Lucy didn't think she needed experience but said, "I guess maybe you're right, and that's why I came for a job at the Empire."
"You don't get me, kid—after you get experience somewhere come back and see me."
Uncomprehending, Lucy looked at Mr. Brady who didn't seem interested any more. But now she understood why Mother was so helpless and weepy about getting a job. Where else could she get experience in Denver?
"You see, Mr. Brady, it isn't just that I want to be a dancer, my mother hasn't a job now, and we need the money, and if I could be in the chorus line," Lucy demoted herself from being a soloist, "I wouldn't expect what you pay the other girls—at first."
Mr. Brady said nothing, his eyes expressionless. What a looker! Mr. Brady's thick fingers itched to fondle that young flesh, but he was afraid. Mr. Brady only recently had evaded jail by paying off a dancer he had—overfondled. This kid was jailbait. Mr. Brady banished temptation.
"Sorry, kid," he said, "but leave your name and address."
Lucy, fighting back an unfamiliar impulse to weep, noticed how Mr. Brady was looking at her. That was familiar.
She sat down to put on her shoes, and as she lifted her leg her dress fell back. Mr. Brady saw a tender white thigh and pink panties.
"Girlie," he was breathing hard, "how would you like to dance at the annual ball of the Bison Lodge?"
Lucy's tears retreated. She smoothed her dress over her knees and considered.
"It's a chance," urged Mr. Brady, who had decided there might be a chance for him too, "and I'll give you five dollars out of my own pocket. How's that?"
Mr. Brady, a Bison because it was good for business at the Empire, had been drafted Chairman for the annual Ladies Night Ball. Chairman meant he had to provide free entertainment, but he was having difficulty. Performers could be persuaded to appear at benefits in New York or Chicago where publicity might lead to other jobs. So far he had only recruited one good-natured comic, a souse promised all he could drink.
Lucy accepted. Mr. Brady could not resist squeezing her arm.
To Mae, dangling on starvation's fringe, the Bisons represented wealth, security, open sesame to that fabulous Mode world awaiting Lucy. She knew nothing about the Bisons but, being rich peo-
