Diva (The Flappers) - By Jillian Larkin Page 0,24

much.

“He has a car, though, doesn’t he? Dorothy and I were planning to take the train out, but it would be so much more stylish if we drove. Plus we might need someone to get us home safely if we get too tight,” Becky said.

“Good point.” Always thinking, that Becky! No matter how sweet and dopey she might look, the girl had some real smarts underneath all those curls.

“It’ll be such fun!” Becky exclaimed, and her small lips stretched into a gleeful smile. She clapped her dainty little hands. “We’ll dance the Collegiate Shag and show those starched shirts how to cut a rug.”

Lorraine narrowed her eyes. She’d once prided herself on knowing all the hottest new dances, but that had been in the pre-Drought days. “How does that one go again?”

Becky stuck out her lip and blew her bangs off her forehead. “Honestly, Lorraine, how can you have worked in a club and not learned it?”

She popped up from her bed and took Lorraine’s hand to pull her up as well. She raised her left arm. “Okay, you need to hold your right arm so your elbow is touching my left elbow.”

Lorraine did so but felt awkward. “Are you sure? That’s a lot higher than couples usually hold their arms.…”

“Mmm-hmm—that way your arms don’t get in the way of all the hopping around in the dance.” Becky did a zippy combination of kicks and hops on her own and put all doubt out of Lorraine’s mind. Becky was a surprisingly good dancer, and Lorraine couldn’t wait to show the bouncy dance off on the floor.

She put one hand on Becky’s shoulder and held her other hand. Then she began to follow her roommate through the steps.

“Well, no, you kick your legs behind you when we’re close like this, Raine,” Becky said when Lorraine whacked her in the shin. “Let’s try again.”

They pulled apart and held hands, and now Becky said she was allowed to kick forward. Becky spun her around and Lorraine nearly ran straight into her. “Maybe we should go slower.…”

Lorraine continued dancing without Becky, swinging her legs back and forth. “No, I think I’m catching on just fine!”

“Well, that’s better,” Becky said. “What you need to remember is …” Her eyes fixed on something behind Lorraine. She gave a low whistle. “Who’s the Handsome Dan? Does he go to Columbia? I feel like I’ve seen him around.”

Lorraine followed her roommate’s eyes to the photo of Marcus tacked to the bulletin board above her bed. “Oh, that’s Marcus Eastman.” She paused. How to explain Marcus Eastman to Becky? How did Lorraine even explain Marcus to herself? “He’s an old … friend. A very close friend.” She stopped again. Had they ever been more than friends? Lorraine had certainly wanted them to be. And Becky didn’t know one way or the other, did she? “We have a lot of history together,” she added. Would it be too much to wink?

Becky scanned the wedding invitation and sighed. “Wow, the Plaza? Did every wedding invite have a photograph? That’s rich business. This swell must have a lot of dough.”

“Mmm, no extravagance is too extravagant for old Lillian and George,” Lorraine said, as though she and the Eastmans were particularly close. “Even their servants are dipped in gold.”

Becky pulled the photo down and examined it. A wrinkle appeared between her pale brows. “What is he doing with Deirdre Van Doren? She’s a total gold digger. She tried to get Francis Chase to marry her, but only for his money. He’s none too sharp, but even he got smart to her ways and got rid of her.”

Lorraine’s ears pricked up. Deirdre Van Doren—who was that? “But that’s not her name.” Lorraine unfolded the invitation. “See? Her name’s Anastasia Rijn.” She cocked her head. “Do you think you’re supposed to pronounce the j?”

Becky let out a tiny cough. “I think you can pronounce it however you want because that’s not her name. I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts that this girl is Deirdre Van Doren.” Becky glanced down at the silver watch wound around her wrist. “Well, anyway, we should get going in a few hours and I still need to pick up my dress from the tailor. Don’t forget to invite Melvin!”

As Becky scurried out the door, Lorraine looked back at the invitation in her hands. What in the world was Marcus getting himself into?

Oh, how Lorraine had missed slipping into the perfect party dress!

Her fingers hungrily climbed over the gold lamé, deep