watched, on a dance floor serving as altar, with wiggling rumps, erotic rites guided by the musician high priests with cynical eyes.
My goodness, they don't dance as good as at the Paradise Dance Hall where Freddie and me were thrown out of because I'm not sixteen. I wonder if Opal heard about that?
The moving bodies on the dance floor were a swaying forest of hostile trunks through which she still had to discover the path to independence for herself and Mother.
Mother, she thought, is prettier than these rich women. If she weren't so bashful she could have any of these men and be rich too. Anyone with a job and a whole house to live in was rich.
St. Mary's, where Mrs. Murphy went to Mass, tolled eleven.
Mae's face was frozen in the humble smile of a petitioner for crumbs. This was her chapel. It was awful that the child could not sit for fear of crushing her costume. The intensity of her wish for Lucy miraculously bestirred the saint of this chapel. It seemed St. Brady never would get through talking but at last she heard him say enthusiastically how here in Denver he had discovered a new Pavlova. Mae's cheeks were feverish under the dabs of bluish rouge. She gave Lucy a little push.
"He means you, dear."
Lucy, head up, arms out, stiff new slippers thumping, ran out across the floor toward the musicians amid applause and murmurs of admiration. She had a funny feeling in her stomach and the hall seemed to crowd in on her.
At Miss Klemper's, Miss Eckles kept time with the pupils, but Gus had only glanced at the music hours ago.
"If you'll only play it through just once, I'll show you where it must go slow, because I do a lot of turns."
"Don't worry, kiddo," Gus had said laconically, eying her budding curves, "you just give me the beat and I'll follow you."
Next time, she had grumbled as Mae tightened the squeaking new tights, I'm going to get Miss Klemper to mark the slow parts because I don't know where they are on the music sheet.
The men who at mention of highbrow Pavlova began to move toward the men's room for bootleg drinks paused and looked at her and then Mr. Brady in lustful speculation. Mr. Brady tried to appear impassive but found himself prickling with guilt. And he hadn't as much as touched her. Christ, he thought, this kid is too hot to handle. Good thing for me her mother's with her!
