Crossroads of Desire by Amos Hatter — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

i | CROSSROADS OF DESIRE “No, 'm afraid not,” Larry smiled and shook his head, “Could you play it for me all the way through this afternoon?” “Maybe.” He gave her another kind of smile. “But youll have to promise not to put on that outfit you’ve been wearing the other times I’ve been up to your apartment. Not if you want me to keep my mind on the music.” “Tl dress up like a witch and not say a word,” she laughed. “No matter how you disguised yourself you’d still be beautiful.” Connie sighed and her heart was in her eyes as she gazed at Larry. He said the nicest things, had the nicest way about him. But Connie had discovered, during the times they had been together for the past two weeks, that Larry refused to believe in the affair they were having. “We live in two different worlds, Connie,” he had told her one time as he held her in his arms. ‘‘And I don’t see how we could ever be closer than this,” Ever since, her agile mind had been working on ways to correct the situation. If she didn’t see fit to step down to his strata in life, what happier solution than to raise him to hers? “Well, anyway,’ she said, after taking a sip of coffee, “I want to hear that music this afternoon. If it’s as good as I think it is, I’ve got a swell idea in mind.” “What's that?” Larry asked. “First of all, we’ll get the arrangement made and have several copies run off. I’ll write in the ideas I’ve got for making it into a ballet, then turn it over to the ballet’s choreographer so he can whip it into shape and get us into rehearsals on it.” “My gosh! All that, right away?” he said in amazement. “Wait a minute. I’m not finished. Meanwhile, we'll have to start giving it some build up. What we’ll do is rent a hall and you can present it in a recital. We’ll invite the music critics and—” “Hey,” Larry interrupted in alarm, “that costs dough!” Connie smiled sweetly. ‘You just leave that end of it to me.” An expression of grave doubt crossed Larry’s face. He studied her closely for a few moments. He didn’t intend to have her or any other girl paying his bills. “That won’t do, Connie,’ he said with quiet determination, “I’m not the sort of guy who lets a woman pay the freight.” 38 CROSSROADS OF DESIRE “But I won't be paying anything,” she explained at once. “We'll let the Ballet du Roi Association pick up the check.” In other words, Philip Hathaway. But she didn’t tell Larry that. He continued to look at her, not at all convinced that She knew what she was talking about. “Why would the Association, whoever they are, sponsor a recital for me? I’m nothing but a honky-tonk piano player.” “You're a composer. And a great one at that, It would be a privilege for the Association to present you to the world.” Larry wagged his head as an incredulous smile crossed his face. He had never known a girl quite so creative as Connie, She knew more angles than a Harvard geometrician cramming for final exams. But he still didn’t see how it could possibly work out. Even if it did—what then? “T don’t get it, Connie,’ he admitted hopelessly. “Trust me, won’t you, please?’ she begged. “TI will on one condition,’ he said after thinking it, over. “Before you commit yourself or anyone else, promise you'll take the matter up with me.” “It’s a promise,” she came right back, with a brilliant smile. Half an hour later they arrived at Connie’s apartment in a taxi, Upstairs they removed their coats and Larry went to the piano with the manila envelope. He took out the manuscript and arranged it on the music rack. Connie, as she had promised, curled up sedately on the divan. “Ready?” he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Go ahead, buster. Let ’er roll,” The next instant Larry’s music filled the air. To Connie’s trained ear it was first rate stuff. She was prepared to believe in his work, no matter what. But this was good. It was, she decided as the music continued, very good. Larry had some- thing! He had something people would pay for. He played for nearly thirty minutes and during that time Connie forgot herself completely. A myriad of dance steps occurred to her as she went along with the rhythm. A ballet to that music would be a sensation! Even the great Scott Joplin would have readily approved Larry’s ragtime tunes. ‘Well, that’s it,” said Larry when he had finished, He turned on the piano bench to see what Connie thought of it. His eyes sought hers hopefully as would any artist’s seeking — te@RnIG HOOKS. COM —