“I wasn’t counting,” Andy said innocently.
“Good. Don’t start now. Now look, never mind this baloney about going to the side with your left foot and then closing with your right. That’s strictly for the birds. You just keep going straight forward. You got that — in a straight line? Just as if you’re walking, except you happen to have a girl in your arms.”
“Dancing is just walking set to music,” Frank said.
“It is,” Bud said, ready to take offense.
“Dancing is vertical petting,” Reen corrected.
“The hell with you,” Bud said. “Look, Andy, a straight line, remember. Your right foot forward is the second beat. You take a full left step for the third beat, and then you just bring your right foot up parallel to your left foot for the fourth beat, closing off the figure. That’s it, pal. You’re back where you started from. The rest is all repetition — like a second chorus.”
“Gin, you bastards!” Reen bellowed.
Frank looked at the cards he put down. “You still owe Bud half a buck,” he said calmly.
“I’ll cut you for the half, Bud,” Reen said. “Double or nothing.”
Bud released Andy. “All right,” he said, walking over. He tapped Frank on the shoulder. “Take over the dance lesson, Francis.” He turned to Reen. “High card wins.”
“You ever hear of low card winning?”
“Yes, I have. And with you, I want to make sure beforehand.”
“Come on, Andy,” Frank said, rising. “You’re about to learn from a master.” He went to Andy, and together they worked their way up the length of the small room, Andy looking conscientiously ahead, not daring to look down at his feet, not daring to count.
“Cut,” Reen said.
“Ladies first,” Bud answered.
Reen cut the deck, and Bud began laughing.
“A son-of-a-bitchin’ four!” Reen shouted. “Jesus, have you got this deck trained or something?”
Bud cut a king, and Reen swore again, shaking his head violently. On their left, Frank and Andy kept moving across the room.
“That makes a buck even,” Bud said.
“I can add,” Reen answered.
“When?” Bud asked pointedly.
“Listen to this bastard, will you? He wins a few hands and right away he’s J. P. Morgan.”
“When?” Bud repeated.
“Wednesday. How’s that?”
“That’s fine, if it’s Wednesday. Not Thursday or Friday or—”
“You want to chain my mother in the cellar for security?”
“No, but I’ll take your sister,” Bud said, grinning lewdly.
“Seconds,” Frank chimed over his shoulder.
Reen ignored them. He knew he possessed an older, pretty sister, and he didn’t relish a discussion of her obvious assets.
“Did you teach him to turn yet?” Bud asked Frank.
“No.”
“Show him how, Reen,” Bud said casually. “You’re a whiz at turns.”
“First he takes all my money, then he turns me into a dance instructor,” Reen complained.
“Go ahead,” Bud said lightly.
“He’s about got this down pat,” Frank said. Reen shrugged and walked over to the pair. “Never dance with a girl taller than you are,” he said to Andy. “You know what happens then, don’t you?”
“No,” Andy said, smiling, feeling very much a part of the boys even though he knew he was not as yet a part of them.
“You get a bust in the mouth,” Reen said.
“That one has a beard,” Frank said.
The criticism left Reen unfazed. He looked down at Andy and said, “Come, Little One. Let’s see what you know so far.”
A rumba came from the radio speaker, and Frank thoughtfully crossed the room and tuned in another station. Andy exhibited his newly found skill to Reen, and Reen nodded appreciatively.
“Why do we always get lousy weather on Saturdays?” Bud asked.
“It’s a conspiracy,” Frank said.
“You got a date tonight?”
“No.”
“You feel like bowling?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Bud put his foot up on the window sill and stared through the pane of glass. Behind him, Reen was showing Andy how to reverse his direction on the dance floor, explaining he had to know this or else he’d crash right into the wall.
“That tree’s gonna snap right in two,” Bud said.
Frank walked to the window and looked out. “It’ll hold,” he said. He squinted and leaned forward, suddenly attentive. “Hey, who’s that with her skirts blowing up?”
“She’s married,” Bud said disinterestedly.
Frank continued watching the girl. “Give me a young mother any day of the week,” he said.
“Give you any thing any day of the week,” Bud corrected. He turned and added, “Don’t ever get like this guy, Andy. He lives for it.”
Andy smiled briefly, absorbed in Reen’s lesson.
“I got a letter from Freddie today,” Frank said when the girl had passed out of his line of vision.
“Yeah? What’d he have to say?”
“The usual junk. He writes like a Chink, you know?”
“They still working his butt off?”
“Oh, sure. I don’t think he likes the army very much.”
“Who does?” Reen said from the other side of the room.
“You’ll like it,” Bud said. “You’ve got the makings of a good army man, Reen.”
“Up yours,” Reen said. “You want to try that again, Andy?”
“Why’d Tony call off the rehearsal today?” Bud asked suddenly.
“Who knows?” Frank said. “You know that crazy bastard.”
“I’ll bet it’s ’cause he was sore last night.”
“Naw,” Frank said, secretly and guiltily believing that to be the reason.
“I’ll bet all the tea in China.”
“This would’ve been a good day for rehearsal, too.”
“Yeah,” Bud said. He watched Andy silently for several moments.
Then he said, “You’re gonna be a good dancer. You’ve got good rhythm. Next time you come along with us you’ll know what to do, believe me.”
Next time you come along with us.
Andy digested Bud’s sentence, and a smile formed on his mouth. He felt quite guilty, but guilty in a sneaking, proud way, like an OSS man who had sneaked into Berchtesgaden. And then, suddenly, he realized he hadn’t done any of the sneaking at all. It was Bud who’d suggested the dance lesson, Bud who’d subtly and skillfully led the other boys into participating, deftly led them in the first tentative steps toward the acceptance of a newcomer.