Twenty-Nine

Vivian couldn't see the stars that night. The city lights were too bright, the dingy clouds too thick. But inside, Danny would pour her a drink, and champagne stars would fizz inside the glass. They'd dance like the couples on the floor, the people who found their way there hoping to escape something.

The band was just getting started, Mr. Smith counting them in on a syncopated rhythm, Bea catching it and starting out quiet, her voice growing louder and bolder until the brass joined, swinging in fast and hot while the dancers tumbled onto the floor.

Vivian took a deep breath. This corner of the world would go on, night after night, even if she wasn't there. But if she was going to go, she sure as hell wasn't going quietly.

She caught the hand of the first person going past.

"Hey, fella," she said, her smile wide and dazzling while her heart ached. "Want to make a scene on the dance floor?"