Dancin' Danny

  It was gloomy outside. A perfect match to Danny's mood as he left his apartment. He felt a rush of anxiety as he walked past his empty parking spot. His car was at the shop, held hostage by the shop owner, who threatened legal action if Danny didn't pay the $4,000 repair bill soon. Danny scoffed. He wouldn't even be able to pay if the bill were $40. He'd given every penny he had to his brother to go towards a surgery for his newborn daughter. The hospital refused to do the procedure until payment was received, and of course, the insurance company found a loophole to avoid shouldering the cost. 

  "Rent is due!" 

  Danny looked up to see the apartment manager glaring. He gave her a quick nod and moved past. His stomach rumbled, a painful reminder that he was out of food. If a miracle happened and his boss agreed to let him work an unscheduled shift today, he'd use the money to pick up groceries. Of course, his boss was a notorious jerk, more likely to skim from the nightly deposit than he was to do a favor for a worker. Danny slowed, wondering if it was even worth walking to his job just to be turned away. 

  A thought echoed in his mind, and despite his low mood, it brought a smile to his face. It was his mother's voice, giving him her favorite advice. She'd repeated these words a thousand times to Danny and his brother when she was alive. 

  If you can't do nothin' else, dance. 

  Even though he felt stupid, Danny started snapping his fingers as he walked. 

  "This is for you, momma." 

  Danny started with a simple step and shuffle. Then he added in a spin and a dip, followed by a modified shimmy. Another pedestrian passed by and reached out. Thinking they wanted to give him five, Danny extended his hand. The person pressed a dollar into his palm. Danny stared at it for a moment, surprised, then a smile spread across his face. He continued to dance. Growing up with a mother who danced professionally, Danny mimicked the moves he remembered seeing her do. A leaping twist, followed by a dipped shoulder and a series of spins, carried him a few more blocks. 

  "Whooo!" 

  He looked over to see a group of women seated outside a small cafe. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, and he slowed his movements. 

  "Don't slow it down!" one of the women yelled, standing up. "Speed it up!" 

  She shoved a wad of bills into his hand. Looking down, Danny realized there was a ten and a twenty-dollar bill mixed in. Real money. 

  "Do something with your buttocks!" one of the women yelled. 

  It was not usually a request he'd entertain, but a few more tips could make a big dent in his financial troubles. Danny shrugged, then did a leaping whirl before administering some of the requested buttocks-focused moves. He did a little shaking, a low swoop, and only the amount of wiggles he felt was appropriate. They hollered and tossed more money at him. 

  A man ran toward him, holding up a phone. 

  "Check this out, chat, this man is COOKIN'!" 

  Danny looked over and realized that the man was livestreaming. On the phone's screen, he saw himself dancing and lines of chat appearing as the audience commented. Hesitating, Danny squinted, trying to read the messages. 

  "Don't stop now, my slime! Keep it goin'!" the livestreamer said. 

  "Yeah! Keep dancin'," one of the ladies said. 

  A couple stepped out of a nearby shop and stopped to watch, as did a lady walking a dog. Danny felt the pressure mounting, but at this point, he knew there was only one option open to him in life. Keep dancing. He broke out a few hip swivels, then did a move he hadn't tried for years, a standing backflip. He landed it perfectly, drawing more cheers and shouts from the growing crowd. 

  "Gyatt, gyatt! He got that rizz, chat!" the livestreamer yelled. 

  People pressed more money into his hands and tossed some onto the ground. Danny smiled widely, seeing a fifty-dollar bill amongst the cash. It had been a long time since he felt like things might be okay, but this amount of money was enough to buy him some desperately needed breathing room. And as he busted out crowd favorite motions like the sprinkler and the bushy-tailed bobcat, more money came his way. 

  A line of cop cars ripped past on the street, sirens screaming. They were followed by two fire trucks, then an ambulance. The ground rumbled, and the roar of distant explosions filled their ears. Emergency alerts screeched to life on cell phones, and many in the crowd started to jog away. Danny stopped dancing. 

  "Are you crazy?" the livestreamer asked. "They're donating to see you dance!" 

  The man held his phone closer so Danny could see. Numbers were flying by, each one accompanied by the sound of a satisfying ding. $5, $15, $275, $50, moving so fast it was hard to keep up. 

  "This is all for me?" 

  The livestreamer pulled his phone back. 

  "If you keep movin' them hips it is!" 

  The rest of the people nearby were running away, and an unmarked helicopter flew overhead. But all Danny heard was that ding. He pressed both hands against his head and shimmied and shook with all of his might. 

  Until a dark shadow fell across him. Danny looked up. The helicopter was falling from the sky, smoke pouring from its engine. 

  "We shoulda quit when we were ahead!" the livestreamer yelled, sprinting away. 

  Danny knelt, scooping up the money at his feet as quickly as he could. He could hear the creaking of metal as the helicopter plunged toward him. Standing, Danny shoved the money into his pockets, then started to moonwalk for all he was worth. 

  "I did it, momma. I-"