Crossroads of Desire by Amos Hatter — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

CROSSROADS OF DESIRE filled the room. Connie waited a moment, then caught the tempo and swung into an effortless dance. She caught glimpses of Larry from the corners of her eyes and knew he was looking at her. Connie began to feel better. “Hey, I’m beginning to get the idea!” Larry cried five minutes later. He stopped playing abruptly and Connie looked around, “You want some original music, don’t you? You want something to match a new dance.” “Well, I guess that’s what I had in mind,” she said surprised, “Golly, Miss Carter, this could turn into something big.” ‘Ts that so?” “It certainly could. A ragtime ballet. It’s a swell idea,” he said on a rising tide of excitement. “And I’m just the guy who can do some original rag music for you. Listen to this.” He played a few bars. Connie stood there watching him, only half listening to his music. He stopped and looked up at her. “How did you like that?’ “Oh.” She shifted to the other foot. “It sounded fine.” “Okay. Go ahead. See if you can work out some steps to it.” He started playing again. With a sigh she began dancing. This wasn’t exactly her idea of a way to spend an afternoon with a young man whom she wanted to know better. His play- ing grew more compelling and Connie, in spite of herself, got more into the spirit of the thing. Here was an idea with pos- Sibilities. Properly handled they might have to have any num- ber of rehearsals like this. But they had gone far enough for now. “Look,” she said, ‘“there’s no use knocking ourselves out.” He played on for a moment, his eyes staring excitedly but unseeing ahead of him, as his brain created melody and rhythm in unison. All at once he realized that Connie was standing beside him. He brought the music to an end with two final chords. “No matter how hard we might try, we can’t put a ballet together in one afternoon,” she said. He looked up at her and smiled. “You're right, I know. And I can see I’ve got quite a lot of work to do to compose a finished composition for you. What's the time limit on this thing?” “No time limit in particular.” 26 CROSSROADS OF DESIRE “T mean, were you planning on using it in a few weeks?” “Maybe, if we can put something together.” “We can. I’m sure of it,” he said, getting to his feet. All at once an expression of deep gratitude crossed his face. “Really, Miss Carter, I don’t know how to thank you for such an oppor- tunity.” “Ouit calling me Miss Carter,” she said with a trace of irrita- tion. “Everyone cails me Connie.” “Then Connie it is,’ he grinned. “Would you like a cocktail or do you insist on having beer?” Larry laughed. “A cocktail would be fine.” Connie went to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of Martinis and two glasses. Larry was seated on the divan in front of the cocktail table smoking a cigarette. She sat down and filled the glasses then handed him one. She took her own glass and sat back, pulling one knee up onto the divan. “Here’s luck to our new venture,’ Larry proposed. “First give me a cigarette.” She didn’t move an inch as he took out a pack. Larry was compelled to lean toward her to provide her with a cigarette and a light. As if to steady the lighter that he held she took his wrist in her hand. That inviting little ceremony attended to, she smiled enchantingly and lifted her glass, “To luck in our new venture.” As they drank she felt his eyes on her. She had been impressed by Larry Brooks the first moment she laid eyes on him. Now she was gratified to Know that her opinion was unchanged. He wore well. A flutter of anticipation passed through her at the realization that she had him here besides her on the divan. “This new ballet,” he said, ‘whose idea was it?” “Mine,” “No wonder you're such a success,” he told her admirinegly. “Tf we’re able to execute what you’ve got in mind, it ought to be a knockout.” “How do you know for sure what I’ve got in mind?” She smiled at him from the corners of her eyes. “From the sort of steps you did while dancing, I can almost visualize what the finished ballet should look like. An old time western saloon, maybe. Cowboys and prospectors and hostesses.” icomicbookszcom