"Sharon, you've lost me, what did he do?"

I sigh heavily. "The night before we decided to... see... Dennis kissed me. S'what made me really decide. Only, it turns out, that afternoon, he'd been turfing Just out of here. He beat him, Nat. That's the only reason he ever left."

"Right..." she returns vaguely. "Well babe, where's your problem? Dennis just did what the rest of us wanted to, and it ain't like that scumbag of a boyfriend didn't deserve it."

"I know. I know. But I asked him to stay out of it and I thought... I thought Dennis was one of the people that listened to me. I really thought he did. He even... he kept telling me he respected me and that... that was so bloody new on me."

Nat shrugs. "Don't see why. It's the least you deserve."

"Then how come I've never known it before?"

"Because you never let yourself."

"Yeah well..." I murmur bitterly. "I thought I was with Dennis. I thought he was so genuine. And he lied to me."

"To protect you. All anyone that knows you wants to do is protect you, Sharon."

"But I'm not a child am I? Dennis was supposed to know that. Except I... I practically had to beg him yesterday because I thought I... wanted him so much and he just... he wouldn't. And that was why. He was feeling guilty and I... I thought he was just being a gentleman, not wanting me to rush after everything, caring about me like no-one else has. I kept pushing and pushing because I thought he was just being too over-cautious, too caring. But he don't care, Nat. He let me say whatever I had to to get him to touch me like that and he did it. He did it knowing I was completely oblivious to what he'd done to Justin. I don't care that it was Justin, I don't. I care that Dennis wasn't honest with me, that he didn't stop me making a complete... I thought I really wanted him. I thought he was genuine Nat."

"Oh Sharon... he might be. He might be."

"But he isn't. He isn't what I thought he was and it hurts. It really hurts."

She holds me for as long as it takes for my tears to run dry. I almost fall asleep, exhausted in her arms, but in my stupour, she manages to settle me in my bed, dropping the covers over me. But I suddenly feel painfully alone. And I can't be left like that, not in the dark. I can feel tears brimming again, ready to fall as the muddle of thoughts torments me. It's not fair. Why can't things just be normal? Or is that too damn easy for me?

"Nat?" I whisper frightfully, rolling over on to my other side. "Please don't leave me on my own. Not tonight."

She smiles weakly, sympathy burning in her eyes that makes me want to curl up into a smaller ball of shame and confusion. Then she walks round to the empty side of the bed, pulling back the corner of the duvet and wriggling down onto the bed, wrapping her arms protectively around me. And I suddenly feel like I'm six years old and I've just been terrified by a ghost story. But no. I'm thirty-six, terrified by the mess of my own life, and the disappointment at knowing I got just the one man so wrong. I really thought he was something. And I have no idea how I'm meant to face him with any of my supposed dignity in the morning.

I don't even know what made me get out of bed this morning. I have this horrible feeling that this job suddenly isn't going to be as much fun as it was. Because I've totally screwed up. But... if I hadn't have done this... then he'd never have fucked off. It's just.... Sharon's figured it all comes back down to me wanting sex and Jesus, I'm not that shallow. She wanted to go slow and I woulda waited. But then I guess I shoulda stopped anything happening until I had enough damn courage to tell her what I'd done. It wasn't like I didn't know she'd hate it, but the bastard made me so angry - he was destroying her.

I spent most of last night with my phone in my hand, staring at that one ridiculous photo of Sharon on my phone. God, she looks so good, I can almost hear the giggle she was fighting back as I took this. It was like she couldn't have cared about anything. And I guess she didn't, not then.

I thought about calling her so many times, but what could I have said to make her understand? There's nothing. Because she was with me thinking I was the polar opposite of Justin, and I am, truly. But in doing what I did, she's seeing similarities I should never have let be there to be drawn.

So instead, I slept restlessly, helped along by more alcohol than I would usually drink in a week. And yet I still got in my car the next morning, head still fuzzy and I berated myself inwardly for again making such a stupid decision, but as ever, it's too damn late. Besides, I should probably just get to... the theatre it is today, and face the bad, bad music. Get the agony over with.

I wait for the murmurs to stop as I walk in. Nothing. Well, I feel slightly better. That is, until I look up, and catch sight of Sharon sat in the corner of the stage, her script against her knees. At least she's here I guess.

I look awkwardly away, running my tongue anxiously over my cracked lips. I'm not entirely sure I want her to see me. So that makes the job easy don't it?

I rush off, suddenly feeling like I can't breathe. I go down the corridor and crash through to my dressing room.

"Morning."

I leap back at this dry greeting, never having expected to hear anyone here, especially;

"Natalie!"

I fight to get my breathing back into some sort of pattern as she nods, getting up to move around me and close the door, backing against it until it clicks.

"I just want you to know, I really don't appreciate this."

I wince. "How... How is she?"

"Shattered. Bawled her eyes out in fact. Too upset to sleep in her bed alone. You really must have done something to her, Dennis."

I shake my head fiercely. "No. Not Sharon. Nat, I'd never-"

"Too bloody right you wouldn't!" she assures me with a dark look. "No, I mean in 'ere." She presses her fingertips to her chest. "She thought you were different."

"I am."

Natalie sighs heavily and goes back to perching on the arm-rest of the couch, toying with her hands in her lap. "D'you know what the really pathetic thing is? I believe you. I know you're a nice guy and me, I wanna shake your hand for going after the scum-bag. But for Sharon, it's different. She could understand, really she could, she knows what an arse that ex of hers was, it's just... you know how this reads don't you? You gave Justin a little gentle persuasion to ship his sorry arse out and a couple of days later... you and Sharon are- it's like you were expecting one to follow the other."

"No!"

"Well, you kissed her didn't you?"

"She told you that?"

Natalie nods.

"Yeah, I kissed her. But we were both wrecked. I walked off from her, she coulda just gone home and slept it off but she didn't."

"Cos she likes you."

"Shouldn't you be using the past tense there?"

"I don't think so. She likes you, that's why she got so angry. I mean-" She gestures awkwardly to the cut across my cheek. "I'm assuming that was her?"

I smile weakly. "Hmmm."

"It's good... for Sharon anyway... she couldn't hurt a fly."

"Cheers Natalie, really helps."

"Hey, I ain't here to help you, this is about Sharon. Who by the way, has no idea I'm still here so try and keep that one to yourself eh? You did her wrong Dennis. I don't think you did but that's how she feels and you're gonna have to take whatever she throws at you because of it. Just... don't give up on her eh?" 

And with another smile, she slides down and leaves, hopefully unnoticed.

But what the Hell does she mean; don't give up on her? Sharon's probably not even talking to me. But I guess, with a day's work ahead of us, there's only one way to find out. So pulling in an anxious breath and really wishing I had time for another cigarette, I head back to the stage. My head buzzes uncomfortably, everyone seeming to just mill around me. Sal strides over however and tilts my chin, scrutinising the cut.

"D'you get that seen to?"

"Sal, don't be stupid, it's just a..."

"It looks pretty deep."

"Yeah well..."

She pulls back, tutting. "I despair of you, Rickman, you know that?"

I nod uneasily and she moves off. Catching sight of Sharon again, I blanch my lip. She blinks slowly, chest heaving as she sighs and steadily pulls herself up, being the one with enough courage to move over to me. I honestly don't know what I'm supposed to do. And neither does she by the look of it, her shimmering eyes narrowing as she too concentrates on the cut, like she's trying to assess whether she did me enough damage. I'll go with probably not. Then her gaze drops away and I'll guess she feels a lot worse than I do. And yet, we still have to work together.

She flinches in surprise as David claps his hands from the stalls to grab our attention.

"Lorne! Tim!" he calls loudly. "Where are you?"

The two of them rush out from the wings. "Here boss!" And they pace back across the stage, letting us all know; "Right you guys, we're gonna throw you all into the mix - try the finale."

Everyone cheers. Except Sharon, who remains stock-still. And me, panicked, because I don't think she really wants me anywhere near her. And she apparantly has no choice....

The show must go on and all that.

 

"Right, top of page fifty-five. All yours..."

I glance down at the script in my hands, biting back a sigh. I hate this. No-one would say anything but there's such an atmosphere settled around us all, and I know I created it. Because I went crazy at Dennis when I found out about Justin. And I really wish I hadn't. So yeah, Dennis did something I'd never have believed he coulda done. But he did it to Justin, the most evil user I could ever have decided was worth my time and effort. It hurt to realise that Dennis could be just that little bit different to what I thought, but it's not like he committed. I went mental and what for? Justin deserved it. I just wish it hadn't been Dennis dishing it out, that's all.

My problem is, I'm too damn stubborn. If it hadn't have been for Natalie forcing hot chocolate into my system at half-six this morning after she climbed out of the shower, having stayed hugging me all night in the clothes she arrived in last night; and cautiously bringing me round to the more logical way of thinking, then I'd have stayed mad at Dennis forever and everything, everything woulda been impossible forever. 

Not that it feels much different than that right now, cos in ourselves, we still haven't spoken. Guess he's afraid to, in case I fly at him again. But I'm not going to. That cut on his face, it looks bad, raw and deep. And I feel guilty. Not least cos it's there for everyone to see. Reminds me of everything I said as I attacked him like that. And that's why being here feels so horribly different, so much more tense. Cos by my own admission, all these people, these lovely people that made me feel so accepted, they now know what kinda miserable existence I was living with Justin. They know what kind of fear I was living in.

Screaming in the bar that night that he liked to swing for me, that was nothing. I could have laughed that off and let the accusation die with the drunkenness and I reckon everyone would have accepted it. But in the studio, I yelled how I must have deserved to be battered - and I guess that's truly the only word for it. Cos that's what he did - I was on first name terms with most of the fuckin' Casualty staff the amount of times I was in and out of there. And anyway, it takes a painfully long time for a cracked rib to heal and I've had a few of them.

But I'm not weak anymore. It's almost worst. I'm here, choking in this ignored atmosphere and I'm embarrassed.

Still, I find my place at the top of page fifty-five as David, by now settled back in his seat in the stalls, hating how difficult I seem to find it to even glance up into Dennis' face. So much for bloody professionalism eh?

I force myself to lift my head, shaking the hair defiantly from my eyes as I drop my script heavily onto the stage, determined to know this by now. But I feel a total fake, even as the words seem to leave my lips.

"Don't tell me you're jealous, Danny."

You weren't, were you? Oh God, please don't let that be what this was about.

"What, of that bunch of meatheads?" Dennis throws back, stowing his hands in his pockets as he straightens up. I get this kinda jolt as he looks at me. It doesn't feel nice.

But what does is the way he has to force out Danny's laugh, in three bursts. I can't help it, even in my unease, my head bowed as I look away, I'm suppressing a giggle.

Focus Sharon!

"Just cos they can do something you can't?"

"Yeah." Dennis rolls his eyes. "Sure, right."

I cock my head thoughtfully as I move forward a pace. "So what have you ever done?"

Oh, I know what you've done, Dennis. And I wish you hadn't. You're such a great guy, and now you know I'm mentally unstable because I just can't handle... anything.

"Can you stop that?" he snaps, glaring at Hayley & her troupe cos at this point, they're gonna be up there with us every night, shaking the pom-poms about. 

I kinda wish they were right now - it'd be a welcome distraction from the way Dennis' gaze must return to me. 

"I won a Hully-Gully contest at the Teen Talent record hop."

He ain't easy about it either I can tell, but then I think we all knew he has more nerve than me. Because I'm there, trying not to squirm on the spot with shame. I'm pathetic.

"Ah, you don't even know what I'm talking about." I declare despairingly, turning away.

And why should he?

"Whattya mean? I could run circles around those jerks."

Mmmm, I know. But then, we're not talking about me and him here are we? Nope, there's that good old guise of Sandy & Danny again.

"But you'd rather spend your time copying down other people's homework."

Releasing a soundless sigh, Dennis closes the distance between us, and though I don't, guilt has me thinking I should be leaping back a couple of paces.

"Listen... the next time they have try-outs for any of those teams, I'll show you what I can do."

I've seen it darlin'. Would never have believed you could. Why did you eh? It was good and now I can't look at you without feeling like a guilty idiot.

Hayley steps eagerly forward. "Ohhh, what a lucky coincidence. The track team's having try-outs tomorrow."

"What, huh?"

She just grins, she and the troupe nodding slowly before singing out, "Uh huh!"

"OK, I'll be there."

"Big talk." I say stiffly, pretending to glare up at him while I'm actually captivated by the way his stormy eyes are so undecipherable. It's a pretty nasty realisation. There's no warmth or anything. It can't work anymore.

"Oh, you think so, huh? Hey Patty, when d'ya say those try-outs were?"

"Tomorrow. Tenth period. On the football field."

"Good, I'll be there. Gonna come watch me aren't ya?"

"Oooh, can't wait."

"Solid. See you there gorgeous."

And he turns away, sweeping up his script from the floor and beginning to chat to Sal and Nick as me and the girls wrap up the scene, Hayley rushing over, pressing her hand into my arm and gushing; "I'm so excited! Aren't you?"

It's not just for the sake of Sandy that I sigh. Because, no, I'm not. Not anymore.

"C'mon." I tell her. "Let's practise."

But you know what? I've never been so bloody glad for the absence of those bloody pom-poms.

~*~

We break at half-eleven. I'm just leant with my head tilted back against the wall, eyes closed, really, really wishing I wasn't here at all. I really don't like the way this feels anymore, and you know what? It's all my own damn fault. And I wish I could kid myself that this whole atmosphere is something that could blow over in a couple of days, but it isn't.

I feel someone press a burning cup into my unsuspecting palm. I clutch it instinctively, lifting my head straight as my eyes snap open and register Sharon, a Costa cup in her hand also. She blanches at her lip, hardly knowing if she dares to smile.

 "It's alright." she says quietly before backing up against the wall beside me, not even looking at me as she pulls the lid off her own cup. "It's not coffee."

"So what is it?"

"Peace offering." Then Sharon sighs and twists her body in towards me, shoulder pressed into the wall. "I shouldn't have... your face. I had no right to attack you like that."

"Yeah you did." I return awkwardly, feeling the shame prickle.

"No I didn't." she asserts in the same soft tone as she shakes her head. "You did me a favour. I know that now. I still don't like the way you went about it, but... I got my life back di'n't I? It was just me, being so dramatic. And I'm sorry, Dennis, really."

"Me too." I murmur sincerely.

"Right. Good. So we won't mention it again?"

She means all of it, Justin, me and her, everything I know she does. And I still have to say we won't cos I know that this musta taken some serious guts on Sharon's part, even though I kinda tell Natalie definitely said something. And neither of us wanna screw up on a job as good as this do we? And still working with her, well, that's something. And I seriously thought I had nothing.

"No. We won't."

She smiles, and I hate that I can read gratitude in her face. But a contented silence takes us over. It's kinda alright that we're not speaking cos, we've just decided not to let this atmopshere last, as long as I remember where the line lies this time.

And I relax. Ish. Until, Sal reappears, having apparantly run down the shop for chewing gum. Like some of us would be on thirty fags a day, Sal's on thirty pieces of spearmint gum, minimum. Only, today, that ain't all she's come back with. She's got The Sun opened out in her hands, but when she looks up over it and sees me and Sharon stood together, no fresh blood marking my face, she folds it up a little too hurriedly.

Me & Sharon exchange a look. Neither of us imagined that alone then.

"Sal?" Sharon calls out to her. "What's up?"

"Nothing sugar!" she replies and I think we all know her tone is a little too bright. She's anxious.

"Sal?" I question sternly, both me and Sharon stepping up to her. "What's wrong?"

Growling in frustration, she can tell that between the two of us stood there, she's beat.

"I just... read something."

Sharon laughs gently. "It can't have been that bad can it? Unless of course, Brad's married Angelina."

Sal just sighs. Not that then. She hands over the rumpled paper, mumbling; "Page Nine."

Kinda wrestling with the pages, Sharon obediently opens it up at Nine. And as she recoils, it's my turn to groan.

"Oh my God..."

There, under the incredibly original title of OH SANDY! is a picture that no-one can deny, even for the grainyness of a tabloid print is me and Sharon... kissing in the car-park of the theatre.

Oh this is bad... bad, bad, bad!

Sharon's eyes are darting, over the sub-heading and the main article and I try and follow her, but can't take in any of the words. There's hardly any need now is there?

"Why did neither of you say?"

Sharon just whimpers, crumpling the pages as she hands them back to Sal.

"I... I..."

Anyone could read the sheer panic in her face. I hate it. I really hate it, guilt kicking even more fiercely inside. 

"Sharon..." I begin, stepping towards her without a clue as to what kind of words I could use to even try and continue.

She gulps, forcing down a sob, venemous words, I don't know. Because she raises both her palms to ward me off.

"Not now yeah... I have to go."

And she rushes to where she has thrown her bag against the wall, crouching down to rifle in her bag for her phone, stabbing at the keys before she turns back around, another frightful look in my direction before she receives an answer from the other end of the line.

"Nat!" she cries in relief, her heels clicking repeatedly against the floor as she rushes from the studio. "Have you seen... please darlin', tell me what to do..."

"Alright babe. No, not really, but I'll live. Talk to you soon yeah? Love you."

Sighing heavily, I pull my phone back, clicking it shut and idly playing with it in my hands. My palms are still sweating. This is horrible. And according to the clock display on my phone, I've been talking to Nat for three quarters of an hour. And when I say talking, I mean ranting in panic, just trying to work out what the Hell I'm supposed to do. And between us, I've think we've got it - that is, if I haven't been fired already.

Nat read bits of the article out to me, and it's pretty damn obvious that I wasn't just pecking Dennis on the cheek. It's all "West End star romances leading lady between scenes" and analyzing who was kissing who first. Apparantly I showed "a flair of confidence" in kissing him, like it couldn't just be a kiss. And I never really thought of this until now, until it was over damn it, but... David could flip. I mean, inter-production relationships? It hardly matters that it was never a relationship, that it don't exist anymore. Sex always screws everyone up. Oh God, I could get fired for this. And there's still that damn atmosphere.

Argh, how did it get like this? It's pathetic.

And apparantly, I'm not the only one that thinks so, Dennis striding around the corner, eyes narrowed against the pouring sun and settling on me.

I don't try and get up, to avoid him. It's probably best we talk right now, even if I would rather crawl away into a hole and die.

"You alright?" he murmurs gently, settling beside me. "You've been out here a while."

"Yeah." I breathe awkwardly, still toying with my phone. "Had a lot of things to think about."

"Mmmm, me an' all." He sighs heavily, letting his tensed shoulders relax. "I'm sorry, Sharon."

"What for?"

"Dunno. Nothing new, I guess. But it hasn't helped has it? Whatever's in that article."

"Oh..." I smile weakly, tucking hair behind my ear. "...nothing that wasn't basically true. I just wish it hadn't... not like this. I mean, how would they have gotten...?"

"Journalists are low, Sharon. Maybe you were right about that bloke in that bar eh? Hiding out in the car park or something..."

"It's cos... you're you isn't it? The big star. I mean, I don't necessarily matter in this do I? Apart from the fact that, right now, we're working together, like... on the stage. I mean, if I was the make-up girl, they wouldn't care would they?"

"Are you kidding? Hooking up with the make-up girl is the sleaziest thing anyone in this business can do. They'd be all over it."

I try and smile but it's just not happening. "This isn't gonna work is it?"

He looks perplexed, blinks slowly. "What isn't?"

I glance down into my lap. "I've been talking to Nat..."

"I know..."

"And..." 

I sigh, wondering if I'll ever get these words out so they make some kind of sense. I lift my head and maybe for the first time since I left that gash across his face, I look into his eyes. And though he's obviously confused, they look like they did when we first met. (Well, for the second time.) Kind and warm. And I know again how stupid I've been. How could I have gotten so pointlessly angry at him? I said he was no better than Justin, but what am I if I can hit out at the first guy to actually care about me?

"...I don't know if you'll believe this, but I really like you."

He laughs gently. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I want us to get back to being friends. I hate silence, the laughs work better for me."

And he grins, nodding slowly. "Me too."

I take a deep breath, realising I am so nearly there. "So that's why... I can't work with you anymore."

That was evidently the last thing he was expecting, his facial muscles twisting in horror. "What?"

"I'm leaving the production."

"But you can't. This is you, this is your dream. Look, is it just that article? Cos seriously, when they realise it came to nothing... they'll get bored, it'll be fine."

"Will it? So... David's never gonna care that his number one West End star was... having it off, for however long with the amateur?"

"OK, few things." Dennis says with an immediate firmness, counting them off on his fingertips. "Firstly, I'm still a person OK? My own person. It doesn't what I do, who knows my name.... who I choose to "have it off with" has nothing to do with anyone, least of all my fuckin' director. Secondly, I really hate that phrase, it's cheap, it's nasty. And thirdly, you are not an amateur, in any way, shape or form. You're Sandy... this is your show. You can't walk away from this, you can't."

"Yes I can. I don't want this as much as you think I do. I'd rather know we could be friends and if you're honest with yourself, then you know we can't do that here. It's too... intense. And I made that atmosphere when I thought it would be a good idea to cut your face open..."

"Sharon-" he says gently, laughing in spite of himself. "-you barely touched me."

"Then I wasn't doing it right." I tease.

"Wanna try again?"

I bow my head, laughing in spite of myself. "No. No, I don't. I should never have done it in the first place."

"You shouldn't be doing this either. It's... crazy."

"Hey, they hired you first. It's you they really want. And anyway, Ali can step up to the plate no problem."

"Oh yeah right, you're giving up on your dream and you don't see that as a problem?"

I smile softly. "Nope."

His mouth gapes, horrified somehow. "But... bloody hell, Sharon, how can you think this makes anything any better?"

I arch my eyebrow and he realises with a defeated sigh that I could throw the exact same accusation back of him if I felt the need. But I don't.

"You can't give up on this cos of me, you can't. I'm an arse, alright, I admit it, but I can't help it..."

I giggle, cautiously dropping my hand over his, despite the fleeting thought that that self-same bastard photographer is probably hiding behind someone's car.

"And I can't help it if I can't work with you like that."

"Then I'll change." he says immediately, only recognising the enormity of his words as they come out, and his shoulders sag as he adds weakly; "Somehow."

"Idiot. Don't change for anyone. There's nothing wrong with who you are. Right now, this is about me, and right now, Dennis, we don't mix. I need to sort myself out, really. My anger issues for one and..." I press my hand gingerly to his cheek, turning it. "...if the shape of that scratch is anything to go by, I need to book a manicure!"

Laughing, he pushes my hand down.

"It'll work out better this way y'know." I assure him quietly. He looks at me doubtfully. "Cos this way, we can still meet up for a drink. Say, opening night? And I'll be able to get absolutely wasted, and you-"

He looks amused but I think we both know his heart's not really in it. "You should be up there with me."

"Yeah. But... things change don't they?"

"But your dreams won't."

"Shut up going on eh? This is the way I want it to be. It makes more sense than working in an atmosphere."

"I s'pose." he mumbles reluctantly. "But I swear, I never meant to make one."

"I know. Me either. But I guess you can't help whatever else you want eh?"

"I really can't stop you doing this can I?"

I smirk. "You could try... but I don't wanna have to go for you again."

Returning the same look, Dennis raises his palms in defeat, poised to pull himself up from the step. "Understood."

He offers down his hand, and holding my phone in one of my own, I press my free hand into his and get up, standing against. He looks at me with those piercing eyes, sighing gently.

"You woulda been amazing, you know that? I want it to be you..."

"Ah!" I grin, cocking my head. "But you're the star. So you have to go... shine or whatever stars really do. I was never really up to this."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, you'll never know now will you?" And though his eyes dim, I smile still, spontaneously stretching up and kissing his cheek. He seems a little surprised, but not as surprised as I am as my phone burst into life in my hand before I've even drawn back.

Both Dennis and me laughing nervously as we break apart, our gazes drop down to the display of my screen.

David Webb
calling...

Pushing down through my toes, I sigh heavily and then click it open.

"I best do this hadn't I?"

Dennis just blanches his lip, at least with the nerve to answer me honestly. "I wish you wouldn't."

But I shrug, lifting the handset to my ear. "David."

Dennis nods solemnly, kinda accepting that this conversation needs to happen. "I'll see you back inside yeah?" he murmurs. I nod definitely and watch him turn away.

"Sharon. Any chance I'll get any work out of you and Dennis today or are you both cosied up in the car-park?"

"Take it you've read the paper then?" I wince.

"Hmmm." he replies sternly. "Never did like the tabloids, and this is why."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, you're not. You're just sorry you've been caught out, but I'll tell ya - not as sorry as me. Wouldn't wanna be you when the postie knocks tomorrow cos believe me Sharon, there are worse things than your credit card bill. Dennis Rickman is a very popular man in this country, entertainment figure for the nation. And you have just made thousands of women very upset. And from what I've heard in this cast about you these last few days, you of all people know how vicious women can be."

I laugh dryly. "Well, they'll have to get over themselves won't they?"

"I couldn't agree more. After all, all I want is their hard-earned cash behind this production and if you and Dennis are-"

"We're not."

"Sorry?"

"Me and Dennis, it's dead in the water."

David is stumped. "Oh well... I'm sorry. Still, at least I know, well, we all know where your chemistry sprung from now. The problem is Sharon, when it's real, it goes sour when the sex dries up which is why you never indulge within a company. I can't afford for my Sandy & Danny to be throwing each other daggers from the ends of the stage."

"We won't."

"How can you be so sure?" he presses suspiciously.

I sigh. "Because I'm not your Sandy. Not anymore. I can't do it."

He cries out in frustration. "You're walking?"

Shamed tears burn in my eyes. "David, I'm sorry, but I have to. For Dennis' sake as well as my own. You're right OK? Sex destroys everything. Lesson learnt and all that but it's not gonna make this job any easier for anyone."

He laughs coldly. "So let me get this straight, you're walking out on the lead role in a top West End show, a week before curtain up... because you and Dennis couldn't draw the line?"

I gulp. "It's not like that. We... We have a past."

"So leave it there!" he snaps. "You're supposed to be professionals. Put anything to the side and get on with the job in hand!"

"I can't! I'm sorry but I can't."

"Well, I hope you know that Dennis is gonna appreciate this as much as I do."

"Look, I'm grateful to you both... for everything but..."

David scoffs. "You have a funny way of expressing gratitude, Sharon! If it wasn't for Dennis, you might never have gotten this far and now you're walking out on... everything? Well maybe I should never have let him twist my arm. Although I'm guessing his powers of persuasion were a little different when it came to you, eh Sharon?" 

By the time she comes back, Lorne's already pounced on me, asking me if I need the score before she drags me out on the stage and puts me through my paces with my solo. What a day to make me try it an' all. Cos my mind's buzzing. I can't believe I've lost her. I've forced Sharon out of her dream job by being such an arse, and worse, she's being nice about it. I want her back, so bad and right now, she's out there, talking to David while he's in here, still in the stalls, a face like thunder, telling him why she won't come. 

I understand, sort of. I really appreciate how level-headed she seems about everything now, but then maybe she's not. I mean... she's walking out! Smiling an' all. And I hate it, cos I just can't imagine working with anyone else the way I have with her. But then I guess you can't move backwards can you?

So anyway, I'm there, kinda crashed out of the bleachers, my back more rigid than straight. I keep my eye on David all the time, even as I satisfy Lorne by singing to the kinda degree she finds acceptable. I just keep watching David, wishing I could just shut up and listen in on whatever he's saying to Sharon. Cos by the look on his face, it ain't pretty.

Stranded at the drive-in... branded a fool
What will they say... Monday at school?

I pull myself up as the unmistakable melody sails in and move anxiously across the stage. David's torn his phone away from his ear in a temper. I bite fleetingly into my lip, really worrying for Sharon. I want to go out and make sure she's OK, but one of us is already out of a job.

And cos of that, I find myself really empathising with Danny, and that's just weird, seeing as I am technically his latest incarnation. And he was just as much of a twat as I am, cos he let circumstances lose him the one that mattered an' all.

Except, she's not quite gone yet. She slides into the auditorium, wiping at her eyes as she looks cautiously around. Oh God, she's been crying. I narrow my eyes at David, but as I feel the rage rise, I try and force it back down. Cos look where that got me last time. And I'm not a violent person, I'm not. I just... it's her. There's something about her. It's like I got this need to protect her, without any sort of right to do so. I hate seeing people hurt her and I know that's exactly what David's done, whatever he said to her.

But I can't move, and it don't look much like she wants me to. Cos she sees me and smiles gently and tucking hair behind her ear, slides into the stalls and crosses one leg comfortably over the other, the smile still there, playing with the cuff of her pink jacket. Hmmm, getting her last wear outta the wardrobe eh? I like it. She's looking right at me, head cocked slightly in contentment. Somehow, even though I'm so nervous I feel sick, she is the best kinda audience, even if that is the last thing she should be. She's still the one thing that makes this job fun.

And it's only as I sing still, getting my first idea what Sharon must have been like each of the three times she saw me in Chicago, that I realise how different it's gonna be. I'm just like Danny, I don't wanna do this without her.

Sandy... can't you see... I'm in misery!
We made a start, now we're apart
There's nothing left for me.

Except... all that's gonna change when she leaves here today. Cos she's not gonna come back.

Love has flown, all alone! I sit, I wonder
Why-y-y-y-oh-why, you left me, oh Sandy!

I've definitely been there with her before. I mean, I didn't... tear my hair out or cry my eyes out or anything. But she just left me. It wasn't like we were about to get married and have kids together or anything, but it was definitely something. Or at least I thought so. My stomach lurches as I realise that she left me a lot like she plans to today. Sweetly, smile on her face, not allowing for any bad feeling. Except, this time, there really is. Because I've cost her a job trying to go back on what was and I really don't want to work without her. I just don't. She is Sandy.

Oh Sandy, baby, someday
When hi-igh school is done
Somehow, some way, our two worlds will be one!
In heaven forever and ever we will be
Please, say you'll stay - oh Sandy!

Sharon leans eagerly forward, chin pressed into her palm and she shakes her head in disbelief as she grins. I just roll my eyes at her. Maybe it's just as well I had no idea she was there all through Chicago, she's such a bloody distraction. I'll miss it so much.

"Sandy, my darlin', you hurt me real bad. You know it's true... darlin', I guess I'm... I'm helpless without you!"

Yeah, helpless don't really say it does it?

I glance down, summoning the courage to step closer to the edge of the stage. Lorne is sat on the floor by the front row, the score pressed over her knees. I don't know why she can't just sit down like a normal person. Maybe she's too nervous. Well, never mind, my mouth's going dry and all that, but I'm nearly done aren't I?

Still never likely to get my answers though.

Love has flown, all alone! I sit, I wonder
Why-y-y-y-oh-why, you left me, oh Sandy!
Oh Sandy! Oh Sandy!
Why-y-y-y...oh Sandy!

Lorne almost looks relieved as she pulls herself up. But I'm not concentrating on her - I'm looking at Sharon who pulls her bag out from under the seat and slides out from the stalls, striding towards the stage, eyes locked on mine, a smile still curving her glossy lips. She comes up the side of the stage and pulls on my hand.

"Wow."

Again, I roll my eyes. "Shut up." Then I glance awkwardly at David. "Was it... OK?"

She nods jerkily, blanching at her lip in a way that makes me certain she's trying to lie to me. "Mmmm. Ready to go. But..." She looks down, sighing gently. "Dennis, can I ask you something?"

"Course."

"Why d'you keep lying to me?"

I sink back on my heel, stunned. "Wh-What?"

"I... I went up to that coffee shop up the road just now right, and one of the girls, Ellen... she says "Hi!" by the way... she saw me and asked where you were. Apparantly you used to be in there all the time through the auditions. And you... you hate coffee. So why the Hell were you hiding out in a coffee shop?"

My mind's reeling. This is just so stupid and yet, it really seems to matter to her.

I shrug awkwardly. "Throw chocolate in, I'll drink anything."

"Hmmm. Right. OK."

And smiling weakly, she moves off. But she turns back to me after a couple of paces, surrounded by the rest of this cast.

"Just one more thing..."

She peels off her jacket, scrunching it up in her hands.

"Nothing you ever said about me was true was it? You were lying to me right from the start."

"What? Sharon, I..."

Her eyes flare wildly. "You tipped me off for the job. And I would be thankful, except... apparantly I might never have gotten it without you! I never earnt anything on my own did I, eh? I was never good enough and this was never going to work. So it's a good job I quit, isn't it really?"

I wince as everyone around seems to reel.

"You've... You've what?"

"Sharon, you can't!"

"You're our girl!"

"No I'm not." she says darkly in Nick's direction, throwing her jacket at Ali, who catches it with a stunned look on her face as she registers what it means for her job description. "I never was."

And she glares at me, my heart pounding in the most painful way as my mouth runs dry. She's just about to turn away on her heel, when, feeling every eye settle accusingly upon me, I lurch for her hand and pull her back around.

"Yes, you were. You still are. For God's sake, can't you see this is... mental?"

"Oh, well I must be eh?" She wrenches her hand away. "I believed you."

And she storms out. This huge sigh of despair tears through everyone - and they're all still looking at me.

"What?" I demand hotly.

"How can one guy screw up so many damn times, Dennis?" Sal questions.

"She was perfect..." Patrick sighs.

"When d'you tip her off?" Richard asks.

"I saw her last audition. And I just... knew. So I called David and... look, don't all look at me like that. Would you rather she hadn't gotten this job at all?"

"But she could have got it on her own." Ali announces, still holding the jacket in her hands and looking completely dumbfounded. "Now she just feels... small."

"I know." I sigh. "I know and I... what am I supposed to do?"

Billie guffaws despairingly. "Isn't that obvious? You go after her and you say whatever you have to to get her back on board - we need her, even if you don't!"

I bite into my lip, wanting so much to just yell that I need her too. Not that it seems to matter, because I've blown all the chances Sharon gave me in a spectacular fashion.

So Billie's right. I have to say whatever I need to.

I race from the theatre before David has chance to realise I'm gone.

"Sharon!" I yell, catching sight of her on the other side of the car-park entrance. She's just... walking off. Completely ignoring me with it. Don't blame her, but still...

Pushing myself forward in the kinda way that makes my muscles feel torn, I race up to her, having to pull her around. But what I don't see is that her ankle gives and and kinda slides off one heel. I catch her and she winces as she pulls herself up, glaring at me. She leans against the wall and bends down to rub her pained ankle.

"Are you OK?"

"And you care because...? Jesus, Dennis, what is it with you? Don't you get that I don't wanna talk to you?"

"So don't talk. Just listen. You don't need to do this. You don't."

"Oh I do. You know, I actually got back to thinking you were a nice guy and maybe... maybe this isn't as bad as what you did to Justin, but it... it contradicts everything you've ever said to me, and I hate that. I hate that according to David, I needed you to be anything to this production! So much for being my own fucking person!"

"You are! You don't need me."

"So why didn't I get this job on my own Dennis? Why wouldn't you let me?"

"Cos I saw you and... I didn't wanna miss out on working with you. That's it."

"But you wouldn't have done would you?" she snaps, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Not if I was really good enough."

"But you are, don't you get that? You're Sandy, it needs to be you up there, more than anyone."

"I don't want to work with you, Dennis."

I shrug. "I'm not asking you to."

"So what are you asking?"

"I'll go. If you'll just... stay, then I'll go."

For a few seconds, Sharon just looks at me, utterly bewildered. And then, thinking she might have understood, she begins to laugh. "You must really think I'm stupid, cos all this, all these lies, they just fall out that pretty little mouth don't they eh? You wouldn't just walk. You're the star, you're the one that matters. I'm nothing!"

"That's not true!" I protest fiercely. "You'd be everything to this show and that lot in there know it!"

"Right so... they're making you come out here and say this?"

I shake my head immediately. "No. This is me. And I don't wanna steal your chance away. This... it'll be you hitting the big time and I've got no damn right to take that from you. So I'm not gonna. You deserve this more than me, Sharon."

"Why?" she presses, an air of accusation still in her tone.

I cast my eyes down, mumbling; "Cos you're the better person."

"Yeah." she replies with a certain nod. "I bloody well am. But that's still not a good enough reason to walk away. Not for you. Cos now, Dennis, I know you don't know how to act decent, cos you can't even be honest. I mean... what about you and me eh? Over before it even started cos you just had to go and lay into Justin. And I was never asking for a guarantee for anything that happened between us - it's not like I was stood round waiting for you to tell me you loved me or anything. All I ever wanted from you was the truth. And you never even had the guts to give me that."

And with a disgusted look on her face, she turns away from me again. I close my eyes, summoning all my nerve.

"You want the truth?" I call out blindly. "Fine. I coulda told you."

Sharon slows up, facing me again in spite of herself. "Told me what exactly? That you do drink coffee after all? That I owed you my job? That you forced Justin out my flat?"

I shake my head jerkily, needing to force out her words and replace them with my own. "That I loved you. I coulda told you that."

Her eyes bulge disbelievingly, an amazed breath caught in her throat. "Are you... mentally ill? I mean, what, one time and you..."

I stare at the pavement, nibbling anxiously at my lip as I sigh. "You're there going on about me telling the truth Sharon. And what about you eh? What about Dee?"

Sharon bristles, tilting her chin defiantly. "What about her?"

"I loved her. So I guess somewhere along the line, I loved you. Course, not that I knew that. Cos you were the only one that knew she was a lie!"

"Oh stop it - you can't just turn everything on me!"

"I'm not turning anything on you. I'm telling you the truth - and that's what you wanted."

"But... you can't have-"

"I did." I assure her with a firm nod. "And I coulda told you that if you hadn't left. And what did you leave for Sharon? For Justin?"

She blanches at her quivering lip, staring at the ground.

Yes then. Great.

"You didn't have to lie to me. So let's just say we're even yeah? Say you'll take the job." 

EXCLUSIVE!

WE DON'T GO TOGETHER!

THE SUN CAN EXCLUSIVELY REVEAL THAT TOP WEST END STAR DENNIS RICKMAN YESTERDAY SENSATIONALLY WALKED OUT OF REHEARSALS - VOWING NEVER TO RETURN.
Dennis Rickman, contracted to star as Danny Zuko in the latest revival of smash hit musical "Grease" at the Marleway Theatre in central London, has walked away from his "dream job" a DAY after the Sun announced him to be romancing his very own "Sandy", better known as leading lady Sharon Watts. A production insider tells us that as Dennis broke the news to stunned cast members, Sharon was unresponsive and "as calm as anything."
"No-one could really believe it when Dennis said he was giving Danny up. We all knew how badly he's always wanted this role, and for him to walk out - so close to opening night... Sharon was the only one whose jaw didn't hit the floor. She didn't even blink. It was like they'd talked about it - like she was expecting it."
The show was due to open in just four days, with Dennis and Sharon in the leads of Danny Zuko and Sandy Dumbrowski. Nick Jacobs, previously slighted for the role of Roger, is expected to fulfill his duty as Rickman's first understudy and permenantly fill the role.
But why would a well established star of the stage, who himself described his latest career move as "like being let loose in a sweet shop. Grease was like a jar that was always on a shelf a little too high. I knew I wanted it, so I never stopped trying to reach it", and who has enjoyed tremendously successful runs as Sky Masterson in "Guys & Dolls" (Piccadilly Theatre, 2001) and Billy Flynn in "Chicago" (UK tour, 2003), two of the most sought after roles in musical theatre, suddenly turn away from the top theatrical prize - the leading role in the world's number one musical?
Our insider believes tensions between the leads may be to blame. Is the romance over already?
"Sharon & Dennis have had some almighty rows - they've had the whole cast stood round watching in utter disbelief sometimes! Rehearsals are half the length they should be because they're spending more time sniping at each other rather than drumming out the lines. It's really obvious they can't seem to trust each other. Sharon wanted to leave - she even told the director, but Sharon just ended up having another set-to with Dennis and he walked out before she could. She didn't seem too bothered when he told everyone... really unemotional she was. But she started afternoon rehearsal with Nick Jacobs, the understudy and it all just came out. She was a wreck."
continued on page 4...

I lean over and pull the paper down roughly, so that it no longer obscuring Natalie's face. She obediently stops reading, recognising my anxious need for her attention. "That's not true is it?"

Natalie shrugs. "I don't know do I, cos unlike you, there's no way I coulda been there yesterday afternoon to find out!"

"Well, didn't you see her last night?"

"Yeah, I did, which is why the fact that the premise of this is true has totally thrown me. She was fine. Perfectly normal. Believe me, I can tell when she's wired and she was fine!"

I slump back in my chair and pick up my tea, sipping at it miserably. "Doesn't mind I'm gone then?"

"Aren't you listening? I didn't know any of this had even happened - she didn't say anything. I even asked her how you were and she just said you were fine - like everything was still the same. I mean, last time Sharon & I talked, she decided she was the one that wanted to walk and now..."

"Well, I couldn't let her actually do it, could I?"

"Why not?"

"Cos that just makes me sound like an arse. She wants that job. I've had others, good ones, I'll get over it. She needs to know her dream. And if that meant she had to stop working with me then..."

Natalie cocks her head, smiling gently as she studies my face. "That'd be sweet y'know - if they weren't trying to sell this whole fuckin' show off your back! It's your face on all the posters. How's Nick gonna do for God's sake?"

"He'll do just fine!" I say defensively.

"Hey, I'm not doubting that and as I remember, the man's gorgeous but... he's not you. Interest level's gonna drop a fair bit."

"What you mean you've only booked four times, Nat?" She shoots me a look and I grin, just so she can be certain I'm only teasing. "Look, Grease is Grease, it sells itself. It don't matter who's fronting it, not really."

"So why d'you walk out?" she challenges, raising her eyebrow.

"I already told you that. Cos Sharon deserves this. And you shoulda known better than to tell her to give it up just cos I screwed us up."

Natalie shrugs awkwardly. "I thought that was what she wanted."

"Yeah right." I scoff. "How many women do you think would walk away from Grease?"

"And how many men do you think have walked away from Grease Dennis huh, cos my guess is, you're probably the first!"

I roll my eyes, somehow getting the feeling that the two of us are gonna be bouncing pointlessly back and forth for as long as we sit here. "I did it for Sharon." I repeat quietly.

Natalie lays out the paper, smoothing out creases before reaching over the table to cage her coffee and take a sip as she nods. "I know Dennis but I expect Sharon gave up appreciating your nobility when the first truck load of hate mail got dumped against her door this morning."

"Oh don't be stupid. No-one would be so pathet- would they?"

Her eyes widen pointedly as she sets the cup back down. "Don't you think it's kinda worrying you're having to ask your resident fan-girl that question? If Sharon wasn't my best friend and I hadn't actually met you properly, and oh God, I'm gonna totally die with the shame of saying this... but I'd have definitely thought about it."

"That's insane!"

"Yeah, so? If it makes a girl feel better- Just remember, no-one woulda thought about it if you two hadn't been caught locking lips in that bloody car-park!"

"Oh, big fucking wow. I slept with her once Nat, probably kissed her about five times and these bastards are writing it like I've torn some great relationship apart."

"Well, maybe you have, you ever thought of that?"

I jolt as she says that. So calmly, the accusation could almost make sense. But I can't let it, cos I can't bear the idea that this has hurt Sharon. I was trying to do right by her, but it's so much like I can't do right for doing wrong and it's doing my head in.

"Yeah." I reply dryly. "Well I held her hand under the table in some restuarant an' all, what's that worth? Three pages of speculation as to whether she's trying to hide an engagement ring or something?"

"Four at least."

"Oh shut up!" I snap, hating that I do because I know, I know she's only teasing. "Where the Hell do they get their "insiders" from anyway?"

"No idea." Natalie replies honestly. 

"It's all bollocks anyway." I declare hotly. "Almighty rows, I mean... what the fuck?"

"Well Dennis, she did-" Her gaze settles on my cheek and the mark stings just from the scrutiny I swear.

"But I deserved that."

"Still happened though didn't it? How are they explaining it away in there?"

I pull the paper from the table and reluctantly turn to page 4, scanning the lying bastard paragraphs. "Oh my God..."

"What?"

"Why can't they just get it right? That she was pissed off at me for being such a shit and hit me? Fucking lying bastards."

"What are they saying?"

"This, listen! "Mere days into their blossoming romance, Dennis was seen around both the Marleway Theatre and The Riverbank Studios with a bleeding scratch on his left cheek"-"

"Dennis, that's not your left cheek." Natalie says, looking up and giving me an odd look.

"Photographer must be dyslexic. "-left cheek - attained, our insider says, when Sharon flew into a jealous rage between rehearsals, having caught her new beau blatantly flirting with the make-up girl!" It's all such fucking trash, Nat. Not even gay guys will flirt with the fuckin' make-up girls - unless they want people to think they're on the turn or something. And "beau", what kind of fucking loser uses words like that?"

Natalie laughs gently. "What would you rather they called you Dennis'? Her latest conquest? Fuck buddy?"

"Well, whatever, I still wouldn't flirt with a make-up girl! And look... this bit-"

She leans over obediently, but her phone sings out from the table, vibrating violently. She leaps back and lets her hand close over it, blanching at her lip as she looks down at the display before clicking open the handset and raising it to her ear.

"Sharon."

I flinch at hearing her name and glance fleetingly at Nat, who just smiles weakly, which sends me drinking deep from my mug just needing to distract myself.

"Aren't you supposed to be... coffee break, right I get ya." She listens and then sighs. "Babe, I can't. I'm... with someone right now. Who?"

Guilt flares in her eyes as she looks at me. I'm willing her to tell the truth but am resigned to the fact I know she won't. The last thing anyone needs right now is for Natalie to be in Sharon's bad books an' all.

"Oh... erm... Kelly. Yeah, I bumped into her on the..." She laughs nervously. "No, I'm not babe, no..." But she's still blanching guiltily at her lip as her eyes meet mine again. And she releases a sigh of defeat which makes my back lock with interest. "Alright, OK, I am. I'm with Dennis. Seriously Sharon, is any of what's in the paper actually- what?"

And the silence as she listens sends me half crazy and it can't be any longer than five seconds. But that's enough time for me to give into the urge to crack my knuckles, needing to relieve some of the tension I can feel building inside me. 

Natalie winces accordingly and pulls back her phone with a rather downbeat sounding "OK" before she's handing it to me. "Sharon wants to talk to you."

I blink in surprise, needing several seconds delayed reaction time to realise I'm supposed to take the phone and speak. Well, I take it, but what the Hell am I supposed to say? Oh hey Sharon, get anything nice in the post this mornin' darlin'?

No, I come with something even better. I sound like such an arrogant arse. "Thought you didn't want to talk to me?"

Even Natalie can tell what a child I sound like, rolling her eyes despairingly. But Sharon don't really seem to have heard me. She's just talking, really distractedly, like she needs to get every word out before she forgets it.

"That article... everything... it's so... stupid, I've been so stupid. I... I want us to talk. Properly. Can we do that, Dennis? Please?"

Though she can't see me, my instinct is to shake my head and respond; "You don't wanna talk to me, Sharon."

A pause. And then; "OK, so maybe I don't. Maybe I just wanna work with you."

Jesus Christ, what is this?

I laugh gently. "I can't take much more of this."

"What d'you mean?"

"All the swings and roundabouts. My head's bloody spinning over here Sharon."

"Yeah well, so's mine." she confesses in a murmur. "That was one Hell of a bombshell you dropped on me yesterday."

"I don't know how you can be so surprised..."

"Well I am. But whatever, that's a completely different conversation and one I don't think we should have til after Christmas."

"What?"

"Look, Nick's a darlin', you know what I think of him-"

"Yeah, and I know what you think of me an' all." I tell her thickly.

She just gives out a soft giggle and assures me; "You're alright. And if I'm Sandy, then you're Danny. That's all there is to it."

"Er, no." I point out sarcastically. "Slight issue of me quitting yesterday."

"Well, you'll have to sort that then won't you? Cos I don't want another Danny."

I'm stood in the car-park, leant anxiously back against my car, palms pressed down on the searing bonnet. But I savour the warmth as I straighten my back. I'm biting back the urge to take my phone from my pocket to check the time. He's making me nervous. But he said he'd be here, so I just have to trust him. Not that it seems I do at the moment, the amount I'm craning my neck.

But then, it's like he just appears, turning the corner and walking across the car-park, cap pulled down and apparantly without direction until he spots me. I dare to smile, but he's still too far away for me to see if he does anything in return. Not that it matters - he's here and that has to be because he wants to be. He could have just ignored me, gone home. But he hasn't. And I'm grateful for that.

I step away from the car, pulling back a breath as I move forward. Dennis kinda slows up in front of me, blanching his lips as he stares at the ground.

"Hey..."

But I have no place for his unease and smile unashamedly, wrapping my arms around his neck and rocking against him. "I'm so glad you're here." I whisper, giggling nervously.

He laughs in surprise against my ear as he holds me. "Didn't sound like you were leaving me much choice."

"I'm not."

"Right..." he sighs gently as he draws back. "So... what am I doing here exactly?"

"I want us to talk to David."

"Well, what abo- hang on, us?"

I roll my eyes. "Do you have to look so surprised? You know if I wasn't such an overdramatic cow then half of this wouldn't have happened anyway. I made you walk out-"

He shakes his head. "My choice."

But I'll never believe that, raise my palm to silence him. "Alright, can we just... stop with the fibbing?"

"What?"

"You got my real name, I know you drink coffee... so let's just keep things on a even keel yeah?"

"OK..." he says slowly, obviously confused. But I take pity, smiling gently. 

"We both know that wasn't your choice. It just got... complicated. So let's make it easier again and work together like the charming professionals we are."

"Charming?"

"Well yeah, there has to be something about you... you've been in the papers one Hell of a lot recently."

I love that he laughs. It means that I can relax, even as he raises his eyes cautiously to my face and mumbles; "Girl trouble..."

"Yeah well... you know what they tell you to do in that case don't you? Throw yourself into your work."

"Yeah, maybe."

"No, not maybe. Definitely. Cos you my friend, are my Danny. End of."

He smiles almost disbelieving. "Right, so... you don't wanna still yell at me or anything?"

"Well... my ankle still hurts-" I muse teasingly, laughing gently as worry flitters momentarily across his face. "-but no. I overreacted completely. I mean, if it is you I need to thank for this job, then who the Hell am I to push you out? And just... shut up yeah, cos I know that's what I did. I should just be grateful-"

"No, you shouldn't-"

"-and we should just get on with it. So come on..."

And I grab his hand, leading him through the back of the theatre. Bradley & Bonnie are on stage, running through "Beauty School Dropout", Tim sipping coffee beside Lorne on the floor in front of the stalls. Seriously, why do these guys never sit in the seats?

David is sat in the middle, eyes halfway between the action of the stage and the script rested against his knees. It's like he's not moved at all.

I blanch at my lip, exchanging an awkward look with Dennis. But I hold onto his hand and we slip off the side of the stage and into the auditorium almost unnoticed.

I slide into the stalls, not releasing Dennis' hand until I have pulled down the seat beside David's and he is forced to recognise us both there, waiting on his attention, giving out a small sigh.

"Can we talk?" I press cautiously.

"I don't know." David throws back, eyes darting accusingly between Dennis and I. "Can you?"

"Look... we made a mistake, OK?"

"I know. And you made it the second you decided to start sleeping together."

"Yeah, alright!" Dennis snaps defensively, by now bending his cap in his lap to occupy his hands. "That's not what we're talking about."

"Really? Well, I didn't think we'd have much to talk about Dennis, what with you walking out yesterday."

"No." I say firmly, completely disapproving of the stern looking David is fixing Dennis with. "That's not fair... he did that for me. And he shouldn't have to. I want him back and so do you..."

"Hmph."

I'm really starting to despair of this attitude. "David, c'mon. You hired him first... he's meant to be the star, the main attraction. So what am I without him eh?"

"Celibate?" he offers dryly.

I look away in disgust. And Dennis don't look all that thrilled either, really fixing David with a dirty look. "Will you just stop it? That's got nothing to do with any of this."

"Oh hasn't it? So you're telling me, if you two hadn't started going at it, then she wouldn't have tried to scratch your eyes out in a temper and you wouldn't have walked out?"

"Are you listening to yourself?" I question despairingly. "Alright, so... we let things get in the way and we shouldn't have, But you know we're both good for this job. And we can work together. We want to."

David looks up, blinking. Looks as though some of these words have finally hit home. He leans forward, looking past me and right at Dennis, raising his name questioningly.

"Dennis?"

He just nods to confirm everything I have just said. "I want to an' all. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"I need to know you're both committed. To your characters, nothing else."

I hate the way his eyes seem to be scrutinising the both of us, like we might be sat too close or something.

"I'll try not to jump on him David." I mutter sarcastically. "Just for you."

"Sharon!" he says warningly.

"Look, just tell him he's still Danny and I'll shut the Hell up."

I'm sure I recognise a flare of defeat in David's eyes as he looks down at his heavily annotated script, flicking the end of his pen idly against the surface.

"You're still Danny." he says to Dennis with a slight nod. "On one condition."

Trying to suppress a grin, Dennis straightens up, waiting expectantly.

"No more stunts."

And the grin breaks out. He leans over and pumps David's hand gratefully before sliding back out the stalls, his seat banging up. I kiss David's cheek firmly. He looks a little stunned, but smiles softly at my grin and waves me off with a flick of his pen, his attention refocussed on his script page. I push myself up and edge out after Dennis. I throw my arms around his neck, biting on a squeal and he pulls me up against him, swinging me around in the dark aisle.

"Cheers darlin'." he murmurs into my hair.

"Pleasure." I whisper into his shoulder.

We're back. Dennis & Sharon - Danny & Sandy.

My feet firmly back on the ground, Dennis, steering me around by the shoulders, turns back to David.

"So where d'you want us then?"

"Hmmm?" he questions, not even looking up as he says; "Oh. BBC Centre. Yeah, you've got a promo on Paul O' Grady at five. Enjoy."  

Except, if we'd gone straight away, we'd have arrived little after one, and neither of us really fancied hanging round for more than 4 hours under studio lights and trained cameras before we had to. So we agreed we'd go at half-two to be there for half three and we spent the time in between in the coffee shop. Sharon was bloody determined to watch me drink a coffee, just to be sure that I would. She just sat there, breaking up a Dairy Milk bar, flinching every time the pieces snapped apart. I didn't want her to see me laugh, so I just drank deeper from the cup.

Halfway down, I'm forced to confess; "I feel really sick."

She laughs gently. "Ellen not one for going easy on the chocolate then?"

"Must be joking." I scoff, nodding towards the unwrapped bar in Sharon's hands. "There must be two of them in one of these."

"Ah! So really, it's not so much coffee you're drinking, more... caffeinated hot chocolate?"

"Mmmm." I nod, letting the over-sweetened liquid burn at my lips. "Something like that."

"Last time I offer to buy you a coffee then." Smirking, she unwraps the Dairy Milk carefully, lining up the separated chunks on the shiny foil. "Chocolate?"

"Piss off."

Feigning hurt, she bows her head, hair falling about her face as she smiles. She flicks it back as she picks up a piece of chocolate and lifts it to her lips. It kinda hovers there, like she's not sure whether to bite into it or not.

"I'm really glad you're back y'know." The words out, she takes the plunge and bites into the chunk.

Although I'm surprised to hear her say it, it's easy to smile, because I can see that she means it.

"It'll be good, won't it?"

"Good? Fuckin' fantastic more like, have you seen the advance ticket sales?"

"Yeah. So... you nervous?"

"Oh, what you mean, nervous that there's only four days til the biggest night of my career... if career's what you can call it right now? Nope, I'm not nervous, why would I be nervous?"

I can tell in the rapidity of her tone that she's teasing me. "Guys & Dolls was my debut, you know. Professional anyway. I was sick in the wings on opening night. They wanted to pull me off but I wouldn't let 'em..."

"God... were you OK?"

I dismiss the look of concern to have swept across her face. "Oh yeah, I was fine. Once I started I couldn't get enough. Nerves don't really mean much in the end."

"Ha, you won't be saying that if I'm sick!"

"Yeah, Nat says that's something worth seeing."

"Oh does Nat? Where'd you lose her anyway?"

"She was gone as soon as you called. Abandoned me, so I had pretty much no choice but to come down to you anyway. Cow didn't even take the bloody paper with her."

Sharon looks up knowingly. "You were going through that article weren't you?"

I look down, pretty embarrassed to admit it. "I thought she might be able to tell me which bits were true, y'know?"

"Oh what, you mean like me being a "wreck" yesterday afternoon?"

Damn, how am I so transparent?

"Well, I did start to cry if that helps. Wasn't having a breakdown or anything but I realised what an idiot I've been."

"What, just like that?"

"No." she replies, eyes narrowed as she tries to comprehend me. "Not just like that. If you must know, the whole thing was just wrong. I mean, Nick'd be brilliant but he's not you is he? I was missing you."

~*~

And I'm still pretty much stumped by that one admission by five o'clock. We kinda got lost in talking about everything and nothing and even though there was this tension in my stomach that never left, it was suddenly really easy talking to her again, being around her. We had a right laugh rubbishing the article - Sharon even suggested she should make my other cheek bleed just to reinstate this poor journalist's credibility. I told her in no uncertain terms she wasn't gonna get to touch me again til I'd gotten her dangerously drunk and she'd been sick everywhere and let me post the evidence on YouTube.

We didn't remember to leave the coffee shop until just after three. I'd gone through another three over chocolatey mochas by then, and my head was buzzing. Caffeine is a lot worse to me than alcohol, which is why I say I don't drink coffee. Cos really, I shouldn't dare. I was starting to feel like a fifteen year old on Hooch. But Sharon didn't really notice. She'd be going at Espressoes and the Dairy Milk all afternoon, so she wasn't really much better off. I was impressed with how she seemed physically unaffected though. Espresso makes me look like the walking dead. And she's there, perfectly made up, looking fresh as anything. Skilled, she is. I'm almost jealous.

We were practically falling over ourselves to reach Sharon's car, laughing like bunking kids that were gonna get told off for being late for school. As she pulled back from the kerb, I leant over and turned on the radio, flicking through stations until, as luck would have it, I hit upon some Bon Jovi. Neither of us can mistake it and Sharon grins approvingly.

I've managed to count about ten beats out on my knees, never able to stay still listening to these guys, when I realise that, maybe even without knowing it, we're both singing quietly, almost under our breath. I think it's like an instinct, but I look round in surprise, the same kinda look upon Sharon's face, bemused as she looks at me out the corner of her eye. And yet, neither of us stop, kinda lost to it.

It seems you always wait for life to happen
Your last buck can't buy a lucky break
If all we've got is us then life's worth living
And if you're in, you know I'm in
I'm ready and I'm willing.
I am!
When you think that no-one needs you, sees you or believes you
No-one's there to understand, I am!
I'll be there to be that someone when you think that no-one
Is there to hold your hand, I am!

The corner of Sharon's mouth rises. "Did you know they announced a tour?"

Jolted, I straighten my back. "What? When?"

"First show's in a couple of days."

I grin in disbelief. "Oh my God... so are we going or what?"

I guess I shouldn't have asked that, not while she's driving, cos she looks at me, eyes off the road, in total surprise. "I didn't think you'd want-"

I cough indignantly. "Uh... Bon Jovi, Sharon! We're going, OK, like we said?"

"Yeah right, they'll have sold out in hours."

But I just chuckle knowingly as I yank my mobile out my back pocket, flicking it open. And I press the Call button and wait for the ringing tone to give out.

"Oh God, what do you want?"

I tilt my head back against the head-rest as I laugh. "Alright Jase? Just thought I'd see how you are and maybe check what you're up to on... Thursday night is it?"

"Oh, how did I know you'd be calling me for that Rickman?"

"Cos you know I love 'em, and I know, what with you being the man in the business that you can lay your hands on tickets just like that." I click my fingers. Jase sighs.

"How many d'you want then? I've already handed them out to Jake and our lot, but I thought I better wait on you, what with all this Grease malarchy. You getting anywhere with that Sharon? Cos if not, you know you can always give her my number right?"

"No, Jason." I say firmly. "What's my upper limit?"

"Well, they had 150 in reserve. Just cos it's you... and I'm assuming you're wanting to bring Sharon and if not the rest of your bloody cast, I can get you eight, ten if you promise me a line of lagers."

"Go on then."

"Sweet. You can have 'em tomorrow. Where'd you want 'em delivered mate?"

"Er, I dunno, hang on a sec-" I pull the phone back from my ear. "Sharon, where are we tomorrow?"

"Riverbank." she returns immediately.

"You know where the Riverbank Studios are, Jase?"

"Nope, but I have my sources. See you on Thursday then eh? Should be one Hell of a night."

"Too right. Cheers mate, I owe you one."

Satisfied, I hang up, sliding my phone back into my pocket and grinning over at Sharon. She just blinks. "What?"

"Don't go making plans for Thursday alright? Same goes for Natalie. We have plans."

Sharon gasps. "You're joking? Oh my God, Dennis, how did you...?"

"I choose my friends really well." I laugh teasingly. "Nah. My mate Jason, known him since school, always been a total music whore. He's like... sales director for some big ticket agency, Ticketmaster I think... don't think I've ever asked actually. He's always got tickets to pass round."

She just guffaws. "You're incredible. Nat's gonna flip."

~*~

And she still wasn't over it as we met again for our call to wait on entrance to the stage. She said she'd called Natalie as she'd sat in make-up and Natalie had almost defeaned the poor make-up girl as well as Sharon with her screams.

"Oooh, and she said..." The next thing I'm aware of is instinctively holding Sharon against me, worried that for the force with which she came, she was about to rebound and go toppling over. I could never have expected that she would stretch up, fiercely pressing her lips to mine. She giggles at my surprise as she draws back. I'm not even breathing I don't think. All I can think is; Shit, did I kiss her back? Did I?

I don't know. And that can't be good.

"...to do that."

I laugh nervously. Not that any of this seems to have affected her. She just stands there, certain and gorgeous. God, what I'd give for some of her confidence right now.

One of the production moves over and murmurs; "Fifteen seconds", meaning that we're supposed to be listening out for Paul's introduction. God, that man can say anything in interview, he's done it to me before now. He's hilarious, but he's bloody nosy and what if...?

"Sharon?"

"Mmmm?" She smiles brightly as she turns expectantly to me, stroking hair out of her eyes as she awaits my question.

"What are we gonna do if... if he asks about... us?"

So absorbed in her contemplation, and me in my nerves at watching her, neither of us hear the introduction. We just hear Paul's voice and we see the lights go up in the doorway, awaiting us, together.

"We're gonna tell him the truth." she responds certainly, extending her hand out to me to lead me out onto the stage. "So c'mon..." I take it, sure to let her step a pace in front of me before I follow.

Paul stands up from behind the desk, where Buster is just sat, looking entirely unimpressed.

"Sharon!" Paul cries, like he's greeting a friend he hasn't seen in years. She just beams and leans in to kiss his cheek, dropping my hand only as her arms surround him.

"How are ya darlin'?" she murmurs.

"Fabulous! Long time, no see!"

"Mmmm, isn't it?" And she pulls back and steps out of my way as Paul leans forward to pump my hand.

"And Dennis, you alright?"

"Brilliant mate, cheers."

But we're both distracted by Sharon fussing shamessly over Buster and God, he's lapping up the attention. I move round and sink down on the sofa, scooted forward and watching her in utter bemusement. Paul just falls back on his heel, eyes not leaving them as he sits back behind the desk. Buster doesn't even mind when she scoops him up in her arms, kissing his head. Even in four or five inch heels, she somehow still artistically manages to avoid colliding with the little table as she sits down next to me, beaming as Buster settles happily in her lap.

Paul is trying to stop laughing, head bowed against his clasped hands as he fights to compose himself. Me, I'm becoming pretty absorbed in Buster too, tickling behind his ears as Sharon coos softly at him.

"Buster, stop distracting the guests!"

"Awww!" Sharon cries. "But he's so cute!"

"Rubbish!" Paul scoffs airily. "He's never that affectionate at home! Always mooching round with a face like a slapped.... behind haven't you Bust?"

No response.

I look down and laugh gently at the realisation. "He's gone to sleep!"

A ripple of "Awww!" breaks through the audience.

"He never has?" Paul cries despairingly, leaning round. "Well, the ignorant- yes alright, Bert, I'm getting there!"

Sharon giggles apologetically, and I keep stroking the sleeping dog's head.

"Hmmm, well, Dennis and Sharon..." Paul begins, regaining our distracted attention by clearing his throat. "...where to start with you two eh?"

I don't miss the way Dennis gives me an awkward look, just out the corner of his eye. Thankfully, it's such a fleeting moment of unease, I don't think anyone else has the time to pick up on it. We both just settle back and smile, me trying to ignore how, one leg crossed over the other, is steadily going numb as Buster sleeps in my lap.

"You look a lot different than the last time I saw you, Paul." I laugh thoughtfully.

Head bowed, he splutters on his own laugh. "Sharon love, the last time you saw me, I looked worse than Lily after a night of... illegal substances in Blackpool."

"Don't you just love panto?"

"Don't look at me!" Dennis declares, his palms raised in bemusement.

"Have you never done panto, Dennis?"

"Is never happening Paul, ever."

"Awww, you dunno what you're missing kid. Where was it we were last Sharon?"

"Ah, me and you, Paul, that was the Wolverhampton Grand wasn't it? Snow White..."

Dennis turns his head quizzically and smirks over at me. "So which one of the dwarves were you?"

My reaction is instant, reaching over Buster to hit him on the thigh.

"You cheeky sod!" Paul gasps in mock horror. "Our Sharon is the panto princess."

I smirk. "Done more pantos than you have handstands."

He shakes his head disbelievingly.

"Did you see Dennis in Guys & Dolls then Sharon? Cos you can bet your life this lot did - didn't you ladies?"

I can't help but start to giggle as the uproar ensues. I can just imagine what Nat was like at the end of every one of those ten shows. And Dennis, awww, bless him, is trying not to blush. Must be so hard being that gorgeous and talented eh?

"I didn't Paul, no. My best friend never left him alone mind!"

Dennis laughs. "Never walked out the stage door without seeing her, I don't think. But she's great really. She's come into rehearsals and everything."

"And how are they going for you? They Hell?"

Dennis and I exchange a bemused look. "Ummmm..."

"They hurt." Dennis confesses. "I mean, Grease isn't exactly physically demanding or anything, but I've never known anyone dance like she does..."

"She's even better after hours kid.... you ever seen her Macarena/Cha Cha Slide fusion at 5 in the morning?"

"What?"

"Paul!" I cry, feeling my face flame with the embarrassment. "I can't believe you just said that!"

"Oh God Sharon, I have got to see that!"

I turn and glare at Dennis. "No!"

"Oh go on... you saw the pelvic thrust di'n't ya?"

Paul's mouth hangs agape, trying to hold back his laughter. "The... what? What are you doing, Grease or Rocky Horror?"

"Oh I did that!" I tell him with a grin. "Always thought you'd have made a brilliant Frank N Furter, Paul."

"No Sharon, love, my basque days are over! Now Dennis, c'mon, tell us, what pelvic-"

"Summer Nights i'n't it? C'mon Paul..."

And I just watch them both as Dennis gets up and edges round the table and Paul follows, standing beside him, copying his stance. The women in the audience start cheering and cooing as the two of them start swinging their hips. I'm smothering a giggle in my palm as, out of nowhere, the backing kicks in and-

Uh wella-wella-wella- UH!

Nope, my giggle explodes at the unashamed thrusts and I can't help but applaud them as, grinning, they return to their seats.

"I could so have done that role 20 years ago."

"Ah, you've never too old!" Dennis assures him. "I mean, we've got Patrick Swayze playin' an eighteen year old right now, anything's possible."

He laughs. "Well seeing as this is your... professional debut Sharon, how are you finding it working with such... huge stars? Patrick as Kenickie, Bonnie Langford as Frenchy... that's a genius bit of casting I have to say, she's perfect-"

"Isn't she? I don't really know to be honest. I've just had to get on with it really. I mean, we've all pretty much been through the entire play through the auditions, but we only have a week or so of rehearsals as a fully gelled cast and..."

I look to Dennis for help. He just smiles. "...and it's been really manic!"

"How are you both feeling about opening night on Friday?" Paul turns and gestures over the audience. "Marleway Theatre Friday night folks, don't miss it will you?"

"Well I might ... I'm as nervous as Hell." I murmur, covering my face with my hand.

"I've told her she'll be fine..."

"No, what he told me was I'd be fine - even if I threw up everywhere which is precisely what he did opening night of Guys & Dolls!"

"Oh lovely! I bet your Sarah Brown was ecstatic at having to kiss you!"

"I was still chewing gum at the time!"

I'm still giggling even as I grimace. "That's disgusting."

Paul nods despairingly in agreement. "Bet you're glad you don't have to go there eh Sharon?"

I smile softly, as I idly stroke Buster. "Mmmm, maybe; bless her, Sandy's such a good girl isn't she?"

"Mmmm, or maybe she just could never get close enough, what with the huge quiff-"

"It suits him actually, have you seen the publicity stills?"

"I have - me and Bert were trying to work out whether it was a wig or not-"

Dennis splutters indignantly into one of the glasses of water that were set down for us on the table. I can tell in the flickering of his lips as he manages to put the glass back down that he wants so much to cry out something like "Piss off!" but this is tea-time telly.

"Do you mind? I suffer for that hair!"

"It's like... it's own art-form i'n't darlin'? I can't wait til they have to run the dye through - then you'll know how much I suffered when I went red for Hotel Babylon. Was in floods after every take Paul, it was so embarrassing. But he hasn't got any allergies, so all he'll have to do is... find Nadine, that's our hair-stylist, she's amazing... and then-"

"Lie back and think of England?" Paul offers with a suppressed snicker.

Me & Dennis crease up.

"Yeah, maybe! He spends more time in there than I do!"

Dennis' eyes widen with indignance. "Oh you lying-"

"I should hope she is, Dennis, or else someone's been a very busy boy of late... haven't they?"

Pulling in a settling breath, Dennis leans comfortably back against the couch. At least he looks comfortable. Whether he is or not... I mean, studio lights are pretty cruel and he's got God knows how thick a layer of make-up expertly hiding the mark the whole country must have seen is there by now - and be assuming that in my crazier moments. I put there.

I think we both must realise that the moment we had kinda hoped to avoid is definitely here. Dennis obviously has more sense than me in assuming that the whole thing would have to be spoken about. I expect to feel a stirring of nerves, but there's nothing. I don't think that necessarily means I'm OK though - more resigned to the inevitable and just glad to see Dennis still acting like... Dennis. It might be alright - it's Paul, not the Nazi invasion.

"I don't know what you mean!" Dennis declares brightly, even though the smallest sigh of defeat has just escaped him. He's got the slightest smirk in the corner of his mouth, and I don't know whether that's to tease or defend. I guess I'll have to see.

Paul scoffs immediately, not believing him at all. "Well now who's lying eh Dennis? You're rubbish you are!"

I giggle gently, settling back against the cushions also, nervously circling my foot. It'd probably be kinder to put Paul out his misery right? The sooner it's all spoken about, the sooner we can all shut up and get on with it.

"Well, what are you trying to ask?" I press innocently.

"Flamin' Nora!" he sighs dramatically. "Don't start batting your eyelashes at me, woman. What d'you think for crying out loud? What's going on?"

And his eyes dart desperately between Dennis and me, and the two of us start laughing nervously.

"Didn't even think I was gonna get you both here, what with Cary Grant over here flouncing out! That is what you did, isn't it?"

Dennis claws at his lip thoughtfully. "I didn't exactly flounce Paul."

I raise my eyebrow critically. "And he ain't exactly Cary Grant either is he?"

"Oh, you can just give it up now Miss Watts!" Paul cries commandingly, shaking his bony finger at me and suddenly look all Evil Queen-esque all over again. I laugh and obediently fall silent. "But you did walk out Dennis, yes?"

"Yes." he admits, his tense shoulders hunched.

"Out on Grease? On Sharon? Are you... out of your mind?"

Glancing awkwardly at me, Dennis looks back at Paul and replies; "Guess I musta been, right?"

"Hmmm. Only I heard... Sharon here was ready to go beforehand. And what the rest of this nation needs to know kids is, why?"

"Oh... we can have proper rucks when we want 'em Paul..."

He rolls his eyes. "Only after you get caught by the paps snogging each other's faces off right? C'mon, admit it... you had a lovers' tiff."

"What do we get for that?" Dennis muses sarcastically. "A nodding Buster?"

"Awww!" I coo, bowing my head to kiss Buster's. "I want this Buster."

"Ahem!" Paul coughs impatiently.

"Alright!" I laugh, feeling decidedly victimised. I straighten up and claw back my lip, exchanging an anxious glance with Dennis. "We... um..."

"I screwed up." Dennis announces certainly. "Got involved in things that weren't my concern, y'know?"

"He's a bit of a nosy bastard really, bless him."

Paul laughs and declares; "Did you really lamp him, Sharon?"

Dennis grins as my cheeks flame. "Yeah I did. I shouldn't have done, but I did."

"I'm wearing more make-up than she is!" he teases.

"Good on you girl!" Paul nods approvingly. My returned smile is weak. I still feel pretty guilty really.

"But I take it that.... both of you back on board and raring to go... friends again?"

Dennis cocks his head thoughtfully as he looks at me, but I can read the teasing glimmer in his eyes and just grin, reaching to firmly clasp his hand from where it was resting idly against his knee. He looks down on our connection in surprise, but smiles and squeezes my hand, swinging it gently.

"Definitely." he says softly, his smile widening as the audience begin to applaud. Guess they're just grateful that their advance tickets aren't going to waste. Or maybe they don't have any at all, they just wanna be here right now so they can boast to their girlfriends about their one time proximity to the one and only Dennis Rickman. Ha, this world is so totally full of Natalie type creatures!

"And... the rest?" Paul coaxes, his lips curved naughtily, pleading to be told all there is to know.

Dennis doesn't look up. He's blanching hard at his lip as he plays with my hand, obviously not comfortable with the question. I can't say I blame him, but I guess it's a fair comment after all the fuss of the last few days. So I take upon myself to answer and just once, test the theory that maybe honesty, especially when it comes to Dennis, maybe is the best policy. So cautiously, I speak towards him, not necessarily looking at him as, holding his hand a little more fiercely, I murmur.

"I hope so..."

I lean back against the door, holding it open. Sharon gives me an odd look as she strokes her fringe from her eyes. She moves forward half a step, but then shakes her head like she's decided against it.

"Dennis, are you OK?"

"Course."

"Are you sure? D'you need another coffee or something?"

OK, will you just stop with the offers of caffeine? 

Cos I could bloody use some right now, and yet, until now, Paul seems to have been the only one that Sharon drained all my falsfied hype out of me through nothing but shock for her words. Nothing was made of it, but Jesus Christ, Paul's face. He was so smug, reading everything into what she'd said that I just didn't dare - fighting the urge to turn round and demand; "What?"

I didn't know where to put myself, or worse still, where to look. All I could was settle back, rigid in my awareness that for as long as we sat there, Sharon didn't let go of my hand. It's not that I minded, I guess it felt pretty natural, cos I wasn't about to go pulling away. Because what would it have meant if I had?

Sharon knows as well as I do that ever since the day we were caught kissing, and worse, ever since the day the bastard press caught sight of the scratch she saw fit to leave on my face, that every fuckin' journalist is gonna have something not worthwhile and most probably untrue to say about it, about us, creating an us when I screwed up so bad. And it just seems to me like she's invited it - on national TV no less, opening up God knows what kinda conspiracy theories to the masses.

And then there's that tiny issue of the two of us working together again; the Golden Rule there being (besides "Don't cop off with the make-up girl!") "Don't cop off with your own co-star." Apparantly, someone else's is fine, but your own? Big mistake.

And yet I couldn't pull my hand away. That's definitely saying something right?

I don't really know how I've managed to get through this whole hour. If I've ever had an out-of-body experience (that's without the illegal substances by the way!) then this was it. It was like I was shut down, just... functioning. I didn't really have room inside my head for anything except trying to work out what Sharon's getting at without being able to turn round and ask her.

Paul played the "organ game" with some woman named Jean from Wolverhampton, which definitely excited Paul, wanting to know if she'd been down to the Grand during his Snow White season with Sharon. Jean apparantly had, revelling in the chance to tell Paul, and Sharon come to that, how fabulous she thought they both were. Whatever, I wasn't really listening, I was just watching the colour rise in Sharon's cheeks, having no choice but to bask in the compliments. And all I could think was "She's so fucking cute" and then reprimanding myself inwardly, cos I'm pretty damn sure that ain't what I'm supposed to be thinking.

But there's my bitch, cos right now, but especially then, I didn't know what I was supposed to think. So I just went on doing it, thinking too damn much.

This Jean was totally over the moon to have gotten through, bored housewife on crack type hyper she was I swear. She's probably spent all these supposed thousands she stands to win on paying the bloody entry charges God knows how many times, but hey, whatever - I'm not the one paying her bill. And it wasn't about to be that difficult for her to claim the readies to pay it herself either, cos what with me and Sharon being there, although Paul only declared "Songs from the stage!" as the theme, it was pretty damn obvious he was gonna be reeling off tunes from Grease. And when I say "he", I mean his sound guy, cos Paul's fingers so obviously do not touch the keys. Con artist he is, and so bloody unashamed of it too, cos all these people still love him.

Sharon got right into it though, and somehow, even with this madness whirring round in my head, it was easy being in her company. I don't know how she manages that. Even with all these different kind of tensions around us - even if she wants to knock my block off - I love being around her. She's infectious. And I think it pretty much starts with that giggle.

Cos as soon as the unmistakable strains of Summer Nights start up, a little distorted I'll agree, she was looking at me, blanching at her lips as they curved into a smirk anyway and the urge to giggle inevitably took her over. And I couldn't help but laugh too, shaking my head in disbelief, especially as she proudly began to sing parts of the lyrics, having had this reaction drummed into her what with rehearsals I guess. Paul just laughed and egged her on. But she promptly shut up, but for another giggle when she nodded pointedly at me and said; "It's his line!"

I'd just smiled wryly and turned to the warbling audience, knowing they'd well drown out anything I dared to offer. Bless 'em, they sounded like they get enticed into this place by the keg instead of by the ticket.

Of course, Jean got it. I mean, who hasn't been plagued by that tune at karaoke? She decided to gamble for the two grand, which made me smile. Gambling's supposed to be a risk and there just isn't one here. It'll get handed right to her.

Me and Sharon knew it immediately, grinning like Hell at recalling the amount of fun we had with this, even if all she's supposed to be doing is watching the rest of the Comapny. Arm straightened, she held out her hand and I took it without really knowing why, pulling her in towards me in a spin, dropping my arm around her waist as hers slides around my back and we begin rocking our hips, singing shamelessly out against our drunken sounding backing and totally giving the song. Hey, the tounge-twisting verses I can live with. It's just the hand gestures I have no time for.

Jean was screaming it out, like she was competing to be heard above us, poor cow. Paul gave her the cash (and the coveted Nodding Buster of course!) and he pretty much had the audience raising the roof for me and Sharon just showing off (and getting all the moves wrong with it anyway!)

It was great. Still don't solve anything though. But maybe I just need to head home and be complicated. Get drunk, or better, get out of my tiny and shrivelled little mind with the caffeine Sharon's offering.  

Only I haven't answered her. I've just kept walking. And she's kept well to my pace in those shoes. She's not getting narked at me or anything, but I can feel that her eyes never leave me. It's unnerving. She's trying to work me out without realising that she's the bloody puzzle.

She unlocks her car and I get in on the passenger side, making a mental note to take my own car everywhere from now on. Cos that tense silence I knew was gonna come when we were first alone together after she said that comes. And she keeps looking over at me like she doesn't understand it.

About twenty minutes later (and it only passed with me fiddling with the radio stations again!) she sighs heavily and just pulls up at the kerb. I look up jerkily as, bag in her lap, she rifles for her purse and then tosses the bag back onto the back-seat. 

"What are you doing?"

She checks both ways and opens the door, climbing carefully out. "I'll be back in a minute."

She slams the door and rushes across the road. I huff and throw myself forcefully back. That didn't answer my fuckin' question.

Sharon clambers back in less than three minutes later, swinging a Threshers bag. The cheeky cow's been to the offy! Seeing my despairing look, she smiles and rifles in the bag. First, she pulls out a bottle of white wine. "Mine." She tucks it back in and then pulls out a two-litre bottle of Red Bull. "Yours."

I splutter. Is she trying to kill me? "I didn't ask for that."

"No, but you bloody need it. What's up with you?"

I look away. "Look, can we just go?"

"Depends where you're going. I mean, your car's not anywhere is it?"

"No."

"So... d'you wanna lift home?"

I shrug. The prospect ain't exactly thrilling. "Not really."

She cocks her head and looks at me thoughtfully. "You don't wanna go either huh?"

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, I am." She sighs heavily again. "I've really freaked you out haven't I?"

I look at her immediately, eyes narrowed as I become the one trying to work her out. "Why d'you say it Sharon?"

She shrugs childishly as she stares into my lap, anywhere but into my face I guess.

"This is you isn't it? You deserve a bit of truth for once. Friends is great, right? But the rest? I do hope so."

I'm staggered, mouth so stupidly agape as Sharon looks at me with those big eyes, a nervousness in her face that pleads to know if it's alright to smile. But I can't stop her.

"No you don't."

"I don't?" she throws back quizzically, obviously not liking my challenge. It's a defense mechanism, I can't help it. Her lips soften into a disbelieving smile, a sound escaping her lips that don't sound all that happy. "God, you're something else Dennis Rickman, you know that? I mean, it's alright for you to have been in love with me before now but I... I can't want us to be more than friends? Where's your logic eh?"

"I dunno." I shrug honestly. "Where's the logic in pretending you're someone else?"

She bows her head, resting it against the steering wheel as she groans. "Please let that go. Please. Otherwise we're not gonna get anywhere and you're gonna make me crazy."

I smile wistfully as she straightens up. "I'd say you're already halfway there. What do you want for God's sake?"

"Oh, what's the point?" she declares hotly. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't let me."

"You don't know that."

"Oh, I do." she nods certainly.

"Try me."

She just looks at me ludicrously as I throw the challenge out. She doesn't say a word, her shimmering eyes narrowed as she tries to gauge my sincerity. 

"Alright-" she says at last, turning to face me as she bites into her lip. "-I wanna kiss you. And I'll wanna do it again. And I know I've gone and gotten that bloody interview all over tomorrow's papers, but I don't care."

"Well I might!" I say indignantly. But Sharon assesses me well and shakes her head slowly.

"But you don't. Cos you want what I want."

"You wanted us to work together!" I point out.

"Mmm, I know. And we will. Work together. Because I made the first move. You'll never admit it I know, but you're relieved cos now you don't have to. Just let me kiss you."

Dennis just blinks, stunned. I laugh gently, sure that his unease just makes me adore him that little bit more. Hesitantly, I inch forward. He hasn't told me that I can't, that I shouldn't, but still, I find myself biting anxiously at my lip, waiting on the words from him to send me back. But they don't come and after a couple of seconds, my heartbeat dares to settle and give way to a much appreciated rush of adrenaline as I lean over and press my lips softly to his.

It's barely a kiss, but it's enough to invoke his reaction and that was all I wanted. He doesn't pull back, but it's almost as if he's surprised to find that, by some instinct, he's kissing me back. It's true, y'know, Dennis' problem is too much of a gentleman. And I love that, it's not a quality I've seen in the men I've attracted before now. I know his hesitance isn't because he doesn't want me, or because he wants to protect the job. 

I mean, I know he does, he really wants that to work, but really, this is because he doesn't want either of us to get hurt. We go well together and he worries that anything above that, however much he still wants it, is going to complicate things. But it's not as though I'm looking for any huge committment - I just want him. And if it wasn't the same for him, how did we manage to get together for however long in the middle of rehearsals anyway?

I'm still enjoying the taste upon his lips when he breaks softly away, laughing nervously as he looks down. "You really don't make things easy do you?"

"What?"

Dennis wrings his hands, letting them drop heavily into his lap before he glances at me. "I just can't work you out."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Work me out? What am I, a bloody puzzle? Hmmm, well actually, I can see how that one might work.

"Stop trying." I advise him awkwardly, my eye caught by the bottle of wine poking out of the carrier bag. It's taunting me, I swear - I want some so badly.

"I can't." he sighs by way of reply. "You never stop changing your bloody mind. I mean, you reckon we can work together, and then we can't. You want us to be together, then you don't-"

"I do." I say immediately.

And it kinda hurts that Dennis flinches as my eyes meet with his. "Why?"

I shrug. "Same reason you did. I fancy you like crazy, so will you just... do something about it?"

Instead of telling me how damn desperate I sound, as I figure he might well have done, seeing as even to my ears that was certainly the truth, he smiles weakly, glancing down again as he shakes his head and says; "I did over the psycho ex, didn't I? I've already done plenty about it!"

I tilt my head back against the headrest, groaning. "I'm not asking you to make me stop Dennis, especially not on account of that arsehole. I want you. I want us to try again."

"Yeah?" he murmurs questioningly as he gazes out at the busy road. "So what happens when it's over again huh?"

I hate how valid his point is. I don't wanna think on it at all, especially as he hasn't even given me chance to get it right yet, let alone make it all go wrong again. But I guess, everything starts to end again right? I can't help it if I just wanna enjoy the duration though can I? There's definitely something about this guy. Maybe I haven't approved of all his methods, but he genuinely cares, and without suffocating me too. He just wants me to be me. And I don't want him too bloody scared to even try being with me. I'm not Natalie, I haven't wanted his babies since the first time I met him. I just wanna relax, have some fun. And Dennis makes me do both like no-one else can.

The thought alone makes me smile and I tease; "Then I call the kiss n' tell!"

The hand on which he'd been resting his chin as he looked out the window, apparantly not relishing my response, drops away in surprise. His gaze, the sexiest flare of accusation in his disbelieving eyes, snaps to my face.

"You'd actually do that?"

"Why?" I giggle, amused by his obvious disgust at the idea. "Don't you want your legions of sexed-up fans knowing how good you are in bed?"

Dennis laughs in spite of himself, his facial muscles held in a grimace almost. "The whole concept of kiss n' tells is just so sleazy. Why would anyone do it?"

"Well, for me, it's gotta be one of two reasons hasn't it? One, because I'm just some desperate little slapper who hasn't been in the papers enough already this week-"

"Hmmm..." Dennis muses, biting thoughtfully into the pad of his thumb, before shaking his head to dismiss the idea and prompting; "Or....?"

"Or.... I genuinely fancy you and would hope that by telling the world what an amazing person you are, you'd at least come back and say the sex was worth your trouble!"

He bows his head, laughing childishly before glancing over to assure me; "I'd do that. Except-"

"Except...?" I coax, loving that I can't help but smile as he does.

"Well, don't we have to start before we finish?"

"My point exactly." I reply smugly.

Dennis just rolls his eyes. "And that's really what you want, even with the show?"

I feel my lips curve as I nod certainly. "Mmmm-hmmm. You never know, it might work better this way."

"David's not gonna see it like that."

I shrug. I don't think I could care any less. "What's private's private. Besides, we're not teenagers, he can't stop us seeing each other. And anyway, it's his own bloody fault. It was his casting director that found us both! And... it's not gonna ruin the job. I won't let it."

"Yeah?" Dennis questions, eyebrow raised doubtfully. "So what happens when we fight?"

God, he is such a glass half-empty kinda guy. You wouldn't know it, but he bloody is. Was it too much to hope for a bit of optimism once I found my nerve? But I suppose, it's not pessimism, he's being realistic. It wouldn't be hearts and flowers with anyone and to be honest, I think I'd get bored if it was. 

So I can't even begin to be annoyed at the question. Instead I find I'm smiling coyly as I envisage the mandatory making up session that would have to follow any given argument. "Then I promise, no more scratching-" I nod pointedly at his cheek and he smiles in grateful amusement. "-no kicking and no biting - not unless you ask me really nicely anyway!"

Reading the daring invitation in my face, Dennis turns away to the window for a second. When he faces me again a few seconds later, the cutest kinda smirk is curving his lips, making my stomach flip in anticipation as he lets his head loll lazily against the headrest.

"What if I'm asking?" 

Sharon never answered me in so many words. I was sure I'd caught sight of a smile, but then again, maybe not, because she just drove - and somehow we ended up back at the Marleway. Confused didn't really cover it. It's almost seven o'clock. Everyone'll be gone and she knows that. So it's not safety in number she's after. But then, what is? Why the Hell would she wanna come back here?

But when she draws up in the car-park, her shoulders slope. She's relaxed. Well, good for her. She turns and opens the door, only looking back at me when her heels click against the ground.

"You not coming then?" she asks with a bright smile.

Still feeling completely perplexed, I follow her lead and climb out. "What's going on Sharon?" I ask as I move round the front of the car to meet with her, realising I'm probably asking a completely pointless question.

"Y'know what?" she returns, turning in to face me with the softest sigh. "You need to learn to trust me."

"It's not that..."

"Mmmm, good!" she declares, dropping back on her heel and taking up my hand. "So c'mon!"

I sigh softly as I press into her hand, I walk to her pace, feeling pretty damn heavy, cos I just don't know what's going on. She really doesn't do things the easy way!

We go inside through the stage door, and yep, the place is deserted, but for a couple of the stagehands clearing off the stage so that it can all begin again in the morning. Sharon, with the softest smile curving her lips, leans round from the wings and calls out to one of them.

"John?"

"Yep?" He turns around, smiling as he sees us both stood there, coming over. "Ah, Sharon, Dennis... how was the promo?"

"It was... interesting..." I manage to reply with a dubious laugh. 

Sharon just grins as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. "Listen darlin', is anyone... still here?"

"Nope, all gone. Down the pub most probably. We're just... tidying up and then we're off an' all. Why?"

"Would you be a darlin' and leave us the keys? We kinda wasted a whole day what with Dennis over here being out a role this morning. We should probably try a couple more scenes and let's face it, that's not gonna work down the pub is it?"

"No, you've got a point there. Fair enough-" And he withdraws a hefty bunch of keys from his pocket. I swear to God, Sharon's eyes bloody well light up. I'm sure I'm missing something here.

"Ah, you star." Beaming, she clasps at them and she leads me off the stage, through the wings and down the back corridor towards her dressing room. She steps in before I do, busying herself with dropping the keys and her bag carelessly onto the dressing table. I just back up against the door until it clicks shut, watching her, and still most definitely missing something.

But as the door clicks, her back goes rigid, her head held defiantly straight. Then she turns and smiles over at me, looking pretty satisfied. What at, I don't know. She's making me really nervous. And that's everything she's not, going and collapsing on the couch and kicking off her shoes into that inevitable heap.

I bite anxiously into my lip and move across the room. I lean against the edge of her dressing table as I reach underneath her bag for her script, blotted by apparantly meaningful strokes of highlighter. She hears me rattle some of the pages however and gets up again immediately, her pretty painted toes barely pressed into the carpet as she strides confidently over and stands against me, her hands held forcefully around the edges of the script. 

I look up at her in confusion and her eyes are shimmering in that kinda way I can't decipher. She shakes her head ever so slightly and tugs the script roughly from my hands, tossing it carelessly away.

"What d'you think you're doing?" she demands softly.

But I can't answer because I don't know. But I can read in her face that whatever I was doing doesn't tally with what she's got planned.

"Nothing."

Sharon smirks. "Really? Well, I've got a better idea..."

Her lips are on mine before I realise. But then I must have done, because instantly, I'm kissing her back, fighting her insistence with all the will of my own as I draw her closer, needing to touch her as our lips crush together with more fury and desperation at every passing second. I'm completely intoxicated by her, it's like I'm burning. For all my hesitation, my mistakes and confusion, that one all consuming thought is clear. I want her so damn much.

And she weren't kidding about this better idea either. I think it was just once that I couldn't help but wonder whether I had actually closed the door. I tingled uncomfortably at the thought that someone could walk in and see us, like this, frenzied and quite literally wrapped up in one another, but then I remembered there was no-one here and just lost myself in touching her, letting my hands sneak beneath her clothing and glide over her warm, smooth, skin. I waited, on edge for the words where she would push me back and tell me to stop. I waited. Nothing, Sharon's mouth working mine too fiercely to give it any consideration.

First time I've ever had sex in a dressing room, but God, I can definitely recommend it. That's if you haven't acted as much of an arse as I have and had to walk out because your boss would flip knowing you're happily at it with your own lead. But hey, I guess Sharon can't help being as incredible as she is.

Her arms still tight around my neck with her fingernails poised to drill into my shoulders and her heels pressed into the small of my back, her shoes long lost and unnoticed, I watch her mesmerised as she pulls in shallow and ragged breaths trying to recover. She's adorable and all at once as sexy as hell too. I love how unconcerned she seems to be as she looks back at me, her smile more of a smirk, taking all the innocence out of her feverish face.

She giggles as she looks down over her askew clothing and murmurs; "OK... obviously wasn't just a Danny I wanted."

I laugh gently, pressing her sweet lips. "It could be. I always was presumptious."

"Oh yeah? So what's this mean then? Do I get to meet your parents? Shall I get down the estate agents?"

I shake my head slowly in amusement, hunching my shoulders. "You can go wherever and meet whoever you want... but you might wanna straighten your clothes out first."

"Mmmm... you're a bit impatient aren't you eh?"

"Only when I need to be."

"So are rehearsals gonna be a rush job from now on then?" she questions, eyes shimmering wickedly. "More pressing matters and all that?"

"Mmmm-hmmm. Sal's gonna have to go..."

At that, Sharon pressed her palm into my chest, pushing away from my kiss and tilting her chin to look me firmly in the eye. "I want to tell her... all of 'em. What's the point of reading it out the bloody paper when we're here to be honest with 'em?"

I nod slowly, wordlessly agreeing. But I can't help but smirk and suggest; "Because they're bloody funny? Seriously, I don't think I coulda put any of it better myself." I move away, shaking down the pages of my script, but Sharon regains my attention by giggling softly as she wriggles on top the dressing table, smoothing down her skirt and sliding with a bump down to the floor.

"I bet you could." she tells me silkily.

Fighting the urge to laugh, I look at her suspiciously. "What are you getting at?"

"Let's get in there first. Let's tell 'em ourselves."

I need just a moment's contemplation to realise how much I like that idea. We are after all, the only ones that know the truth of it, even Paul's clueless as to the ins and outs, and what good has speculation done Sharon and me? It's not like we're not gonna be found out by the whole country anyway. Besides, if this is it now, if this means us really trying - I don't know what at exactly, but just trying, then don't we deserve a say?

Yeah, we'll tell it ourselves.  

By 9am, we're all set. It's amazing what you can arrange when you have the right numbers and can offer the word "exclusive" to whoever's on the other end. Dennis and I talked about it a little and decided to go with OK! We were teasing each other almost before I'd put down the phone, saying we shoulda called HELLO! but I instead promised I'd call them as soon as we got engaged and/or one of us was in rehab. I loved how he laughed, telling me it was definitely gonna be me, cos he knew how to pace himself.

But I smugly pointed out that I didn't touch drugs and anyway... alcohol isn't the only thing you can get addicted to. Somehow though, we managed to go our separate ways for the night. I was a good girl, just one quick call before I went to bed a little before ten. If I'm deliberately gonna publicize myself then no way am I gonna come out looking like I did in all these sneaky tabloid shots. 

I wanted my beauty sleep and you know what, I was right to, because I barely sleep at all. I'm up at six, spending such a ridiculously long time beneath the spray of the shower, scrutinising every inch of my body as I fight to make it perfect. Smooth, bronzed and exfoliated some time later, I risk breakfast. Big mistake. I feel really uneasy for some reason. And whatever I try and do with it, my hair just does not wanna play. Why today? Today of all bloody days?

I'm still growling in frustration at my reflection as I decide against bunches, letting my hair drop from my hands and snatching up my brush to smooth the strands down. OK, so the style's easy enough and even Dennis thinks I look cute, but do I seriously wanna look twelve when I'm gonna be admitting to a country full of Rickmanites that their man's off the market? No. So I rush round, searching for my ever faithful GHD's. I wind the cable round my hand and yank my charge out of my phone as I go, glancing quickly at the screen as I rush back to the bathroom. It's gonna take me forever to get my make-up right at this rate too, I know.

Text message received
From: Dennis

Read now?

Morning x

That's all it says - and I'm still smiling like an idiot, slamming the plug into the wall and flicking the switch, balancing my GHD's against the side of the sink as I wait for the plates to heat. And while I'm waiting, I stab through the menus and lift my phone to my ear, waiting for the call to connect.

"Do you know what time it is?" I question, without even allowing him a breath for a prior greeting.

"Twenty to seven."

"Exactly, what the Hell are you doing up?"

"Talking to you, aren't I?"

I roll my eyes. "Why aren't you in bed, Dennis?"

"Why aren't you, Sharon?" he throws back smartly. Bastard.

"I'm... straightening my hair."

"Ohhhh-" he cries knowingly. "-so you've already washed it then?"

"Why, worried I'm gonna blow you out?"

"Course not. I mean, why would you be up at twenty to seven straightening your hair if you were gonna do that eh?"

"I might be meeting someone." I tease silkily. "Someone you know nothing about..."

"I don't know anything about 'em Sharon, they're just turning up and grilling us."

I giggle. "Sally's gonna flip, you know that?"

"What, cos she's not the only one that knows how to make your tea in the morning?"

Shaking with further laughter, I suggest; "Go away, Dennis..."

"Alright, I will. But only if you say you still wanna do this."

"Oh I do." I assure him certainly. "I just wanna make sure all the guys are in by the time we get onto the personal stuff... later darlin', bye."

~*~

Unsurprisingly, Dennis and I are the first ones in the theatre. Well, that means Dennis and the OK! lot really. But if he was there, then I couldn't be nervous at the sight of them. Not quite sure how I feel at the realisation that the interviewer or whatever you wanna call her, is indeed a her. And the way she keeps looking at me, that bright smile never waivering from her lips, I'm starting to wonder if she's one of those Dennis-obsessed types. But no, she stands up to shake my hand, introducing herself pleasantly enough. Stop panicking Sharon, OK?

"Rebecca Marchfield Sharon... can I call you Sharon?"

"Well, it is my name!" I laugh gently, pressing into her hand. "Nice to meet you, Rebecca."

"Likewise. Now, would you... like to crack on before you get to the grindstone or would you like a coffee?"

The corner of Dennis' mouth raises into a half smile as he hands me the last steaming mug sat on the small chair by the leg of his chair. And just by the fact that it's on a tray, I can't help but smirk as I take it into my hands, knowing that Dennis didn't make it. Someone else has to be here, because Dennis has made plenty of rounds of drinks for this cast and not once has he had the sense to try using trays. He always carries them dangerously in his hands, like he's trying to prove something. And if it does get too dangerous, he'll never admit it, he'll just rope the rest of the lads into carrying the other drinks out. There's something truly staggering about a man's logic.

"I can do both." I smile at Rebecca, settling myself in the chair backed up against the wall beside Dennis, taking my first sip of the much needed liquid to prove my point. She nods approvingly, obviously understanding the female talent of being able to multi task.

"Great. Well, I won't be here for long. No, it's just Mitch that'll be... that's the photographer Sharon-" she explains quickly, intercepting the look of confusion I slide Dennis' way as she says the name. She smiles apologetically as I catch her eye. "-sorry, he's on the phone right now, but you'll get to meet him once we get started. He's probably going to be staying for most of the morning, snapping our stars at work and all that. It'll look fantastic in the feature we think..."

I relax just a fraction, feeling really naive as I lean forward a little over my coffee mug and ask; "So... how d'you do this then?"

"I don't have a list of questions if that's what you're worried about. No, no... I'm not about to interrogate you both. Questions come in conversation and well... you two called us so... I'm guessing it's a conversation you're after." She delves in her bag and pulls out her dictaphone, rewinding the tape the little way necessary, her thumb hovering over the Rec. button as she looks between us and asks; "D'you mind? I just find it really... awkward scribbling away when I'm trying to speak openly with someone..."

"No, course not..."

She smiles gratefully, but holds off still. "I want you both to be comfortable with this, so if you don't like the direction of the question, say so, I don't mind. If it's something personal being discussed, as this is, then I have to get it right..."

I nod slowly as I once again steal a glance at Dennis. "Yeah... well, we just... wanna put the record straight that's all... tell our side before the bloody papers decide to tell it for us cos they... unlike you of course... don't care about getting the details right."

"I like details!" Rebecca announces proudly, finally pressing the button and settling the whirring little device in her lap. "Tell me everything...."

But as I open my mouth, the sound of my words is destroyed for the din of half the cast suddenly pouring through the studio door. I smile wistfully, knowing this'd happen and not minding at all. It kinda needs to be this way.

"Sharon...?" Sal questions doubtfully, casting a confused glance at Rebecca, who clicks off the dictaphone and turns round to smile politely, not fazed at all. 

"What's all this mate?" Nick asks, stepping round Patrick to address Dennis, even as he exchanges a look with Sal, no-one beyond Dennis and understanding the sight that greets them. But I'm still smiling, dreamily almost because it's time they knew right? 

"It's alright... she's with us."

"What d'you mean... us?"

For the next few seconds, I'm silent, leaning to the side to set down my coffee, leaning back in the seat and reaching lazily over to let my fingers drop through Dennis', our entwined hands swinging idly in the tight gap between our seats. I love how he gives my hand a tight reassuring squeeze. I love even more how Sal's eyes shine so happily and my girls all start whispering. Nothing's about to change around here is it?

Well, except one thing, I guess.

"You're not?" Sal grins, covering her mouth with her palms as she sags with unrestrained glee at looking between me and Dennis, smirking so damn obviously. "You are? Oh like fucking finally."

Can Rebecca quote you on that Sal?

Clicking the stop button, Rebecca throws her dictaphone back into her bag, pulling the zip securely across before she swings it up onto her shoulder, rising too amidst this movement. Sharon and me obediently get up too, chairs scraping lazily back across the floor. Everyone else has been keeping to the other side of the studio mumbling through their scripts in the necessary huddles; Rebecca having refused offers for them all to relocate. She'd waved her hand dismissively and declared she wasn't here to disrupt anyone, smiling over at me and Sharon like that was our cue to tell her to get lost if we wanted to. But she was alright really, easy to talk to. She let us talk, say whatever we wanted to, without trying to lead us. In my experience, all these great qualities make her a shit journalist, but hey, I liked her.

"Right well-" she says, extending her hand to both Sharon and me in turn. "That's me done then. If I get... or should I say Mitch gets back into the office with the goods quick enough, then we should have the feature ready for tomorrow's edition... just to warn you..."

Sharon blinks, impressed. "You work that fast?"

"Of course!" Rebecca beams. "All it takes is an all-nighter and a lot of coffee!"

I laugh quietly. "Yep, we've been there."

"I'm sure you have, Dennis!" she smiles knowingly, making Sharon giggle behind her hand. "Can I just say, you two are possibly the sweetest couple I've had the pleasure of interviewing since..." 

Unable to complete the sentence even for thinking hard, Rebecca admits defeat with another smile, pointedly hunching her shoulders. "Well... there you have it then you see. Good luck."

And she turns and goes with a polite wave to the rest of the cast, who murmur distractedly back, before she removes her gaze and concentrates on heading for the door. I continue to watch her, not sure whether I really dare to breathe. But Sharon rounds on me, a definite smirk having curved her glossy lips as she lazily swings both my hands, wrapped around her own.

"Well-" she begins teasingly, evidently amused by the whole exchange. "-did you hear that?"

"Yeah..." I return nervously, needing to smile in spite of myself. "...not sure I believe it though."

She laughs softly and then nestles against my shoulder, pushing herself up so her soft lips brush against my ear. "I don't think you have much choice." she purrs in amusement. "I think we just became a certified couple... and a sweet one too!"

"You're not sweet." I smirk, pushing her back down onto the balls of her feet as she looks up at me so indignantly, feigning hurt. "You're dangerous."

A despairing sigh swells through her chest. "I don't know-" she mutters smartly, looking away, "-I try and cut your face open once and now I'm-"

But I grin, reaching up to tilt her cheek so her gaze is level. "-mine apparantly."

"Don't get complacent now, Rickman... you're lucky to have me y'know. And I intend to remind you of that a lot once the death threats start arriving. Nat'll probably hand deliver hers!"

"Oh shut up!" I laugh, dropping her hands and turning away - and jumping in fright as I realise that Mitch, the photographer guy Rebecca's left behind has been taking pictures of us unnoticed ever since she did so.

Sharon giggles as she steps up behind me, throwing out a little spontaneous waves in Mitch's direction, which completely breaks his concentration, making him lower the camera and blink at Sharon profusely as though she is crazy. I know she's not though. She's simply mocking me. She beams as I turn round and she catches my hands in her tiny own and leads me to the middle of the floor, giving out that perfect naughty giggle.

"I'm not sure this'll work Dennis..."

"What d'you mean?"

She purses her glossy lips thoughtfully, teasing me still. "Well, we've apparantly just given the sweetest couply interview ever, and they'll want the photos to prove it. And you know the rules... no touching during working hours..."

I sigh dramatically, letting my arms snake comfortably around her waist. "David's a twat, he knows he'll never get away with that. We're opposite numbers, he cast us..."

"Er, you cast us..."

"Whatever... we can't do this show with our hands tied behind our back can we?"

"No." she agrees warmly, a smirk creeping out across her lips. "And we can't do this show with your hands there either, Rickman!"

"Hey, I'm just giving Mitch something to look at!"

She shoves me playfully. "He's the photographer. You know they don't just look!"

She's right, but at the same time, she's totally wrong. Because David did tell us, expressly so, he wouldn't tolerate us being all over each other during rehearsal. So I've kinda been picking and choosing the scenes we've been running through together in front of him. Funnily enough, the whole drive-in scene still isn't sitting right for me, and hey, perfecting it doesn't involve my hands - depending on how long David will stay in the middle of the studio floor scowling disapprovingly at us, or rather, me. But even in his eyeline, there is one way I'll always be able to get away with touching her. We're actors for God's sake - all singing and all dancing.

So that's precisely what we do. All of us. We'll call it the warm-up, but we've got Sonny for that and we know it. He despairs and instead calls it the "let loose"! That's more accurate I suppose. Because none of us are really doing anything we're supposed to. This is Grease for God's sake, we were brought together to have fun. So that's what we do, We Go Together cranked up so loud the walls are shaking, everyone dancing with everyone, the only sound to challenge the volume being the way we're all laughing so hysterically. One good thing though, we've all got the weird hand movements nailed, that's dance routine if you wanna be posh about it. 

We're giggling like crazy as we wait for David & Sonny to come through and admire our achievements. Shit, I do giggle. But oh God, I don't care. I can't stop smiling, my jaw's actually aching, but I don't care about that either. I move discreetly through the throng of us and press up against Sharon, laughing privately in her ear as Mitch scurries round the edge of the studio with the camera raised, as if he's ready to attack.

"I'm not even part of this..."

"Stay..." I plead. "Do it for Mitch..."

"I think he likes us."

"Not as much as that Rebecca's gonna like what's on that reel."

Sharon bows her head, groaning even as she suppresses a giggle. "You don't think he got the one where I- do you?"

"Landed on top of me? Oh no darlin', I don't think so. He only pressed the shutter a million times didn't he?" 

It's true - the flash practically blinded us. Not that we were paying much attention. Just like singing with her, it appears I can get really lost in dancing with Sharon too. It's so much fun. Only we got a bit too confident, and both catching sight of Patrick ripping up the floor with Sal, right pair of show offs that they are, we decided to stick two fingers up and go all Dirty Dancing on him. And it seems that anyone that's not him trying that damn lift is impossible. Sharon was shaking as soon as her feet left the floor and the next thing I knew, her legs were literally clamped round my waist as she clung to my neck, I overbalanced and Sharon shrieked as we crashed to the floor, her straddling me and immediately laughing hysterically as I mumbled I'd broken my back.

I hadn't of course, was up dancing again soon enough, even if I was complaining of the bruises I was gonna have by the morning. It was just, I think the two of us were a little more comfortable down there than we were supposed to be, stayed down there a little too long even once I was sat up. Because Sharon didn't move from my lap and we were touching like we're not allowed and laughing like mad, giving Mitch the best photo opportunity of the day I reckon.

David & Sonny were pretty much just as impressed with all of us and packed us off back to the theatre to go through most of the first act before lunch a bit before one. I grabbed Sharon's hand, stuffing my other into my pocket and yanking out the cap. Sharon grins approvingly and withdraws her sunnies with a flourish from nowhere it seems. I love how she never just puts the things on - she opens them up and leaves them perched on top her head like they're a tiara.

We call out our goodbyes to the rest of the dispersing cast. None of them seem that bothered we're breaking off from them to spend time by ourselves. They're probably grateful really. First chance they're gonna have had to gossip unashamedly about our latest development i'n't it? Not clever to start whispering when there's a journalist in the room, they all know that. Even less wise to whisper when the subjects are still within earshot too. Me & Sharon have gotta play fair that way.

We slip out the stage door. Sharon squints against the sunlight, trying to become adjusted to it. I notice the sunglasses don't move an inch. God, she is actually adorable. And I'm still completely absorbed in that one thought when a woman, with her purse in one hand and presumably her little daughter's hand in the other, whose hair is as long and fair as her's is short and dark, approaches us with a hesitant "E-Excuse me?"

Gripping Sharon's hand a little more tighter through instinct, we both turn with a polite smile, Sharon's undoubtedly brighter than mine.

The woman smiles nervously. "Oh it is you... I- I hope you don't mind me disturbing you-"

"Of course not." Sharon assures her, shaking her head. Then she beams at the little girl, who's looking between us both with a perfectly innocent look of awe. It's so cute and completely unlike all these teenage girls reckoning it's alright to touch me up and ask for kisses!

I crouch down and she giggles as I level with her, cuddling shyly into her mother.

"Who's this beautiful little lady then?"

I look up questioningly at her mother who grins broadly at the compliment as she strokes through the little girl's hair.

"This is my daughter, Tabitha."

I smile and look at Tabitha, offering her my hand. She giggles again.

"Nice to meet you, Tabitha." 

"C'mon, Tab..." her mother urges. "...say hello."

She presses into my hand and shakes it firmly, but oh bless her, her little hands are shaking.

"Don't you want to know my name?"

Grinning and showing me all the gaps left by her baby teeth, Tabitha shakes her head profusely. I pretend to feign shock.

"Why not?"

"Because I know your name, silly!" she giggles. "You're Danny!"

Bowing my head, I laugh gently. "That's right Tabitha, I'm Danny. And my friend here-"

Realising I'm still idly swinging Sharon's hand, I pull her down beside me. She crouches there willingly. To hear Tabitha's gasp of delight however, you'd think Sharon just leapt down off the Christmas tree!

"Sandy!" she squeals, eyes all lit up. "Mummy, look!"

"I can see sweetheart!"

"Hi Tabitha! I love your jacket, sweetheart. Will you give us a twirl, Den-" She checks herself, smiling over at me. "I mean, Danny and me?"

Tabitha twirls round like a ballerina, flinging her arms out proudly, showcasing her pink jacket, Pink Ladies emblazoned across the back.

"You look fantastic!" Sharon tells her, buoying her further with a double thumbs-up. "I hope I look as good in one of those! What do you think Tabitha, am I too old?"

"No!"

"Well, how old are you?"

She thrusts her hand forward.

"Five?" we seem to gasp together. God, they really are getting younger.

"Well, she's six tomorrow. This is her birthday present." her mum explains, lifting the hand that holds her wallet, two pieces of card trapped underneath it. "Well, that and the jacket. Wanted to look the part."

"She's perfect." I grin. "When will we be seeing you, Tabitha? We'll look out for you!"

"Couldn't miss a girl looking as gorgeous as this!" Sharon coos, taking up Tabitha's hand, raising her arm and spinning her round.

"We'll be here opening night."

"Ah, well-" I reach out so my hand creates an obstruction and Tabitha stops spinning. I reach out to steady her, hoping she's not too dizzy. 
"-because it's your birthday, when you and Mummy come here on Friday Tabitha, make sure you come back around here-" I gesture to the stage door. "-after the show OK? You can tell us what you thought, come meet our friends, would you like that?"

Her smile, and the way she starts jumping excitedly around says it all. "Oh Mummy, can I? Can I?"

Her mum looks flabbergasted. "Well, yes... I don't see why not!"

Sharon looks at me in absolute wonderment and takes up the other of Tabitha's small hands, leaning in to whisper; "There's a nice man who stands by the door Tabitha. His name's Kevin. He looks quite scary, but don't worry about him, because we'll get your seat number-"

She glances expectantly at Tabitha's mum, who fumbles with the tickets. "Oh... C 16 & 17..."

"...and we'll tell him, so you just show Kevin your tickets and tell him that Shar... Sandy & Danny are waiting for you OK? We'll make sure we give you a nice big wave from the stage!"

"Only if you wave back mind!" I tease and Tabitha giggles again. She is actually adorable. "Did you want a photo?"

"You... don't mind?" her mum blinks, surprised.

I shrug and Sharon shakes her head. "Course we don't!"

Sharon drops her arms down to Tabitha and swings the little girl up onto her hip amongst much more giggling and a "Up you come, girlfriend..." Tabitha beams at this supposedly sophisticated address. It's like her jaw's gonna crack she's so in her element. Her mum clicks the lens cap off her camera. "Tab, this way-"

"No, wait!" I call, looking thoughtfully at Tabitha, who stares back at me with her big, shimmering eyes. "Something's missing-"

"Aha!" Sharon cries triumphantly, catching my train of thought immediately and pulling her sunglasses from her head, carelessly misplacing her hair and still looking incredible with it. "There you go... perfect." She perches them instead on Tabitha's head and I can't help but grin as I nestle against the little girl for the sake of remaining in shot.

The camera flashes and I'm not sure whether I blinked or not, but her mum seems delighted with the result. "Oh that's adorable, thank you both, so much!"

"Pleasure!" Sharon says as she delivers Tabitha back to the ground. She looks up, still looking completely awestruck. But she remains polite and carefully takes off Sharon's sunglasses. "Thank you sweetheart. Mwah." Tabitha giggles as Sharon's lips brush her cheek. I hold out my hand and she takes it with a lot more confidence, giggling even more as I stoop to kiss her too. 

"See you on Friday, Tabitha..."

She nods and takes her mother's hand again.

"Thank you." her mum whispers, as if she does not want to draw Tabitha's attention. "I was never really expecting you both to be so... oh well, you've made her day-"

"I meant it you know. Come back around Friday night, she's lovely-"

"So cute!" Sharon enthuses by way of agreement. "And she looks so good."

"Don't worry about Kevin. Seriously, we'll cover that- just... come."

And her mum, she looks very close to tears, fighting the urge to wipe at her eyes. "OK. We will. She'll love it!"

"You too I hope." Sharon laughs.

"Of course! God, you really are both lovely! Can I ask... is it true that the two of you are... together?"

She seems nervous, like she's going to have overstepped the mark and we'll revoke all our offers to her daughter. But Sharon and me exchange just one bemused glance before I drop her hand and snake my arm across her shoulders. Shoulders hunched, she leans into me, grinning as her arms slip beneath my jacket and surround my waist.

"Yeah. It is."

Her mum gasps, kind of like the way Tabitha did as "Sandy" crouched down at my side. "Oh that's fantastic! No, really it is! It's no-one's business at all... all that bloody rubbish in the papers, so good on you both! You look great together y'know. Got nothing but respect for the both of you... well especially now-" She glances bashfully at her daughter. "Go for it, be happy... and I'll... see you both on Friday! Say goodbye Tabitha..."

We wave the two of them off, a little stunned as we stand there. But as we see them turn the corner, mother and daughter together, I can't help but laugh, murmuring into Sharon's ear; "So much for death threats." 

Sharon's still enthusing about how damn adorable little Tabitha looked when we sail into the coffee shop up the road.

"...oh admit it, she was adorable. Give her twenty years and she'll be the new Sandy. In fact, I'd bet on that, she was wearing the jacket too well... hi Ellen!"

From behind the counter, Ellen looks up expectantly, lips curving as she spies mine & Sharon's entwined hands.

"Ahhh well, if it isn't our own warring lovebirds! Usual, guys?"

"Oh God..." Sharon whispers in mock horror, trying to hold back her amusement as she smiles at Ellen and the two of us take the table by the window, me reaching over to lace my hands through hers as she drops her bag beneath the table and pulls herself up onto the stool, lying her hands flat on the table. "...we're guessable."

I grin. "Well yeah, I've been hiding out here for months remember?"

"I haven't!" she protests, her features giving way to a bright smile. "I don't have a "usual"."

"Well, that's cos if it's got caffeine in it, you'll drink it, you sick, sick-"

"Hey, don't start on me, or all that gushing this morning was for nothing!"

"What gushing?"

"Me, telling the nation what a fantastic guy you are. I'm literally gonna have teenage girls after my blood for that!"

I laugh gently. "Will you stop it? They don't matter. If they wanna cough up to torture themselves by reading it, let 'em. The whole point was so we didn't have to hide it."

But Sharon smirks, playing idly with my hands. "No, the whole point was that we were rubbish at hiding it!"

"Yeah, alright, so maybe we wanted to flaunt it a bit. Why not?"

She bows her head, giggling, stroking hair back from her face. "You know one thing I love about you?"

"Just one thing? Oh c'mon Sharon, I'm fantastic aren't I. How am I supposed to narrow it down?"

"Your nerve. You've really got some."

I beam at her. "Stick with me kid, you'll be fine."

She just smiles back at me, our laced fingers splitting as she leans back, allowing Ellen the space she needs to lay down our drinks. Mine's obviously a mocha, I seriously can touch nothing else. Sharon's is a latte, on a saucer simply for the sake of having something to balance the bar of Dairy Milk against. I can't help but smirk. She's got a usual now.

"There you go..." Ellen smiles. Her hands now free, she checks her watch. "Shouldn't you be doing lunch at this time?"

"My God, El-" I laugh, thankful to have only taken a small sip. "-what don't you know?"

"Ahhh..." she murmurs mysteriously, exchanging what appears to be a knowing look with Sharon as she turns away. But Sharon, carefully splitting the shiny foil of the wrapper right down the middle to uncover the chocolate, looks at me innocently. I shake my head in disbelief, totally humoured by her.

"Hey listen, I forgot to ask... you up for heading out later?"

"Where to?" she asks, not even looking up from separating the chunks of chocolate. It's kinda mesmerising watching her. It's cute and yet at the same time, it could probably be some OCD ritual!

"The fair's pitched on the rugby ground. Sal and the girls are dying to go... lads reckon it'd be a laugh."

"You're not kidding. I'm embarrassing at that sort of thing."

"Then you must have some nerve of your own eh?"

"No, I mean embarrassing embarrassing. I'm too scared to do anything unless I'm absolutely wrecked."

"So trust me..."

"To do what?" she questions suspiciously, a chunk of the chocolate raised to her lips.

"To get you as wasted as you need to be of course."

The chocolate falls away, Sharon's arm dropping in astonishment back to the table as she giggles again. "Too much to hope you might look after me then?"

"Way too much." I assure her, stretching over to nick a piece of chocolate, putting it in my mouth before she can protest.

"Oh go on then. Why not? Just... if you want to finish with me-"

I choke on my mouthful of coffee. "What?" I gasp as the liquid scorches the back of my throat. "Why would I do that?"

But Sharon doesn't seem fazed at all, just takes another piece of chocolate and shrugs, saying; "'Cause I'll probably be sick on you a few times if you don't get out the way fast enough..." like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Can you at least wait until I'll remember before you tell me?"

I laugh it off dismissively. She's crazy. As if I'd chuck her for... for any reason!

"I'll need to run to the cash point though..."

"I'll come with you."

"Oooh..." she muses playfully. "...quite the gentleman for the moment aren't we?"

I smirk. "Anything but guessable, me."

"Don't change will you?"

"No, alright. But only cos you asked me."

"Don't say that." Sharon advises with a soft shake of the head. "I wouldn't stay the same just cos you asked me."

"I don't have to ask you." I point out with a laugh. "It's in your contract. No hair dye, no haircuts and definitely no facial piercings!"

She giggles. "How did you know that's in... not even I knew that was-"

"Bloody Hell Sharon, didn't your agent never tell you not to sign things before you read them?"

She colours a little but then her lips curve into a smirk and she demands; "Did you read yours?"

"Too bloody right I did love!" I tell her smugly, setting down my coffee. "Wanted it to sink in properly, you know? And I have witnesses!" I glance pointedly at Ellen and Sharon can't hold back another laugh. "I'm serious... that woman knows more about me than I do!"

Sharon's lips curve into a smirk, and she leans a little way forward, her chin rested on her palm. "Well, I can't have that, can I?"

I copy her stance, entirely humoured by her playful possessiveness. I like it. "You ask, I'll tell."

"God, I hope you're not that forward with everyone that fancies you, darlin', otherwise I'm gonna be well disappointed. No point in keeping a man if he's not gonna have a bit of mystery about him..."

I can't hold back a laugh. "Was that your way of giving me the push?"

"No way." she assures me, idly catching my hands and lacing her fingers through mine as they hover in mid-air. "I'm not stupid enough to give up a body like that." And I get the distinct feeling with the way her eyes are shimmering so flirtatiously that she's mentally undressing me. So I decide to play her at her own game - and from where I'm sitting, it's a bloody good one!

"Dennis, do you mind if I-?"

Her words rising from the contented silence between us completely shatters my concentration, and I flinch in surprise as I'm bought back into the present, in which Sharon is fully clothed and giggling softly as I bluster; "Sorry, what?"

"What were you doing?" she questions, giggling again as she pushes against my hands. "You completely glazed over."

"Oh nothing..." I mutter, letting my hands drop away from hers and scratching guiltily at the back of my neck. "Go on, what were you saying?"

A soft laugh escapes her as she smiles, glancing down into her coffee, letting her hands surround it, before she looks back at me, speaking in little more than a whisper. "I was asking if... you'd mind if I stayed over tonight?"

"Mind?" I echo, unable to contain my smile. "Why the Hell would I mind?"

"Well-" Sharon muses teasingly as she sips at her coffee. "-we have been spending a lot of time together recently. People will start to talk..."

"Oh well, you better had stay over then. Cos what with this interview coming out tomorrow, might well be the last chance we get..."

"I'll go get us a copy in the morning, shall I? Decide whether we're gonna frame it or throw darts at it!"

"Ah!" I sigh dramatically, rolling my eyes. "I'm crap at darts, I'm afraid."

"Really? Well, we best hope you're better at making breakfast then eh?"

I bow my head, laughing quietly as I glance across at Sharon's drink. "I won't ask how you take your coffee..." 

"Oh bloody Hell Sharon, not again!"

I suppose I should look up at Sal with shame, if not thanks. She caught me after all. But as soon as our gazes meet, we're both creased up in giggles. Yes, again. That'll teach me for wearing 5 or 6 inch heeled boots to the fair won't it eh? The whole lot of us, we've been racing round like a pack of school kids, clamouring to get on all the rides first. And what with there being a dozen of us, the crowds seem to part. 

That makes me laugh too. Teenage girls and stopped and gaped. And they don't bother to keep quiet either. There was these two, when the lads all raced off to the Sky Master (I refused point blank, stayed with Bonnie, Hayley and Ali, instead going off in search of more drink. There isn't enough on this whole ground to make me think the Sky Master is ever gonna be a good idea!) and the blonde one's mouth almost hit the floor as she nudged her friend hard. "Oh my God, Kat, was that Patrick Swayze?"

"Don't be stupid, Chelse, what would he- oh my God! It is an' all. And look, Dennis fuckin' Rickman. Pinch me girl, he is too fit."

"Yeah." Chelse replied gruffly. "And he's having it off with that blonde bird i'n't he? The one he's doing Grease with?"

"Do you reckon she's here too?"

"I hope not. I'd like to give her a slap."

Me and the girls weren't stood that far off and Hayley spat out her mouthful of lager for laughing. Kat and Chelse whirled round immediately, scowling as they recognised me. But the amount I'd drunk by then had made me fantastically over-confident and I just waved really cheekily.

"Evening girls!" I called. But they stalked off - predictably in the direction of the Sky Master, thinking they'd be able to stomach it if only they got to snuggle up to Dennis. I wonder if he's still as attractive when he's yelling his head off and going green?

Credit to him I guess, he wasn't green at all when they all came back. He looked exhilirated more than anything, swiping a lager from the side and declaring; "That was fucking brilliant. You sure you don't want a go, Sharon?"

I shook my head serenely and told him about Chelse & Kat. It seemed to have everyone spluttering on mouthfuls of drink, just as Hayley had done.

"Best not leave you on your own tonight mate then eh?" Nick choked, trying to grin if only he could stop laughing.

"Hey, it's not me I'm worried about!" Dennis told him, arms encircling me protectively and drawing me back against him.

"Don't worry." I said, tilting my head up to look round at him. "I'm sure I'll be able to handle myself if they wanna get their handbags out!" And wanting to prove my point, I suggested the waltzers as our next venture. I might be a total wuss, but I love the waltzers.

And that's pretty much how I ended up here, one second my arm linked with Sal's and the next, sprawled in her arms as I lose my step. It's so damn impossible to race anywhere in these shoes. So I go cautiously, just so I don't go flat on my face on the way up the stairs and into a waltzer. Sal's paying for the two of us and I've slid in next to Richard & Hayley, leaving just enough room for Sal. She grins as she clambers in beside me.

"That attendant's gorgeous!" she enthuses, eyes sparkling as she settles back.

"Wonder if you'll be saying that when this is over, babe."

"Oh, he can spin me right round, Sharon, know what I mean?"

And I've burst out laughing again. So's Hayley. Richard just rolls his eyes despairingly as he grips the bar. My laughter turns into shrieks as we begin to move, because just as I suspected the "gorgeous" attendant skirts around the edge and heads straight for us, grinning at Sal before he pushes all his weight forward and sends us spiralling. Adrenaline's purring happily inside of me, but Richard just laughs and calls out; "Put some effort into it!"

"Rich!" Hayley shrieks as we're spun again, her reproach dissolving into screams as the world around us loses focus, replaced by the blaring techno dance beats to be heard all around , and the occassional blurred glance of someone I think I recognise in another waltzer.

"I think he liked you!" I laugh to Sal, feeling decidedly wind-swept as I hold her tight, terrified I'm about to go toppling over as I clamber out.

"Yeah? How many times did he come over to spin us do you reckon?"

"Oh, only like twelve times!" Hayley sings out as she moves past us, looking quite pale to be honest!

But Sal just beams and squeezes my hand. "You feeling alright up there, sugar?"

"Fine!" I assure her. "D'you want another go?"

Not that I need her to answer me, her grin is so damn obvious. But I have a wobble as I think about descending the stairs. "Oh for fuck's sake!" I mutter hotly, dropping Sal's hand and leaning heavily against the side to yank my boots off. "This is bloody ridiculous!"

And Sal watches in amusement as I unzip them both and pull them off, promptly sinking five or more inches as I rely only on my bare feet, my toes newly painted a metallic silver. Happy at last, I bound down the stairs, my boots swinging from my hand. Moving round to rejoin the queue and the rest of the guys, I drop them disconcernedly against the structure of the waltzers. A new beat filling the rugby ground, I straighten up, clicking my fingers absent-mindedly.

Recognising the intro and turning round to grin unashamedly at my girls, I find they grin back and fall in line, swinging their hips and raising their arms.

"I wanna be Posh!" Sal calls out.

"Not even if you tried love!" Nick replies. Sal glares at him and keeps moving. The lads are all looking at us in utter bewilderment, smirking as we make fools of ourselves. As if. We're girls and we wanna have fun!

The race is on to get out of the bottom
The top is high so your roots are forgotten.
Giving is good - as long as you're getting
What's driving you is ambition, I'm betting

We jut our hips and click our fingers above our heads before turning in on each other with a giggle and rocking back and forth as we sing unashamedly out. We've drawn the attention of everybody close enough to realise who we all are and what the Hell it is we're doing. And the guys are all laughing, unable to take their eyes from us for the embarrassment. Except Dennis that is. As I spin round, barely noticing the gravelly tarmac beneath my bare feet. The bastard has his phone out. He's videoing us and not even trying to hide it, the hugest grin on his face as we strut around like we are The Spice Girls.

I said a-who-ooh-ooh-ooh do you think you are?
(Do you think you are?)
I said a-who-ooh-ooh-ooh - some kind of superstar?
You have got to-

We pour all our drunken energies into swinging, shaking, sliding and shimmying to the chorus. It's a riot. I can't stop laughing, especially as these crowds we've drawn start cheering encouragement.

Swing it, shake it, move it, make it - who do you think you are?
Trust it, use it, prove it, groove it - show me how good you are!
Swing it, shake it, move it, make it - who do you think you are?
Trust it, use it, prove it, groove it - show how good you are!

I turn to the side and see Dennis is still filming.

"What are you doing?"

"What?" he laughs, looking up out over the phone. "You're never gonna let me get you drunk enough to post your puking spectacular online are you? And besides, this is just as good! Don't stop!"

I smirk at him, turning back to my girls and giving what I have no doubt is Dennis' well trained camera my drunken best. Hey, if you're gonna be shamed YouTube style, then I figure you need to give it some flair! 

You're swimming out in the wrong direction
You've got the bug - superstar, you've been bitten
Your trumpet's blowing for far too long
Climbing the snake of the ladder - but you're wrong!
Who-ooh-ooh-ooh do you think you are?
(Do you think you are?)
I said a-who-ooh-ooh-ooh - some kind of superstar?
You have got to-

"OK, just for that-" the grinning attendant calls out, having apparantly been watching us from above the stairs. "-you can have this one on me!"

We whoop and rush forward, the metal stairs cool yet rough on my feet, but I don't care, bounding up and crashing into a waltzer beside Dennis, Ali & Nick clambering in after us. I scoot up, nestling into Dennis. And for a second, we're silent. But then, we're all in fits. Sal's bounded up the stairs and planted a smacker on the attendant's lips. He looks pretty pleased with himself when she pulls back. She turns around, moving around the edge to find space in a waltzer when she catches sight of the four of us, looking at her wide-eyed.

"For the freebie."

"Yeah right!"

"She'll be giving him freebies before the end of the night..." Nick mutters humourously. Ali shoves him playfully, but he just smirks and settles back to enjoy the ride.

Except, thanks to Sal, this attendant seems to have renewed vigor in his every turn, and I've pretty soon taken to cowering against Dennis and shrieking everytime I see this guy coming towards us with that glint in his eye.

"Oh my God-" Dennis teases, grabbing my hand as I get up, knowing that I'm still and yet the world's still spinning. "-you are the cutest!"

"You can fuck right off!" I tell him, dropping his hand and instead racing him over to the dodgems. Of course, I make it over first and realising that they're not going to let all twelve of us take our own car, we pair off. It's only as we begin going round that I realise I might have made a mistake in letting Billie take the wheel. You're not allowed to bump anymore. You're just supposed to go round in a clockwise direction. Sounds so boring out loud, but oh my God, I can't stop laughing! I think it's nervous laughter too cos Billie keeps ploughing into everyone. The attendant pacing the edge of the rink has opened his mouth just once to reprimand her. But he realised who she was and didn't say a word. Bastard. She could literally kill people. And yet I'm still laughing, even as I cry "Bill, I don't want to die!" I never knew fear could be so much fun!

The bell trilling to inform us our allocated time is up, I clamber out, heart pumping like mad and still laughing.

"Can you tell I've never learnt to drive?" Billie asks with a grin as we walk off the rink.

"Just a bit!" I laugh breathlessly as I sweep my hair back from my face.

But we're kept back from the steps by the barricade of our co-stars, watching the rain lashing down, all of us too busy bumping the life out of each other on the dodgems to even notice it before now.

"Oh fuck!" Ali curses. "My hair!"

"My shoes..."

"You've left them by the waltzers? Sharon, you can't go out in that darlin'." Bonnie says gently. I smile weakly, appreciating her concern but still no better off for it.

"Yeah she can." Dennis tells her, sidling up to me and murmuring; "I'll give you a piggyback, c'mon!"

My mouth drops open. "What? No!"

But Dennis just smirks. "Do you want your shoes or not?"

"Of course I do, but Rickman, you're taking the pi-oh alright!"

Grinning, Dennis moves down to the second step while I stay on the first, my hands poised on his shoulders. Giggling nervously, I pull myself up with his guidance, letting my arms loop stiffly around his neck as I let my legs encircle his hips, his hands coming to rest in support against my thighs.

"Why are you shaking, Sharon? Don't you trust me?"

"No!"

"Good!" 

And before I know what's happening, he's raced out into the downpour and I'm giggling uncontrollably as I cling desperately to him, shrieking his name.

"Dennis!"

"Only way to travel darlin'! Now where the fuck are your shoes?"

"Over there!" I say, carefully lifting one arm to point in the direction of the waltzers. People are rushing around trying to escape the rain, jackets pulled over their heads, and here's me, in bare feet and a short skirt that's suddenly even shorter thanks to the West End's top star giving me a piggyback. Don't know why he bothered - my feet are still getting wet!

He sets me down beside the heap of my shoes, thankfully still both there, even if they are drenched now. I pull them on, loving how much taller I suddenly am as much as I hate how much more damp I suddenly am.

Quickly, I kiss Dennis as I straighten up, before I pull him towards the steps of the waltzers and stand one above him, my hands on his shoulders again. He grabs one, holding it in his own and looking at me quizzically.

"Oh c'mon!" I plead, pulling back and unashamedly fluttering my eyelashes at him. "The whole bloody point is that I can't walk in these shoes! Please Dennis!" 

He did it as well. In fact, everyone got in on it, it was hilarious; all of us having piggyback races in the rain, darting between rides. People stopped trying to avoid the rain and stopped to watch again, not quite sure whether their eyes were deceiving them or not. I honestly couldn't stop laughing, my sides were aching, which doesn't help when Nick's giving you a piggyback and is determined to out run everyone else. I clung on to him so tight I could have drawn blood from the base of his neck. Bastard gave me a stitch I swear.

After about twenty minutes racing round like that, and almost feeling brave enough from the height of my shoes to offer Sal a piggyback myself, which, happily, she refused; us girls dropped down and ran, shrieking through the rippling puddles towards the crazy house, holding hands to keep ourselves up right.

"You coming?" I called out to the lads, still stood there as if they liked getting soaking wet! But apparantly not, cos they rushed over, Dennis tweezing my hand out of Sal's to hold it himself.

"Mmmm, very Grease, Miss Watts!"

I grinned at him, stepping in front of him to pay up and push through the turnstile. "Call it a dress rehearsal!" I teased him, taking my life into my own hands as I rushed up the ramp after the girls. They seemed to be of the same thinking, grinning like mad as they moved around like a gaggle of teenagers, singing out snatches of You're The One That I Want and then dissolving into giggles.

Funnily enough, I lost them pretty quick to hang back with Dennis. Swear I could still hear them singing though, and so could he by the look on his face. He'd chased me up the moving staircase and I was just about to risk the rollers (knowing I'd end up on my arse as soon as my heel touched 'em!) when I whirled round to face Dennis, muttering out the side of my mouth; "Stalkers..." and trying not to make the jerk of my head in Kat & Chelse's direction too obvious. But I'd seen their scowls, they knew it was us. 

Dennis didn't bother to try and be discreet. He looked out over me, catching sight of them. "Ah, that's them is it?"

"Mmmm-hmmm."

Lazily, he drew in an overexaggerated breath. "Well..."

And the next thing I knew his mouth was pressing mine, kissing me fiercely. I would have giggled, but I was too involved in kissing him back. Ah, I knew why he'd done it, but it's like an instinct. He drew me in against him and guided me back against the wall beside the curved mirror. Bet it looked oh so innocent. That is, if Kat & Chelse hadn't been stood there pretty much looking ready to kill me. Oh, I'd have loved to have turned and seen their disgusted faces pulled out of proportion in that mirror, but I was busy.

They stalked off pretty quickly, but of course Dennis didn't notice, smirking as he asked; "Not left us surely?"

"You're such a user..."

The smirk didn't waiver as he considered it. "I've been called worse..."

"Don't doubt it darlin'!" I told him smartly, avoiding the rollers by instead deciding to grip the pole as I slid over the moving discs in the floor. 

But he pulls me back by the hand. "I'll make it up to you."

Then it was my turn to smirk. "Didn't doubt that either."

And I was right not to! It was one Hell of a night. We snuck off to hail a cab about half an hour before the fair closed up for midnight. We kept wondering whether anyone would even notice we were gone. But we were just clambering into the back of a cab, reeling off Dennis' address when his phone bleeped impatiently. He pulled it out his back pocket, rolling his eyes as we sank back against the back-seat.

"Who is it?" I asked, leaning over to read the sender's name from the alert screen.

"Nick." he answered, opening the message and reading it out. "'Where have you two fucked off to-"

I burst out laughing as I read the rest of the message for myself. "-you dirty bastards! Cheeky shit. Look, give that here!"

He tipped his phone into my palm and I hunched forward, tapping out a reply message.

New Text Message
Bed, Nick, OK? :P Or maybe just the lounge... the hallway... kitchen counter. Don't wanna limit ourselves now, do we?

Love,

Sharon xxx

And I sent it before Dennis had any chance to read it, just handing him his phone back.

"What did you-?" But his question tailed off as he decided to just go through his sent items folder, just as I knew he would. I pretended to be very interested in looking out the window as I waited for his reaction. He burst out laughing. "Oh my God, you are amazing. He'll go mental!"

With that, Dennis scooted over, pushing his phone back into his pocket and catching my face in his hands to kiss me again. Out the corner of my eye, I realised the poor bloke driving was scrutinising us via the rear-view mirror. Dennis only noticed too as he drew back, causing the driver to blink in alarm as eye contact was established.

"'ere mate, I hope you don't mind me asking this, but you're not that Rickman bloke are ya? One that does all them musicals? The wife loves him. Right jealous she is of that Sharon an' all, silly cow. And the lady-" He glanced quickly at me. I smiled, leaning back and lazily twisting the ends of my hair around my fingertip. "-looks a lot like her too-"

"Oh!" Dennis answered, eyes shimmering wildly as he looks at me, unable to hold off his smirk. "We get that all the time mate, don't worry!"

Quietly, the two of us dissolved into giggles, deciding to silence them with kisses, not wanting to make ourselves anymore obvious that we already are. Lying to the fans now eh?

Finally drawing up outside Dennis' flat, we clambered out, the two of us having a mini-fight at the driver's window, Dennis just wanting to pay up and me being the headstrong female insisting we go Dutch. But finally, fare fully paid, the cab pulled away and we practically doubled over, laughing loudly as soon as our eyes met.

"Oh, we get that all the time mate!" I mimicked as Dennis' arms surrounded me.

"Shut up!"

I did so gladly, kissing him again, before I suddenly remembered we had a flat to get into. "Where are your keys?" I whispered, millimetres from his mouth, wanting him to need me back. He rooted in his other back pocket and withdrew the jangling bunch. I ran off with them, racing up the stairs to open the door. Dennis followed me, stepping into the hallway. I made him watch me carefully place his keys on top of the radiator. He nodded in approval and shut the door heavily. As soon as it clicked, we were kissing again, like we were starved as we clawed at each other's clothes, leaving them wherever they came to fall.

It was incredible. He's incredible. We made love anywhere and everywhere. Each time was so perfectly different, it could have been the first. I loved knowing that being with him felt like that. It was as though we could always be fresh and new because I'd always want that second time.

We reached the bedroom some two hours later, but I don't know how much later it was that we surrendered to the need for sleep. I just know that I slept beside him, surrounded in his warmth, with the smugest smile on my face. I'm gonna be the most hated woman in the country tomorrow and I can't fuckin' wait.  

As I wake up, it takes me a few seconds of furious blinking to realise where I am. And then that smug smile comes back, even as I realise I'm curled up in Dennis' bed alone. The warmth of him is still on the sheets however, he hasn't been gone long. But the point is, he's gone, and I'd quite like to see him. Pushing my misplaced hair away from my face, I drag myself up, kicking the duvet back. It's only as I swing my legs to the floor and scoot forward to pull myself into a standing position that I curse. The task of rediscovering all my clothes to put them on is not going to be easy. But then I guess, if I wasn't up for a challenge, I wouldn't be climbing out of Dennis Rickman's bed as of this moment.

I do know my boots are in the lounge, but that's OK, cos I seriously do without them right now. Just thinking about wearing them again is making both my ankles flame with pain in protest. But I can hardly worry about shoes when I haven't even located clothes. And I'm not likely to, am I, not in here! This isn't where we started out last night. Suddenly aware I am very naked, I search desperately for something to cover myself with, knowing I'll have no choice but to dart into the lounge to scout for my discarded clothes.

I rummage in the chest of drawers and randomly pull out a New York Yankees t-shirt. Oh, I couldn't care, I just want to get my clothes and then see Dennis. I pull it over my head, aware the material barely brushes my thighs. Smells undeniably of Dennis though, and I love that. I rush across the hallway and disappear into the lounge, forcing the door half shut after myself. I find my skirt crumpled beneath the arm of the sofa. I pull it gratefully on, feel so much less exposed, even if I can't help but smirk at the memory of its removal. Happily, my underwear is also relatively easy to find, but my God, how cliché is it to recover your bra from the back of a bloke's sofa?

I'm just about to pull off the t-shirt when I hear the door creak.

"Sharon?"

"D'you mind?" I demand, whirling round and trying to stifle a giggle. "I'm trying to get dressed here."

But Dennis, smouldering and effortlessly sexy just cos it's so damn obvious he too has only just rolled out of bed, leans back against the door-frame, smirking. "Dirty little stop-out..."

"Oh shut up!" I return, reaching over the sofa to pick up a cushion and lob it at him. Laughing, he fends it off with his hand.

"Careful darlin'-" he teases as he obediently backs out the room, drawing the door to. "-that mighta hit me, y'know."

Assured with the click of the door that he's gone, I yank the t-shirt off and fuss with my bra, pulling the straps up. And then I begin with my last search, that after five minutes, is rendered pretty fruitless. "Dennis?" I call mindlessly, picking up his t-shirt and opening the door.

"Yep?"

"I can't find my top..." But, just to look at him, eyes so wide, I doubt very much that he heard me. "Rickman, will you stop it?"

"Sorry. Stop what?"

"Perving! Believe it or not, I don't have my boobs out for your enjoyment." That smirk springs up again, so I repeat myself slowly, wanting to make sure he's looking me in the eye. "I can't... find... my... top."

He slides past me, taking ample opportunity to get up close and personal, pressing up against me when we both know the bastard has plenty of room. He comes back a moment later, my rumpled top clutched in his hand. "This top you mean?"

"Where was it?"

"Hall. Mmmm, one of the first things to go as I remember it."

"Oh, give it here. And here, take this back!"

I give him his t-shirt with one hand as I take my top from him with the other.

"Erm, why have you been wearing my t-shirts?"

I roll my eyes despairingly. "Couldn't find my clothes Dennis. And that means I wasn't wearing any, so I had to go looking. What were you expecting me to do? Streak?"

"Oh, I'd have loved to have seen that!"

"You've already seen it all, mate!" I inform him matter-of-factly. "And this-" I gesture to my bust before smoothing out my top to pull it on. "-is all you're getting for a good few hours an' all!"

Now fully dressed but for my shoes, I turn away, going out into the hall to recover my bag from where it inevitably became abandoned on the carpet as soon as we got in last night. Cos as soon as we got in, we were-

I take out my small hairbrush and begin pulling it through my hair as I wander back to Dennis. I cock my head and smile sweetly at him, but even as he grins, he shakes his head in disbelief, refusing to buy it.

"If you're gonna be like that, I'm not even gonna make you a coffee..."

"Then expect to feel my wrath darlin', that's all I can say." But I look at him for a second too long and my resolve, however playful, is shattered, because I can't help but lift myself forward, firmly kissing his mouth.

"Well!" he muses smugly as we part. "That was a lot less painful than last time." He gestures to the fading lines of the scratch.

"Don't you believe it, Dennis. Anyway, no time for coffee anyway thanks, I need to get home, get in the shower and get some clean clothes before work. Oh God, please say we're up in time, it'd be a fuckin' disaster if David fires us both!"

"Yeah, cos he's so gonna sack us both when we open tomorrow night isn't he?"

"Yeah, alright!" I huff, shooting him a look. "It doesn't look good, that's all!"

He just grins, not looking for a second like he believes I mean it. "Well, it's only half seven. I don't get it though, you knew you were staying so why didn't you bring your stuff with you?"

I purse my lips thoughtfully, teasing him. "Well, I guess that thought alone was enough to completely overwhelm me huh? I didn't think, that's all."

"Alright. Well, give me a minute, I'll give you a lift back, help you out with this shower an' all."

"Oh, will you now? And what happens if I was planning to lounge round on the phone to Nat, gossiping about last night?"

He smirks. "What, and you can't do that in my earshot?"

I raise my eyebrow. "You really wanna take that risk?"

He steps back with a gentle sigh, his arms encircling me. "Sharon, if it was all gonna be terrible, you'd have scarpered at four o'clock this morning like normal people do..."

"Ahhh, very sure of ourselves this morning aren't we?"

"You're still here aren't you?"

"Yeah, well, I'm going now!" And I turn away, heading back into the lounge to pull my shoes back on and then grab my bag. Dennis is stood by the door, his keys jangling in his hand.

"Ready?"

I'm about to nod when my phone trills. Me and Dennis exchange a bemused look as we head out the door anywy, me fumbling to retrieve my phone from my bag. "Who the Hell makes phone calls at half seven in the morning for God's sake?"

"Uh, you, yesterday morning actually!"

"Oh shut up, you'd text me first."

Smirking still, Dennis stops and turns round, deliberately throwing me a patronising look. "Answer the phone, Sharon."

Shaking my head in disbelief, I recover my phone, grinning at the screen. "Oh, would you look at that for timing!" I beam, tilting the phone towards Dennis so he can read the name. Well, that's the theory anyway. we are walking down a flight of stairs. "Natalie."

"Be nice now!" Dennis laughs, unlocking the car and pulling the door open.

I just give him a mysterious look as I answer the call, clambering into the passenger seat before the door whacks me one.

"Morning, Nat!" I sing out enthusiastically. "What are you doing up so early babe?"

She gives out a sigh of despair by way of reply. "It's D-Day i'n't it? Or OK Day or whatever!"

I gasp. Dennis looks at me in concern. 

"The interview! Oh God, I forgot!"

Dennis laughs and asks; "We going via the newsagents on the way back to yours then, are we? Thought we might... morning Nat!"

Nat giggles, having heard him greet her beside me and replies; "Eyes on the bloody road, Dennis!"

He doesn't hear her though, which just leaves me to laugh to myself. "You haven't seen it have you, Nat? The feature?"

"No, I haven't. But where have you been anyway, Sharon? I tried calling you loads of times last night and was your phone on?"

"Er, no. Sorry babe. We all went down to the fair last night..."

"Oooh." she muses approvingly. "Have fun?"

"Well, a fair's a fair i'n't it Nat?"

"Hmmm, why do I get the feeling you're hiding something from me, Miss Watts?" Then she gasps, the realisation hitting her in a way it could no-one else. Cos no-one else is dirty-minded enough to jump straight to that- the right conclusion. "You stayed over his last night, didn't you, you dirty little bitch!"

"Uh, excuse me!" I protest, unable to hold off a smirk. "Nothing dirty about it, you jealous little cow!"

"Ah, you're not gonna go into details when he's right next to you are you? God, I love it!"

"Yeah, so did I!" But catching Dennis' expression, I pull the phone back a little. "Dennis, will you stop smirking?"

"What?" he laughs defensively, pulling up outside the newsagents. "You going in there or am I?"

"Read the glossies, do you?" I tease, picking up my bag and clambering out, slamming the door shut and happily filling in Natalie on every detail of last night in one enthusiastic gabble as I rush across the rush and go up the steps into the shop. I've gone round the side to the magazine stand, happily hidden from view by all the other shelves as I pick up a copy of OK! 

It's kinda weird seeing my face smiling back up at me, makes me blink in surprise. At least I can be grateful they've used a good photo for the cover shot. It's from when we all went and collapsed on the grassy banks behind the studio to enjoy the sun during morning break. Dennis kinda appeared behind me, arm caught lazily around my waist as I leant comfortably back against him, just enjoying being surrounded by everyone. If I remember it right, and I should seeing as we're talking yesterday, Nick had just told us some really vile joke about four nuns, so that's where those smiles came from. And I like how, with the other features on the cover, you can't tell there were two pouches of tobacco and two or three lighters next to my hand, Dennis' other hand pressed over it. We look pretty innocent really.

"Nat? Isn't it pretty pathetic being up before eight o'clock in the morning to buy my own interview?"

"Is it Hell!" she scoffs. "C'mon Sharon, hurry up and buy the bloody thing will ya, I wanna know what you two said! And more importantly, I want to know the rest of what you did. I mean, seriously, the kitchen?"

I grin, absent-mindedly wandering to the counter and putting down the magazine, trying to obscure my own face with the five pound note I lay down on top. "Everywhere, Nat."

She sighs dreamily. "Knew there was a reason I'm in love with that man..."

I laugh gently. "Well, he's my man now i'n't he, so you'll have to fuck off won't you?"

"Sharon! We're supposed to be best mates. Y'know, share everything!"

"Mine, Natalie!"

"Yeah whatever. I'll just work on him tonight, steal him from right out under your nose!"

"Tonight?" I echo, baffled as I reach to take my change and pick up the magazine, sure the sales assistant has given me an odd look, probably trying to work out whether I'm me or not.

Then it hits me. It's Thursday.

"Oh my God - Bon Jovi!"

I try and suppress my fan-girl shriek of delight as I head out the shop.

"I'm disappointed in you, Sharon. Getting it on with the man of our dreams is making you forget all the important stuff!"

"Hey!" I bleat in humoured protest. "It's very important, thank you!"

"Yes, yes and I'm thrilled for you, now for God's sake, what's in that bloody article?"

I don't say a word as I go back across the road. It's only as I move round the front of the car to open the passenger door that I answer her. "Get your own!" I laugh, hanging up on her. I know she won't think bad of me. She'll drag herself out before ten and go grab herself a copy along with 20 Superking, and she'll be calling me shrieking with laughter before she's turned the page, I can guarantee it.

"Why didn't you tell me it was Thursday?" I fire excitedly at Dennis as I sit back.

Humoured, he folds his arms and leans against the steering wheel. "Well, cos yesterday was Wednesday and I thought you'd figure that Thursday usually follows..."

I whack him playfully with the magazine. "We're going to see Bon Jovi tonight!"

He grins. "Yeah...?"

"Well... I reckon you're gonna get sick of the sight of me, y'know."

He gives out a burst of laughter and then recognises his mistake, fighting to keep a straight face. "Oh I'm sorry. You're serious."

"Well, yeah. Not really but... we've still got work right and, well..."

"...you're staying at mine again tonight..."

I blink in surprise, snapping my head round. "I am?"

"Well yeah, unless you fancy crawling home at two in the morning?"

"Not really." I grimace.

"There you are then. We go back to yours now, you grab some clothes, you leave 'em in the car, sorted. And somehow Sharon, somehow, I can live with that."

"Yeah?" I question doubtfully.

"Yeah." he returns, leaning over to kiss me softly and leave me in no doubt. Drawing back, he nods at the magazine in my hand. "Now c'mon, do I get to see that or not?"

I lean forward and stuff into it the glove compartment, slamming it shut decidedly. "Later."

I didn't see it at all. I just drove to Sharon's, went up to her flat and watched her randomly throw stuff in a bag, this time prepared for the eventuality of coming to stay at mine. It was pretty funny watching her flap around, wondering if this top would go alright with those trousers and whatever else. Of course, I was no help at all, cos I was honest and told her that whatever she wore, she'd look great. She just rolled her eyes at me and made her own decisions amongst much cursing and slamming of drawers and wardrobe doors. She threw her clothes out onto the bed and, kissing me, flounced off to get in the shower.

It was strangely peaceful once she'd closed herself off in the bathroom. Eerie even. And that's when the pathetic realisation hit. I miss her. 

So, my weapon of choice to distract myself? GMTV. Eurgh, Penny & Andrew. They interviewed me once, Guys & Dolls I think it was, and seriously, there is something really up with the kind of people that can drag themselves up to be on camera by six in the morning and still have a smile on their face. Cos the sad truth is, it isn't forced - at least not in the "You don't get that camera off me within the next twenty seconds, I'm going to smash your fuckin' face in!" kinda way. Personally, I reckon breakfast TV presenters are all on large amounts of speed. They're all way too bouncy. And then there's that little clock ticking away the minutes in the corner. And you can't stop looking at it, willing eight-twenty to come so you have to go to work and the torture can end in favour of a traffic jam.

Impressively enough, it's eight-fifteen when Sharon darts out the bathroom. I lean back, craning my neck to try and catch sight of her in the hallway, but she's already in the bedroom. Shame. I really like the idea of me and Sharon alone... Sharon in just a towel. OK, too early for bad thoughts! Oh, but they're not. They're so good!

I'm only brought away from them by the whirring of Sharon's hairdryer. I keep looking at the tiny little clock next to Penny's elbow. It takes eleven painful GMTV-filled minutes for the whirring to stop, another fourteen before Sharon pulls the bedroom door open, this cloud of heat surrounding her almost. I jump up gratefully, distinguishing the image of Penny & Andrew on the TV screen.

"Sorry. Couldn't settle on the shoes... nightmare that is!"

I just look at her, grinning in disbelief. "Got your stuff?"

"Oooh!"

And she rushes off to grab the bag, leaving me stood there, absent-mindedly chewing pellets of gum. Habit I've picked up from Sal instead of smoking. Which is better for my health I guess, but I get so bloody anxious for the cigarette I'm not smoking (which I probably will ten minutes later anyway!) I'm more likely to start chewing at the inside of my cheek than the pissin' gum, and the taste of blood and spearmint do not mix.

"Ready?" Sharon asks, reappearing with her bag and the overnight one.

"Yeah, sorry..." I mutter, moving off into the kitchen. "Just need to get rid of-"

I toss the gum away into the bin, flinching as I realise Sharon's stood in the doorway. "Dennis, is that blood?"

"Yeah, look, don't ask."

But she narrows her eyes, worry clouding them as she throws me a quizzical look. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." I assure her. "Guess I just wanna cut back on the fags too much, that's all."

She doesn't say anything, still looking at me suspiciously as she reaches up into a cupboard and takes out a glass, moving round to the sink and filling it with water, setting it down in front of me. "Swill your mouth c'mon. Can't have the most expensive bloke in British theatre choking to death in my flat can I?"

I stop and roll my eyes. "You ever think you might be exaggerating just a little?"

"You ever think you should swill your bloody mouth?" she shoots back, fighting back a laugh as she realises how the words came out.

Obediently, I do as she says, glad to be rid of the taste. As I straighten up away from the sink, she steps forward and kisses me gently, mumuring; "Better?"

"Well, I am now aren't I?"

"C'mon, we better go. Don't wanna irritate the boss man anymore than we absolutely have to eh?"

"Oh what, you mean like giving a £30,000 interview to a national magazine on his time? Leaving his entire cast gawping over the print the next day?"

Sharon freezes, mouth gaping. "They paid us thirty grand?"

I throw her a bemused look. "That's what you told me, isn't it?"

"Is it?" she replies vaguely. "So... we've been paid what, fifteen grand a piece for..."

I follow her out the door, imploring her; "Don't say "sleeping together", please!"

Looking at me for little more than a second, Sharon bursts out laughing. "Hell yeah, totally been prostituting myself waiting for an OK! headed cheque. What about you Rickman?" she asks, smirking as she turns round, pulling open the door.

"I'd have pushed for thirty each personally..."

"Oh well, I'll tell you what, let's have a really painful and messy break-up at Christmas shall we? Go running back to them for another fifteen each?"

"Ah! I can't!"

"Why not?" 

"You called the kiss n' tell didn't you? Means it's up to me to maintain the dignified silence through the agony of it all."

"Great. And I'll just go out there and tell all like another brainless bimbo whore, shall I?"

"Was your choice." I shrug, grinning as we climb back into my car.

She pretends to glare at me, but is soon restless with excitement as I drive, almost shrieking with happiness as she fiddles with my CD player and realises Bon Jovi's blaring at her. She sits with her back rigid, eyes blazing like she can't get enough of it. Recognising it almost immediately, having done her own copy of this album to death I have no doubt, she sings without inhibition. And I can't help but join her. There's the comfort in knowing you can sing - whoever you sing with, you never sound like an arse!

I want, I need the fruit off your vine
It tastes so bittersweet cos I know it's not mine.
I wanna come in time!

Besides, just seeing her looking over at me and smirking like that, oh God, she's fantastic. She's gorgeous and talented and best of all, she has absolutely no shame! And the fact she knows this song kicks arse doesn't hurt either. Ah, tonight is gonna be such a good night.

Hit the lights and I'll come crawling through your window tonight!
C'mon and send a sign! 
I'll be your dirty little secret and you'll be mine!
You got me knock-knock-knocking at your door 
And I'll be coming back for more!
We made a promise and we'll keep it... our dirty little secret.

"I will die if they play this tonight. Fucking love it! Almost reminds me of you!"

"Me?" I laugh.

"Well yeah. You might not be much of a secret anymore Dennis, but you're definitely a dirty little..."

Oh, if I could, I would reach over to hit her. But I didn't of course and I didn't get near her in any capacity until we pulled up outside the theatre and she ejected the disc from the player.

"Got the case?"

I nod towards the glove compartment and Sharon leans forward, the disc balanced around her fingertip. She opens the glove compartment and predictably, the magazine tumbles out. My setabelt long since unclipped, I lunge for it, but Sharon's ducked too, my hand falling fiercely over hers to snatch at the magazine.

"You know I'm gonna have to look." I tell her smugly.

"Not without me you're not!"

"Why?" I tease. "You worried I'm gonna be like Sal? Picking out all your frown lines?"

She looks at me dangerously. "Frowning? I was wetting myself!"

"Nice image!" I grimace, before looking pointedly down on the magazine. "Wonder if that's in here?"

She yanks it forcefully from beneath my hand and pushes open the door. I know to follow, locking up with an aimless wave of my key fob. I go to Sharon, sliding my arm around her waist. She smiles broadly and does the same, flipping open the magazine and leaving me to catch the other edge to hold it level between us, both of us looking down to immediately start scanning the article. I have to say, we look pretty good.

"Sitting comfortably in the main rehearsal studio at The Riverbank in central... blah-blah-blah... opposite top West End... blah-blah-blah... oh I love it!"

"What?" Sharon questions, leaning over.

"-and his most radiant of co-stars, Sharon Watts, serenely holding his hand, it is impossible, even on first glance, to find any two people more at ease with one another-"

"Ease?" Sharon giggles, throwing me a doubtful look. "You reckon she knows I tried to maim you?" Her eyes scan the page. "Erm... yeah, look... "Impressively, neither Sharon or Dennis move to deny the problems to have already beseeched their relationship. And they readily confirm that for half a day at least, Dennis was considered no longer attached to the illustrious role of Danny Zuko. "Oh, he walked alright!" Sharon tells me, now extremely well-humoured about the whole "debacle" as she calls it. "But I wanted to go first. Well, I didn't want to obviously, this is Grease, and no-one woulda wanna give this up if they were here. It just seemed to make more sense. Course, Dennis didn't believe that, went off himself. Which I guess was a pretty noble thing to do really." Sharon giggles as Dennis looks down into his lap, going slightly pink if I'm not mistaken. "He hates me saying that, but it's true. Only get one debut don't you? It took me long enough to realise. Luckily, he was... doing lunch with my best friend when I called her the next day, so I told him to get back to work! Had to promise I wouldn't swing for him again or anything, but it's sorted now"."

But I'm already ahead of her, reading the next paragraph. "Oh my God!" I murmur, fighting back a laugh. "You bitch!"

"What I'd say?" she grins unashamedly.

"Sharon remains oddly proud of the fact she did indeed cause the fading lines that indicate a recent cut to the right of Dennis' face, which she points out eagerly. "I can't believe I actually got him to be honest. Ask anyone you like, I couldn't hurt a fly - my co-ordination's rubbish, I didn't have to skive off P.E at school because the teachers didn't wanna bother with me anyway! But he bled a fair bit, and I do feel bad, but the point is, he knows not to mess with me now!" 

"What? It's true!"

"Yeah! So what? You shouldn't admit to it you daft cow. You're gonna be slaughtered!"

But she just looks up at me, danger in her eyes. "Bring it on!"

"Oh, you can say that now darlin', but do you know how fuckin' scary teenage girls are in the masses?"

"Dennis darlin', you're their guy. And it just so happens you're also the guy I'm sleeping with, don't you think I already know they wanna kill me? Few home truths on top won't hurt will they?"

"Maybe I shouldn't answer that til I've finished reading eh?" I tell her, turning the page. "Oh my God-"

"What have I said now?" Sharon despairs, nestling into me to catch where it is I'm reading.

But I'm not reading at all. "You haven't said anything, look!"

And she bursts out laughing, shaking against me. "Well, that's it isn't it? You're gonna have to marry me now!"

"Bastard photographer."

"Oh shut up, we were playing up to him and you know it. So c'mon, we gonna go show our faces in there or what?"

"Well, what are we doing with this?" I question, pulling on the edge of the magazine.

"I dunno." she shrugs. "Throwing it in with the wolves?"

"Ha, yeah right. You do realise they're all gonna have their own copies, don't you?"

She tries to roll her eyes, but she can't cos she knows I'm right. Grinning in disbelief, she tears it out my hand and carries it herself as we walk into the theatre. And yep, right on cue, the auditorium falls silent, every eye trained upon us both. It's like being examined I swear. And then, like, a missing heartbeat later, they're all up. Absolutely everyone, cheering and applauding us like we're up on the stage having just delivered opening night or something.

"Fuckin' legandary!" Nick beams.

And Sal's make-up looks fantastically smudged, worse still as me and Sharon go forward in bemusement.

She's been crying! "Oh, you two are hilarious!" She wipes her eyes, her fingertips becoming blackened. "Do you know how long it's gonna take me to put all this crap back on?"

"Ummm..."

Ali races up to us, bounding off the stage and flinging her copy open in front of us, unable to hold back her laughter as we're faced with that picture. "C'mon, we're all dying to know, what were you doing down there?"

Sharon's gone really bright red, biting nervously into her glossy lip. "I fell, Al..."

"Yeah we know! But you didn't get up again did you? You stayed down there with him, doing that..."

"Well, I didn't think that Mitch would be snapping shot for shot did I?"

"Yeah right!" she scoffs, laughing shrilly. "You and him-" Ali glances fleetingly at me, smirking. "-are having a public make-out session on the floor and you're not expecting the photographer to relay that to the nation! Hon, you're too naive!"

"Really?" Sharon throws back smoothly. "And there was me thinking I was all out of innocence!" Wide eyed looks are exchanged all around. God, she's great, sends the imagination reeling she does. Well, I say that. I know the truth and better, I know she's right - she is! And she seems amused by how taken everyone is by that comment and calmly peels off her jacket, dropping it lazily in the stalls as she strides towards the stage. "C'mon then, you lot, less gawping. We doing any work today or what?"

I should have known the answer would be no! But oh, how can I complain? This is the best "job" in the fuckin' world. We went through the first act, which in itself stands at an hour. It took us two because we were all in random hysterics. Unfortunately, I think a lot of it still springs from the interview. I couldn't quite convince myself for the entire morning that I wasn't still hearing the pages of several magazines rattle pointedly whenever there was a pause in lines of dialogue. 

We were waved off for a break just after eleven, David slumped despairingly in the stalls, muttering to his colleagues. I hope he doesn't think we've totally fallen apart. And I hope too that he doesn't pull me and Dennis to the side and go over the whole lecture about inter-production relationships. Yeah OK, so it is a distraction, but fuck, it's a good one.

The sun's out and we decide to make the best of it, heading out the back of the theatre and rushing across the dusty gravel of the car-park like a gang of bunking school kids, not wanting to be caught running up the narrow little lane into oblivion. Well, actually, it leads out to a narrow grass area. That's it. Not even very well looked after grass bless it, the banks at the studios are much better cared for. But it's not like we care, crashing out to soak up the sun as we spark up cigarettes, or in my case, roll them. I take it upon myself to roll one for Dennis too. The stuff he smokes is foul.

Mind you, even my tobacco looks pretty withered in this heat. We all are, each surviving on gallons of water every day. If we don't, we get told off for that as well.

Squinting against the sun, I watch Nick get up and, on the pretext of borrowing Patrick's lighter, lean over Billie as she stretches out on her front, head rested against her arms and letting the sun bronze her back, bare thanks to her halter-neck top, and promptly squeeze his bottle of water out over her!

She shrieks and as Nick springs back laughing, she pulls herself up and flies at him, hands raining down to strike him as she curses him.

"Nick, you bastard, that was freezing and now I'm soaked!"

I giggle as I lean against Dennis, who is of course, just as transfixed, grinning in disbelief as he taps an idle rhythm against his knee with his hand, the other one stroking gently up my arm.

"Billie!" Sal hollers to get herself heard, rushing over with her own water bottle in her hand. "That's not the way to do it, sugar! This is!"

And Sal squeezes her own water bottle hard, aiming the spray at Nick like a gun, soaking him through. I'm not the only one that burst out laughing.

"You'll pay Sal!" Nick yells, tearing after her as she runs off shrieking. Billie grabs her bottle too and chases after Sal to protect her, and maybe, just maybe, get her own back on Nick for her drenching in the process. And after that it kinda spiral, cos Nick's jet of water to ward the girls off ends up soaking Bonnie & Kacey, so they're up too. And Nick's feeling outnumbered pretty soon and calls "the guys" to arms very quickly. And Dennis is eager to answer it seems.

"Sorry darlin'." he murmurs, kissing me quickly as he pulls himself up. "I'm needed."

Course, without him, I feel pretty lonely so close up my pouch of tobacco and toss it onto the grass, grabbing my water bottle too and jumping up to go and join my girls. But I'm not even halfway to them when I get caught in Richard's crossfire with Hayley.

"Oh, Sharon, I'm-"

But I know he's not, so I don't give him chance to say it, instead whirling round and tossing water back at him with a sharp squeeze of my own bottle, darting off before he can retaliate.

And you know what? Suddenly, my co-ordination's a lot better. I choose to trust no-one, even when the guys start peeling off their sodden t-shirts and abandoning them on the grass. It's extremely appreciated, especially in Dennis' case. Well, I've been topless for him once already this morning. But yeah, so many well-honed bodies around to drool over, it's kinda hard to remember what I was doing in the first place and I'm soon soaked through bemoaning the fact that, as a woman, I can't take my top off too. 

"This top, darlin'?" Dennis murmurs from behind me, tracing patterns against the material with his fingertip in the small of my back.

And I really should have done, because the next thing I'm aware of is a great gush of icy water cascading down my back, making me shriek as I whirl round in accusation. But he's already gone.

"Bastard!" I yell, shivering. But he just grins. "Get back here Rickman!"

He spreads his arms out at his sides, hands flopping as he smirks, slowing up and making a point of saying; "I'm right here, Sharon. Right here!"

I raise my eyebrow. "Do I look like I trust you, Dennis?"

The corners of his mouth fall as he moves forward. "Oh darlin', that hurt. I mean it really, really-" The smirk springs up again but I don't move out of the way quick enough, cos I'm the idiot that's mesmerised by this man as soon as look at him. "-hurt!"

"Dennis!"

"She's gonna have chucked you by lunchtime the way you're going, Rickman!"

I didn't of course. I just didn't let the bastard out of my sight, except of course when we had to take to running back into the theatre, crashing into the toilets and refilling the bottles, but I find, and drench him again soon enough!

But we had to be back working by twenty past, so that meant a lot of frantic toking on rashly made cigarettes as we go back down the lane towards the theatre, laughing so much, most of us are wheezing as we take that last puff, then regretfully squashing the fag against the wall and dropping the frazzled butts in the bin before heading inside, leaving a dripping trail behind us as we walk up onto the stage.

David bolts forward in his chair so fast, he almost smacks his face on the seat in front. "What the Hell have you all been doing? You're drenched."

"Sorry boss." we chorus guiltily.

"I'm making you work like that." he tells us darkly. But it don't faze us cos we kinda knew that anyway. "Rest of you, bugger off and do something useful eh? I want Sharon left up on stage for Tim and Lorna."

Muttering explodes and everyone disperses from around me. But they're all filing into the stalls to settle back and watch! I'd want to laugh if that thought didn't make me so nervous. I knew it'd have to happen to me though, I've been doing this to everyone else.

But Tim and Lorne come towards me, smiling encouragingly, and my nerves settle a little, especially when I hear David very audibly mutter; "Bloody seats'll be drenched."

"Hopelessly Devoted when you will Sharon, love!" Tim grins, having heard David too, settling himself next to Lorne on the far side of the stage, away from the lights, pages of the score spread out in front of them both as they sit there expectantly. So I take a deep breath, wishing I could make my focal point be somewhere on the back wall. Cos it's a fuckin' disaster to look into the audience when you perform, anyone in the business can tell you that, it won't help you nerves at all. But I just can't help but search out Dennis. He's such an easy person to focus on, cos he makes my insides squirm for every reason but nerves. He smiles gently and I find that with one shallow breath, I'm ready, letting the blaring melody wash over me. 

Guess mine is not the first heart broken
My eyes are not the first to cry
And I'm not the first to know there's just no getting over you

Ha. Well, at least the two of us know that's true enough. Or else what are we doing back here? Why am I so damn happy?

I know I'm just a fool who's willing
To sit around and wait for you
But baby, can't you see? 
There's nothing else for me to do.
I'm hopelessly devoted to you

And you know what? I think I've made my focal point too obvious. Cos as the words come out, surprisingly steady to my ears, everyone seems to be edging round in their seats to smirk at Dennis, who just grins back, shaking his head in humoured disbelief and returning his concentration to me so my own doesn't break. But even I can't pretend not to be amused at the way there is a burst of cheering at the chorus line, staring down at the stage to conceal my smile - cos they all knew where I was looking as I sang.

But I lift my head confidently, my smile wider as I tear my gaze away from Dennis and deliver.

But now-
There's nowhere to hide since you pushed my love aside
I'm out of my head! Hopelessly devoted to you-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh!
Hopelessly devoted to you. 

I move towards the edge of the stage however, and my gaze is instinctively drawn back to his. He's incredible. Like he gives me the greatest confidence by just being sat there. And maybe not just being sat there, cos he won't be, will he? He'll be on this stage, cos he wanted so much to work with me. I can't shake the feeling we missed a lot of time together. I'm an idiot really, aren't I?

My head is saying "Fool, forget him!"
My heart is saying, "Don't let go!
Hold on til the end!" 
That's what I intend to do!
I'm hopelessly devoted to you.

Doesn't really matter anymore though does it? What's done is done. And now everyone knows we're back. And I love it, I really do.

But now-
There's nowhere to hide since you pushed my love aside
I'm out of my head! Hopelessly devoted to you-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh!
Hopelessly devoted to you. 

Stunned silence prevails as I finish up. I take a step back, the nerves crashing over me once again. "Well?" I question in a quiet apprehensive breath.

No-one says anything. Makes me feel worse, like I'm trapped in some kinda nightmare. But I'm brought out of it by a lot of clattering and bashing as they all hurtle from the stalls and back onto the stage, grinning and cheering as I get pulled into about ten different but equally faceless hugs. I musta done good.

Except, there's one opinion I really need. Chest heaving as I pull in another breath, I look quizzically in Dennis' direction. He slides through the crowd and stands motionlessly in front of me, that soft smile sat against his lips. But he knows it's not enough cos he reaches for my hand, pulling me gently towards him until his lips can press mine. I answer him eagerly, which pulls me in deeper, which makes everyone around us coo suggestively. But yeah, whatever, they've read the article - and I'm busy...

At least I am until the back door of the auditorium crashes furiously open like a bull just charged at it. I spring back from Dennis in alarm, looking instinctively to where everyone else does. And the nightmare returns, my blood running cold. Because it's Justin storming down the aisle, murder in his eyes as he viciously shakes a magazine in his fist.

Oh God! No!

I look round to Dennis in panic. He steps close to me, without touching me, still aware it's not wise in present company. But he murmurs; "It's alright. It's OK..."

"Well isn't this fuckin' cosy?" Justin bellows venemously. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you!"

I'm not the only one that sees he's looking right at Dennis.

"Just, no!"

All the guys spring forward to hold him back.

"Get the fuck off me!" he demands in a yell, thrashing wildly around.

"Don't bother lads." Dennis calls, stepping forward. "Bastard's an animal, don't get what he wants, he'll only take it..."

"He fuckin' won't!" I declare hotly. "What the Hell are you doing here, Justin? Why can't you leave us alone?"

"Us?"

"Yeah." I tell him viciously, glancing pointedly at Dennis. "Us. Or did you think just cos he had the nerve to rough you up, I'd give up? Cos I nearly did and you were never worth that. So here I am sweetheart-" I gesture round the theatre. "-and I've never been happier. Now fuck off."

But the anger in his eyes does not go. If anything it intensfies as he hisses; "You owe me answers, bitch."

I don't even flinch. I want to feel terrified, surely I'd be more normal then? But I'm just not. "Really? I'd have thought all the answers would be in there." I nod to the magazine badly crumpled in his fist. "Like it did you, Just? Let him go-" I advise the guys. "-he knows if he touches any of us, they're coming for him. Can't really afford another probation violation can you darlin' eh? Not since I, uh... tripped down the stairs."

"He pushed you?" Dennis demands fiercely, before rounding angrily on Justin. "You sick-"

"Leave it Dennis." I tell him flatly, racing my palm to keep him from advancing on the released Justin. "He's obviously here for a reason. Let him spit it out eh?"

He glares at me venemously, but I defy him. So he shakes out the magazine, frantically searching out his place on the page. Locating it, his lips curls as he speaks, hissing out every word.

"Sharon credits Dennis with more than theatrical talent. "I'll be honest, I've just come away from a horrible period in my life. Dennis, more than anyone, I guess, has been a godsend when he didn't have to give a damn. So if I dare be optimistic, I'd say this relationship's got a healthier chance than the last one. Some people are just all wrong to be around all the time. On my own, I wasn't strong enough to realise that. So glad that Dennis made me see, or, I'd still be miserable. He'd have less battle scars of course, but if this is where we are now, then I don't regret a second of it."

When I asked Sharon to elaborate, she and Dennis exchange smiles that seem to reassure one another that now is the time to talk.

"No-one knows this... but all this isn't something that just sprang up since Sharon joined Grease. I mean, the rows are... and Sal [he nods over to rehearsing co-star Sally Reynolds, set to take the stage on Friday night as Betty Rizzo] is gonna flip when she hears this, but... years ago, Sharon and me met in London and we were together for a few months." Sharon admits she had no idea of the success her partner would achieve in the following years and that she considered theirs a very personal relationship, and regrets the truth in the fact that she indeed ended it. Dennis himself is aware Sharon returned to the partner she has once again just left, but is reluctant to say anymore. "I can't change any of it now." Sharon says softly. "I just know, with hindsight, that I would if I could. Me and my ex... God, there couldn't have been anything more wrong about any two people, but like I say, I didn't know how to leave"."

I've listened, we all have, and somehow, you just know he's not done. I wince at the savage way he pulls the magazine down.

"Gave you good reason to leave, did he Sharon eh?"

I recoil, eyes narrowed as I study him. "Perfect reason Just. He's not you. And you can't stand that I've gone back to him when I would never in a million years, go back to you!"

"Yeah." he whispers dangerously, nodding. Dennis senses the threat, pressing his hands with a gentle protectiveness against my shoulders, as if to assure me he's still there. "Back. Does he know why you left Sharon? Does he?"

Nausea swirls viciously inside. I can feel hot, prickling tears threatening in my eyes as I turn my head away, Dennis' touch no longer as comforting. "No..." I whimper. 

"Ohhhh-" he breathes, with a cruel sneer. "-well, that's not fair is it babe? Not on this fantastic relationship of yours! Not nice to keep things back. So are you gonna tell him or am I?"

"Justin, please!" I plead, painfully aware my voice is cracking. "Please don't do this to me..."

"Why not?" he roars, incensed. "You've just dragged me through the national press to glorify you shagging golden boy here!"

"You wanna be very careful what you say, sugar!" Sal snaps threateningly. "Cos I might be just another woman to you, you might think you can slap me down like you used to with Sharon, but we think a lot of her and Golden Boy! But let's face it Justin, it ain't hard to be a better man than you is it? And in case you hadn't noticed, there's twenty of us and one of you. Just believe me, you don't wanna chance how much we'd all love to hurt you!"

A ripple of agreement goes up around her, and I hate it. Because I'm floundering so bad. So many of them, so many of them that care and yet none of them can save me. Cos I can't change it.

"Tell him, Sharon!"

"No!" Dennis snaps, glaring back at Justin as he steps in front of me, glancing over his shoulder at me. "I mean it Sharon, don't tell me anything you don't want me to know!"

But even as he advances on Justin, no doubt ready to pick up where the last beating left off, absolutely no-one moving to stop him, even David, sat frozen in horror in the stalls, Justin's still determined to crucify me, yelling; "Tell him or I will! Tell him what you did to us!"

Dennis grabs him by the throat and flings him hard back against the wall, hissing; "Don't you get it? I don't need to know. It's done and I trust her. I respect her - something you never did. I've got everything I ever needed. Her - and you, right where I need you to be so I can really hurt you. Cos believe me, scumbag, last time was nothing..."

But I can't bear a scene like this. Dennis is better than this. It's me that's not. Oh, how did I ever think I could take the morale high ground? As his fist lands squarely in Justin's stomach, making him fold in agony, I scream it. 

"I was pregnant!"

The truth.

I guess he always needed to know it. 

But that doesn't mean it doesn't take everything out of me. Because this is a nightmare, and worse, I know it's true. The silence, the stunned, horrified faces. Except these aren't just faces. These are my friends. And I hate that I'm so weak as to let the tears pour down, shuddering violently.

"There!" I spit in Justin's direction. "Happy now?"

If he gives a reply, I don't hear it. Because I'm so painfully captivated by the sight of Dennis, fallen back from the intent of tearing Justin into pieces by the sheer terror of this one revealation. His eyes shimmer wildly, panicked as he tries to work it all out. And I can't bear it, turning away and letting my sobs take me over, robbing me over the last of my energy. I hear pounding on the stairs and and so grateful to feel Sal, shuddering a little herself through shock, pull me into her arms, soothing me as she strokes through my hair.

"Shhh-shhh-shhh... oh Sharon, it's alright, you're gonna be OK, I promise..."

Only, not everyone's so still anymore. The guys have sprung angrily forward again.

"You fuckin' scumbag!" Nick hisses, fist raised. I flinch frightfully.

"Nick!" Bonnie calls. "You're not helping!"

He looks aghast, gesturing to me, cowering in Sal's arms. "Bon, look at her!"

Then there comes a voice I'm comforted to hear even though I have dreaded it. "She's right mate, it's not gonna- You're better Nick, just leave it alone."

My chest constricts painfully as I listen to Dennis give out a resigned little sigh and I just know his eyes are upon me and I can't bear it, going rigid as I hear him step across the stage. Sal feels my terror and holds me tighter, murmuring still; "It's OK, sugar..."

"Sharon?"

He speaks my name so damn softly, I almost shudder in repulsion. Cos I just know he means it. And I don't deserve it.

"Darlin', please..."

Pulling in a groggy breath, I pull back from Sal, straightening up with a painful twinge in my back and wiping miserably at my ruined eyes, make-up all over my fingertips, unable to say a word as I look so weakly back at him. He braves a smile and reaches to carefully take up my shivering hand.

"I'll tell 'em y'know." Justin hisses viciously, hating that he's witnessing a fragile peace when he wanted so much to tear us apart. "I'll tell the world what you did to go back to that bastard!"

Dennis turns his head, not even bothering to look all the way round to glare at Justin, hissing; "And I'll deny it."

Justin laughs scathingly, making me wince. Because I know he'd do this. The thousands of pounds he'd get paid obviously wouldn't hurt either. "And how you gonna do that, Rickman? How?"

"I'll say there was someone else." he shrugs disconcernedly. "I'll say she ended it cos of me. Don't even think about testing me Justin, cos I'll say whatever I have to to discredit every word that comes out that nasty little mouth of yours. Cos let's face it, mate, on the scale of things, you're nothing. Now get the fuck out of here before I really do let this lot tear you into pieces."

I'm in awe of his strength, truly. And the way Justin's fearful eyes search round the twenty-odd people more than ready to advance and savour the attack. Because he knows he can't win. Somehow, even now, Dennis is protecting me. So Justin conceals his fear with a laugh meant to mock as he throws the magazine down, smiling cruelly at us both, Dennis still cradling my hand.

"I hope you'll be very happy together." And he laughs again, colder this time as he leans over and spits on the magazine, before turning and shoving roughly through the barricade of cast.

"It's OK, sugar." Sal reassures me, stepping close again. "He's gone now..."

I nod feverishly, my gaze unfortunately coming back to Dennis. "I'm so sorry..." I feel my voice sway dangerously as I whisper out my regret.

But he makes absolutely no move to acknowledge it was even spoken. He just keeps a hold on my hand, murmuring; "Come with me..."

It sounds more like a desperate request than a command, but I take it as such, without the energy to refuse him. Besides, I owe him answers now. We walk wordlessly through the wings and through the corridors of backstage until we reach Dennis' dressing room. He opens the door and leads me through, only dropping my hand once the need to close the door after himself arises. I stand there, terrified by everything I see. Because it hasn't changed a bit. And yet it's changed so much.

"Sit down." he says softly. I do so, perching rigidly on his sofa as he rummages in the drawers of his dressing table. Finding what he was looking for, he turns round and sits upon the messy coffee table, littered with racing magazines and discarded tabloids. I look in amazement at what's in his hand. He hunches forward without a word, unwrapping a large bar of Galaxy. He pushes back the gold foil and breaks off a strip, offering it to me. I try to shake my head, but he won't have it. "C'mon, it'll make you feel better..."

I can't help but smile, however weak, as I take it, breaking off a chunk at a time to eat. I'm raising the second one to my lips when I realise how intently he's watching me. No anger, no malice or anything. He's just watching me.

"I would have told you..." I mumble pathetically. "I wanted to-"

"I know." he nods. "That night with Justin in the bar, I know..." And he looks at me with such understanding, I feel sick with shame, just sat there, waiting for the inevitable question. And it comes, much to Dennis' own agitation. "Sharon, I- I don't think I wanna know but you understand I have to ask right? The baby..."

I close my eyes to stem the tears. "I felt so guilty." I mumble awkwardly. "It's why I stayed with him so long,"

"With him?" he echoes questioningly. "S-So it was Justin's?"

I nod furiously. "I never wanted to finish with you. I had to. I had someone else's baby inside me and I- oh God, I was so scared..."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"How could I?" I demand shrilly. "If you'd known I- you'd find out I was lying! I didn't want that. Cos believe me, that lie was so much better than what I really was. I hated myself. All my options were horrible. I wanted to stay with you so much, but what was I supposed to do? Tell you it was yours? The thought crossed my mind you know, but I- the dates would never have added up and hey, you're a smart guy. And it wasn't Dee's mess. It was mine. Nothing to do with her or you! I couldn't pretend I wasn't me anymore and God, I wanted to so much! I- I had an abortion two days after we split up."

He blinks, unable to do little else.

"And you know what's worse? I was relieved. It wasn't a baby, it was a cancer. And I got rid of it so quick because I- oh God, this is pathetic-"

"Tell me..." he pushes gently.

I take a deep breath and force myself to look right into those mesmerising eyes, so undeniably tinged with sadness. "I was hoping you'd barely notice I'd gone. Me ending it, sweetness and light, you said-"

"Yeah, I know, but-"

"I didn't want it to be heavy. I didn't want it at all. So that's why I was so- I was gonna get rid of the baby, turn round and come back to you as soon as it was done. I thought if I did it quick enough, you'd have me back..."

He smiles, humoured almost. "I woulda done as well..."

"But I just couldn't. Justin was gutted when I told him what I'd done. I didn't even know he had feeling til then, really. He was so cut up. He knew I'd been seeing you and he thought... I guess he was right... that I'd had the abortion so I could be with you. And suddenly, it just wasn't enough. I'd killed Justin's baby when you... didn't even know my name! I owed him something, didn't I? Besides, I couldn't stand the thought of you two ever meeting. And I felt so guilty-"

"-that you stayed with the arsehole for six years? Oh Sharon..."

I laugh weakly, his pity making my skin prickle uncomfortably. I hate it so much. "Those first couple of months I never stopped thinking about you. But Just tried so hard, he was almost perfect and I thought I was lucky, after what I'd done. So I started thinking about you less and then... then one day, you were completely gone from my head, and it was just Justin and me. Or Justin, me and the guilt. That stopped me feeling everything in the end, even the bruises. But then you had to go and get all famous didn't you?" 

I roll my eyes despairingly and his smile widens a little in spite of itself as he looks down. "Sorry."

"And in the meantime, I'd gotten me a best friend that was totally in love with you and I was terrified."

"Why?"

"I don't know really. Maybe because it was really you... because I'd been trying so hard not to think about you at all and then suddenly, I couldn't stop all over again. Course, I'd gotten over myself by Chicago. You were mesmerising, you know that? It was me that convinced the girls to go back. I just wanted an excuse to keep looking at you and I couldn't stop thinking; "Jesus, I let that go!" and I've never felt more stupid in all my life. Then... the auditions, I swear, I had no idea you were part of this too. I woulda bolted if I'd known early enough-"

"Hey! It hasn't been that bad!"

"No." I agree. "It hasn't. It was just... hearing all the girls talk about you like you were God, some Untouchable and knowing it was you, I felt so sick. Seeing you there in the studio, I was looking for the quickest escape route. But then I had to meet you and- bastard, you knew. You knew it was me."

He leans forward, scooping up both my hands in his, running his thumbs comfortingly across my knuckles in a bid to stop me shivering. "You didn't expect me to forget you, did you?"

"But what you knew wasn't me, Dennis. This is me."

"I know, Sharon." he says, squeezing my hand. "It's you I'm here for."

"You really are amazing. I mean, even with the rows and stuff, it's been so easy being round you, I- I really missed you."

"Good. Proves there's a point to all this now then don't it?"

I look at him in disbelief. "You seriously still want...?"

"You?" he questions. "Yes. Sharon, I couldn't give a damn what you wanna call yourself, OK? Everything I loved about Dee... darlin', it's all still there, cos it's in you. And all this... Justin, the baby, it's all past now. It don't change anything for me. Why am I gonna tear you apart when you've been doing that to yourself for years?"

"I killed his baby to spite him..."

"Rubbish." Dennis scoffs, dropping the chocolate beside him on the coffee table and pulling himself up, still clutching my hands as he drops beside me on the sofa, his hands dislodging from mine as they cup my face, stroking tenderly across my tear-stained cheeks. "Look at me and just believe that no-one is gonna judge you for this OK? No-one and least of all me. You said yourself he was bad for you; the last thing you should have had to suffer is him having some hold over you for the rest of your life cos of some innocent kid that never even asked to be born. I think you knew that. And maybe I'm being selfish saying that, but-"

"You? Dennis, how are you being-?"

He shakes his head gently as he smiles, as if he can't understand why I do not. "It mighta taken you six years, Sharon, but you came back didn't you? S'all I was waiting on. I understand OK? You were gonna tell me, I know. But I kissed you didn't I? "Bollocks to the work relationship love, I want you" kinda thing? And that was it. You couldn't tell me anymore."

I swallow down the lump causing my throat to constrict, relieved to realise he does understand. "I couldn't risk it. I'm still not sure I can."

"Hey-" he whispers, brushing the last of my trickling tears away with his thumbs. "-I told you, it doesn't change anything. It just answers a few questions, that's all. Me and you, we're OK for as long as you want us to be, I promise..."

And the most blissful part is I know he means it. But fear still niggles.

"What if Justin-?"

"Let him try." Dennis shrugs, stroking hair back from my face. "I meant it. He can say what he likes - I'll just deny it and soon no-one will give a fuck what he's going on about. He's got no proof."

"But I don't want to make you lie."

"You're not making me. It's that scumbag's decision, not yours."

I can't help but protest further, my shrivelled mind reeling. "But it's... your reputation."

"What, so a couple thousand less teenagers wanna stalk me cos I'm apparantly a cheating arse? I don't care. I just wanna know you're alright."

"I didn't think I would be." I confess weakly, wiping at my eyes one last time. "I didn't think you'd- oh whatever. I am, I'm alright."

"Good." he smiles, leaning across the coffee table to pick up the Galaxy, this time not bothering to break off a strip, instead just offering me the bar. "Chocolate?"

She sat curled up against me as she idly went through the rest of the bar. Apparantly, she felt better, but it does nothing for her physically. She's falling asleep, that drained I guess, and I don't wanna disturb her.

"Listen darlin'-" I murmur hesitantly. "-you sure you're gonna be alright for tonight?"

"I'm not crying off if that's what you think!" she answers sharply, pretty affronted.

"OK." I soothe, stroking through her hair to make her relax again. "Just needed to check... really wouldn't wanna go without you."

"Liar." she smirks, opening her eyes slowly to reveal those mesmerising eyes as she snuggles down against me. "Nothing'd keep you away."

"I dunno. I'm sure you'd be able to hold my attention..."

"We're going Dennis, and that's it. Nothing's screwing tonight up. Apart from the fact I don't know how I'm supposed to get through the rest of today..." At least she's being honest about it, I guess.

Carefully, I pull my arm up from around her and get up, heading back over to the dressing table and withdrawing a box of tablets. I catch sight of Sharon, having kicked off her shoes into a messy pile in the last few seconds and tucked up her long bronzed legs beside her, leant down against the arm of the sofa as she watches me contently via the mirror. God, even though she is so obviously exhausted, she looks so damn gorgeous.

"What d'you need darlin'?" I direct at her reflection. "My sofa or my Pro Plus?"

"Caffeine shots?" she grimaces as I turn round to face her, pointedly shaking the packet. "Ugh."

"Hey, don't look at me like that!" I laugh gently, sitting down and replacing her legs across my lap. "You're the caffeine weirdo. These are for emergencies. I try and pretend I haven't got 'em most of the time or I'd be on the floor!"

"Oh well, that's reassuring." Sharon retorts, rolling her eyes before leaning forward to lay her palm flat expectantly. "Give 'em here then."

I pass her the box and watch her throw two down the back of her throat in very quick succession. I almost wince. That's like downing the evils of two cups of coffee at once.

"What?" she bleats indignantly when she catches how I'm looking at her.

"I coulda just left you here to sleep for an hour you know..."

"Yeah right, or have you forgotten we're opening the biggest show in the West End tomorrow night? David's probably already spitting blood because of- well..."

"Don't worry about him." I tell her gently, making sure she sees me take the packet back and force it into my pocket should she need anymore later. "Just take it easy yeah?"

"Yeah, cos I can really do that, can't I?" she sighs dismissively as she pulls herself up. But then she falls back a step, smiling apologetically and letting her arms snake up around my neck. "Dennis, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be-"

But I silence her. I don't need her apologies. I understand. "Shhhh. It's OK. Really."

"I know." she beams, stretching up to softly brush my mouth. "Damn lucky to have you aren't I?" I remain pointedly silent and Sharon begins to giggle just looking at me. "Yes then!"

I take her hand and lead her back towards the stage. I can feel her start to tremor as everyone, crashed out in the stalls, catches sight of us both there and sits bolt upright. Poor darlin' feels like she's expiring beneath the harshest of spotlights. But then, two dozen different voices sing out with concern for her and I think it suddenly becomes softer, if not a little overwhelming.

"Oh! Oh, Sharon, are you alright?"

"C'mere sugar..."

"Feeling better babe?"

"Don't worry Sharon, that bastard's never gonna come within ten feet of you ever again, trust us!"

"We're all here for you, hon. You know that right?"

"Cheers Ali." Sharon smiles gently, only with the energy to answer the last words of support to reach her. I tried my hardest not to let go of her hand, but Sal was so determined to slide her arms around her, I was resigned to stepping away, taking to watching David rising from the stalls and coming walking down the aisle. And I'll admit, I feel nervous on Sharon's behalf. But if he has the nerve to berate her now, he's gonna have a mutiny on his hands and no mistake.

"David..." Sharon begins anxiously, stepping away from the crowd. "David, I'm so sorry! I swear, I had no idea he was going to- I never meant-"

Wordlessly, he steps up on the stage and raises his palm to silence her. A few moments more stretches out out he says, unusually softly for David; "Are you sure you're alright, my love? I'm more than willing to call the police if you'd like..."

"The pol-police?" she splutters, horrified. "But he didn't-"  

"Threatening behaviour, breach of the peace, harrassment even! That little stunt he pulled in here earlier was sickening. He should be kept well away from you."

"Yeah, well, like I say-" Nick interjects gruffly. "-bastard won't get near!"

Thankfully, David ignores him. It's obvious the last thing Sharon wants is everyone embroiled in this. David's cool eyes seem uncharacteristically warm as he looks back at her. "I'm just sorry I didn't realise the extent of the problems you had to deal with. Any more Sharon, and I mean any, let me know and I will do everything in my power to help you."

Sharon's stunned, unshed tears shimmering on the surface of her eyes. "Thank you." she whispers shakily, nothing much else within her right now.

David smiles and informs her; "It's been decided, between our cast and myself Sharon, that you'll sit back this afternoon. We're gonna go through the scenes and numbers that don't include you for a while OK? Relax, enjoy the mishaps. And when you're ready, we'll get you working too."

"No, you don't have to-"

"He bloody does!" I say loudly, cutting across her. "He's already working you too hard. OK, so me too, but what can you do? Life's a bitch! Where d'you need me, boss?"

"Nowhere, Dennis. Unless you want to gatecrash a pajama party?"

I grin unashamedly, but reach instead for Sharon's hand. "No thanks, I'll hang back if it's all the same to you!"

"Suit yourself." he smirks and when he turns away to go back down the steps and across into the stalls, he gives Sharon and me the kindest look he's ever dared. It feels... weird. But cool all the same. I back up against the wall at the far side of the stage, sliding down to the floor. Sharon giggles softly and clambers down too, legs bent up to her chest as she nestles back against me.

The girls scurry round to set up their scene. The giggles are shaking all of them, but Sal sits forcibly with her back rigid and pouts unashamed, hands in her lap as she crosses one long leg over the other and bats her eyelashes. Sharon's already giggling, but she looks pretty proud, swaying as gently as the girls do.

And suddenly, I get more than ever what Sharon means about being mesmerised. I can't help but grin as I watch them all, Sal letting her hands go everywhere just to make it obvious she's barely dressed. Fuckin' tease that woman, and audiences lap it up.

Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee
Lousy with virginity
Won't go to bed til I'm legally wed
I can't - I'm Sandra Dee

She leaps up with one deliberate pelvic thrust that was bloody ambitious given the length of (or lack of) the shirt. My God, she's hilarious. And her hips are bloody hypnotising, even as she leaps up onto the covered plinth passing for a bed, I can't stop watching them.

Watch it, hey! I'm Doris Day! 
I was not brought up that way!
Won't come across, even Rock Hudson lost
His heart to Doris Day!

And Sal realises, turning round with a wicked grin as she twists the end fibres of the wig around her fingertip, running her tongue quickly around her glossy lips and forcing that cold and high shriek to her delivery as she mimics Sandy - Sharon sat here loving her implicitly for her nerve and her energy.

I don't drink, or swear, I don't rat my hair
I get ill from one cigarette
Keep your- filthy paws off my- silky drawers
Would ya pull that stuff with Annette?

Sal backs up against the wall of scenery, turning her head to mock-serenade some poster of some well greased back guy painted there. She is so obviously having a wicked time, it's great. And Sharon's well into it too, trying to suppress her giggles as she sings quietly. Her eyes are shimmering wildly, hungry for every new detail. Not that they are new details to those eyes. She's seen this production too many times from the other side. But I'm so damn glad she's happy at last that I couldn't care. If she wasn't my Sandy, I'd be more than willing to keep her in tickets for the next three months, just to see her smile.

As for you, Troy Donahue, I know what you wanna do!
You've got your crust - I'm no object of lust!
I'm just plain Sandra Dee
Elvis! Elvis! Leave me be!
Keep that pelvis far from me!
Please keep your cool, now you're starting to drool!
Fun-goo, I'm Sandra Dee-eee-eee!

Everyone got me back into the swing by lunchtime. But I had to keep making a point of pulling Dennis to the side to wrap my arms around him, just to savour the fact that after everything, he is still here, and not just in the way that his job dictates. By his own admission, he still wants me after everything I did and I'm so painfully grateful. He just seems too good to be true. And I suppose he is in a way because he's mine. I don't like the way that sounds if I'm honest. It sounds jealous and possessive - it sounds like Justin. But that's what I love so much about Dennis. He's not trying to control or suffocate me, or make me into someone new. He just wants me, and even now, it feels like he still believes there's nothing wrong with me.

It's a kinda comfort when I get back into the work to realise I miss him when I look round and see he's not there. I know he's someplace, and that's enough for me to keep the smile on my face, to mean it as me and the girls laugh our way through our scenes. But it strikes Billie after a while that we shouldn't bother. David had to rush off and leave us to our devices when his phone trilled. Us, being the good girls we are, got on with it.

Until:

"This is bloody ridiculous! I'll bet you anything you like the guys are doing bugger all back there!"

"She's right y'know!" Bonnie said with a grudging smile. "They're probably sat back with Nick's supply of lager and blaring out the tunes for tonight!"

A giggle zipped through us all. It probably was true. So we tossed down our scripts and ran in a gaggle to go and check out the other backing CDs the Marleway could boost. We blared so many different ones, singing out loud and proud. Let me tell ya, you haven't lived until you've heard Kacey's version of I'll Know. Makes me wish even more that I'd gone with Nat a few times to see Dennis in Guys & Dolls. Sal had a go at Night Fever, and none of us could help but dance. It was hysterical, and as we went from show to show, I started to feel a lot more like myself. Well, the version of myself I've been so happy being anyway. I was buzzing, hands shaking with excitement as I chose my production number. I now have at least twelve other musicals I'm desperate to star in. And what's better is right now, I really feel like I've got the confidence to do it - though of course, I might well need to credit Dennis' caffeine shots with that!

Sal bounds off the stage and disappears, grin on her face. "Oooh, I love this one!" She goes backstage to do the technical stuff and comes back, skipping, I swear. She settles herself on the edge of the stage, sat crossed-legged there in a line with all the other girls, an eager audience already assembled. I love them, the way their eyes are so hungry, the way they sway appreciatively from side to side, rolling their shoulders and clicking their fingers just at the beat.

(Rent: Take Me Or Leave Me)

Every single day, I walk down the street
I hear people say "Baby's so sweet."

I'm amazed at how strong my voice sounds. I sound good, I sound confident and I'm already having so much fun. And that's with imagining the stalls full of the people that are gonna be here tomorrow night. I don't even care I've blatantly got the wrong show. I just keep singing, moving freely, letting the music take me. There's no nerves, no nothing. I can't stop smiling. This is fantastic - this is really me.

Out the corner of my eye, I catch sight of movement in the wings. The lads move out from the shadows with interest, backing up against the wall so they don't disturb us. I just grin, keep looking over at all of them, awe-struck if I see it right, as the words leave me.

Ever since puberty, everybody stares at me
Boys, girls - I can't help it, baby.

Then I catch sight of Dennis and my grin's so wide, pain's twinging in my jaw. But I don't care. Cos just looking at him, smirking so irrepressibly, I've got more confidence than ever. Because the truth of it is right there in his face. He's as enthralled by me as I am by him. He drinks in the lyrics with the sexiest kinda defiance, chin tilted up, as if he's almost daring me to mean it.

So be kind and don't lose your mind
Just remember that I'm your baby.
Take me for what I am, who I was meant to be
And if you give a damn; take me baby or leave me
Take me baby or leave me!

And I love how everyone else has recognised our eye contact, grinning wildly as they coo in all manners of suggestion. I pace back, my heel clicking against the stage.  I lay my hands out at my side to gesture to the big empty stage as I face the stalls, indicating that right now, it's all mine. But I spin back around and grin over at Dennis.

A tiger in a cage can never see the sun
This diva needs her stage - baby let's have fun!
You are the one I choose, folks would kill to fill your shoes!

I take three steady strides forward, teasingly beckoning him over. Lazily, he lifts himself away from the wall and straightens up, casually ambling forward a pace and tilting his head questioningly. Of course, it's all I have to do to dazzle him with another smile, but given that we're gonna be on stage together for the next three months, the complementary serenade is definitely worth the practice.

You love the limelight too now, baby!
So be mine, and don't waste my time
Cryin' "Oh honeybear, are you still my- my- my baby?"
Don't you dare!

The girls cheer me out on the last chorus. I love them. So few of 'em to create so much bloody pandemonium, but God, they make me feel so good. And the guys are definitely worth a mention, if not just for the fact that they're still stood there, mouths hanging open. You'd think I was strutting round naked, not just singing in front of them. But God, they are adorable.

Take me for what I am, who I was meant to be
And if you give a damn; take me baby or leave me
Take me baby or leave me!

The best part about it all though of course, is Dennis. How can it not be? He's fantastic. Because he's taking me. He coulda left me and I woulda understood. I woulda missed him like mad of course, but I've healed from that before. Not that matters. Because he knows what I was meant to be to him years ago, how much I want it to be like that again only, free. Just me and him, Dennis and Sharon. Nothing else, no-one else. God, it's gonna be so good.

But still, I'm anxious about asking him if we can just go off and do lunch together. I thought maybe he'd be sick of me, my company, be glad to be distracted by the rest of the cast sat around us. But he just takes my hand without a word and the cutest of smiles and off we go. Just us. He drives us back to Café de Fleur and we eat lunch on the rooftop, sun pouring down on us, the wine flowing as easily as the conversation. No inhibitions, no awkwardness. Laughter comes free and easy too, like Dennis when reaches over to top up my glass of wine and suggests I use it to wash down my next load of Pro Plus. I give him evils, can't stop laughing, even as I tried to drink. I love how he does that to me, but oh, I could already see the newspapers.

"Grease star chokes to death on worryingly large glass of wine the day before debut!"

"Thank you." I smile, reaching over to place my hand over his once I manage to put my glass down and pull in a breath that isn't quite so damn sharp in my throat.

"What have I done?"

I shrug. "Everything. Nothing?"

He grins. "In that case, it was a pleasure."

"Don't tease me, darlin'. Not when I mean it."

"I have to. Need you suitably hyped by nine, don't I?"

"Do I get to meet this Jason then?"

Lifting my hand so I bend my elbow, he locks his fingers through mine and idly plays with my hand. "You don't need to suffer that, Sharon. Poor bastard got whacked a fair bit with the ugly stick, y'know?"

I reach over and whack him across the arm. "Don't be mean, you. We owe him tonight."

"Uh, less of the "we"! I don't want you near him if I can help it!"

"Why not?"

"Cos if he had the chance, he'd be to you what Nat is to me!"

"So he's in love with me then?"

"Uh... yeah, pretty much!"

I can't help but giggle. I was only teasing. But Dennis smiles, himself disbelieving at the revealation as he inches over onto his hip and pulls out his phone, idly jabbing at the keys in a pattern with his thumb before setting it down on the table, gazing pointedly up at me.

"It's ringing."

"Ringing who?"

But he just gestures to the phone. Anxiously, I lean forward to pick it up, catching the quickest glimpse of the name on the screen before I press it to my ear.

"Dennis?" 

I jump, as if I could really claim to be surprised by the voice that questions me. And Dennis laughs gently, obviously seeing the way I colour as I try and compose myself.

"Jason? Uh, no, actually, darlin'. It's... ummm..." Oh God, how am I so nervous? Giggling with it, shaking so slightly, twisting the ends of my hair around my finger. It's an anxiety thing for me that, not flirtation. I'm practically tearing the stuff out. "I'm Sharon. Hiya..."

"The Sharon?" he splutters, like I've just introduced myself as Gwyneth Paltrow or something. "Rickman's Sharon?"

I go really warm as he says it like that. Like it's lovely to be known that way. Course, Dennis has no idea what has made me smile so much, but it doesn't matter.

"That'd be me, yeah. Listen. I just... I really wanted to thank you for everything... tickets and that? Any time you want me to hand some back, I'm more than... less of course, theatre's not your thing?"

"Ah, s'not that Sharon." he tells me dramatically. "Just don't quite fancy seeing Rickman touching you up of a weeknight!"

I giggle again. "Awww, he does it very artistically, I promise."

"Yeah? Then he's been very artistically smug about the whole fuckin' thing an' all. I mean, seriously Sharon, what d'you see in the guy?"

And the giggle shifts my lips into a teasing smirk. "You've known him longer than me, Jason. Shouldn't you be able to tell me that?"

"Er, no. Cos I'm not attracted to him, pretty as he is. And I'm not the one sleeping with him!"

"Oh well, I've got no complaints there..."

The way I can't help but emphasise the last word makes Dennis look up in suspicious interest. And he seems to realise, the way my lips are curved, mouth gaping in disbelief as he pulls himself up and leans across our wine glasses to take his phone back by force.

"Jason, you arse! You know what you- Bloody Hell, not even thirty seconds into a conversation, and you're already asking-! Cos it's private dickhead, duh! You're just jealous cos it worked out! Yeah, see, you're so transparent. Yeah well, I've already told her I don't want you anywhere- only if you have to, Jase OK?"

"He has to!" I insist, dropping my voice a little lower and adding; "We could pair him off with Nat!"

"Oooh!" Dennis replies soundlessly, nodding. "Like it!" I contently listen to him relaying the meeting arrangements. Apparantly I have no choice but to meet him now. But Dennis shouldn't make it sound so damn omnious. If Jason's anything like him, then how will I be able to do anything but adore the bloke? Same goes for Nat. They'll get on, and if not, then I guess me and Dennis will just have to disappear someplace...

"I still can't believe she said that!"

My sides are actually painful the amount I've been laughing, in embarrassment an' all. But Sharon just twists her key in the lock, grinning over her shoulder at me like a loon.

"I can! Oh, don't look at me like that Rickman - you're a gay icon, don't you know!"

"Well, I do now! But what about you eh? I mean, us?"

She smiles even wider as she goes through the hallway and tosses her bag onto the coffee table. "Well, Sal's right ain't she? We are camp! And don't look so bloody disgusted will ya, it's hilarious! Think about it-" She sails back over to me, stood dumbstruck in the doorway, and snakes her arms easily around my neck, drawing me further into the room as she paces back. "-we spend all day every day together, singing and dancing - and acting like idiots I might add - even though we are both trained! And I admit, it's me that's been blowing the arguments out of proportion, but still! This relationship... if I dare to call it that... is like some overdramatised soap opera!"

I bite back a laugh as I look at her. She looks so perversely proud at being able to say that!

"I'm not talking to you anymore..." I murmur, feigning hurt.

Sharon scoffs and pushes my arms down from around her waist, stepping back and grinning. "OK. I need a shower before I get changed anyway. I was gonna ask if you wanted to join me, but, no... you suit yourself - don't talk to me, I don't mind!"

I can feel my mouth hanging slightly agape. Did I seriously hear her right? By the glint in her eye, it's pretty obvious I can't have mistaken her, and I lurch to pull on her hand before she's too far out of reach. She lets me draw her back with the softest sigh, the sexiest smirk curving her glossy lips.

"You are y'know!" she says, nodding smugly, leaning just close enough so that only the creation of her words teases my lips. "You are so guessable."

"So bite me."

Her eyes sparkle suggestively. "Well there's an invitation hmmm? No, Dennis. You stay. Send yourself crazy on my coffee. I'll go on my own. Somehow, I reckon tonight's gonna be a lot more interesting if you miss me!"

"Sharon!"

But she's already pulled back and raced off to the bathroom, slamming the door decidedly shut. She is such a fuckin' tease. And as much as I admittedly love that, it leaves me pretty lonely. So I occupy myself with poring over her CD collection. Uber random doesn't even cover it! Makes me smile just to have my thumb slip over The Beach Boys & Billy Joel alongside Bryan Adams and Nirvana! Of course, I yank out the Bon Jovi and crank it up. Excitement purrs inside. God, I really can't wait for this. And I love how the same seems true for Sharon, cos she's a damn sight quicker out the shower than she was this morning. The CD's only five tracks in when she bounds into the lounge - dressed! She takes in my look of surprise appreciatively, eyes shimmering as she spins round.

"Will I do then?"

I just grin at her. I can't help it. She's gone full out casual and she looks as sexy as Hell - short black skirt and vest-top. I love how much of her is on show without being on offer. She looks fuckin' gorgeous - and she didn't appear to struggle over her extensive choice of shoes either, settling on strappy black sandals that make her immediately 4 or 5 inches taller, making her smooth legs longer and longer and oh my God, so not the time to be having such thoughts Rickman!

"Definitely!" I reach out for her as I let myself drop back against the sofa. She giggles and wriggles down to the other end. I'm not captivated by the way her skirt rides up her thigh. Nope, I'm honestly not watching. Sharon stretches serenely out and lays her head in my lap, her hair fanned out across my knees. She can't stop smiling, reaching up to catch my hand in hers. She starts idly stroking my fingertips, but I reckon that's only cos she can tell I'm dying to play with her hair.

"You don't remember do you?" she murmurs softly, eyes sparkling as she looks up at me.

"Depends. What am I remembering?"

"We used to do this all the time."

I beam down at her, nodding slowly as I give into the urge and start toying with her hair with my other hand. "Yeah. I remember... all the time until that night you fell asleep on me drunk and-"

She gasps as she remembers, wriggling to viciously beat my hands away, giggling manically. "You bastard, Dennis! You fuckin' bastard! That hurt!"

"Oh shut up, you didn't feel a thing - you wouldn't known anything about it if you hadn't woken up when I picked you up from the floor!"

"There was blood pouring from my head!"

I raise my eyebrow, smirking. "Yeah and you didn't even know that until I told you!"

Huffing, she settles back down across my lap, locking her fingers through my hand this time. "Just don't let it happen tonight eh?"

"Why, you haven't been drinking already have you?"

"No. But I intend to get wasted tonight. Hey, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Great call, Sharon. You, hungover, the morning we open!"

"So? It's not gonna be just me is it? I mean, you-"

I shake my head. "I'm driving aren't I?"

"What? No way! Oh c'mon darlin', you can't make it be just me! I'm gonna need your support in the morning!"

"And by support, you mean I have to feel like a bear with a sore head too?"

Sharon lets go of a really gentle sigh. "No, of course you don't." Then she pulls herself up into a sitting position before scooting along the sofa towards me, swinging her legs up and tucking them up beneath her as she sinks back onto her knees against the cushions, her hand poised on my shoulder, her fingertips tracing flirtatious patterns. "At least, you don't if you don't wanna get anywhere with me in the next three months."

I wince, most definitely feeling the agony of that threat. "That's evil."

The way her eyes are shimmering and she bites into the cushion of her glossy lips tells me she's well aware of it, proud of it even. "Mmmm..." she muses thoughtfully, pushing herself up to the height of her knees and in one swift movement, straddling my lap. "It is isn't it? I'll have to re-think my strategies..."

And I have to say, I appreciate the re-think, cos less than half a breath later, her mouth is mashed against mine and it's only as she feels my reply, hands begin to move wherever they dare, needing to touch as much as I need to taste that she forces her tongue into my mouth. Oh God, oh God, think new thoughts, think new thoughts. But when they said resistance is futile, they really weren't kidding.

That is until I feel Sharon's snake past my shoulders, dropping down from around my neck and settling against my groin, moving up, tugging at my fly.

"Mmmm! Sharon!"

"What?" she questions innocently, a pout stealing her lips as I break off, almost choking in surprise.

"We have to go!"

But the suggestion in her eyes does not waver as she leans closer. "S'why they call it a quick one..."

Bowing my head, I crease up, laughing helplessly. But as there comes a furious knock at Sharon's front door, I send up a silent prayer I didn't give in. Cos Jesus Christ, I'd have loved to. Registering the sound too, Sharon groans quietly, resting her forehead against mine, eyes closed, as if she's hoping we'll be left alone. Any night but this one darlin' and I'm yours.

"Get up." I advise her.

She feigns hurt. "Turning me down? Uch, you're breaking my heart here, Dennis."

I grin and follow her out into the hall, pulling on the hand she uses to open the door.

"You'll forgive me." I assure her, letting my arms surround her waist as she stands against the wall, instinctively smirking, daring me even until my mouth covers hers, eradicating all irritation and blame in one deep kiss.

"I don't believe this! Seven I said I'd be here! Seven! And you two having been too busy screwing the merry Hell out of each other to notice it's half past!"

Sharon splutters dangerously on a laugh as we spring apart and face Natalie, who, with hands on hips, is trying to look reprimanding. But her smirk's too obvious and she's shaking too much trying to hold back her laughter.

"Babe, we haven't-"

"Yeah, I believe you." she nods, not believing her at all as she sails through to the lounge. She turns in the doorway, her smirk becoming a little broader as her gaze settles on me.

"Word of advice Dennis... do your fly up before you answer the door. Makes it less obvious! Now are we going to this bloody concert or not?" 

Oh my God, I'm buzzing. I love it, I fuckin' love it. There are people absolutely everywhere, going crazy. It was official three or four songs in - I'm surrounded by thousands of people rocking out to the best band in existence. I swear, my palms are already stinging and I seriously think I might be about to lose my voice. I can't stop screaming or searching out Sal and Nat to squeal "I love this song!" I'd be ashamed to realise I'm thirty-six and not eighteen if there weren't so many people around to make me feel so much better about myself. There's Jason for one, oh my God, what a sweetheart this man is.

He called Dennis when we were all stood shivering and shrieking outside. I think the infectious chorus of "It's My Life" that was taking the crowds had reached us by then. Nat had pulled herself up onto the wall and was plaiting sections of my hair, just for something to do. I couldn't make out what Dennis was saying down the line, but by the look on his face, he was pretty amused, smirking even as he rolled his eyes. He flicked his phone down and slipped it back in his pocket.

"What?" I'd asked with a smile.

But Dennis just grinned disbelievingly. "He's fuckin' determined to meet you..."

I'd pursed my lips thoughtfully, just to tease him. "Not tryin' to hide me away are ya?"

"Gonna be a bit hard to try now the whole country knows we're together, don't you think?"

"Oooh, that stung!"

And I swear, the setence was barely out when some guy came up behind Dennis, hand raining down on his shoulder to make his presence known.

"DJ!"

"Fuckin' Hell Jase!" Dennis laughed as he turned round to face him, idly pumps his hand. Then he caught the way me & Nat are looking at him so dubiously and he rolled his eyes again. "Middle name's James, i'n't it? And back when I was fifteen... only some of us never matured past that did we, Jase?"

"Fuck you! I'll have the tickets back if you're gonna be a shit all your life!" But Dennis just smirked and stepped back up beside me, which meant Jason's gaze fell on me, face splitting into a grin. "Then again..."

"Hiya Jason..." I beamed, Nat having let the first complete plait drop down against my head as I leapt forward to slide my arms round him in greeting. I saw out the corner of my eye how stunned he looked before I nestled into him, his arms hesitantly surrounding me too.

"Don't be expecting a Christmas present on top will you Jase?"

"Yeah-" he bit back dryly. "-remind me again why she's seeing you?"

Then it was my turn to smirk as I leant back against Dennis, somehow not needing to say a word to justify it. We met the rest of their friends. It was comical, meeting these guys Dennis has known half his life and watching them being introduced to half a West End cast, eyes bulging in surprise at every greeting. Jason was perhaps the only one that didn't seem that perplexed by any of them, started getting really chatting with Nat, which made both Dennis and me privately proud. Not that I know what the bastard was on about, Jason's gorgeous, and by the look on Nat's face, she'd realised it too. She barely remembered to do my second plait, tying the ends of both around the back of my head with fumbling hands.

Once we were inside, it took me the hour or so til the support came on to convince Dennis that getting on the Tube and then calling a cab to head home was a viable option and therefore, he should get rat-arsed with me. No-one else had any inhibitions about it at all, except Pat, but that's cos he's a tee-totaller. Sal and Nick had disappeared to the bar three times in an hour, and barely made it back through the crowds from the loos in time to see Bon Jovi storm the stage. I was nestled into Dennis, shaking with anticipation - or possibly the coolness of having his beer bottle rested against my stomach as his arms looped comfortably around my waist. But whatever - oh my God! I reached over with my other hand to squeeze Nat's hand frantically. She understood the need, both of us biting desperately hard into our lips as we looked at each other and tried not to squeal.

No, screaming was so much more the thing. It was like a dream. They played the best songs ever, creating such a fantastic energy across these thousands of people - Jon & Richie looking fuckin' gorgeous for it! Everyone around was swinging their hips and clapping their hands to the beat, screaming out the lyrics for everything inside of each of us. It was like being surrounded by twenty-thousand friends. There was always someone close by to grin at!

And I loved how perfectly the action of Dennis' hips, so deliciously unable to stay still, countered my own. I turned my head and he just grinned across at me, eyes shimmering as we rock back and forth, unashamedly singing out at each other.

(Bon Jovi: Raise Your Hands)

Oooooh, yeah!
You... you gotta nasty reputation
We're in a sticky situation
It's down to me and you
So tell me! Is it true?
They say they're ain't nobody better
Well, now that we're together - show me what you can do!

But Jon demands the attention of every eye, thrusting his fist in the air at the change of the lights, dousing him in a rainbow of colour. My God, there is such passion in his every word, his voice so damn strong and unique, he's making me tingle, counting us all up to our interaction. Ah, we'd never be able to hold back, screams of appreciation rising up from every body as arms stop surrounding waists and shoulders and fly up into the air at the demand of each line, thousands upon thousands of pint glasses and lager bottles rising up too.

You're under the gun, out on the run, gonna set the night on fire!
Out on the run, under the gun, playing to win!
Raise your hands!
When you wanna let it go!
Raise your hands!
And you wanna let your feelings show
Raise your hands!
From New York to Chicago
Raise your hands!
From New Jersey to Toyoko
Whoooooa-oh! Raise your hands!

On it goes, and oh my God, never have I been so exhilirated. What we're given is never enough. Always more, more, more! These guys are an addiction and God, they feed it well. After Livin' On A Prayer, Jesus Christ, I think it's safe to say that every person there, hoarse from cheering and completely out of breath, was ready to die a happy death. Nat had tears in her eyes. I so knew the feeling.

Jon raised his arms, pleading silence even though we couldn't help but rain hollering praise down on him. He is like a God. He raises the microphone slowly. There's no backing right now. There's just him... and us.

"Hey hey hey! Hey hey hey!"

It spreads through us all like fire, rhythmic clapping holding the words up as arms remain in the air, clamouring for this man, his talent, everything. We keep it going, and still no backing comes. It's just the strength of that one voice, reaching us all.

(Bon Jovi: You Can Sleep While I Dream)

Hey hey hey! This one's for the dreamers!
Hey hey hey! You doubting disbelievers!
Get out of my way!
I'll bend but I'm not breaking!
I'm scared but I'm not shaking!

With one thrust, his microphone is on us and thousands of voices rise up in a swell to appease him. It's fantastic.

Baby, you can sleep while I dream!
Hey hey hey! This one's for the breathing!
Hey hey hey! The guiding and the bleeding!
Get out of my way!
I may whisper but I'm screaming
I got angels, I got demons
Baby, you can sleep while I dream... when I dream... and I dream... I dream!
(Hey hey hey! Hey hey hey! Hey hey hey! Hey hey hey! Hey hey hey!)
Hey hey hey! I feel a change a-coming!
Hey hey hey! See that train a-coming
Can you see it?
(Hey hey hey!)
Baby you can sleep while I dream.

"Keep dreaming!"

Screaming so hard in agreement that me and Natalie seem to stumble forward at the same time, we crease into giggles. Dennis still has hold of my hand so draws me back and calls into my ear; "S'my round... coming?"

I nod, let him lead me out of the throng. I love how easy it is to talk to strangers in these sorts of situations, cos you're all here for the same thing. And here, all of us, we're all just faces in the crowd, it doesn't matter who we are! You can stand on a stranger's foot and they'll just grin and say "Wasn't that amazing?"

We make it out into the bar to the sound of "Wildflower".

"That's you that is!" Dennis laughs, motioning soundlessly to one of the bar-staff for the same again. Looks like Jason's warned this lot we were coming.

I giggle quietly, pointedly singing out my favourite line.

(Bon Jovi: Wildflower)

She'll tell you she's an only child until you meet her brothers.
Swears she's never met a man she couldn't turn into a lover!

"Exactly." he says, smirking.

"I am by the way." I whisper smoothly, sidling up to him and leaning against the bar.

"You are what?"

"An only child. No brothers, no nothing. So you could get away with anything you wanted. Which is handy really cos-" Flirtatiously tracing patterns on the back of his hand, I lean in against his ear, murmuring; "-I want you so much."

He smiles privately as he hands me my next drink. "The anticipation eh?"

"You're killing me." I reply honestly.

"Yeah well, the rate you're going, it's either gonna be me or Jon!"

"You. Definitely you."

"Glad to hear it." he teases, nodding approvingly. He raises his lager bottle to his lips, but I reach to press my hand over the top, forcing it away. "What?" he questions, giving me an odd look of confusion as I look back at him, seeing so much in his face that means the world to me.

"I... oh no, doesn't matter."

"Sure?"

"Mmmm-hmmm, positive." I claw back my lip nervously and beginning gathering the chilled bottles in my hands to carry back to the guys and gals.

 
Come midnight, we're all singing It's My Life very loudly as is the level of drunkenness as we all flock out of the venue. The night's warm and the sky's dark and clear. It's bloody fantastic. Jason seems the most willing when I declare I want to dance. Waltzing across the potholed kerbs of London wasn't exactly what I meant, but oh my God, it was hysterical, even if all the over-enthusiastic turns did make my head dizzy. It made me think I had some idea what dancing Havana with Dennis must be like. Hmmm, why have we not tried that yet?

I tried to plead him into it, but he just laughed and refused, instead wrapping his arms around me and murmuring against my ear to ask whether or not I was ready to head home. Seriously, I'd forgotten how embarrassing I could be when I'm drunk. But at least I said it quietly I guess, raising an eyebrow and unashamedly pouting at him as I said; "You won't do my kinda dancing... I won't do yours!"

He laughed gently and pushed me away, releasing me from his arms, and I squealed, recognising my words for a quote! "Pat!" I called out, and he spun round, grinning as he came towards me, apparantly already knowing what I was gonna say. 

He takes me up into the hold and we dance together - his kinda dancing - Dirty Dancing! Everyone's stood round, giggling as they watch and sing out "I've Had The Time Of My Life" - which is definitely appropriate given the night we've just had!

It's only as I overbalance for my hysterics that I realise it's probably time to give up and go back towards Dennis, weaving my arm around his back. Goodbyes take a long time, with twenty or so people to leap at for a hug and to gush at about how brilliant tonight has been. I feel pretty smug as I draw my best friend away and realise she's clutching Jason's number scrawled on a scrap of paper in her hand. I hug her tight, squealing.

"Thank you babe... this has been the best thing ever."

"Yeah!" she agrees enthusiastically, grinning between Dennis and me. "Until tomorrow night anyway eh?"

"Maybe..." Dennis laughs, stepping up to kiss her cheek. "See you then Nat eh?"

"But of course!" she tells him brightly, stretching up to snake her arms round his neck. "Thanks for thinking of me Dennis. It was amazing, I won't forget it!"

"Night Jase!" I call out as Nat heads off, casually holding his hand.

He turns round grinning, gesturing with his free hand that we should head out for a drink sometime.

"You're on darlin'!"

I step back against Dennis and he gives out the softest laugh against my ear, leading me away by the hand, his phone in the other as we head towards where we'll find his car - as long as, between us, we can remember where that is!

"What are you doing?"

"You didn't seriously wanna get on the Tube did you? I'm calling a cab!"

I push myself up onto the bonnet of his car, idly swinging my legs back and forth. "No, honestly, I don't mind."

"Well I do." he affirms, leaning in to kiss me fleetingly before he paces off in the hope of a better signal. I scoot further back across the bonnet, the base of my spine pressed against the windscreen. Dennis comes back, pushing his phone into his pocket. "Five minutes apparan-" But he tails off, giving me an odd look as I lean back. "What the Hell are you doing?"

I just pat the expanse of bonnet beside me. He shakes his head in disbelief and pulls himself up too, replicating my stance.

"Right..." he says after a few seconds silence, drawing in an apprehensive. "...so what am I looking at?"

I turn my head to the side, tutting at him in despair even as I reach down into his lip and loop my hand through his. "What's usually in the sky at night, Dennis?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Planes full of cheapskates that don't wanna suffer the shame of going by Easyjet in daylight!"

I bite back a laugh. It's fair enough comment. "Alright. Apart from that."

But he really seems to be concentrating, apparantly having no clue. "But... a star's a star isn't it? Seen one, seen 'em all?"

"Piss off is it!" I gasp, horrified. "Me and my dad used to do this all the time, picking out constellations and stuff. A star is never just a star, it always belongs to lots of other stars. He told me that when I was five or six, so I'd never get scared or lonely when I went to bed." I feel myself colour as I confess; "He still calls me Twinkle."

Dennis grins. "Still? Daddy's little star eh?"

"To be honest, I think he's forgotten my actual name. My mum gave up trying to remind him ten years ago."

"Oh my God, that's adorable."

"Yeah, he is. He told me that thing about the stars... just to prove there's always someone around you, y'know? Oh God... that reminds me..."

"What?"

But the cab veers round and I have to shake the thought from my head, clambering down from the bonnet and telling Dennis not to forget where it is he'd abandoned his car! I flop against him on the backseat, snuggling into him. He laughs softly, stroking back my hair and kissing my crown.

"Shattered?"

"Mmmm-mmmm!" I insist, shaking my head gently. "Still buzzing. You're amazing, this whole thing was just... God, there isn't a big enough word..."

"I know what you mean. But Nat's right you know, it's only gonna be like that again tomorrow night."

I groan, trying to pretend I didn't hear him. Cos my stomach starts to churn and it has little to do with post-gig hunger. "Don't..." I plead in a whimper.

But he just laughs to humour my nerves, apparantly believing they have no place. Well I guess we'll find that out tomorrow.

I have to have another argument with him as we reach his flat. He's just lost about an extra forty quid for refusing to get on the Tube before calling a cab, and the daft bastard's paying it all off himself. And I won't let him do it - it's not like I'm not grateful after all. I woulda got on the Tube without complaint, but I am shattered. Buzzing doesn't mean I have the energy to handle it. So I'm stood there, purse in hand, arguing the toss with him (and enjoying it, oddly!) and in the end I told him that if he wasn't gonna let me pay my half, I was gonna stand him up in the wings tomorrow. So he had to relent, and I had to be smug. I love that feeling.

I love even more the realisation that as Dennis' front door clicked obediently shut behind his force, that was it. Us. Alone. He kicks off his trainers in a messy heap. I can't stand how the bastard takes to watching me as I pull my heels off, cos he always look so bloody humoured as I can't help but sink a good four inches. But he does try not to let it last, moving past me, deliberately not looking at me should he laugh. But I lurch for his hand as he goes by, drawing him back.

"You didn't think you were just gonna get to crawl into bed did you?"

He smirks, letting his arms surround me. "What, with you here? As if I'd be so naive, Sharon!"

"Mmm!" I sigh appreciatively, leaning forward to pepper his lips with kisses. "Not tired then?"

"Nope."

"Fantastic..."

And believe me, every second of it was. I don't think I've ever known anyone quite like him. And lying so contently beside him, oh I could sleep easily if I wasn't so damn captivated by him. Wriggling closer, I press my lips to his shoulder, kissing his warm skin softly.

"I don't mean to freak you out or anything but-"

"But?" he coaxes with the smallest smile.

"I was just wondering... have you told your mum and dad about m- well, us?"

Dennis twists against the bed a little, scooching his head further into the pillow beside mine as his smile widens in humour. He reaches across, idly playing with the ends of my messed hair as he murmurs; "No... was just gonna let 'em get it all out the national press weren't I?"

"Dennis!" I scold, well aware he's teasing me.

"Well! You didn't seriously think I'd be able to keep quiet about you, did you?"

I shrug as I contemplate it. "I dunno. Parents are... weird."

He grins, fighting back a laugh. "At least you're prepared for mine then!"

"You think so? Cos that's what I was... earlier... my mum and dad wanna meet you before the show tomorrow."

"Ah."

"Is that... OK?" I question nervously, the words muffled as I purposely pull the edge of the duvet up to cover my mouth. "Cos... if it's too heavy or... I'll hold 'em off, really. The last thing I want is for you-"

"Sharon, tomorrow's a huge night. I wasn't expecting to not meet your parents. I mean, d'you seriously reckon you're gonna get away from mine cos I'm telling you now, you're not."

"Yeah, but... that's different isn't it? That's cos we're treading the boards and they're the proud parents. This... at least in my parents' view... this is cos we're together."

"Right, so... what... I tell your mum she looks young enough to be your sister, and I shake your dad's hand and promise not to break his little girl's heart cos otherwise he'll break every bone in my body?"

I can't help but laugh. "My dad's not far off sixty, Dennis, he wouldn't stand a chance. Besides, he's not like that."

"He doesn't need to be. It's just summat dads say i'n't it?"

"Yeah well, I'm just saying, you don't have to do it if you're not comfortable with it."

"Well, I'm good... OK? Besides, my mother would kill me if she didn't get to meet the couple that raised the woman that snared her only, precious son!"

My giggle becomes muffled against his chest. "Well... you know what this means, don't you? Meeting the parents?" He just looks at me blankly so I edge up, teasing pressing his mouth. "It means we've got no choice but to be at least half serious about each other."

Dennis tilts his head away in alarm and I pull myself up a little, worried about what I coulda said wrong. But he just looks up at me, eyes shimmering, that smile curving those perfectly kissable lips as he raises his protest in the warmest voice.

"I am serious."

The only thing that forces me to wake up the next morning is the fact the sheets aren't warm. Sharon's side of the bed is empty. Reluctantly, I open my eyes, only consoled by the sight of Sharon crouched to my eye level, her hair immaculate, her fingernails gleaming as she laces her hands together, and her eyes shimmering with the sweetest greeting.

"Hey-" I murmur, wriggling lazily across to take up her hand, idly stroking her fingers apart. "-you been up long?"

"Hours."  she confesses coyly, looking down at my hand. "I've done my hair six times..."

"Why aren't you still here?"

"I can't sleep. I'm too nervous..."

"That's crazy." I assure her gently. "I told you, you've got nothing to be..."

"Oh I so have!" she replies, dismissing me with a nervous laugh. "Face it, I'm nothing compared to... Pat... Sal... you."

"Not true. We need you. Well, me more than most maybe but-"

"I'm scared."

"Well, if you wanna be sick in the wings, give me a shout, I'm an expert, I'll come hold your hand."

"I'm serious. I'm really scared. Like I might not be able to get out there and do it. And I want to... so much, but... urgh, I just don't think I can."

"And does Twinkle really wanna risk running that one past Daddy before tonight?"

She smirks, and hits me gently across the arm, obviously with no intention of actually hurting me. "Don't mock me, Rickman..."

"Alright, fine. What time is it?"

Her smile is almost grateful as she pushes herself up and pointedly pulls back the edge of the duvet. "Time you were up as well, thank God."

"Uh, do you mind?" I splutter indignantly, wrenching back control of the duvet before she can reveal too much. "Feeling slightly exposed down here! Oh God, stop looking at me like that!"

"Me?" she questions innocently, fluttering her eyelashes. "I didn't do a thing."

"Yeah... right."

The smirk reappears and she leans down to kiss me quickly. "Given that I was in your shower at half-four this morning, the water should be re-heated by now if you want one too..."

"What, you not coming in too? Y'know, settle your nerves and that?"

"Oh!" she moans appreciatively. "You know what, I would love to, but there just isn't enough time for me to do my hair another six times again afterwards."

"Oh, go on... I'll be quick."

"And where's the fun in that eh? No... you just best hope we've got some time after last rehearsal! Now get up."

With that, she bounces off without another word, simply flinging off the duvet as she goes. Cow.

When I get in the shower, I swear I can hear her pacing up and down in the hallway on the other side of the bathroom door, mumbling lines to herself. I bet she's been doing that for hours. I mean, how long has she been up for God's sake? She said herself she was in the shower at half four. We didn't get in til almost half-one and then we... well, I mean, has she slept at all?

She's not in the hallway when I go back across to the bedroom though. No, now she's in the doorway of the lounge, shaking her script furiously. It don't look as pristine as its managed to all through rehearsals. It looks like its taken a serious battering this morning. But she doesn't even catch sight of me she's so wrapped up in it, so I just go back to my room, dry off and get dressed.

"You ready then?" I ask her gently, going back into the lounge and watching her pick up her bags, her script still held rigid in her hand.

"Do I have to be?"

"Yeah darlin', sorry. Woody's back in for the last promo shots at nine, remember?"

"No..." she confesses meekly, shaking her head.

"Well, he is, so c'mon. You'll feel better once you're there, honestly."

"Hmmm, do you know how long hair and wardrobe takes these days?"

"Well, it don't matter anyway, at least not til tonight. These aren't character shots."

Her face falls in confusion as I reach to take the bag with all her stuff from yesterday from her.She's reluctant to let me take it, but I just tug and she has to relent.

"They're the... "Look at us, we're the smug, the rich and the famous - and you're the little people lining our pockets night after night!" kinda shots you know? Lots of posing round the theatre looking pleased with ourselves?"

And Sharon starts giggling, looking less nervous, thank God! "I could enjoy that!"

"I know!" I assure her with a smirk, grabbing her hand to lead her out the flat. She's about to open the passenger door of my car when, just like yesterday, her phone shrills. Sharon notices the coincidence too and rolls her eyes as she delves into her bag to retrieve the hanset. I've just slung her overnight bag on the backseat and levelled up with her on the driver's side when I hear her greet her caller.

"Mornin', Sal. Ready for this babe? Oh... uh, what?"

"What's up?" I ask quietly.

She pulls the phone back. "Sal says half of London's press is positioned outside the Marleway... are we expecting that?"

"Opening night? Yes."

"Oh God..."

"Is that all she phoned to say cos it was pretty obvious!"

"No... she doesn't think we should head in together."

"Ah well, that's where she's wrong." I assure her certainly, climbing into the driver's seat. Mumbling her thanks and then her goodbyes down the line to Sal, she stuffs her phone away and then follows suit on the passenger side, looking quizzically over at me as she clips her seatbelt into the plug.

"How d'you know that?"

"Cos if we don't show up together, they'll have a field day. We'll have split up, no question!"

"But we haven't. And we won't."

"Oh, we will if it sells tomorrow's papers darlin'. That's the way they want it to be unless we're gonna get married and have six kids. But then of course, I'd have to shag the nanny and then you'd end up getting pregnant by the divorce lawyer and..."

"Stop, Dennis. For God's sake, stop!"  

Jesus. I didn't even know this many journalists existed in London. I don't think I've ever held anyone's hand so tight. Of course, the camera flashes seemed to lap that up. I just kept walking, head high, smile perfectly in place and feeling damn grateful for my sunnies for the brightness of every flash. Never heard so many people call my name at any one time, it's weird; especially when you're well aware your name's following Dennis Rickman's cos well, let's face it, you're holding his hand like your life depends on it. And from the height of these shoes, it probably does as well. But we get through them easy enough, surrounded by the rest of our cast as soon as we're through the door. I'm sure all of the Ladies scream in excitement, running across the room to surround us both with their hugs and chatter.

Yeah, Dennis might be right.... butterflies are settling, I think.

"Did you like... sleep at all?" Billie buzzes breathlessly.

"Er, no." I admit bashfully, catching Dennis' smirk.

"She was in my bloody shower at four this morning, can you believe that?"

Ali's eyes glisten suggestively. "On your own or... not?"

"Oh shove off, Al!" I laugh, whacking her across the arm. "You don't seriously believe he's got that much staying power do ya?"

"I heard that!" Dennis calls as he goes across the floor to where the guys are blocking up the stairs, telling jokes and sneakily passing round not very well disguised cigarettes.

"So where's Woody then?" I question, ignoring Dennis for all but a smirk in his direction.

Sal shrugs. "Setting up upstairs somewhere. But we've got the press gang first haven't we?" She nods towards the door.

"They're all coming in here?"

"Oh God, no!" Bonnie assures me, pushing a glass of champagne at me to match everyone else's occupied hand. "Wouldn't get all of them in here as well as the journalists would they? Health & Safety would have a fit! It's invitation only!"

"Oh right..."

I've barely taken one sip of my drink, thinking I probably shouldn't given that it wasn't exactly a light night last night and it isn't all that long ago anyway, when Jenni, the publicity manager comes sweeping down the stairs in her smart business suit, her access badge swinging from a clip on her breast pocket. She claps her hand commandingly making the lads have to disperse from the staircase, giggling like kids as they try and conceal Nick taking a few last desperate tokes on that stub of a cigarette before he tosses it away into a pot plant.

"C'mon then ladies and gents, if you'd like to follow me..."

Sal grabs my hand and leads me off, not even giving me time to contemplate putting down my glass of champagne. I just have to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping myself upright as we rush obediently up the stairs, talking and shrieking with laughter. I thought it was too early to be this amused by everything, but I guess I'm excited now. I love the way it feels.

I'm almost bent double with hysterics as I somehow manage to kick the door on my way through. Sal bursts out laughing as she holds me up, and the cameras start flashing incessantly at us just as we start cackling. Jenni tries to give us a disapproving look as she sails past, but she has a sense of humour too, and can't do it, smirking as she steps up to present us to the press-pack as stand against the backdrop of the best of the promotional posters. OK, 9ft foot high versions of myself equals very scary. But I stand there as straight as I can, my knees beginning to tremor and I take to lazily swinging Sal's hand in mine as my own begin to sweat.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the last of Grease's pre-performance press calls here at the Marleway. I must remind you to keep questions at a professional level as no members of this company are under no obligation to answer personal or intrusive questions."

I have to bite back a giggle, completely sure she looks pointedly between me and Dennis before she steps back. And he seems to have noticed too, leaning forward just as I do just so we might catch each other's attention to exchange a very proud smirk.

But I flinch in surprise as I realise the first journalist Jenni has wordlessly gestured to relieve himself of his question is actually talking to me.

"Sharon, how are you feeling now that your West End debut is imminent? Nervous?"

"Oh..." I giggle softly, clutching Sal's hand a little tighter. "Yes! But I've been told I've no need so I don't think I'm allowed to be, am I? I mean, look at this cast for God's sake, I couldn't have asked for a better one. The rehearsals have been the most fun I've had since... ever. So maybe I'm not! No!" I cry out certainly, grinning. "Bring it on!"

Twenty strong voices around me raise a cheer. Which makes my smile so much wider, my jaw begins to ache. Sal slides her arms round my waist and nestles proudly into my shoulder.

The rest of the questions buzz round me, I'm so damn happy. I answer every question with a giggle, that intensifies every time I catch Dennis' eye.

When Jenni shepherds us all out again and up the second staircase, we're still laughing. Better, a whole line of drinks are sat on the bar waiting for us. Apparantly Woody has a whole schedule that's gonna take most of the morning cos he'll need to set up all over the theatre. So there he is, in the middle of the bar, wanting to catch us all giggling and slinging back the champers! Nice! After that, he's setting up outside and then he's got some completely different camera to walk in our shadows all across the theatre - we're expected to drink even more then. Ah, what a way to sell this show, snapping us all roaring drunk on the staircase.

We seem to be toasting every cast-member we can think of, taking the tiniest sips in between. And then Woody, via Jenni, starts calling us all through, individually, then in couples, then in groups. So while we're all waiting, we crash on the squashy sofas and armchairs in the bar, giggling at the way songs from Grease seem to be blaring out from all the speakers. Nick started singing the first song that came into his head, which, for no explainable reason was "Don't You Want Me Baby?" which almost had me spitting out my mouthful of champagne across Dennis' knee as I sat against him. He was laughing pretty hard too, which made the rest of them turn round and give us looks like we were crazy.

"I was a cocktail waitress..." I manage to gasp out. "Still was first time I met him..." I tilt my head towards Dennis', whose arm is shaking as it rests across my back, stroking up the material of my shirt dress.

"Oh my God Rickman, you actually got off with a cocktail waitress?"

"Yeah I know, cliché!" Dennis grins, nodding. "But do you blame me?"

"Oh shut up!" I scoff, whacking him across the knee. "You didn't even know what I did for the first few weeks."

"What, you mean you didn't tell him, sugar?" Sal questions sweetly, smirking knowingly as she looks across at Dennis. "Or did the arse just not ask?"

"Hey, I was busy alright?" Dennis protests with a laugh.

Catching the way, Sal looks less than impressed, Nick struck up again, changing direction completely and passionately (however jokingly) belting out "Music of The Night".

"You ever done Phantom, Nick?"

"Would love to babe, but sadly... Why, what's in your back catalogue?"

I shrug. "S'my debut i'n't it?"

"Yeah I know, but it's not like you haven't done theatre before now is it? Musical theatre I mean?"

"Well, no. I did tour in..."

"In what, hon?" Ali presses, my words deliberately tailing off in a mumbles into my champagne.

"Rocky Horror."

They all reel back, looking impressed even as they gasp. "You never did?"

Even Dennis has gone tense. "Why didn't I know that?"

"Mmmm-" I muse teasingly, knowing that they all should cos I mentioned it to Paul bloody O'Grady on national TV, no less. "-maybe I didn't think you could handle the idea I've pretty much worn as little on stage as I have in your flat?"

And that seems to be the general consenus, a lot more suggestive whooping and laughing carrying off the aghast look from Dennis' face. God, he's so gorgeous.

"Did you have any solos then Sharon?"

"Oh yeah, Bil, course. Yeah, me in a shirt and a pair of Stilettoes, him in shiny hotpants and baby oil. Was fantastic."

"Well c'mon then!" she beams encouragingly, beckoning me to stand up.

"Yeah, c'mon girl!"

"Show us what you're really made of Sharon!"

Shaking my head in disbelief, I drain my glass and  push myself up. "What, you want me stood on the table too?" I laugh, gesturing to the low table on which a dozen glasses are stood, pinning down a spray of promotional leaflets. But they just grin at me. Christ knows how they're expecting me to do this without any backing, but Hell, why not?

"You." I say firmly, tilting a fingertip in Dennis' direction.

"Mmmm?"

"I do this... I want Havana. And you fuckin' dare to tell me I don't have the muscle extension..."

He smirks, casually lacing his hands together. "But can I afford to risk straining both your hamstrings for ya hours before first show, huh?"

I arch my eyebrow. "Can you afford to be celibate for the next three months? Cos not even Nat would have ya now she's hooked up with Jason, mate."

He winces playfully. "That hurt, Sharon..."

"Will you shut up distracting her?" Ali growls, sliding eagerly down to the floor with Sal, sat with their knees bent up against the table. I roll my eyes. Singing without backing makes me nervous. And I've been drinking so I bet that's my composure shot. But I straighten up and go for it anyway. I remember, being on stage, singing this night after night, I was always fighting the urge to laugh, it was brilliant.

I was feeling done in, couldn't win
I'd only ever kissed before

I love how, the first two timid lines having escaped me, the sofas all creak as everyone leans forward, really sitting up to take notice, smirking to Hell as they all instinctively recognise what it is I'm singing. Sal & Ali are grinning like Cheshire cats however, definitely one step ahead of everyone else.

(You mean she...?)

Sal nods at Ali's raised question, flicking out her tongue at me in a way that says "You're welcome!"

(Uh-huh...)

I just beam back at them, letting my gaze drop innocently to the carpet.

I thought there's no use getting into heavy petting
It only leads to trouble and seat-wetting.

I straighten out again, smirking as I lift my head, trying to remember what the Hell I was supposed to be doing physically through this number. Besides draping myself around "Rocky". Oh God, I can't help looking around the guys and imagining them in the same get up. 

Now all I want to know is how to go
I've tasted blood and I want more

Sal & Ali seem to be thinking the same, grinning pointedly at Dennis as they once again steal the necessary interjection. I have this feeling they might be closet Rocky whores, you know.

(More, more, more!)

The length of my dress really isn't much longer than the shirt I would have to have gone round the stage wearing half the night, so it's easy to let my hands fall wherever, pretty much aware I have a dozen pairs of hungry male eyes watching the every trail. See, as disturbing as Rocky's concept is, no-one can deny it's got a certain sexualness about it, or that Janet Weiss is a total slut. God, she was so much fun to play.

I'll put up no resistance, I want to stay the distance
I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistance

Spinning skillfully on my heel, I manage to catch someone's hand as I go round, realising only as I find them pressed up against me that it's Nick. Ah well, too bad Rickman. Nick's grinning at me like it's Christmas, countering the circuit of my hips against him perfectly. Hmmm, I can kinda see the hotpants happening too. I give out an unashamedly dirty giggle as I turn my attentions to letting my hands trail all over Nick's chest, before dropping dramatically. I can feel that giggling urge bubble in my stomach again. By the way the sofas all creaked again so suddenly, I think they musta thought I was about to treat Mr. Jacobs to a hand-job or something - in front of my own man too!

Touch-a touch-a touch me, I wanna be dirty
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me, creature of the night.
Then if anything grows, while you pose
I'll oil you up and rub you down

Oh yeah, Sal & Ali are definitely giggling as they sing out again.

(Down, down, down!)

I back up against Nick, the rhythm of his hips still utterly perfect. His hands rest lazily against my stomach, so I lace my hand through one and raise it, spinning beneath his hand and dropping, my back an impressive and yet painfuly arc. Plus, if I'd bent back any lower, without Nick's support anyway, I'd have been giving myself concussion against the edge of the table. The headrush as I bounce up again is a bit of a killer, but hey, there's only one thing to remember - act a slut, be the slut and always touch up the man-candy.

And that's just one small fraction of the main attraction
You need a friendly hand and I need action!
Touch-a touch-a touch me, I wanna be dirty
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me, creature of the night.

Ah, you know what, Sandy Dumbrowski has no idea what she's missing.

Unsurprisingly enough, Sharon sank three glasses of champagne immediately after that, therefore needing to pee desperately and having no shame in confession that as she pulled herself up from the couch and ran across the bar towards the toilets, giggling like mad. Hmmm, maybe we should be keeping her off the source. If she's nervous, she's only gonna drink more and it'll be great if she can't stand up on stage tonight. Mind you, she seemed to have figured that herself by the time she came back, taking a detour to go and whisper at Bry the barman and returning with a very large, very still bottle of water. She refused to talk about the rest of her back catalogue should she embarrass herself again and have developed a bladder condition by seven o'clock. 

She sat, one leg crossed over the equally bronzed other, sipping water periodically and otherwise flopping her head onto Hayley's shoulder as she insisted everyone else crawl out of the theatrical woodwork. And as it turned out, almost all of us have had backing roles in Mamma Mia at some point since it opened in 1999. Which lead to us all sat there unashamedly singing out random choruses to all their songs, cos let's face it, you never forget 'em once you've been hearing the same score for almost a year.

Sharon got this totally dreamy look on her face as we settled on a full blown rendition of Chiquitita. God knows why, but I figure Sharon ain't the only one to have drunk a little too much, cos we get into it way too much, straight backs, bright eyed and bushy tailed as we start swaying lazily from side to side, singing louder and louder. We were two and a half verses in when Jenni had to come thundering down the stairs and reproach us all. Which she was lousy at bless her, cos I don't think you'd find a bigger Abba fan anywhere.

So Woody saved her the trouble and said if we wouldn't mind shifting ourselves, he was ready for us outside. We all go down in a cheer, me deliberately going over to steady Sharon, who gives me an odd look as she pulls herself up from the sunken couch.

"You think I'm pissed don't you?"

"I think you'd like to be." I reply honestly, locking my fingers through hers.

"Been here too long." she moans gently. "Getting edgy again."

"Then you'll have to stop again, won't ya?"

"But I... feel sick."

"Yeah well, I ain't surprised. Never seen anyone knock back champagne the way you do!"

"I don't even like it all that much." she confesses with a grimace as we turn the corner to go fown the last flight of stairs across the foyer and outside. The colour seems to completely leave Sharon's face and I instinctively step up behind her, my arms surrounding her, worried her knees are about to go or she's going to faint or something. She is not going to be ill today, so not happening.

"Sharon?"

"I'm OK." she mumbles, slowly opening her eyes as she massages her temples for a second. "Bastard head rush, that's all."

My arms tighten a little as I pull her to me and she nestles down gratefully. I blink furiously at the flash of the camera.

"Woody, don't be a shit." Sal demads shortly.

"Could call that invasion of privacy, y'know." I call out to him. But he just rolls his eyes.

"Pffft, the second there's something private about you two, the tabloids'll fold my friend."

Sharon giggles softly, stroking hair back from her face. "Really, I'm OK."

"Sure?"

"Mmmm-hmmm. C'mon Woody... ready for my close up now darlin'!"

He grins, looking pointedly around to the rest of us. "You know what she is? This woman is a star."

"Awww, don't be mean." she giggles softly. "They made me that way!"

"Au contraré sugar!" Sal laughs. "I think your stud muffin in the hotpants mighta done that for ya y'know."

Sharon dissolves into hapless laughter. "Yeah well, how come it was only me that had to embarrass myself up there?"

"Cos you were so willing." Sal teases her with a simpering look.

"You owe me Sally!"

Sal grins, waving her hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, yeah! Now shift your arse round and smile will ya? Time is money, sugar!"

And Sharon's giggling again as Woody shepherds us all to positions across the front steps. First it's me and the guys, which pretty much has me wetting myself given all the stupid faces Rich and Nick can't help but pull - and Woody has no choice but to take the pictures. God, the rags are so gonna love us. Almost as much as I love watching Sharon and the girls. It really is hilarious. Sal keeps throwing Sharon evils, in proper Rizzo mode already. So Sharon has to stand there and keep pouting, striking all manner of poses that just make her dress inch higher up her smooth legs. So when Woody calls me to her side, oh I'm a very happy worker. And to think I get paid for putting my hands all over her in front of a camera.

Teasing cow keeps twisting her hips, knowing exactly where she's causing a friction. And she looks so damn innocent everytime she turns round to face me, her arms looped around my neck as we stand so close, turning all manner of ways for the sake of the camera.

Declaring that he's finished, the lads wrench open the main doors, causing the walls to shake a little as Summer Nights blare out from the foyer. Jesus, I swear the sound guys in this joint just loving taking the piss, but I suppose what they say about all publicity being good publicity. I can't help but be laughing desperately too as, whooping, everyone bolts through and leaps up the stairs, spinning round and giving out the best pelvic thrusts of the whole rehearsal. Ah, you can definitely tell we love our jobs, singing out loud and proud, making Woody turn round and roll his eyes in despair even as he grins.

Shrieking with her giggles, Sharon races up the stairs to the first landing, but can't even quite make that, stumbling in her heels and falling against practically everyone. It's so funny, watching Hayley, then Rich trying to keep her upright. She goes bright red, laughing so hard through her apologies each time, she's crying. When she makes it up to the landing, she leans against the banister, laughing still and then sort of, lurching forward as she looses her balance again. Hearing the thud as she crashes to the floor, giggling hysterically, everyone stops mucking around and looks up.

"Sharon, hon?" Ali calls, unable to stop herself laughing too.

"Don't think she's conked out do you?"

Oh fuckin' hell, she's not allowed to be pissed. Not today!

I tear up the stairs - and find her sat on the floor, shaking, laughing silently as she holds her shoe in one hand, stroking her hair from her face with the other. She catches sight of me looking worriedly down on her and pouts shamelessly.

"It fuckin' broke."

"Are you OK?" I press, crouching down to her level.

"No! Hundred quid these cost me!"

I laugh gently. "Are you OK? No bruises, broken bones?"

"My shoes, Dennis!"

"Oh fuck your shoes - you're getting paid fifteen grand this week, never mind whatever you're earning for getting on that stage tonight!"

"Very true." she smirks, loosening off the other unbroken shoe and tossing them carelessly away, huffing.

But I grin at her and take up her hands, helping her up from the floor.

"You sure you're OK?" I murmur.

"Fine. Bet I look stupid though."

I bite my lip, teasing; "Erm, well, your toenails are three different colours...."

She giggles as she glances down, wiggling her toes, protesting "I'm being patriotic!"

I shake my head in disbelief, turning round to let everyone know with a glance she is OK and happily not drunk, merely mourning the demise of her shoes. Holding Sharon's hands still, I gently lead her off further up the corridor, out of the radius of prying eyes.

"Aren't we supposed to be down there?" she murmurs, eyes scanning my face as she obediently backs up against the wall.

"Won't miss us." I assure her quietly, smirking even as I bow my head to kiss her.

"Mmmm, right..." she mumbles thickly against my kiss. "Cos we're not leading this production or anything..."

"Hey, let someone else carry the work for a change will ya?"

"Hmmm..." she muses, tilting her head against the wall and looking at me thoughtfully. "I could be persuaded."

Beaming, I pull her back to me, anxious to touch her as her lips crush to mine again. My hands beginning their smooth exploration, she writhes slowly against the wall, teasing me as her kisses become more fierce, more determined to hold dominant. I love that about her. She knows what she wants and she'll go for it. In that respect, we suit each other perfectly. Everything about her sends me mad I swear. The way she tastes, the way she feels, the sweet little noises she makes at every touch. And I can't help but touch her, because as she stands here, it's so damn easy to let my hand slip beneath the edge of her short dress, skim over her soft skim, letting her know how damn much I want her.

She presses her hand lightly over mine through the material of her dress, encouraging its movement as she moans, so contained.

Although, perhaps not enough.

"Sharon, darling?"

I flinch at this third voice and Sharon herself almost screams into my mouth, breaking off hurriedly and gasping; "Mum!"

The nerves cause heat to flame in the back of my neck, well aware I'm being given the most disgusted of evils. I turn slowly. The woman is undoubtedly Sharon's mother, her all but for the lines of twenty or so extra years. And I would say it was lovely to meet her if my hand wasn't still frozen beneath Sharon's dress. 

I'm almost too embarrassed to move it - so this "meet the parents" thing? It's not really working.

My God, if I hadn't been blushing so fiercely, feeling the heat in my face as I oh-so-not-discreetly pushed Dennis' hand back down my thigh and out from underneath my dress, ah yes, all for my own mother to see, I woulda said it was hilarious. But it was embarrassing. It was like getting caught snogging a lad on the sofa back when I was fifteen. God, to be that age again. Cos here I am, almost thirty-six years old and my mum can still look at me like that.

Dennis didn't quite know where to put himself, awkwardly clearing his throat and finding enough on the bare walls around us to keep him from turning round and addressing my mum. Glad he's got the get-out clause.

Anxiously drumming my fingertips across my bottom lip, I ask; "Wh-Where's Dad?"

"Oh you know that man darling!" Mum says despairingly, rolling her eyes as she steps forward to kiss me. "Still parking the damn car. They'll be re-testing him soon and then what will we do?"

I bite back the instinctive response of "Call cabs?" knowing I'll be reprimanded for cheek. "I- didn't think you were coming til later..."

"Evidently."

Her eyes lock on Dennis and I know the poor darlin' feels it, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"Well... the show's not til seven. I thought you knew that!"

"Is it so incredible I might want to see my daughter before the biggest night of her career?"

I shake my head guiltily. "No, of course it isn't and I'm really glad you're here, it's just... I'm meant to be working!"

"Hmmm, works you hard does he?"

"Mum!"

"Well! I'm not quite sure what you expect me to think!"

"Nothing!" I say sharply, shooting her a warning look which thankfully silences her. "C'mon Mum, you and Dad don't wanna be hanging round here, we'll... uh... we'll go somewhere yeah, my treat?"

I weave my hand tight through the crook of her arm, pulling her up straight. She resists me, craning her neck to look back at Dennis. But she's caught sight of my bare feet as she turns and her face just falls. "Where on earth are your shoes?"

Dennis turns round at last, a little less flushed with embarrassment thankfully, unable to stop himself smirking at me.

"I'll... tell you over a coffee."

Dennis' look softens into a smile as he walks over to me.

Mum narrows her eyes inquisitively, as if she thinks he might be getting too close. But I stretch up and kiss his cheek, which leaves him opportunity to whisper against my furthest ear; "I'm so sorry."

I shake my head, laughing gently as I drop back. Like he has anything to apologise for - all in a day's work and all that.

"Will you be joining us?" 

"Uh... not just yet." Dennis mumbles with an anxious, flickering smile. "But stick around, I'll be back as soon as I can. Great to meet you."

"Hey, hang on!" I protest, confused. "Where are you going?"

"For me to know..."

"Dennis!"

But he just grins at me as he goes off down the stairs, calling back; "Later!"

I feel a bit put out as I lead Mum off to go and recover my dad from the car park. My mum's disgusted, having to come with me as I race round in bare feet. But I could barely care. I want to know where Dennis had pissed off to, cheeky bastard - he knows they're here for him as much as me. Maybe that's it though - maybe he thinks acceptance has just fallen flat on its face and that he's got no chance. Poor darlin' - he's obviously forgetting what sort of man I've been with for the past six years. Mum and Dad aren't gonna need to be in Dennis' company for more than five minutes to work out how perfectly different he is.

My dad's just locking up the car when I catch sight of him.

"Dad!"

He turns slowly as I call for him, putting up his hand to shield himself from the pouring sun. He beams as he catches sight of me and I bolt towards him, feeling the rough tarmac burn through the soles of my feet. But unlike Mum, Dad doesn't notice, only too happy to throw his arms around me and squeeze me tight, almost until I see stars!

"Oh..." he breathes, as if he's relieved to hold me. "I haven't half missed you, Twinkle."

I beam, giggling childishly as he says my nickname. "I am a star now, Daddy!"

"Always knew you would be!"

God, I love him so much, hugging him again before I take his hand and say; "So... you ready then?"

"What, to give your hotshot toyboy the once-over?"

"Oh... Dennis isn't here just now, Dad. Mum mighta scared him off, I don't know."

Sighing, Dad throws Mum a reproachful look. "Ellie!"

"Don't you start on me, Leslie Watts." Mum snaps back. "If you'd seen where our daughter was letting this Dennis put his hands..."

I find myself staring at the ground as I squeeze Dad's hand. 

"Coffee." I manage to force out. "Oh God, I need a coffee. There's a lovely little shop round the corner..."

"Lead the way!"

And Dad, bless him, only notices my lack of footwear when we're out on the street outside, and people milling around stop to look me up and down, to make sure I'm really me, and then to wonder why I have bare feet.

"What's going on there then?" he laughs as he pushes open the door to the coffee shop.

"Oh, I broke mine." I say dismissively, leaving an order of an espresso for Dad and two skinny lattes for Mum and me with Ellen as I lean over the counter. "I shoulda grabbed a pair from wardrobe really, but they're hard enough to walk in on stage!"

"Nervous then are you darling?" Mum questions, settling herself at a table.

"Ha, not a big enough word, Mum, really. I've been up since 4!"

Dad's mouth gapes. "You'll be asleep before curtain up."

I wave my hand dismissively. "I'll be fine. I'm too excited. Besides, I'll have Dennis propping me up most of the time, won't I?" Mum looks away and unease stirs in my stomach. I let my hand drop heavily to the surface of the table and, as politely as I can, demand; "OK, what?"

"Nothing. Nothing."

"Oh c'mon, Mum, it's obviously something. You can't just disapprove of him cos you caught us kissing round the corner! We're together now, that's what couples are supposed to do!"

"Yes, but-"

"No. You need to meet him properly first alright? I promise you, you'll love him."

"Yes well, I suppose anyone's an improvement on the last-"

"Exactly. Dennis makes me happy, Mum. Really happy. He's funny and generous and... he treats me like my own person."

Dad nods approvingly, muttering; "More than that good for nothing-"

But I lift my hand to silence him. "All that's done now Daddy. I've moved on. With Dennis. And I know you probably both think I'm rushing into something else too fast, but it's not like that. Dennis and me are just... building on something we had before. Summat good. Please just be happy for me."

"I wouldn't be anything else, Twinkle." Dad smiles, dropping his hand lovingly over mine and stroking gently across my knuckles. I grip his hand as if for dear life before turning apprehensively to my mother, my very gaze questioning her.

Her look softens.

"He does seem to be rather gorgeous darling."

I giggle as Ellen moves round, putting down our drinks. "I shoulda known that'd sway you Mum."

Her eyes sparkle naughtily. "Well, you shoulda seen your father in his day."

I relax into their company after that. I'm really close to my parents, but it just feels like everything in my life for, shall we say, the last six years strangely enough, has been interfering with that and I don't appreciate it. I've really missed them. It's hard enough knowing that work stands in the way of me being able to get up to see my family as much as I'd like, but at least a job doen't have to be an all-controlling power in my life. And I know that everyone at home is really proud of me for chasing and better, achieving my dream, and that just makes me feel all the more proud of myself knowing I've got such brilliant support behind me.

We sit and we talk about rehearsals, leaving me to tell them all the funny stories about me tripping over my pom-poms and Nick crashing off Greased Lightnin'. It doesn't take me long to realise that my every sentence seems to incorprate Dennis. 

"Oh, and this one time that Dennis-"

"You wouldn't believe what Dennis-"

"And then Dennis and me-"

Gotten right under my skin that man. And I really like it. Mum might appear anxious about the perils of my new relationship, I've taken enough of her phone calls during all this hassle with the papers, and I've never lied to her. But as she sits here, listening to me talk, mostly about him, she's got this knowing little smile on her lips, as if she understands how happy I am. Cos it's all done now. It feels as though that all that is left is for Dennis and I to enjoy being together. And we do. In fact, I think I'm starting to miss him. So that'd be how my dad manages to convince me to drag my script out my bag and trawl through some of my first sscenes. My hands are shaking with every page I turn, but God, I'm laughing too. My dad is just too fabulous. I really get into throwing lines back and forth with him.

"What's this... am I out of a job or what?"

Jolting, I look up in surprise, grinning as I realise Dennis is stood over our table - a Faith bag swinging from his hands. "No, course not. Dad was just helping me... what have you got there?"

"Back up..." he smiles, handing me the bag as he glances down at my bare feet.

"Right..." I reply, pushing my drink back to lay the bag out on the table and withdraw the shoebox. I can see my mum smiling privately from behind the rim of her latte. My mum, if you'll pardon the expression is a total shoe whore. She's definitely where I get it from.

I lift the lid and push back the wrapping - revealing the most gorgeous pair of Leonor heels, thin silver straps securing the ankle and toes, those raised a good inch and a half on a pltaform before you even have to consider the four inch Stiletto heel. Jesus, I am in love!

"Dennis! How much did these..."

"Last pair cost you a hundred right?"

I gasp. "You never... a hundred quid?"

"And twenty five actually. Sal wants you to know that cos she made me put 'em on her store card to bump her loyalty discount."

I laugh. Typical Sal. "You two are mad." I observe, carefully slipping the shoe beneath the table to put it on my foot.

"Thanks woulda done." he grins, going over to Ellen to request a large mocha. It's put into his hands immediately and he turns back around, settling himself beside me, peeping beneath the table to catch sight of me circling both ankles as I helplessly admire both newly adorned feet.

"I'll pay you back tomorrow, darlin', I promise."

"No way. S'a present!"

Beaming, I flop my head onto his shoulder, looking smugly over at my mum. "Now tell me you don't love him, Mum, go on!"

Sharon's mum definitely made me nervous. But as time went on, I dared to relax. Her dad was great, not one threatening look came my way as I might have expected. I thought all dads were fiercely protective of their daughters, but Les spoke to me like he trusted me and I respected that. He was very easy to talk to, seeming really interested in anything I had to say. Ellie was lovely when it came to it, it seems shoes are the way to the hearts of Watts' women.

She asked about my family and I strategically choose to tell her about my auntie Shelia. Apparantly Vogue is still like the Bible to women because Ellie's eyes, as bright as Sharon's I noticed, were like saucers. I tried not to laugh as I promised to introduce them sometime. It takes a while to pin my auntie Shelia down to a meeting she's globe-trotting with her job so much, but hey I'll give it a go. Was made pretty nervous by the way Ellie looked so damn questioningly between Sharon and me when I mentioned that Sheila never misses the Rickman events, weddings and christenings and stuff. 

Ellie's eyes kinda narrowed as Sharon and I sat at the other side of the table, casually holding hands, as if she was trying to work out if Sharon was yet concealing a baby bump (hey, I'd totally respect her if she could in a dress like that!) or if the way I held her hand was hiding an engagement ring from her view. I would have said it was funny if I wasn't so set on making a good impression. Ellie Watts would certainly make a fabulous journalist - Sheila's gonna like that too!

"Will she be coming tonight then Dennis?"

"No, not that I know of. My mum's after the limelight tonight!"

"Oh... can we hope to meet her?"

"Course. She's really looking forward to it!"

Ellie turns with a smile towards Sharon. "What's Dennis' mother like then darlin'?"

And Sharon laughs nervously. "Why are you asking me?"

"Have you not met her?"

"God Mum, don't you think I'm nervous enough as it is?"

I squeeze Sharon's quaking hand gently. Les leans forward and smiles softly, as if to compensate for Ellie's unintentional abruptness.

"Must be getting serious then, Twinkle."

She grins. "You know me, Dad, don't do things by halves. But yeah, I'm meeting Paula and what... the whole family entourage tonight?"

I nod. Les beams.

"They'll love you."

Sharon bites into her glossy lips, looking bashfully down. "I hope so."

I lean in towards her and whisper teasingly; "I know so."

"Good for you." she shoots back, smirking, dropping her head against my shoulder and snuggling down. I can't help but start idly stroking through her hair, it's an instinct now. She can't be this close and expect me not to touch, but then, I've obviously got to learn to restrain myself in her mum's presence. Mind you, she's got quite a soft look on her face now, her glossy lips curved into a smile as she looks over at us. Dare I hope we have approval here?

"Well, so long as you don't feel... rushed..."

I heed the warning look that comes my way. But Sharon splutters on a disbelieving laugh.

"And what about Dennis, huh Mum? You being so damn insistent on meeting him today of all days... don't you think we're bricking it already?"

Les looks more sympathetic. "You're together aren't you?"

Sharon smiles and looks pointedly in her mum's direction as she speaks. "Yeah, we are. And we're happy too!"

"Well yes darlin', I can see how getting paid £15,000 in the first few weeks of this... relationship might help with that!"

"Mrs Watts, it's not about the money, not at all!"

But Ellie just smiles sickly sweet at me, the way Sharon would if she was being sarcastic. Jesus Christ, I feel uncomfortable and Sharon looks disgusted. Les don't look much different. But Ellie, she's serene, and bloody determined to pick me apart it seems. I reason that she might be looking for that flaw that makes me as bad as the last guy Sharon chose for her own, but I've worked through all that right? And Sharon's still here; me and Justin, poles apart.

"Mum! How can you be so bloody difficult?"

Ellie's eyes flare. "How can you choose a relationship that's so difficult?"

Sharon almost screams in frustration. Quickly, I scoot closer to her, looping my arm across her shoulders and whispering in her ear; "Darlin', it's alright... c'mon!" Bravely, I turn to her mum, who rightfully looks guiltily towards Sharon. "Look, Ellie, I know where all these concerns are coming from, OK? I do. We haven't had it easy and yeah, a lot of it's been my fault, I'll admit. But I'm literally mad about her. Your daughter is amazing and I'm the last person that would knowingly do anything to hurt her. And yeah, OK, I think I probably have but right now we're happy. I don't need money for that. I need her and I waited a long time."

Les smiles proudly and I'm sure Sharon smiles softly over at him as she toys with my hand. Ellie simply blinks and shifts awkwardly towards Sharon. "Darlin', is he...?"

"Yes Mum." she says tiredly, nodding. "Dennis is that guy. We're not going from nothing, we're going from a really good three months I should never have given up. So admit it, c'mon. You think as much of him as I do, but you think I'm gonna get hurt."

"Well... he certainly has his charms." Ellie mutters, flushing pink as she tries not to look at me. I'm not sure who's squirming the most, me or her.

"I'm a big girl now Mum. Anything happens he knows I can hurt him right back."

Giggling anxiously, she straightens up and encourages me to turn my head so that she can showcase the healed mark on my face.

"See?"

Les chuckles. "So our little girl knows how to fend for herself then?"

Sharon beams proudly back, stretching up to kiss me quickly, giggling still. "And the £15,000 into the bargain really doesn't hurt either, Mum. Think of the shoes!"

Ellie and me find ourselves laughing together. "That's not what you're planning is it?"

"Uh... yeah! Why, you got a better idea?"

I grin, scratching at the nape of my neck. "Well, actually, I wanted to know if you fancied getting away at the end of the run?"

"Easy... we haven't even opened yet."

"Yeah I know, but £15,000 would be an impressive holiday - and we'll deserve it by then."

"Mmmm." she says dreamily. "And are you really comfortable with discussing the itinerary in front of my parents or shall we save that one for later, interval maybe?"

"Oh, Sharon!" 

It all seems a bit calmer when I recognise the time and clasping Dennis' hand in one and the empty Faith bag in the other, I leave Mum & Dad in the coffee shop. Scenes to rehearse after all, don't wanna spoil the surprise for such proud parents, do I? Dad shook Dennis' hand without a problem or a threat. Not that my dad would, he's not that kinda man. But yeah, he seems happy enough and that means a lot to me. Didn't miss the way Dennis was biting anxiously into his lip as he said goodbye to my mum though. I don't know what it is about my mother, why she has to look so stony faced. She's softened a bit though, having had little choice but to realise that despite the way the beginnings of this relationship were played out in the press for everyone to see and have an opinion on, we are really happy together, comfortable, even when we're sick with nerves for so many different reasons.

Dennis didn't seem to know where to put himself, but went with the polite thing and kissed my mum's cheek. Knew it. She'd be putty now, going on about what a gentleman he is. Ha, I ain't gonna tell her how exactly I know different. But I hope that he believes the way she smiles as we say goodbye.

"It really was great to meet you, Mrs Watts."

And Mum flushed pink, even more of a giggling school-girl than I am for God's sake. "Oh, it's Ellie, Dennis please!"

He grinned. "Right well... I guess we'll see you both for a drink after the show?"

"You try and keep us away son. Good luck!"

"Cheers Les!"

His arm across my shoulder, mine across his back, I can feel the tension in his muscles. Poor bastard - have they really terrified him so much? We don't say anything until we're back in the warmth of the theatre, heading down to the dressing rooms to go and grab our scripts and do those last few scenes to death. Sighing gently, I turn in on him, reaching to lock my fingers through his and idly pushing against his cold hands. Even that makes me smile... cold hands, warm heart, all that.

"Hey, what's up with you?"

"I'm so sorry, Dennis. I had no idea she was going to-"

"She's your mum, it's what she's for!"

"Oh right, so is your mother gonna be like that when she meets me?"

"No way." he assures me with a laugh. "She can't wait... although I suppose if she caught you touching me up in the middle of the landing..."

"That's not funny!" I say, unable to stop myself smirking too as I shove him playfully with a jerk of my shoulder.

"Oh shut up, it was!"

Biting into my lip, I glance down at his hands as I clasp them. "Seriously, you don't suddenly have the urge to finish with me, do ya?"

"I'm curbing it." he teases, kissing me softly. 

"Dennis!"

"Hey look, I'm pretty happy right now OK? Just... even if we're still together in like... ten years... let's just say I know now why I ain't never gonna marry you."

Gasping in feigned horror even as I begin to laugh, I launch myself forward and rain my hands down on him again and again, pretending there is a need to strike him without any malice being present in our contact. He just laughs as he pushes against me and turns, trying to fend me off and reach up to catch my wrists all at the same time. The corridor seems to spin a little as we pace round in circles against each other. I hit the wall with a pulsing thud, but find one of Dennis' hands, definitely warmer now, has left mine and is caught up in my hair as he grabs hold of me, pulling me towards the insistence of his mouth. I kiss him fiercely back, happy to surrender in this kind of way, to enjoy the sheer sweetness of his taste.  

"Good enough to keep your bed warm though eh?"

"Mmmm, you know what, we shoulda stayed there a little bit longer, what was all this getting up at 4 about?"

"You know what it was about." I throw back silkily, peppering his lips. "I'm nervous!"

"Yeah, and I coulda helped you with that!"

"What, in the only way you know how?"

"Er, no!" he protests, smirking. "I'm a man of many talents Miss Watts and you have never complained before!"

"How can I? The waiting list to get to ya is six years long!"

Grinning, he kisses me firmly one last time before letting his arms drop from around me and gripping my hand fiercely in his. "Right, c'mon... run-through."

"What time's wardrobe?"

"Six."

"Oh God..."

"Hey, it ain't that you need to worry about. Gotta get through my lot first ain't ya?"

I tilt my head up, smiling. "Oh yeah, and when is that?"

"No idea, so keep looking out over your shoulder yeah?"

"Oh shut up, they're not gonna be that bad... are they?"

He grins. "I'll protect ya."

"Yeah, I remember the last time you said that an' all."

"It worked didn't it?"

"I almost fell off the bloody bonnet Dennis!"

He rolls his eyes, dropping his arm around my waist and pulling me close. "Stop bloody exaggerating will ya? Besides, I ain't chucking you off a car this time am I, I'm putting you up in front of the firing squad."

"Mmmm!" I stress, throwing him a look, squeezing his hand defiantly. "Is this your definition of helping?!"

He creases up laughing, tugging on my hand to pull me against him as we back into the back lounge where the rest of the cast are making enough noise between them, firing scenes across the room and telling enough bad jokes to last for twenty scripts.

"You have got to loosen up, y'know that?"

"Yes! I know that! I know that, you know that, and every bloody critic in London knows that, of which, I bet your mother is the bloody worst!"

He frowns. "Did I tell you that already?"

This time, I raise my hand a little more threateningly and the bastard's still laughing. "Listen to me OK, my mother is gonna love you!"

I try and concentrate on the sincerity I think I can see in his face but it's just not happening. Sal kinda slides into my eyeline, having heard us talking, a rather Dennis type smirk curving her over glossy lips.

"See sugar, this is what happens when you get serious with your leading man. Whole thing's shot."

I round on her, feeling Dennis' hand sweep comfortingly up my arm as he stands behind me, even the way he holds himself defying Sally. My first instinct is to snap at her too, but this is my friend, who, along with Dennis, has seen me through more in these last few weeks than I'd ever like to admit to. And I love her, I really, really love her. So yeah, it is easier to relax, smirk and tell her nonchalantly; "S'great sex though!"

I can hear Dennis chuckling softly, stepping up closer behind me, his snaking arms surrounding me and pulling me back up against him as he nestles into the crook of my neck, leaving an idle, whispery kiss there. "You're amazing..." he tells me in a humoured whisper.

"And that's why you're the only bloke in the whole of theatre that can afford me right now."

"Hmmm... worth every bloody penny darlin', trust me."

"That's the thing!" I laugh, fending him off by hitting him lightly in the stomach with the back of my hand. "I don't... not when we're supposed to be working."

"Working..." he muses teasingly, his hands poised on his hips as he stares at the the ceiling trying to fathom it. He wanders off and grabs a stray script a couple of paces off. He straightens up with it in his hand and heads back to me, waving it pointedly. Then he throws it down. "Working. There... I'm working..." before he reaches out for me and draws me tight into a not so dark corner, making me lost to the passionate kiss that meets my pathetically willing lips. Ah well, if you can get away with acting like you really are eighteen, then why not, I guess?

In all fairness, we do get through a good few scenes, but there do happen to be a fair few moments over the next couple of hours where I'm sat across Dennis' lap on the floor, unashamedly snogging. Hey, it settles the nerves about meeting his bloody mother if nothing else. I tell ya, if his mother's anything like mine then performing my debut in West End theatre is gonna be a doddle after that. Maybe I shouldn't let it, but this is a really huge deal to me. Paula knows we're together, together - Hell, if she didn't, I'd be wondering if her and Dennis had a relationship at all - we have after all, practically sold ourselves to the nation. But yeah, she wants to meet me too, is excited about the prospect. What if I'm a disappointment? What if she wanted something more, someone better for her only, ever talented son? I'm so bloody happy with this man, I'd hate it if I didn't meet with approval. I mean, it don't necessarily matter, except it does. It just does. Which is stupid I know, but the woman's his mother. And all I am right now is some woman. I wanna be more than that.

But nervous energy is bad, bad, bad! So when Sonny shows up and decides he wants to go through the routines of the numbers, I'm up and bloody Hell, I'm ready. Except, he's re-doing the stage positions of the hop, so I'm surplus. The only thing I have to do with this scene is singing "It's Raining On Prom Night" with Kacey and that has precisely nothing to do with movement. But I manage to sneak in on a couple of the dancers and get in on the routine. It's a laugh, but then, everything about this job is.

"Oi, Sandy!" Sonny calls out, smirking as it takes me a few seconds to realise he's talking to me and whirl round outta Todd's hold to face him. "This ain't your gig."

"Awww, Son, leave her alone!" Ali calls out defensively, stepping back and dropping Dennis' hands. "Poor cow's bored ain't she?"

"Scared stiff more like!" Nick teases.

"Look, we know what we're doing now, so... you wanna trade places for a while?"

Dennis straightens his back, clicking his tongue teasingly in the side of his mouth as he turns round. "Don't think she trusts me, Al."

Ali strides over to Todd, calling back; "That's cos she's got her head screwed on mate!"

Bowing my head, I'm giggling quietly as I head over to him. I don't notice how he reaches out for me and the world tilts as he drops me back into an arc. He smirks as I straighten up again. "Ready for this?"

"Mmmm... you know what... I like the sound of that holiday more and more."

"Thought you might. Where we heading then?"

"Somewhere warm, with a blue sea and..."

Pushed out into a spin as I grip his hand, I only just catch the way he cocks his eyebrow. "Wait for it... palm trees right?"

"Mmmm-hmmm."

"We should go to Miami then."

"Have you been?"

"Few times. They have amazing waves in that place."

"What?"

"Hey, you ever tried surfing without 'em?"

"You surf?"

"Well, I'm not brilliant or anything, but yeah. Jase is amazing though, bloody show off."

"Dennis..." I whisper teasingly, letting my arms surround his neck as I stand circling my hips against him. "...could you be just a teeny bit jealous?"

He scoffs. "What of?"

"The fact that Jase is better than you at anything?"

Biting into his lip, he lets his hand drop. "Well, I could be I guess, but then again, I'm the one getting paid to spend the next three months with you. So I guess I'm better at something."

"Mmmm." I agree, reaching to reposition his hands around my waist. "You have adventurous hands..."

"See, that's summat else you've never complained about..."

I feign horror. "Dennis Rickman! I work in nothing but a professional capacity."

"Mmmm-hmmm." he agrees dreamily before leaning in to capture my lips again. Damn me for being so weak.

And the whole company seems to have stopped to turn and catcall. But just at his taste, I hardly care. That is until Sal steps up, clearing her throat pointedly.

"We hate to break up the loving guys, but Paula's downstairs..."

I can't help but smile to myself as I turn to Sharon, who I can already see is shaking, her glossy lips trembling nervously before she claws them back.

"Oh God!" she whispers. I laugh gently as I clasp her hand, pulling her to me and then snaking my arm across her shoulders to lead her off. Why's it feel like everyone's slowed up around us like, oh God, I don't know. But if I know my mother at all, this isn't gonna be a case of lambs to the slaughter. My mum's much more in to embarrassing gushing, but what can you do?

Sharon's definitely anxious though, her pace doubled. And whil we should be going down, facing the music and whatever else, she's bloody determined to go up, right for the dressing rooms. We slow up outside hers, and I kinda know I'm gonna be kept waiting for a long while, which is gonna delight my mother with all the possibilities. Sharon twists away from my hold, sliding her arms round my waist. I let mine drop too.

"Hey.... why are you shaking?"

She just rolls her eyes. "Why d'you think?"

"It's not gonna be that bad!"

"You don't look so sure of that!"

"Yeah well, I tend not to do this..."

She frowns. "What?"

"Put my girlfriend up in front of my mother?"

She bows her head and laughs anxiously. "Thanks for that, Dennis. Really helps. Did you really think we were gonna have a choice once we went to the bloody press?"

"Oi, shut up. I'm not ashamed alright, so don't even think it! It's just... I don't get serious often."

"Oh, I get it. She thinks I'm gonna take you off her hands!"

He smirks. "Something like that. So... you ready?"

I feel my mouth drop, tugging desperately on his hand to lead him towards my dressing room. "No! You don't seriously think I'm gonna meet your mother looking like this?"

"Looking like what? You look gorgeous."

She shoves me lightly. "Shut it, you - help me choose something that doesn't make me look like I'm walking the streets!"

I roll my eyes but she doesn't choose to notice, diving into her dressing room, already ripping God knows what number of outfits off the hangers from her wardrobe and dismissing them. I just stand against the wall, watching her with an air of amusement, already knowing it's best not to say anything until I'm spoken to.

"Too garish... too small... too tarty!"

And yet seeing the frenzy she works herself up into, I can barely help it.

"Sharon, this is my mother you're meeting, not the Queen! It won't matter what you're wearing alright? She'll be mad about you cos I am."

Sharon turns round slowly, a black and white print dress slung over her arm for consideration, smirking as she looks at me. "You really haven't done this often have you?"

"No..."

Beaming, she rushes over, stretched up on her toes to kiss my cheek. "Mwah. Alright, I'm done." But I seem to know her better than her word and narrow my eyes quizzically and she folds, giggling. "Well, what about my make-up, my hair?"

I shake my head despairingly, glancing at my watch. "Alright, five minutes and my mother herself will be dragging you out of here by the hair!"

"Well in that case, you ain't watching. Piss off!"

I go and stand out in the corridor, smiling to myself as I listen to her curse because the zip won't do up or her hair ain't sitting right. But I count away the promised five minutes and am just about to turn round and knock on the door and hurry her out when I realise the door itself is open and Sharon's stood there, dressed and looking gorgeous, if not a little apprehensive.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Noticing that she's shivering too, I step up and wrap my arms around her and just for a second, she nestles gratefully down into me, mumbling; "I feel so sick..." 

"Well don't. I'm here OK?" And as I step back, I hold fiercely onto her hand to illustrate my point. I lead her across the landing and am amazed to find that as we reach the top of the staircase, Sharon's already scanning the foyer for sight of my mother (who predictably is edging towards the cast bar entrance and the stocks of Baby Cham!) and yet she's smiling with the best of 'em. She looks so gorgeous and so... ready. She places her hand lightly on the banister and then squeezes my hand a little and I'm pretty sure I understand.

"Mum!"

She spins round and her face (still cleverly devoid of all signs of ageing!) breaks out into the biggest grin her jaw can hold. I'm sure I feel Sharon stumble a little in surprise. Still smiling, she leans over to me and hisses; "Tell me that's not your mother-?"

I laugh gently. "Why not?"

"She looks younger than me!"

"S'all fake, don't worry. She's got her surgeon on speed dial!"

Sharon bites back a burst of laugher and tries to jab me with her elbow, but I manage to avoid it by coming off the last step.

I can feel Sharon begin to shake nervously again as she smiles over at my mum, who of course, wouldn't take the time to notice because she's thrown her arms around her, squeezing every last breath out of her I'm sure.

"Look at you Sharon, you're even more stunning in reality. What on earth are you doing with my boy darlin'?"

"Mother!"

"Hello sweetheart!" she beams, as if she's only just noticed I'm there, pecking me on the cheek. "Drinkies?"

"How many have you had?"

She splutters indignantly. "Er, none, thank you very much. You know full well I've been waiting on my private audience with this darlin' here! What will you be having Sharon?"

"Oh God, nothing, Paula thanks, I-" Sharon insists, pulling herself up on a stool beside my mother and waving her hand, before pausing in panic. "-can I call you, Paula?"

"What else were you planning to call me?" Sharon looks panicked, but my mum's look softens and she reaches over to squeeze Sharon's hand as it rests against the bar.

"Mustn't drink. Was drinking champagne this morning with the press lot... broke my shoes."

Mum gasps in horror at a level Sharon obviously appreciates.

"Hideous my darlin'!"

I just sit there, watching them with a smile on my face. They're a right pair together. How was she nervous? I've never seen Sharon laugh so much. I don't really need to be here, apart from the moments my mother can't resist throwing in not so amusing anecdotes about my childhood and I have to defend myself.

"Mum, you know it wasn't like that-"

But then she does the one thing I never thought she would. I mean, it's obvious she likes Sharon and I really credited my mother with some tact.

"He was like this with Laurie."

Sharon just nods, but then pauses thoughtfully, still smiling as she looks quizzically over at me. And I'm dying with embarrassment.

"Who's Laurie?"

"Oh Jesus Christ..."

But still she smiles, edging closer and playing with my hand against the bar. "Dennis... tell me..."

"She was nothing... no-one..."

But my mother doesn't stop. She sounds interested in fact. "Did he never tell you about her, Sharon?"

"No..." She tucks her hair behind her ear and presses her hand over mine. "Should he have done?"

"No!"

But my mother throws me a reprimanding look. "Laurie was Dennis' fiancé-"

I feel the muscles in my back tense, but Sharon starts to giggle. "Fiancé? Haven't got a fight on my hands have I?"

"If you have, it's got nothing to do with me. OK, why are you looking at me like that?"

"I dunno." she replies dreamily, resting her chin on her laced hands. "I just don't think I can imagine you... engaged."

"Yeah well, neither can I, which is why it lasted all of 3 days-"

"You never ditched her?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, you mean bastard..."

"That's what I said to him, Sharon-"

"Mother! Trying to move on and all that!"

"Oh rubbish, we're talking five years ago. But everyone has their great love, son."

I snort out my laughter. "At twenty-five years old? I don't think so somehow."

"I do." Sharon says gently. "I can't believe you went and did that!"

"What?"

"Laurie. When d'you meet her?"

I narrow my eyes, trying to comprehend her. "What you getting at?"

But she just grins and presses; "When d'you meet her?"

"I dunno... four or five weeks after-"

"-I left you. You sad bastard."

"Piss off!" I laugh, nudging her.

"Well, get you, on the rebound from some- you'd never have married her would you, the poor cow. You're never gonna marry anyone, clinging to metaphorical shelf and disappointing your own mother just to spite her!"

"The woman's diamond, she definitely knows ya don't she eh?"

"What's that Mum, an approval?"

Mum purses her lips thoughtfully, and Sharon drops her head contently on my shoulder, beaming. "Well, let's see... she's sophisticated, she's absolutely gorgeous, she's seen fit not to put up with you once, but twice, and she's so damn talented, she's giving even my little superstar a run for his money on that stage tonight! I love her, son. I love you both. You're completely adorable!"

I swear, I practically skip out of the bar, Paula having slipped off with a coy smile to phone Dennis' auntie Sheila and pass judgement. She's got a lovely laugh that woman, puts me right at ease. She kissed my cheek, holding my hands in hers and mentioning how she'll try and wangle me a feature in Vogue with Sheila, seeing as how I have loads of style - I'm not sure if she just means hooking up with her son, but ah! I could scream with the relief y'know, the happiness. I race Dennis back up the stairs from the bar and he catches his hand around mine, pulling up my arm and I spin round, giggling before I collapse against him, arms looped around his neck.

"What's up with you?" he grins teasingly.

"I love that woman!"

He laughs throatily. "Only cos she loved you!"

I feign hurt. "And why wouldn't she eh?"

"I know. I'm just saying, if for some... insane reason she hadn't, you'd be cursing her from here to Christmas!"

I hit him lightly across the chest. "I wouldn't. I was brought up polite I was!"

"Yeah, you and your six ponies!"

"Oh shut up, I have one - and it's a horse. Anyway Dennis Rickman, don't you start talking at me like you had to climb out the gutter to get here! Paula's kept you well!"

"Only cos I've always been destined for greatness. If I hadn't got here, she'd want shot of me!"

I purse my lips, mulling over it. "I'm not so sure. You've got me now!"

"Now... this is true...." Bowing his head, he kisses me firmly and it's a bloody long time since I've been kissed like this. I think it's cos I'm so happy, so excited, but it makes my head go light, like Paula really did order me all six of the glasses of champagne she offered. But as Dennis draws back, he frowns slightly and says; "Why are you looking at me like that? I swear Sharon, you make me nervous!"

"I dunno, I guess I'm just interested..."

"In what?"

"Laurie..."

"Oh no." he insists, arms dropping like lead from around me as he turns nervously away. "So not having this conversation!"

But I lurch for his hand, smiling inanely to myself. "Why not? I'm just me. And anyway, she sounds.... nice. I mean, look at me.... Justin?"

Dennis glances down, scuffing his toe into the carpet. "You best have enough cigarettes for this."

"You talk, I'll roll!"

Shaking his head in disbelief, he leads me off around the corner and we settle ourselves against the wall, blocking the narrow corridor. Dutifully, I take Dennis' tin as he hands it to me and I busy myself with rolling cigarettes as promised. But it doesn't pass me by he's not actually saying anything, so I take the conversation upon myself.

"Why'd you get engaged if you weren't gonna... marry her?"

"I really liked her."

"Yeah, cos that woulda made her feel loads better wouldn't it?"

"Well, it wasn't like I didn't want to... love her. I just... couldn't."

"Well, why not?"

But he steals the roll-up before it's even done properly. His hand tremors as he sparks up and he takes a deep drag. "Why do we need to talk about this?"

"Because... well, she obviously meant a lot to your mum..."

"What, and you wanna make sure you match up? Sharon, that's ridiculous!"

"No. I just... being with someone without a past, after everything I've dropped on you... it'd freak me out."

"Right, so what d'you want? The dirt?"

"Look, don't tell me anything you don't want to. I know it's none of my business really. Just... tell me about her."

"Alright. She was an art student I met in Camden. I wasn't anyone then so it... was just easy. And I did really like her. We never shut up talking. I think we'd row sometimes just for the sake of something to say. We'd crease up laughing in the middle of screaming at each other. She was... talented. Always doing exhibitions and... she knew I'd support her in anything. She was gonna be a success."

"What did she look like?" I question softly, by now unsurprised as he flinches.

"Tiny. Blonde... incredible eyes. She... got offered a scholarship abroad and I knew she was so tempted by it, everything she deserved and I just..."

I can't help but smile as it all starts to make sense. "You couldn't let her go, could you?"

Wordlessly, Dennis shakes his head, affirming this suspicion. But he looks guilty as he does it, blanching his lip.

"So you proposed to her?"

"Don't sit there thinking it's romantic. Don't. I was an idiot."

"Why?"

"Because I knew... soon as the words were out... soon as she said yeah.... it- oh God Sharon, please-"

He looks up at me, eyes piercing and pleading. I shift my weight to move closer to him, frowning in concern. "What? Dennis, what is it?"

His lip trembles as he answers me. "It was you. Or at least... what I thought was you."

"No... you've lost me..."

"Exactly. I looked at her, the day after I asked her and I saw you. Then I just had to admit I always had otherwise... I was gonna go mad. It weren't Laurie I was trying to keep close. It was you... you selfish cow."

I'm completely aghast. "Hang on... you got with this girl, you got... engaged to her... because she reminded you of... me?"

His gorgeous eyes seem to dim as he looks down, shamed almost. "Yeah." he whispers, nodding. "So there you go. You really are dating the most pathetic bloke that ever-"

Beaming however, I lean over and cut off his stream of miserable words with a firm kiss. The way he shivers in surprise, breath held as I stay close, resting my forehead against his, God, I think I adore him.

"Just as well I came back then, eh?"

He breathes the softest sigh of relief, his hands stroking gently down my back. "I missed you so much."

"Yeah, well, by Christmas, you'll want rid of me."

"No way."

"Y'know what, that's summat else I really love about you. I just know that, whatever happens, we're always gonna be friends aren't we?"

"More than that."

"Yeah? Well, you promise me something then. If we ever do split up again... promise me the sex ain't over."

In spite of himself, Dennis bows his head, laughing gently as he shifts his hand and strokes idly across my knee. "We're not giving that up then?"

"Never." I smirk. "We're too good."

"What are you doing with me, Sharon?" he questions thoughtfully, head rested against the wall.

"Don't ask stupid questions darlin'."

"I'm serious."

"Well don't be! You know what I'm doing. I'm enjoying being with someone I shoulda stuck with six years ago."

"D'you reckon we'd still have been together?"

"Why not? Neither of us are quitters. And you... God, you make me smile. I haven't been this happy in..."

"Years?"

I smile, nodding gently as I lean forward to brush his soft lips again. "Six to be exact."

"Talking of six-" Dennis whispers. "-it's quarter to. We better go."

I take in a deep breath, hoping it'll quell the stirring of writhing nerves on the floor of my stomach. I just nod and pull myself up, turning round to face Dennis, fiercely gripping his cold, shivering hands for a second.

"Oh God-" I whisper back lovingly, stepping closer and wrapping my arms around his neck to draw him to me, my lips level with his ear. "-smile darlin'. Big night going on here."

"I know." he replies warmly, nestling against me, the hint of a laugh in his tone. "You've made it."

"We both did. C'mon..."

I find Natalie sat in make-up, a huge smile plastered on her face. She starts to shiver in excitement when she sets eyes on me, her back straightening like a puppy to attention.

"Oh my God, darlin', how was it? Was it dreadful?"

I shake my head gently, feeling excitement beginning to buzz in the centre of my chest. "No. No. Paula's lovely, she... she really likes me Nat, she really does! She liked me... she liked Dennis and me... she liked what I do... she even liked my dress!"

"So she bloody should!" Nat giggles, jumping up. She knows what I'm like when trying to decide on an outfit for an important occassion. "That's Karen Millen that is!"

"Hey, her sister practically runs Vogue for God's sake, she's probably got Karen Millen on speed dial!"

"Yeah OK, so do you get to keep your man then?"

My jaw starts to twinge with pain my smile is so wide, but I don't care. I just nod, squealing as I throw my arms round my best friend and we jump round the room together.

"I'm so happy for you babe."

"Oh you liar!"

"OK, so I'm jealous as Hell, but whatever, get your arse in that make up chair!"

Obediently, I let myself drop down into the seat, Terri already fussing around me with brushes and powders etc. Natalie pushes back a cluster of little bottles and pots on the dressing table, leaving her space to pull herself up and sit above me, swinging her legs gently back and forth. She looks down on me intently, the corners of her lips turned down a little.

"Something's wrong."

"What makes you say that?"

"I've known you too long."

I try and deter her with a hard stare, but I fail, sagging a little as I begin to tell her what Paula said about Laurie and the explanation Dennis begrudgingly gave me, sounding so... sad and disgusted with himself.

"So hang on..." Nat says, holding up her hands to silence me even though I'm finished. "...Dennis asked someone to marry him because she reminded him of you... or Dee whatever the Hell you were calling yourself-"

"No, that was it. And yeah, that's what he said. I've never heard him sound like that, Nat. I didn't like it."

"Well I don't blame him, ain't something you'd wanna tell the person you've obviously wanted for so bloody long is it? Still, if he proposed to her cos she what, looked like you, then... he might have already booked your bloody wedding for all you know!"

"That isn't funny Natalie." I tell her firmly, dutifully turning my head away from the glare of the lights around the mirror so Terri can start sweeping blusher across my cheek.

"Well, if you don't wanna marry him, I bloody will."

"I just wanna stay with him if that's alright with you."

She shrugs. "Course. Only... have you told him what you told me?"

I bite guiltly into my lip, instantly envisaging the script folded roughly at the bottom of my bag. "No. Oh Nat, do you have to say it like that?"

She frowns in confusion. "Like what?"

"Like he's gonna dump me just for considering it! I did mean to tell him. It's just.. I've been so busy, trying to work out whether we were even gonna be together for one, never mind being so nervous about opening here, with this. Then the whole "meet-the-parents" thing just kinda happened and then... Laurie and-"

"Look, stuff Laurie. She's history, finito and it was never her Dennis wanted anyway - it was you all along. So you need to tell him-"

"Can't I just... enjoy this?"

Nat just blinks. I know I'm beat. "You know he'll support you."

"Yeah." I agree reluctantly, turning my head the other way. "I just don't want him to think I'm leaving again."

"It's work, not a relationship breakdown. He'll understand. He'll be proud of you. Like me."

 I smile. I really do love her, she can always settle me. "Alright. I'll tell him later OK?"

"Good girl." she beams, slipping off the dressing table and stooping to kiss my cheek. "See you out front OK? Break a leg babe!"

"No waving banners alright Nat?" I call out, smirking. "No-one behind'll see a thing!"

"Understood." she shouts back before the I hear the door shut firmly after her. I sigh gently and am left alone in with my thoughts as Terri keeps buzzing around me, fixing my face, y'know, erasing the lines of the last eighteen years with cream and God knows what else. I hear Nadine come in, ready to start playing with my hair simultaneously, but I don't really register that she's there at all. 

I hear her ask me how I am, whether I'm nervous, and somehow I hear myself answer, but I'm lost. To the fear of trying to work out what Dennis' reaction's gonna be. It only just got good. We only just worked ourselves out, and I might have gone and ruined it, without realising at the time that there might have been anything to ruin. Why do I feel like such an idiot? This is the biggest night of my life. Grease is the opportunity I always wanted. I didn't think I'd ever get it though. That's why I planned ahead. I was never expecting the likes of Dennis to be the person that believed in me so willingly. But now it's all mine.

This is opening night, and I should feel as sick as Dennis when he opened in Guys & Dolls. But compared to worrying about what Dennis is gonna say, what he'll assume, how disappointed he'll be, getting on that stage tonight is gonna be a breeze.

I feel a warm rush of breath whistle past my ear. Nadine's straightening irons are cooling beside my wrist. I'm done, and I only realise it as she leans down to whisper; "Go and talk to him Sharon."

Makes me laugh with a quiet nervousness as I obediently slide out of the chair, heading towards the door. She can't really have any idea about what's going on. All she's heard is Natalie. But she's had me sat there, anxious as Hell for God knows how long and she can obviously tell. And she's right in her advice too. What else can I do? I'm not taking that stage feeling this sick with worry when I have wanted for all my life to enjoy this night to the full should it ever come.

So I go off, heading towards Dennis' dressing room, knocking tentatively on the door, feeling my stomach twist as he calls out in response; "Yep?"

I take a deep breath of preperation and poke my head round the door, leaning lightly against it. And I can't help but smile. Cos I don't know who I'm looking at. He's styled and dressed. So who's stood there? My Dennis... or my Danny?

"It's only me." I say softly.

"Oh. Hi."

My nerves fizzle a little at the way he smiles so warmly and I find the strength to move fully into the room, backing against the door until it clicks shut behind me.

"C'mere..." I whisper, lifting his T-Bird jacket from the back of a chair, holding it out for him to shrug on. And I'm kinda in awe, that logo emblazoned across his back. This really is going to happen. He turns round to face me and I can't help but stretch up to kiss him fiercely, this thought somewhere in the back of my mind that I better enjoy it cos it may well be the last time and I'll miss kisses like his. Oh God Natalie, please be right...

"You ready for this?"

I claw back my lip, bowing my head. "I think so... I need to talk to you about something-"

"Oh God..." he answers nervously, stepping back from me. "...you're looking at me like that again..."

I'm bewildered. "I don't... look at you like anything... do I?"

"I dunno. I just... get this feeling that whatever you say after you look at me like that is like... you getting the weight of the world of your shoulders-"

I laugh dismissively. "It's not that bad... I don't think."

"You don't think?"

Childishly, I shake my head and he laughs warmly, wrapping his arms round my waist and pulling me back into his lap as he sits against the desk. I can't help but giggle and writhe against him to make myself comfortable before looping my arms around his neck and quickly pecking his lips.

"You know I love being with you, don't you?"

"OK, this is beginning to sound really omnious..."

"Well it ain't, OK? I just... the holiday idea, it might have to wait."

"Why?"

I groan quietly. "Oh God... if someone coulda just told me we'd work out like this, I wouldn't have bothered!"

"Sharon..." he prompts slowly. "...you're scaring me darlin'."

"I... went to an open audition before I got this."

"What for?"

"Mamma Mia. I mean, I didn't think I'd get anywhere with this, even though I wanted it so much. So I... kept my options open. Only... they've called me back to go through a part in the New Year."

Holding my breath, I wait, pained. But yes, Natalie's right. He just grins, holding me tighter.

"Is that it? That's brilliant."

"It is?"

"Darlin', I thought you were about to bolt again. Anything that ain't that is fantastic. What part you reading?"

I smile coyly, hair spilling around my face. "I didn't think I'd get away with Sophie, not with her mum in the show too. So I'm gonna read Donna. I really like her solos. Only..."

"There's more?"

I wince as I let go of the words. "It's a national tour. And if I get it... I'll be all over the place. We'll hardly see each other."

Dennis' grin however, just seems to get bigger as he shakes his head in disbelief. "Speak for yourself."

I let my head rest against his shoulder, loving how hazy my thoughts get as I take in the scent of his aftershave. "I don't wanna miss you..." I mumble pathetically against the base of his neck, following my words up with a kiss.

"Hey shut up. I'll be there alright? Me and Nat, front row every weekend."

"I don't have to do it..."

"Yes you do. You said to me that I was never allowed to change for you. So you ain't changing for my sake."

"Oh what, cos I'm so perfect already?"

"I ain't complaining."

"Well, I... wouldn't blame you."

"I bloody would. I ain't going through this again. I never want to own you Sharon, just be happy. And if... storming round the stage in dungarees singing ABBA at the top of your lungs does that for you, then I'm there OK?"

I scrunch my nose. "Dungarees?"

"Yeah, that's mostly Donna's look, didn't you know?" 

But he just reads the look on my face and creases up laughing with the obviousness of it.

"Awww darlin', you'll look cute..."

"Cute?" I echo. "Right. So that's what you want from the woman you've been waiting on since you were foolish enough to let her fuck off? Ah, you're such a disappointment, Rickman."

"Really? Well, uh, let's just forget tonight then eh?"

"You're up to something..." I observe smugly, captivated by the shimmering in his eyes.

"Don't matter anymore does it? Just thought we might wanna spend our first night of success in some sort of luxury, but no... you do what you like, I'm not fussed."

"Hey, I'll go where I'm led, it's in my job description."

He looks amused by that and his hand drops teasingly against my thigh. I bite coyly at my lip, knowing that I'm lost to him. This man is too damn perfect, and he wants to stick with me. So I can't defend myself as he moves in to kiss me again, would never even bother to try.

Only, of course, we were bound to be so rudely interrupted at the pivotal moment. There's a firm rap at the door and Elaine, one of the production assistants pops her head round the door, flushing a little pink as she takes in our position.

"Sorry guys. But Sharon, you need to get in wardrobe, there's an audience member out by the stage door with her little girl... Tabitha... says you're both expecting them?"

Sharon darts off to wardrobe and I take it upon myself to go and greet Tabitha. Knew we were right about Kevin mind, the man looks really scary, but he is a puppy. He's crouched down against the stage door, keeping it open with his weight, playing Rock, Paper, Scissors with Tabitha and blatantly letting her win every time just to hear her giggle and tell him he's rubbish!

"Hey you..." I smile. Soon as Kevin hears me and he's up, clearing his throat desperately, just so's I don't think kids make him go soft.

Tabitha's shaking excitedly, giggling through her wide smile.

"I hope you don't mind." her mum says quickly. "It's just... after the show might be a bit late for this one and she's been talking about seeing you again since the second we left you the other day and it was such a kind offer-!"

I wave my hand. "Ah, no, it's fine. Been waiting for you we have. Only... Sha-"

Check self. Get into character.

"Sandy is still getting ready. You girls like taking your time don't you eh?"

Tabitha beams, nodding eagerly.

"So, will I do for a few minutes?"

"Yeah!"

I drop my arms down and lift her up against me. "Best come with me then hadn't you? I've got lots of friends back here that we've told all about you!"

"Me? Really?"

"Yeah, course. Told them how good you look in the jacket! You gonna be a Pink Lady too when you're bigger?"

"I want to be Rizzo!"

"Rizzo?" I echo with interest, exchanging a bemused look over my shoulder with Tabitha's mum. "Well, that's interesting cos look who's over here!"

Sal, already dressed and ready to go unlike certain people I could mention, spies us stood behind her via her compact. She clicks it shut and turns round to face us both, smiling more than ever as Tabitha's jaw pretty much hits the floor.

"Ahhh, so this is the little lady then eh? Hello sugar, it's nice to meet you." 

The poor girl goes scarlet when Sal reaches over to kiss her cheek, but they seem to find it easy to talk to one another. Pretty soon, as more and more of the cast are ready to take their positions when the curtain call should come, everyone's crowding round her like she's some sort of princess, asking her anything and everything. Her favourite colour, what she's most looking forward to in the show, what her favourite song is, favourite character, and Nick, with the intellect of a five year old decides he wants to know what sort of ice cream she'll be pleading for come the interval.

When she declares that white Magnums are the best ice creams in the world, Nick winks at her, making her giggle and promises to make sure that Ben, the ice cream man puts one aside specially for her - and then he presses the money into her hand to cover it. I thought maybe her mum wouldn't like that, but she too looks like she's having the time of her life. Hayley and Sal are loudly relaying tales of mishaps from rehearsals to her and she's laughing so hard, it's like she might cry.

Nick pulls Tabitha from my arms and starts literally throwing her round the room under the pretence that he's teaching her the lindy-hop when she's four feet from the floor herself. But she seems to find it all hilarious, spinning around and around like she'll never stop. Then she and Kacey have a pouting contest, which Tabitha wins hands down and then the rest of the lads start taking it turns to zoom her up and down the corridor on their backs. She's having a brilliant time - probably ain't that bothered about going to see the show anymore at all.

Sharon reappears having nearly collided with Tabitha and Rich herself, but hey, at least she's dressed.

She sidles up to me, still giggling quietly to herself. And for some reason, she can't stop herself reaching up and starting to play with the collar of my jacket. "Well, look at us, eh? Look a right pair, don't we?"

"And that-" I tease, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close. "-is exactly the point."

But as she stretches up and kisses me, Nick tries his hand at social work, calling loudly; "Oi oi kids, minor present!"

"Oh shut up!" Ali calls over to him, laughing. "Poor kid's gonna be seeing worse than that on stage!"

"Don't mean they have to be shoving their tongues down each other's throats in front of her before curtain up!"

"It's legit!" Sharin insists, smirking. "Professional practice!"

"Oh, please!"

Tabitha comes rushing back into the room, holding Rich's hand, who looks desperately puffed out and Nick lifts her up from the floor, holding her protectively as if she's the only one around to back him up.

"You tell 'em Tabitha, it's disgusting isn't it?" He makes her crease up giggling as he purses his lips and overexaggerates kissing noises, looking smug as she grimaces and promptly agrees with him.

"Ewww."

But Sharon seems to win Tabitha over with a smile. "Have any of this lot even offered you a photo my darlin'?"

At those words, everyone's clamouring for the poor thing, but she seems to love it and of course, her mum is armed with the camera, but she has to do a double take when Pat saunters over. Sharon stays back for a while, watching Tabitha get swept up into hug after hug, looking like Christmas has come early when Pat & Sal crouch down either side of her, arms surrounding her. Sal offers another one, "the best Ladies together!" and her mum snaps away as Sal kisses the little girl's cheek. I bet that one looks cute.

"Guess who I just met on my way up?" Sharon whispers warmly against my ear. 

I turn my head in confusion, questioning; "Who?"

"Your auntie Sheila."

"But she's not supposed to be-"

"Well, she is. And you're right - classy woman. She's drinking champagne in the bar with your mum, or at least that was the plan. Your cousins have come up too. I didn't know they were in the business."

"Hardly. They're bit actors. Chelsea's done all of three episodes of Emmerdale and Christian did a week's worth of the Bill when he was about nine. That's what Sylvia Young education does for ya-"

"Hey, shut up, that woman is incredible. I'd have killed to go to stage school when I was younger, especially SYT!"

"Well you obviously didn't need her did ya? C'mon then, what d'you reckon?"

"To what?"

"My lucky escape..."

She nudges me in the stomach with the point of her elbow. "Honestly, why d'you make your family out to be so bad? I didn't really have time to say much, cos I knew Tabitha was about, but... really, they seem lovely."

"Mmmm, if you say so..."

Sharon just rolls her eyes, her expression melting away into that dazzling smiles when she registers Tabitha bounding forward, a hand outstretched for each of us. We laugh lightly and let her lead us forward, even if we do kinda fall awkwardly beside her. I'm sure I hear Sharon curse as her ankle twists in the unforgiving shoes, but Tabitha don't seem to notice, giggling to herself as she snuggles down between the two of us (not even knowing if we'll keep our balance!) and smile towards the camera that Nick has now charmed off Tabitha's mum and is probably full of a load of weird poses.

"Everyone say Grease-" he teases.

"Nick, hurry up, my ankle's gonna- oooh!"

Thankfully, the flash went before the three of us go sprawling in a heap as Sharon's ankle does indeed give out. Tabitha still seems to think it's hilarious, rolling around the floor, shrieking with laughter. Nick swoops on her and starts spinning her round while Sharon tries to get up. I grab her hand and help her up.

"Are you OK?"

"Well, if I wasn't, you'd be bollocksed wouldn't you eh?"

"Are you OK?"

"Fine." she giggles, leaning over to grace my lips. 

She's back up on her own two feet, laughing gently in embarrassment when Tabitha turns towards her mum and asks; "Can I have my sweets now, Mummy?"

"No Tab. I told you, they're for when we're sat down. 

Catching on, Nick returns Tabitha's cheeky grin and they both rush to sit against something, laughing.

"Please Mum!"

"Yeah... please Mum!"

"Nick!" Sal scolds, amongst her own giggle. "Stop being so... oh ignore me, there's no hope for you!"

"I'll share Mum."

Under the weight of her pleading, Tabitha's mum relents with a despairing sigh and takes the biggest roll of Love Hearts from her bag I've even seen. The poor kid don't look big enough to have that much sugar inside her. But her eyes light up, and her mum holds out the tube and says sternly; "You're not to have the other til we've got you some tea, OK?"

She nods obediently, twisting the wrapper open and dutifully goes round all the assembled cast offering them, perhaps predictably the Ladies first, a sweet each. But movement in the side corridor catches my attention, above the giggling and sniggering at the patheticness of the message written on top the sweets. Elaine shuffles in, craning her neck, and smiling as she sees me, jerking her thumb and gesturing for me to following her out, mouthing; "Your family-"

I smile gently, nodding. Sharon notices and looks between us both. I bow my head, brushing her cheek with a kiss, before I whisper; "Have to go a second darlin'."

"Why?"

"Either my mum's KO'ed or Auntie Sheila wants to go on about how tonight'll top all my career highlights. She does it everytime she's had a few."

"I'll save you a sweet, shall I?"

"Go for it." I tell her, peeling off my jacket and slinging it over the back of a chair.

And as I head off towards Elaine, Tabitha reaches Sharon. She sinks down into a crouch again to level with her, wincing with the exertion on her ankle. God, I hope she's alright for tonight, first show drink. She's about the only person I know that has trouble staying on her feet sober. And she's never about to blame the shoes! She loves 'em too much the silly cow.

I hear her whispering to Tabitha if she can take another one for "Danny" because I have to go for a minute. I look back from the doorway and I can see Sharon beaming at her as she happily lays another sweet in her hand.

As it turns out, all my mum and Sheila want me for is a few cosy family snaps now that I'm all dressed up and ready for the stage. I suppose Sharon's right, my family aren't that bad. I get on well with my cousins, just sometimes feels they're trying to force it a little bit. Sheila wants them to have success like mine. She wanted them to become big actors. They don't. Chelsea's happy with her art degree and Christian's been working as a fitness instructor for as long as I can remember. They don't like having to match up to me. Obviously, Sheila's proud of 'em, but I think she'd rather I was hers too.

I'm quite happy with my lot. So I say goodbyes and head backstage. But by the time I get there, Tabitha's gone, all ready to take up her seat and enjoy the show.

"Everything OK?" Sharon asks, striding over and squeezing my hand.

"Yeah." I smile. "Family photo call."

"Oh God." she giggles gently.

"You nervous?"

"I haven't stopped being nervous, you know that."

"Then trust yourself you daft cow. You were made for this. And when we've got this house on its feet, you'll know everybody else knew it too. I'm so proud of ya darlin'..."

"Stop it... you haven't seen me go flat on my face on stage yet."

I chuckle, stroking across her jawbone with the pad of my thumb. "Cos I know you won't."

And she beams, stretching up on her toes to kiss me again. And I swear, every time she tastes sweeter, becomes that little bit more addictive.

"Places, everyone, please!"

There's a nervous uproar of excitement and chatter and cheering that explodes around us, and I can see half of them only just putting the bloody sweets in their mouths. Sharon catches me watching them all humoured and murmurs; "Yours is in your jacket pocket. I'll see you on stage"

She's completely flummoxed me. But I can't help but smile as she practically skips off into the wings, knowing that only the two of us are due at opposite ends of the stage. I pick up my jacket from the back of the chair and pull it on, trying not to think how I'm going to expire beneath the heat of all those lights. Instead, I burrow my hand in my pocket, my fingertips skimming the small round sugary sweet. I pick it out and turn it over, to read the tiny pink letters surrounded by the faded pink heart. And for a millisecond, I stop breathing.

I LOVE YOU

On a bloody Love Heart. Three tiny words and my pulse rate trebles and my mouth goes dry. I know Sharon - and she knows I'd hardly care to go stealing candy from a baby, near enough. So I know this isn't just a case of her leaving a sweet in my pocket just to be fair. And besides, for all the time I've known her, using her own name or not, these are the only three words we've never said to each other, not face to face. Not truthfully. If I'd had the chance to say them to "Dee" then, well, the sentiment would be void. Only now, it's all truthful. It's ours and this time, we've allowed it to mean something.

So I don't put the sweet in my mouth. I drop it back into my pocket, my palms a little damper now. What's playing the best lead in theatre compared to this? I deliberately turn the wrong way towards the stage, knowing I'll come out on the side where Sharon's taken her place. I reach out to let my hands case her shoulders. 

She gasps in surprise, but I pull her gently round and stop whatever words she might have been ready to say by forcing my lips down on hers to make her taste the hungriest and deepest of kisses. And though she looks a little bemused as we part, I can tell by the shimmering of her eyes that she understands. And so I whisper; "I love you too."

She looks down, toying with my hand as it drops away from her. "I know you do." she giggles gently, before pushing me lightly back. "Now go."

Oh God, my legs are like jelly. My stomach could compete in the Olympic gymnastic squad the amount it's flipping. I feel so sick, and yet... I want this so much. The lights go down and our first (full!) house erupts into splintering applause. I take a deep breath, but it's too shallow and I half splutter on it. The whole stage falls silent, but Jen, entirely done up as Marty (sporting a wig of blonde waves I could achieved naturally much more easily than these Sandy guises!) dutifully settles herself centre stage with a magazine flipped open on her lap, reaching over to switch on a 'radio', which kickstarts the score with the Radio Waxx jingle and the dulict tones of Vince Fontaine fill the auditorium.

Well, not our Vince Fontaine. Bradley's been going round giving us all his own unique bursts of this dialogue but he's not required. English speaking productions have all been using the jingle recorded in the first West End show in the early Nineties. But I'm hardly listening to it, just waiting for the end beat of speech so I know that my cue is due.

I begin listening only when the (predominantly female) uproar of appreciation begins and Dennis begins to sing. I want desperately to peek round, to be one of the ones on the other side of the stage enjoying his delivery, but I know I've gotten the better end of the deal really. So I close my eyes and let it surround me for as long as I can.

Sandy, can't you see
I'm in misery
We made a start, now we're apart
There's nothing left for me
Love has flown, all alone
I sit - I wonder
Why-y-y-y-oh-why you left me
Oh Sandy
Oh Sandy

That's it. Cue. No backing out now, no time for nerves. I made it. I step out of the wings, standing just at the edge of the backdrop, a spotlight immediately seeking out my entrance and raining down on me like approving rays of sun. I want to grin, fixated by the sight of Dennis stood, putting his heart and soul into the role he's wanted all his life. But I can't. We have to remain completely ignorant of one another, turned towards the audience as Danny and Sandy, heads held high, voices strong, telling a story. 

Sandy
Someday when hi-igh school is done
Somehow, some way 
Our two worlds will be one

And me, pathetic as I am, can suddenly believe in every word, knowing my lip quivers in protest at having to hold back a grin as Dennis' voice thickens and strengthens mine. Yep, knees are still weak, but bloody Hell, I'm gonna enjoy this.

In heaven, forever 
And ever, we will be
Oh please, say you'll stay
Oh Sandy (Oh Danny)
Oh Sandy (Oh Danny)
Oh Sandy
Oh Danny!

That last beat has hardly risen from my throat when Dennis and I both have to turn away from our ends of the stage and disappear into the wings again, because the backdrop rises to reveal the rest of the company all too ready to relay that here at Rydell High, however makeshift, Grease will always be the word. I'm beaming just to hear it as I have to rush backstage to get changed for Summer Nights, never mind my first dialogue beforehand. I can't help but be singing along myself as one of the wardrobe asistants hands the whole blouse/yellow cardie and poodle skirt number over. All in a day's work now eh?

I solve my problems and I see the light
We got a lovin' thing, we gotta feed it right
There ain't no danger we can go too far
We start believing now that we can be who we are
Grease is the word!
They think our love is just a growing pain
Why don't they understand - it's just a cryin' shame!
Their lips are lyin', only real is real
We start to find right now, we gotta be what we feel
Grease is the word!

Impressively, I'm dressed and ready to go by then, and as Nadine smooths down a few static hairs, my style otherwise perfect for my return to the stage, I realise Dennis has been stood there the whole time, looking smug and deliriously happy all at once. Guess we're having a good night then eh, professionally and personally. I can't tell you how damn cute it is to see him there, midlessly flipping that Love Heart like a coin, head turned because he can't help but be drawn to the action of the stage as in love with it as I am. He's chewing gum lazily in his cheek like Danny would (and not because he's just thrown up, he looks way too happy for that!)

I step up in front of him, taking up his hand and leading him to the edge of the wings so we can peek. I hear him laugh softly, and I just now we're both spellbound. He pulls me back against him, wrapping him arms around my waist, head nestled against my shoulder. I tilt my head and he bows his to kiss the slope of my neck and the fiery scent of spearmint is all I can smell, taste. Fine. Cos I'm here to enjoy everything about this show. And we stand there, rocking gently against one another, grinning like our jaws might shatter but never caring, teasingly singing along.

Grease is the word
(is the word that you heard!)
It's got groove, it's got meaning!
Grease is the time, is the place, is the motion
Grease is the way we are feeling
We take the pressure and we throw away
Conventionality belongs to yesterday
(Ooooh!)
There is a chance that we can make it so far
We start beliving now that we can be who we are.
Grease is the word
(is the word that you heard!)
It's got groove, it's got meaning!
Grease is the time, is the place, is the motion
Grease is the way we are feeling
This is a life of illusion, wrapped up in trouble
Laced in confusion - what are we doing here?
Grease is the word
(is the word that you heard!)
It's got groove, it's got meaning!
Grease is the time, is the place, is the motion
Grease is the way we are feeling
Grease is the word...is the word...is the word...is the word...is the word...is the word...is the word!

The only slight disadvantage me and Dennis have from the wings of course is that we can not appreciate the brilliant delivery of that opening like everyone out there in the auditorium can. Me, I wanna be jumping up and down, screaming. And instead, all I can do is turn my head, beaming at Dennis and celebrating privately by pressing his lips. Not that the very idea will be private for much longer.

The company bound of the stage and flood the backstage area, but that just makes me giggle. Back to work it is then. Dennis dives off to be in place for his call to the bleachers for the preamble to Summer Nights and I have to dart round to be ready for my entrance with Bonnie, completely ignoring the fact the stage, the scene is split between guys and gals. Bonnie and I busy ourselves with our own conversation as we walk out onto the stage, Jen straightening her back to clock us right on cue and leaning in towards Kacey.

"Hey Jan, who's that chick with Frenchy? Is she the one you were telling me about?"

"Yeah, her name's Sandy. She seems pretty cool. Hey! Maybe we could let her in the Pink Ladies?"

Sal rolls her eyes and looks away from our approach, muttering; "Yeah, just what we need around here - another broad!"

"Hi guys-" Bonnie announces across Sal, in perfect Frenchy tones. "This is my new neighbour, Sandy Dumbrowski." She gestures around the table. This here's Rizzo and that's Marty and you remember, Jan."

I nod. "Sure. Hi. Pleased to meet you."

"Oh c'mon, sit down." Bonnie instructs, nudging Kacey across the bench. "Hey, Marty, are those new glasses?"

Jen jiggles them about. "Oh yeah, just ones for school, don't you think they make me look smarter?"

"Nah." Sal observes, in full Rizzo flow. "We can still see your face!" Then she turns intently to me. "Hey, how long you been livin' here?"

"Since July. My father just got transferred here."

And then I just have to get lost to Jen & Sal trading insults and the lads taking up their scene, complaining loudly about the state of their timetables. I try not to laugh at Mike's exchange with Eva as Miss Lynch, but Jesus Christ, it's hard. Focus on the job Sharon, eh?

"How'd you like school so far Sandy?" Kacey asks.

She's bloody lucky I get through that scene. My stomach's writhing, cos I'm captivated by the lads without being allowed to look it.

"Hey-" Rich questions, craning his neck. "-isn't that Danny over there?"

Pat climbs over the bleacher to level with him. "What's he doing hanging around the girl's gym?"

I swear, Nick looks at me for a millisecond as he answers; "Maybe he's hot for some chick?"

I concentrate on staying still, on listening.

"One of those skanks that have been hanging around since kindergarten? No way."

"Hey DANNY!" Rich yells, into the nothingness. "WHAT YA DOIN'?"

A ripple of laughter tears through the theatre.

"That's it, Dood." Nick despairs, dropping down. "Play it real cool."

"Awww, leave Zuko alone." Pat instructs. "Maybe he ain't getting any!"

OK, I know Nick looked at me that time, the bastard.

"Crazy!" the rest declare together, earning a bigger laugh from the audience. They're right... it is.

Anyway, mind on the job. The lights are refocussed on our stage side and we're still meant to look immersed in conversation.

"I spent most of my summer at the beach."

"What for?" Kacey squawks. "We just gotta brand new pool right here in the nighbourhood - it's really fun!"

"Yeah." Sal scoffs, busying herself with a compact and a lipstick. "If you like swimming in Clorox!"

"Well actually..." I inform them all coyly, looking around the table. "I met a boy there."

Oh, now they're interested.

"Huh?!"

Lights down. Up on the lads. Keep talking.

"Hey you guys!" Dennis calls, crashing down onto the bleachers.

Mike smirks. "Whattya say Zuko, d'ya see any good looking stuff over there?"

He grins and shakes his head. "Nah, just the same old chicks everybody's made it with!"

"So where you been all summer Danny?" Rich asks.

"Oh... I spent a lotta time down the beach."

"Yeah? Ya meet any new broads?"

That half smirk rises. Wait damn it, I ain't supposed to be looking. "Just this one chick who was sorta cool, y'know?"

Mike wiggles his eyebrows. "You mean she puts outs?"

"Oh c'mon Sonny, is that all you ever think about?"

He grins back. "Friggin' A!"

"Ah c'mon Zuko!" Nick presses, climbing up to level with Dennis. "You got in her drawers right?"

Hip jutted, Dennis looks the other way, laughing gently as he runs the tip of his tingue around his lips. "That's none of you guys' business. Besides, you don't wanna hear all the horny details!"

"Sure we do!" Pat enthuses. "Let's hear some!"

Lights refocus and Sal's ready, looking over at me, entirely unimpressed. "You hauled all your cookies all the way to the beach for some guy?"

"He was sorta special."

She smiles, but shakes her head dismissively. "There ain't no such thing."

Light floods the whole stage, not to flicker again. Dennis straightens up across the back of the bleachers, the first few unmistakable beats of Summer Nights hitting us all.

"So you guys really wanna know what happened?"

"No-" I insist in Sal's directions. "-he was really nice! It was all very romantic..."

 
My God, this thing's flying by. Getting swept up in make-up touch ups and scenes and places and lines and... responses and faces and applause. We flew through the first Act, me having the time of my life. I can't believe I nearly walked away from this, or worse, that I tried to push Dennis out too. He was born for this. I couldn't even make myself care when we had to deliver our scene with me in that God awful cheerleading outfit, and yay - I threw the poms further than I ever have before.

I stood peeking in the wings when they went through the Mooning scene. Was brilliant. Dennis lounging round on the bleachers like he's been there all his life, and Jen was playing up to Marty no end, pulling on her college top that belongs to Mart's latest ever nameless, ever faceless conquest. It's no fun only being able to giggle quietly.

"Hey Danny, how would I look as a college girl?"

"Nice diplomas." Dennis returns smartly.

"Hey, watch it! This belongs to some big jock at Holy Contrition!"

"Wait'll you see me in one of them things - I tried out for the track team today."

"Are you serious?" Nick teases. "With those bird legs?"

"Hey, it's a better hobby than yours, Rump!" he shoots back, at which point, all the Birds start chanting.

"Rump, Rump, Romp!"

Kacey goes serenely off into her's and Nick's dialogue and my God, I don't know how those two can make a song about flashing people your arse sound so sweet, but they do. I go across the stage when they're done and spit out my few coldly spoken lines in Dennis' direction. Oh God, he's hopeless. He can do every facial expression necessary to man, but he can't seem to look at me without his eyes making me think he's eternally up to something. Then Sal gets back on the Sandy hating bandwagon and ah - I get to storm back on from the other side, yelling. I love it!

"Just who do you think you are? I saw you making fun of me!"

Pat leaps up to hold Sal back cos she throws herself at me with that kinda threat, but she struggles. "Ah, let me go, I ain't gonna do nothin' to her - this chick's flipped her lid!"

So I turn towards Dennis, who's moved halfway down the bleachers, who, in Danny's frame of mind, probably wanted to get himself a better view of any impending fight. "You tell 'em... you tell 'em right now that all those things you said about me weren't true!"

But he just blinks, frowning. "Whattya talking about? I never said anything about you..."

"You creep!" I seethe. "You think you're such a big man don't ya? Trying to make me look like just another tramp!"

Sal glowers at me and Dennis is left with the task of shrugging it all off. "Weird chick..."

"Yeah, she's a weird chick!" Nick agrees. I just scowl.

"I don't know why I ever liked you, Danny Zuko!"

I flounce off, and the next time we meet on stage is the over-rehearsed drive-in scene. We had about two seconds together behind the backdrop beforehand and I couldn't help but crease into giggles just seeing how damn happy he looked. He held my hand delicately in his.

"You ready for this?" he questions.

"What? You, groping me in front of an audience of thousands? Yeah... why not!"

Grinning, he lifts my hand, wrapped around his and kisses one of my knuckles. "I love you y'know..."

I laugh and push him away gently, pulling back my hand. "Shove off, you creep. And be gentle!"

I followed him two seconds later and we took our places in the mock up of Greased Lightning. Our dialogue was easy... it's the physical bit that's worrying me. But... no plunge means no paycheck and that'd just be shameful.

So I take the high school ring, gleefully slipping it onto a finger and Dennis' hand starts its wander. I try and throw him off with a jerk of my shoulder. No chance.

"Danny! Take it easy! What are you tryin' to do?!"

Note to self Sharon... do not crease up at the odd look he gives you. Don't you dare.

"What'samatter?"

"Well, I thought... I don't know... we were just gonna... be steadies."

I swear to God, I have to bite really hard into my lip to stop myself from laughing as I'm treated to the tried-and-tested Danny Zuko guffaw. It's alright for the bloody audience ain't it, they're allowed to laugh. I have to sit here in all prim and proper seriousness.

""Whattaya think going steady is anyway?" Oh God, his hand hasn't moved. I'm kinda sat back on my hip, waiting for the idea that Dennis (oh so reluctantly as you might imagine!) has to pretty much force his weight on top of me. Nicest possible way of course, it's take a fairly big error to make any Sandy stop wanting her Danny, but in all three of our physical rehearsals of this scene, we've both creased into giggles cos one, it's pretty vulgar and two, I've whacked my head each and every time. No margin of error anymore. Just a cue of preperation. "C'mon Sandy!"

"Stop it!" I yell, hardly remembering I'm meant to lock my knee to keep him at any sort of distance as I try and struggle back up into a sitting position. "I've never seen you like this!"

"Relax will ya, no-one's watching us!"

OK, I will not laugh. That's up to the hundreds of people that are watching us!

"Danny, you're hurting me!" I swear, I'm gonna flex my knee in a minute, just for the fun of it. But luckily, Dennis knows his cues. Me, I'm still wanting to giggle as he pulls back, scowling a little. Wonder how many hundreds we just got paid for that?

"What you getting so shook up about?" he snaps. "I thought I meant something to ya!"

I drop my gaze, playing with my hands in my lap like a good girl would, praying to God I'll actually get this line now we're out of rehearsal and playing for real. "You do. But I'm still the same girl I was last summer. Just because you gave me your ring doesn't mean we're gonna go... all the way."

Ha, I saw that Rickman, I saw that smirk. You're supposed to be looking sombre and dejected. Ah, there you go - perfect!

"I'm sorry Danny..."

"It's nothin'." he mumbles, looking away.

I push at the door, replying awkwardly as I slide out; "Maybe we better just forget about it..."

His reaction is, as planned, two seconds too late and I'm gone off stage. And that leaves Dennis to climb out too, singing his poor broken heart out. Luckily, I don't have a costume change so I just stay in the wings, waiting to be as spellbound as I ever am. And he's about three breaths into "Sandy" and I'm gone. If anyone should ever ask me reasons for loving Dennis Rickman, I swear I'm gonna count my first five off the score of Grease itself.

The lights go down for the scene change to rapturous applause and I can see Dennis bounding across the stage in the shadows. He comes into the wings, arms already around me as he passes, spinning me around. "What you doin' sneaking around back here eh?"

"I'm not sneaking!" I insist, hitting him lightly with the back of my hand before stretching up to kiss him. "I'm just enjoying you as much as that lot out there."

"You are such a cheapskate."

I scoff indignantly. "Says the man thinking a bit of tin on a girl's finger guarantees him a promise? I like that!"

"Yeah well... now you mention it... so would I."

I push him back, laughing. "Later. I have work to do!"

I go back out onto the stage, well aware Dennis is taking up the position in the wings to get the best view of the action without being noticed by everyone else. I just mill around, trying to stop myself singing along as Rich & Nick break out into Rock n' Roll Party Quuen. I just try and keep track of the dialogue and the exits until I have to turn round to Sal. I really concentrate on her eyes so I don't lose my focus.

"I'm sorry to hear you're in trouble, Riz."

"That's bull!" she snaps. "Bet'cha gonna give me a sermon about it!"

"Of course not. Just... doesn't it bother you that you're pregnant?"

"Look, that's my business, it ain't nobody else's problem."

"Do you really believe that?" I push softly. "Didn't you see Kenickie's face when he left here? It is Kenickie's isn't it?" At her steely gaze, I sigh and close up the record player, gripping the handle of the outer carry case as I lift it clear of the seat. "Well, I guess I've said too much already. Good luck Rizzo."

"Just a minute, Miss Tight Ass! Who do you think you are? Handing me all this sympathy crap! Since you're the one with all the answers, how come I didn't see Zuko here tonight huh? You just listen to me, Miss Sandra Dee-"

Gladly Sal. God, the conviction she puts into this song is incredible. There Are Worse Things I Could Do floats over me, my focus on Sal treading the whole stage all the while. And then of course, there comes Sandy's ephihany, so my own voice has to be ready, turning round to the audience to deliver, Sal still stood in the dimmed light behind me.

Look at me, there has to be
Something more than what you see
Wholesome and pure
Also scared and unsure
A poor man's Sandra Dee
When you criticise and make fun of me
Can't you see the tears in my smile?
Don't you realise there's just one of me
And it has to last me a while?

A spotlight falls over Sal too as she moves forward, levelling with me and looking me in the eye, singing in support of Sandy's realisation.

Sandy, you must start anew
Don't you know what you must do?

Smiling, I join her again

Hold your head high 
Take a deep breath and cry-

"Hey Rizzo, have you got that lipstick with you?"

Sal grins and nods. "Sure do, kid."

And the lights go slowly down on us to the backing delivering the last line, which leaves me to say my first goodbye of the run to prim and proper Sandy. Oh God, I've been looking forward to this last scene for months. So... I'm off to transform and see if I can't really bring this house down.
 
Goodbye to Sandra Dee

I don't think I could ever quite have comprehended that first audience reaction to the Sandy transformation, mind. I was giddy with nerves as I changed, but once I was done, hair curled to perfection, all made up and wobbling at the height of the shoes I love so bloody much. I had everyone rushing around backstage to wish me luck and that just made me fizz with confidence. I can't wait to do this. I teetered in the wings, watching the beginnings of our final scene play out in the Burger Palace, just waiting for my cue. 

Summoning all the courage this performance has given me, I strutted forward into the searching light of the stage - and the whole place erupted into rapturous applause and wolf-whistles. I just had to stand there and happily absorb it all, clicking my tongue in my cheek as I thrust my hip out, my hand poised against it.

And I don't think the way Dennis had to splutter as he turned round was forced. Genuinely impressed he was, and that made me feel all the better, my flirtatious delivery as the new Sandy so free and easy. I don't quite remember how I managed to get up onto the bar for the best part of You're The One That I Want, but I do know that I absolutely loved it. I had the hugest smile on my face and somehow, moving even in these shoes was easy. Dennis didn't stop grinning the whole way through, which made him look even more incredibly sexy as we sang and touched and strutted the length of the bar and down again, leaving the back up dancers to leap up and do their stuff while we cover the stage in more struts and turns.

I can't really remember if I was supposed to end up quite as entangled in him as I did, but no-one seemed to be complaining, least of all Dennis. I kept looking down to everyone in the stalls, and I swear, they all had eyes like saucers, completely enthralled. Guess it helps knowing your leads spill over into a less greased reality eh?

There were a few lines of dialogue after the explosion of applause to follow the conclusion of the number died away, but then it was straight into the finale. I love this bit. When I was the one down there watching, I was always the first up on the unmistakable intro. But as Dennis delivers it, almost as excited as I would have been, I see we already have Tabitha up at her full height, grinning.

Wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-wop-bam-boom!

The main cast fall in to a line that stretches the whole length of the stage. We stand close, arms weaved around whoever is stood beside us as we begin to circle our step forward before turning back the other way, throwing our arms out in a struck pose.

We go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong
Remembered forever as shoo-bop sha wadda wadda yippity boom de boom
Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop; we'll be always like one - wah-wah-wah-one!

Then us girls have to turn in on our guys, who swagger forward half a step forward without us, leaving us to provide the soft back line before we rush forward to each regain our man's attention.

When we go out at night and the stars are shinin' bright
(Oooh-wop...)
Up in the skies above
(Oooh-oooh-oooh!)
Or at the high school dance, where you can find romance
(Oooh-wop...)

I stretch up to wrap my arms around Dennis' neck and his hips rock in perfect time against mine to the beat that demands us.

Baby, it might be lo-o-oh-oh-oh-ove!

Then the great, snaking line forms again and descends into the non-sensical madness that is this last number. Wherever feet go, whatever hands do, at least it's all in the most perfect since. There's so much turning and leaning and strutting and... well anything you can think of that'll make you wanna sing out like this, dancing for all your might in front of the so many thousands that appreciate you enough to fill your pockets in this; that the whole theatre starts to swim before us all, and that's just fine! Besides, I'll be alright, cos I'm always aware of Dennis beside me, or reaching from behind me.

Rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong
Shoo-bop sha wadda wadda yippity boom de boom
Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop
Dip da-dip da-dip doo-wop da doo-bee doo
Boogedy boogedy boogedy boogedy shoo-be doo-wop she-bop
Sha-na-na-na-na-na-na-na yippity dip de doom
Rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong
Shoo-bop sha wadda wadda yippity boom de boom
Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop
Dip da-dip da-dip doo-wop da doo-bee doo
Boogedy boogedy boogedy boogedy
Shoo-be doo-wop she-bop
Sha-na-na-na-na-na-na-na yippity dip de doom

If it's one thing the people involved in this production can do, it's give the show, live the action. There's this whole snaking action which seems to weave across the whole stage. Each guy has his girl, one arm loosely wrapped around her waist, across her stomach, and the other one gripping her other hand. So as the bars pick up, we're being pushed out into swift turns beneath his hand, only to spin right back and bring ourselves to the fore of the displayed cast. The beat is faster still, and my heart's going like anything as I get so into this.

I almost fall over though I swear, as Dennis drops down with the rest of the guys. I hardly realise he'd released my hand on cue and that I wasn't about to topple down with him, and I remembered just in time to strike out that raised pose again, never having stopped smiling.

Wop-bop-a-loo-bop-
A-wop-bop-a-loo-bop-
A-wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-wop-bam-boom!

The choreography has kept us all right at the very edge of the stage, but in all the build-up in this number, none of us have actually heard the arrival Greased Lightnin'. But thankfully, the T-Birds know their cues like the backs of their hands and have jumped all over the structure, practically before it's in position. Us girls are left giggling to ourselves at the darkened side of the stage, taking our first opportunity to watch our boys with their toy.

Pat is as mesmerising as he's ever been, he's got such an indescribable energy, I don't think they coulda got anyone more passionate or suited to the role. But over the first line of lyric, Dennis is ready, stood proudly on the bonnet with his foot raised to comfortably rest on the top of the windscreen. He looks so damn happy to give his all to his interjections, I suddenly realise why he wanted and deserved this role so much.

I'll get some overhead lifters with four barrel quads, oh yeah
Keep talking, walky-talking
A fuel injection cut off and chrome plated rods, oh yeah!
I'll get the money! I'll kill to get the money!

Rich & Nick are practically demonstrating a gym class over every inch of the structure they can make their own. There's a huge uproar of appreciation at the flips and the jumps, and even though I've seen it done so many times before, as I stand proudly watching every movement unfold, I don't think I've ever been quite so impressed. Little more enamoured by Pat though it has to be said. He's leaping absolutely everywhere as he sings himself hoarse no doubt, thrilling of all Dirty Dancing generation out there in the audience tonight, I can guarantee it by the cooing of appreciation.

With a four speed on the floor, they'll be waiting at the door
You know that ain't no shit, we'll getting lots of tit in Greased Lightnin', 
Go-go-go-go-go-go!
(Go...!)

The rest of the lads have kept to their backing fantastically, giving the physicality everything. But then they all have to fall into position to showcase the iconic Greased Lightnin' routine. I swear, I tried to rehearse with 'em myself loads of times, just to prove that as a die-hard Grease'er myself, I could do it. It looks simple enough, but bloody Hell, you really have gotta be a pro to do it. Felt insanely weird to have my arm going in so many different direction in so little time. Could never remember whether I was going up, down or around and the guys suffered similarly. Those rehearsals usually descended into cursing. But bloody Hell, they've definitely got it tonight. Just as well really. 

Go Greased Lightnin', you're burning up the quarter mile
Greased Lightnin'! Go Greased Lightnin'!
Go Greased Lightnin', you're coasting through the heat lap trial
Greased Lightnin'! Go Greased Lightnin'!

On the last beat, Pat almost strides over the windscreen and lands squarely with light feet on the bonnet, only to drop down and sit there comfortably while the lads are only to happy to give out hard, pelvic thrusts on the beat that demands it, just to lap up the female screaming that tears through the audience like this might be the Full Monty. Hidden away in the darkness, the girls and I can quietly laugh, pretty sure that all such lewd movements are the precise reason all our guys so wanted to become T-Birds in the first place. Pat's dropped down long ago mind, is working the length of the stage with impressive movement that somehow never takes away from his motley crew behind. 

I ain't a-braggin'!
(Huh! Huh!)
A pussy wagon!
(Huh! Huh!)
Ain't no shit!
(Huh! Huh!)
Lots of tit
(Huh! Huh!)
You are supreme
(Huh! Huh!)
The chicks'll cream
(Huh! Huh!)
Greased Lightnin'! For Greased Lightnin'! Lightnin', Lightnin', Lightnin'-

They've got everyone singing and thrusting along. The tune changes so subtlely, but it's another unmistakable medlody and the audience are quick not to miss a beat as the lads scramble off the car and Dennis drops determindly down as I move with a gentle swnging of my hips from the shadows and take my place centre stage. He meets me, landing as if there was never the possibility of a fall to consider. He makes it all look so easy. He's made it so fuckin' fun. So I'm smiling insanely to myself, whilst trying to look all previous Sandy innocent. But you know what? I just can't wait to be serenaded, sending forward an encouraging glance. Dennis just smiles back and keeps to his casual pace, singing out as our company fall in.

Summer lovin', had me a blast!

I move forward, deliberately choosing a path at an angle rather than straight so that a distance grows between us as I respond.

Summer lovin', happened so fast.

But Dennis, or Danny I should say, isn't to be fazed and steps up to stand level with me, singing right across at me. I take a step forward, head raised proudly as I look right at him, and then half into the audience to gauge female reaction. They cheer, as I knew they would. Theatre don't hold many other men as attractive as mine. 

I met a girl, crazy for me.
I met a boy, cute as can be 

He strides forward and grabs one of my hands as it drops to my side, pulling me back in against him and wrapping his arms around my waist as he delivers again. I dip my gaze, smiling coyly, before I bounce back, lazily resting my arms over his and swinging gently with the rhythm of his own hips.

Summer day, drifted away
To oh! Oh those summer nights

The company surround us in a great turn, and we dutifully separate to our given sides, me backed by the girls, him by the guys. Of course, ladies go first and both me and Sandy have tales to tell about the man stood living his dream, as I am, three paces away.

Whoa, whoa, whoa!
He got friendly, holding my hand!
She got friendly, down in the sand!
He was sweet, just turned eighteen!
Man, she was good, you know what I mean!

We both straighten and meet again in the middle of our supporting circle. I step up in front of him, his hands pressed lightly against my hips as he stands a little off-right, ready to counter the direction I choose to go. I have to say, I'm even more impressed his hands have been going where they're supposed to when they're on me, I was seriously beginning to wonder the way rehearsals were going, but then I suppose, my parents, most of Dennis' family and my best friend, a.k.a the only woman in the world that can legitimately claim to love Dennis Rickman as much as I do are sat in the front row and have been scrutinising us both for the last two hours waiting for some tell-tale slip up, as I don't doubt, has almost every woman and potentially gay man in this audience.

Summer heat, boy and girl meet, then oh!
Oh those summer, nights!

The company all spin out again, widening the circle and eventually dispersing into their own groups, singing how and when they must.

Whoa, whoa, whoa!
Tell me more, tell me more
How much dough did he spend?
Tell me more, tell me more!
Could she get me a friend?

The tempo changes completely to that of a marching band we can almost feel the threat off and Dennis reaches over to lead me safely away, his hand pressed lightly around my arm. I giggle gently, knowing that Hayley's onslaught as Patty is due and yeah, we do all need to be out the way.

"Hey you..." I whisper, with a few seconds to spare as Hayley stands there twirling her baton and pointedly singing through her nose in that hideously grating way. "...having fun?"

Dennis just smirks. "Not done yet-"

Hit 'em again, Rydell Ringtails
Tear 'em apart, red and-

Nick, grinning like he's been waiting for this since the moment he auditioned, rushes up behind Hayley and, wrapping his arms around her waist, lifts her from the floor and carries her off the stage, clearing the way for the rest of us to continue the number, Bradley moving across the stage in full Vince gear. 

"ARGHHH!"

I have to admit though, I'm getting ever so slightly nervous. There's something in the way Dennis looks at me as he moves away. I need some reassurance from somewhere, and what's a girl to do but go to her best mate? Fat lot of help she is at this precise moment, she's shrieking and dancing with the best. Jesus Christ, even my mum's moving. And I have absolutely no right to be embarrassed either. Oh God...

As Bradley sings so proudly out, so strong and... full of the fun this show is... well, Dennis is supposed to fall in with Ali, give 'em more of the Rydell hop, remind the world of the moves he's got. But Ali don't move and it's me Dennis is pulling forward. My God, I could be sick round about now, don't he remember how terrified I was? But as he looks over at me, he just grins, and Natalie's screaming her approval at the top of her lungs. What can I do? Nothing, except take what I wanted in the first place - a dance from my leadin' man. Alright, so this ain't Guys & Dolls and this ain't Havana, but somehow, it's better. Because it's us, me and Dennis. Can't be any better way to burn up so much energy in so few second either. I hardly know what I'm doing and I still manage to do it in perfect step, swept away in the... infectiousness of it. If I had the breath, I'd be in helpless giggles by now, but instead, I feel pretty much on air, twisting and turning... and still completely in awe of the hips that work alongside mine. I surely can't look as good, and if I do, then it's only cos Dennis makes me look that way!

Born to hand-jive baby, born to hand-jive baby! Born to hand-jive baby, born to hand-jive baby!
Whoa-ooooh-oh-oh! Wow!

Just as well we're holding on to each other then ain't it? I'm gonna be so stupidly happily with this guy, even if he does wanna trick me into doing that every night. But no-one seems to have minded, quite the opposite in fact. Applause can be heard everywhere, my dad perhaps cheering the loudest as Dennis and I step back into the weave of the cast to sing ourselves into final bow. 

Our arms drop from whoever we stand beside as we go into the next line, turning to the side and trying to lean back and forth in perfect sync without crushing anybody. And let me tell ya, it's hard being a woman right now, cos it's up to us to be aligned perfectly with the guy propping us up kind of thing and there's so much movement required in the legs to achieve this, my muscles feel shredded, and yet I never want this to end. I wanna do it again and I'm so fuckin' thrilled that I can, cos I just know I'm in for the best time of my life.

We're for each other like a wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-wop-bam-boom!
Just like my brother is sha-na-na-na-na-na-na-na yippity dip de doom

Hands are reached for throughout the line and held fiercely among friends, swayed teasingly. And on the last beat, each girl must surrender the hand that does not belong to her man and be ready for the dizzyness of spinning into a pose on the last stretched beat. Of course, me & Dennis have to demand the most attention, this show's been following us, and when I say that, I'm not entirely sure I'm just talking about Grease. Proved ourselves a bit unforgettable on and off the stage, haven't we? I'd almost apologise for that, but... I'm a little too busy wincing through my smile as I lift my bent leg up against his hip, trying to ignore the protesting pull in my hamstrings as he holds it there, grinning his way through the cheering that greets us. Looks like we just about made it then, don't it eh? Worth all the work, the tiredness, and maybe even the scars. 

Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop, we'll always be together
Toooo-geeether!

Now all there is to prepare ourselves for is final bow. We all pace back to the darkened sides of the stage, singing still between the two sides, and line after line of cast jump in together and bow, smiles so wide, oh their jaw must hurt as much as mine! When each line is done, they'll move back a little, but further forward into the light of the stage, creating an aisle sort of as their voices remain, loud and strong and absolutely proud. My God, we've done it. Could we be any better, any happier?

We'll always be together (Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop)
We'll always be together Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop)
We'll always be together (Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop)
We'll always be together (Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop)
We'll always be together (Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop)
(Oooooh-ooooh-ooooh!)

Me, I stand against Dennis wordlessly as we wait, my chest pumping like it never has before, and I'm relieved to feel him similarly affected, his heart pounding into my back as he holds me. And I'm so proud for him, if not a little stunned at myself. Cos this is how it feels. This is how it feels to live a dream. And, even when it really is over, I still won't have to wake up. It may be a cheesy Fifties musical, but I can feel conviction in the words I can hear being belted out now, not only by the company, but the thousands that make our enthralled, first night auidience.

And in the second before our cue is due, Dennis laughs gently as he feels me tremble and kisses just below my earlobe, whispering; "I can't wait for you to feel this. C'mon..."

I pull in my most sobering and accessible breath and put my best foot forward, allowing him to lead me into the back centre. The whole company turns around with raised arms to announce us, just as the spotlights that instinctively find us seem to do. They needn't have bothered though, because this audience seems to have an instinct all of its own, exploding into applause and cheers. Natalie's throat's gonna be raw in a minute, but God, just to let my gaze sweep over the front row and see such blazing pride in every pair of eyes, I've never felt better, suddenly assured that all this perfectness really is real.

We'll always be together (Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop)
(Oooooh-ooooh-ooooh!)

Holding Dennis' hand with all my might, we move with confident strides down the middle of the company and still holding on to one another, bow deeply, our clasped hands swinging forward like a pendulem and back again as we straighten. We kinda jump apart and smiling over at him like I might never stop, I extend my arms, gesturing for this audience to appreciate and adore my leading man as much as I do. Even under these lights, I can tell he tinges pink a little as he bows again and love swells in the centre of my chest. I wonder if he's always been like that, if he's gonna be like that for our every performance? Oh my God, he'll never know how much more I love him for this night.

We'll always be together (Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop)
(Oooooh-ooooh-ooooh!)

He straightens up again and beams over at me, lips flickering as he raises the same gesture.

"So proud of you..."

Oh God, I can feel myself flushing just like he did. Time ain't on our side here, but I can't stop myself mouthing back; "Love you..." before I oh-so-proudly take my bow,

The applause ringing in my ears still, blood rushing to my head as the world rights itself. Dennis' hand searches for mine and we pace back into our places, waving inanely to Tabitha as promised, afraid her poor little arms are about to drop off if we don't, and we stand amongst the company that have made this show for us, singing out so proudly, not really wanting the last breaths of this performance to leave us.

We'll always be together (Chang chang changitty chang sha-bop)
(Oooooh-ooooh-ooooh!)

This is really me at last, Sharon Watts - West End leading lady, but better, Dennis' leading lady. He's what I wanted all along.

Wop-bop-a-loo-bop-
A-wop-bop-a-loo-bop-
A-wop-bop-a-loo-bop-
A-wop-bam-BOOM!
 
The End