Crossroads of Desire by Amos Hatter — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CROSSROADS OF DESIRE “That's exactly what he did! He phoned me at eight to say he must remain all the evening at the United Nations.” “But why?” “That,” said Yvonne indignantly, “is what made me anery all inside. The wife of one of the French officials needed a letter written in English. He remained away from me to do that!” “Shame on him,” Connie laughed. “How would you like to take the afternoon off? Go over there and give him a piece of your mind.” “Oh, I couldn’t do that.” “At least you could take the afternoon off, Thank gosh, we don’t have to throw a cocktail party this afternoon,” “But there is cleaning to be done and—” “Let it wait.” Connie finished her breakfast and drew a package of ciga- rettes out of the pocket of her robe. She lit one and sipped her coffee. Presently she looked across the table at Yvonne and smiled. “Well, are you going to take the afternoon off or have I got to kick you out?” The two girls exchanged significant glances. Gradually a smile appeared on Yvonne’s lips. She tilted her head to one side. “Oui, Ill go, mademoiselle. And when shall I return?” “At six, if you wish. But no sooner.” Yvonne nodded and discreetly said no more. Connie finished her coffee and cigarette, then arose. Just before she went out of the kitchen she turned. “Tt might be well if you mix up a small bottle of Martinis before you leave. Put them in the refrigerator to chill.” “And a small plate of hors d’oeuvres?” Yvonne smiled. “No. That won’t be necessary,” Connie said, Connie returned to her bedroom. She went to a closet and got out a thin black jersey with matching tights and a leotard. For a moment she held them both in front of her, pondering. Both had advantages but she tried to decide which would appeal most to Larry. She favored the leotard. The jersey and tights were the thing. It would provide her with a more professional appearance and lend substance to the fiction that she was actually working on a new ballet. She removed her robe and pulled the black jersey over her head. 22 CROSSROADS OF DESIRE Then she pulled on the long tights and zipped them about her slender waist. x She spent some time with her make-up and fixing her hair. Finally she bent over and pulled on her ballet slippers. After a final inspection in front of a full length mirror she went out to the piano, satisfied that Mr. Larry Brooks had heen adequately prepared for. Connie was, herself, a pianist of sorts. She sat down and let her fingers run lightly over the keyboard. For a few minutes -she amused herself, trying to play by ear, one of Larry’s ragtime tunes. She was thus engaged at three o’clock when the buzzer sounded at the door. Her heart was beating excitedly as she got up to answer it, : She swung the door open with a blinding smile. But the smile froze on her face and horror leaped into her eyes. There, wrapped in furs, stood the garish Mrs. Switzer. The ma.tron’s eyes looked her up and down with a smile, then she barged into the room before Connie could even recover herself. “IT see you're practicing, my dear. Please don’t let me interrupt.” Connie closed the door. “I—I was just getting started.” “Then no doubt you’ve got to get on with it. And I shan’t stay long. I was just so happy that I had to come by and congratulate you.” “What about?” : ‘Why—about the Ballet du Roi. You know of course, that we're beginning actually to make money. Philip sent me my first check just this morning. Believe me, it was a thrill to know that our efforts are paying off.’ Mrs. Switzer sat down and threw back her furs. “Philip told me last night that we finally made a profit.” “Tt’s only the beginning, my dear. Only the beginning. Be- lieve me, with you in that show, we're all going places.” Connie thought instantly of a place she wished -Mrs. Switzer would go, but quick. She didn’t want the old battle-ax in her apartment when Larry arrived. Resentment at the woman's intrusion welled slowly within her. “T must keep on rehearsing,” she said, thinking rapidly of some way to get rid of her. “I hope to make the show even better.” ConmiclooolkkS. Conn)