Wolf Moon Rising by Lara Parker

Author:Lara Parker [Parker, Lara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780765369154
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

the Charleston. She wore a dress that appeared to be made en-

tirely of diamonds, a beaded fringe that shimmered when she

moved. Th

e dress hung on her naked body and was caught in

the back by a single strap that left her delicate backbone ex-

posed to below her waist. Her neat bobbed hair accentuated her

long neck and smooth skin, and, with her arms fl oating out

from her shoulders and a delighted grin on her face, she shim-

mied parts of her body, her hips, her chest, making the fringe

leap in frenzied agitation.

A boy in pressed white pants with his hair slicked back

jumped on the dance fl oor, grabbed her around the waist, and

picked her up and twirled her. She squealed in surprise, but as

soon as he set her down, she leapt back into the frenzy. Close by

her side, Jackie was not as skilled, but she watched the girl’s

movements and soon was duplicating her jerky, contorted cho-

reography, her eyes glazed with happiness. As David watched

he felt his throat tighten. He had no idea what to do.

He found himself drawn into a crowd of men wearing

starched and pleated white shirtfronts and bow ties that perched

at their throats like the wings of birds. He caught a few snatches

of their conversation as he wandered among them, but they made

no sense.

“Th

at’s nothing! A worker climbed out on the top of 11 Wall

to make some repairs and everyone thought he was going to

jump.”

“What? Th

ey thought he was a suicide?”

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Lara Parker

“A crowd gathered because they expected a riot. Th

ey called

the cops in case the bankers and the brokers decided to duke it

out.”

Th

e men all laughed and took swigs of champagne, then

looked about the party as though it had been staged just for

them. One of the men lifted his glass in a toast. “And here we

are, still makin’ whoopee and getting away with it, by God.”

“Not everyone,” said one of the drinkers soberly. “Th

e other

day I saw a man on the street with his hat in his hands, begging

for a handout. I realized I knew him.”

“Too bad, but even Capone said the stock market is nothing

but a racket. And as the song says, ‘Th

ere’s nothing surer. Th

e rich

get richer and the poor get poorer—’ ”

“Attaboy! Ain’t we got fun?”

Th

en the group wandered off toward the back of the house,

still talking among themselves, their conversation unfathom-

able to David, just as the orchestra broke into the song as though

on cue. In the mornin’, in the evenin’, ain’t we got fun!

David moved through the crowd. Th

e women were jeweled

and feathered and fl aunted tiny fur wraps even though the night

was balmy. Th

ere was a fragrance of apple blossoms and newly

cut grass, and the cicadas and tree frogs hissed as though keep-

ing time with the band. Th

e music tumbled through the night

air with horns and a jazzy piano, songs he remembered from the

Twenties: Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fl eas do it . . .

Catching her fi nally at the edge of the dance fl oor, David

cried out, “Jackie, please, come with me back to the car.

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