Authors: Goldie Browning
“Stuck up,” Clyde commented as he watched her leave. “But ya gotta admit—she’s got a cute little…”
“Welcome ladies and gentlemen,” the bandleader boomed into the microphone. “Is everything copacetic tonight?” The crowd cheered. “All right, everybody needs to dust off their ol’ dancin’ shoes, ‘cause we’ve got a lollapalooza of a show comin’ up. At twelve midnight we’re gonna award this year’s trophy and a twenty-five dollar prize to the couple with the meanest Lindy Hop.” Another roar spread through the hall. “So let’s all make whoopee! Please give it up for Jim—Jam—and the Jammers!”
Clyde scanned the room. “I gotta find the right gal.” He took a swig of his beer with one hand and puffed his cigarette with the other. “I wanta win that prize.”
“You’re that good of a dancer?”
“Well, I’m kinda out of practice, but I know it’ll all come back to me.” Clyde’s blue eyes lit up and he flashed a toothy grin. “My ma wuz a dancer on the Vaudeville stage. I grew up in show biz.”
“Really?”
“Um hm.” Clyde took another sip and then hung his head. “Never did know who my pa was. But Ma done real good fer a while. Taught me how to tap and everything. Made me a part of the act.” He gazed sadly across the dance floor. “Then the shows just kinda dried up and she had to move over into burlesque. She had to dance the cootch just to put food in our mouths.”
“Sorry, Clyde.” Harry felt suddenly sad, thinking about his own parents who had both passed on. “Is she still alive?”
“Yeah. She just kinda snapped when the hard times got so bad. She’s in a state-run nuthouse down in Texas. That’s where all my government money goes, so she’ll get a little bit better treatment.”
Harry sighed, took a swig of beer, and looked up into the eyes of an angel. A gleaming, golden, heavenly vision—or at the very least, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her eyes were green—emerald green—like he’d always imagined the Irish moors to be. Fresh and shining and brilliant. And her face—exquisitely perfect like the face of the china doll once owned by his long-lost little sister.
She stood next to another ravishing beauty—a tall, leggy blonde in black satin that could almost make a man weep from the pain of just looking. He could see by Clyde’s expression that she affected him in just that way. None of the other girls in the room came even close to this pair’s glamour, and Harry could only surmise they must have taken a wrong turn on their way to Hollywood.
The two breathtaking sirens sat down at a table not far from Harry and Clyde. He sipped his beer and tried to look away, wishing he couldn’t see the copper fringe on her dress, or smell her perfume, or hear her tinkling laughter. What was the use? If a two-bit waitress wasn’t interested, why would a goddess care about him?
A mad scramble of men suddenly lined up at the ladies’ table. Clyde chugged the last of his beer, squared his shoulders, and rose. “I’m gonna dance with the blonde. Come on. You can dance with the other one.”
Harry tugged on Clyde’s jacket sleeve. “Ah, come on. They ain’t gonna dance with the likes of us.”
Clyde glanced around the room. “Last I seen, this was No-where’s-ville, Arkansas. Don’t see no Bing Crosbys or Fred Astaires or Clark Gables. There ain’t nothin’ here but hillbillies anyhow. If’n they wanted high class, I figure they’d go on up to St. Louie.”
Harry grinned and waved his hand in dismissal. “Go on, then. I wish you luck.”
He leaned back, sipped his beer and watched his friend join the throng of other men waiting to dance with the two women. He told himself he didn’t care and he almost believed it.
Moments later Clyde bounded back to the table, success painted all over his face. “I’m number five.” He was almost out of breath with excitement. “ I told her I could do a real good jitterbug and she said okay.”
“Swell,” said Harry. He averted his eyes when he saw the golden angel glide by in the arms of another man.
“Aint’cha gonna dance at all?” asked Clyde.
“Nah. I’m not much of a dancer. I just enjoy listening to the music.”
Clyde shrugged, then his eyes lit up when the band struck up
Flat Foot Floogey With the Floy Floy
. He saw a young lady sitting alone at a table, tapping her feet to the music and he jumped up and headed straight toward her. “I just
gotta
dance this one.”
Harry leaned back and watched his friend lead the girl out onto the dance floor. Gee whiz, but he was good! He never would have guessed that Clyde, usually so awkward when it came to his work, could dance so skillfully. His movements were loose and fluid, evoking a sense of joy and abandon.
He sneaked a peek at the green-eyed angel. She sat alone at the table, but men periodically approached her. She always shook her head when the tempo was fast, he noticed. Her friend seemed to dance just about every number, but the angel only danced the slow songs.
Just like me, he thought. Jitterbugs and Lindy Hops were something he’d never learned to do. He wished he had the nerve to ask her to dance with him. What would it be like to slide his arm about her slender waist, feel the softness of her hands in his, smell the fragrance of her hair, and gaze into those lovely green eyes at close range?
Her beautiful blonde friend danced by and he noticed her watching Clyde with an approving smile. He leaned back and tried to relax, but he bumped his elbow on the cluttered table. He wished the waitress would bring some fresh beer and take away these dead soldiers.
When the song ended, Clyde plopped down into his chair. He grinned happily, breathing hard from the exertion. He saw the waitress walk by and motioned with his hand. “Hey, Jane! We need another round.”
“You gonna sit this one out?” asked Harry. He tried to ignore the sight of his angel being led onto the dance floor by a half-drunken man with a paunch the size of Rhode Island.
“Yep. Gotta catch my breath. Next set’s me’n the blonde. I’m hopin’ she’ll dance the contest with me.” Clyde gave the waitress some money when she brought the beers. He pursed his lips suggestively and said, “Cash or check?”
“Sorry, mac. Bank’s closed.” She tossed her head and wiggled away.
“I’ll be right back. Gotta go iron my shoelaces.” Clyde jumped up and headed for the privy.
Harry picked up his beer bottle, but put it back down in surprise. The beautiful blonde siren stood staring at him. He nervously got up and glanced around to make sure her attention was on him and not someone else in the room. “H-hello.”
“Hi, there.” Her voice sounded sweet, like spun sugar. “Where’s your friend?”
“Oh, uh. He’ll be back in a minute.” Harry pulled out a chair. “Would you like to sit down?”
“Thanks.” She sat in the chair he offered and then signaled to Harry’s angel, who was wandering around, seemingly lost. “Some Dumb Dora stole our table.”
“W-Well, you’re more than welcome to sit here,” Harry stammered. He remained standing until the angel appeared. She smiled brilliantly when he helped her with her chair. Her nearness almost took his breath away.
“My name’s Tyme and this is Ivy.”
Her name is Ivy. Such a beautiful name. His mother always liked ivies. They were sweet and easy to care for and they’d grow tall, and clinging, and green, like her eyes. He imagined those beautiful arms of hers clinging to him.
Tyme looked questioningly at Harry and then pulled out a cigarette. “You got a light?”
Embarrassed, Harry returned to earth and fumbled in his pockets. He usually kept a book of matches for just such an occasion, but he’d failed to put any into his new suit. “Sorry, I’m not a smoker.”
Suddenly Clyde appeared, camel-decorated Zippo in hand. With a flick of the wrist he had the tiny flame burning. He held it out to Tyme like a knight in shining armor come to her rescue. “Here ya go, gorgeous.”
“Ah, my hero.” Tyme smiled and inhaled the cigarette.
“Uh, the ladies were just introducing themselves,” said Harry. “Clyde, this is Tyme and Ivy. My name’s Harry.”
“Glad to make your acquaintance, Harry. Clyde and I have already met,” said Tyme, and then turned to Clyde. “I saw you out there a while ago. You can really cut a rug.”
“Well, doll. You ain’t exactly no heeler yourself.”
Tyme took a puff and smiled seductively at Clyde. “So, ya wanna be my gigolo for the contest?”
“Oh, baby. I thought you’d never ask.” The band struck up another fast one. Clyde stood up and held out his hand to Tyme. “Come on. Let’s go get warmed up.”
Painful shyness overcame Harry when he found himself alone with Ivy. The starch in his collar seemed to tighten around his neck like a noose, but he forced himself to keep his hands away from it. He racked his brain for something to talk about and finally came up with something.
“Would you like something to drink? A beer maybe?”
“I’d like a 7-Up.” Her voice sounded like honey.
Harry signaled the waitress. “Two 7-Up’s, please.”
The waitress stared disdainfully at Harry and Ivy, popped her gum, and headed for the kitchen.
“Will you just look at them?” Ivy pointed to Tyme and Clyde on the dance floor. “They look like they’ve been dancing together all their lives.”
“Yeah, Clyde really loves to dance,” said Harry. “He was hoping to win the contest tonight.”
“Looks like they’ve got a good chance.” Ivy took the 7-Up from the waitress and sipped it with a straw. “Thank you.”
“Here you go.” Harry handed the waitress two quarters this time. She grinned and winked, then sashayed off. He worked up his courage. “So, do you live around here?”
“Me? No, I’m from St. Louis,” replied Ivy. “I’m just staying with my Aunt Tyme for the summer. And you?”
“Oh, I’m stationed out at the CCC camp. We’re working on the new dam.” Harry hoped his revelation didn’t completely doom any chance he had with Ivy. He decided to embellish a little. “I just got promoted to work leader, but I’m studying to be a civil engineer.”
“Really? That’s fascinating.” Ivy’s green eyes shone like jewels beneath the dance lights. “Engineers have to be really, really smart.”
Harry felt like a fraud and he tried to redeem himself. “Well, I’m not exactly in the engineering program yet. But I want to be. I’m planning on applying next week.”
After the words were out of his mouth, he decided it was a good idea. He smiled and his confidence grew. He looked at her lips. They were full and ripe, like cherries. He wondered what it would be like to kiss them.
“Are you a good dancer like your friend?”
“Me? Oh, no. I’ve got two left feet.” He made a face and kicked out a foot at an odd angle.
Ivy giggled. “Me too. I can do the slow ones, but I get completely lost with the Lindy Hop or the St. Louis Shag.”
The half-drunken fat man Ivy had danced with earlier approached their table. He had now apparently had enough drinks since their last dance to qualify for totally drunk. “Say, baby. I’ve been lookin’ for ya. They’re about to start the dance contest.” He grabbed Ivy by the wrist. “Come on.”
“No,” Ivy struggled and jerked her arm away. “I don’t want to dance right now.”
“Come
on
, baby.” The man argued and staggered slightly. “Don’tcha wanta win the trophy?”
“Look, mister.” Harry stepped between Ivy and the man. “The lady said no.”
“Who da ya think you are, you little pipsqueak?” The big man bristled and raised his hands into fists. “You wanta fight me for her?”
Ivy looked as if she was going to cry. Harry glanced toward the dance floor. Clyde and Tyme danced furiously, oblivious to the drama that was taking place at the table. He looked again at the drunken man and made his decision.
“Come on, Ivy.” He grabbed his hat, placed her wrap around her shoulders, and helped her to her feet. “Let’s go outside and get some fresh air.”
The man followed them, swaying and bumping into other people as he went. Ivy and Harry continued walking quickly. He put his arm around her protectively as they headed for the door. All he could think about was getting her safely out of there.
“Hey, buddy! Watch where yer goin’.” A big, burly man dressed in overalls yelled angrily when his beer spilled down the front of his bib.
“Ah, shaddup,” said the drunk, and then he yelled at Harry. “Get back in here with that broad.”
Harry’s anger got the better of him. He stopped, turned around, and stared at the man, then motioned for Ivy to go around behind him. Ivy appeared worried, but did as she was instructed. The party inside continued on, but a small group of people within sight of the altercation began gathering to watch the spectacle.
“Please go back inside and leave the lady alone.” Harry spoke slowly, yet firmly. His hands formed angry fists and he felt his temperature rise. Ivy shrank back in terror. He fought to remain calm.
“Why, you liddle…” The man suddenly ran at Harry, his big beefy arms swinging wildly.