I really enjoyed my first attempt, which won me an Honourable Mention, so I was keen to try again, and I enjoyed it so much I thought I would post my entry here. I also found an image that reflected what I had in my head.
Spats
Katy was mesmerised by his spats. The speed they flew at as
he danced making the black and white merge into one. Her eyes then moved up his
legs to his body, taking in the bright yellow striped zoot suit he wore, and finished
on his fixed grin. One hand remained on his Trilby the whole time the song
played. She’d never seen anything like it.
She looked over at her dad who was nodding along to the beat
on the other side of the small stage-side table, and pick up her sarsaparilla
drink. She sipped it as she looked round at the other patrons in the small
club.
It wasn’t often she got to spend time with her dad, and
then, much like now, it was just as a hanger-on, while he was ‘doing business’
at one of his clubs. She knew he’d have rather left her at home with a sitter,
but tonight there hadn’t been anyone. So she got to wear the blue frilly dress
that her aunty had bought her last birthday, and sit here with the adults.
When the song stopped, her father beckoned the dancing man
over. Then he whispered something in the man’s ear and the man turned giving
the same fixed grin he danced with, and introduced himself. Then her dad told
her he’d be back in a minute and the man sat down next to her as another band
started to play.
He was pleasant at first, chit chatting and asking her how
she liked the show, and how often she came here with her ‘pop’ as he referred
to him. But then he starting asking her odd things, about her age and whether
she had a boyfriend, and what sort of things she got up to. She didn’t really like
it, but tried her best to be polite. Then he put his hand on her leg and she
didn’t like that at all.
Katy looked around for her dad, and spotted him standing at
the back of the room talking to a man who looked angry. Her dad’s face was side
on to her and she could see he wasn’t happy either. She hoped he might glance
her way, but he didn’t and the man in the funny suit was starting to slide his
hand up her leg. He even leaned over and started whispering things that scared
her a little about what he wanted to do to her, she didn’t understand them all.
She could feel her heart pounding, and focused on the
sarsaparilla in her hand instead, drinking it dry, and not stopping at the
slurpy noises. And then he licked her ear. She jerked her head away, resisting
the urge to scream, and he grasped her face to try and hold it in place, his
hand now hurting on her leg as he gripped it hard. She resisted as much as she
could, trying to pretend nothing was wrong and that this wasn’t happening;
focusing on the performers on the stage, but she could feel his breath in her
ear and his fingers at the top of her leg, rubbing places she didn’t think he
should.
Then her dad was there, grabbing the man by the tie, pulling
him out of his seat and punching him hard in the face. The band faltered and
the music died, and everyone heard him call the man all sorts of words she
didn’t know the meaning of. The two big doorman came up and took him away. Her
dad knelt down in front of her, tears shining in his eyes, and he said the
words she had always wanted to hear, “I’m never going to leave you alone again
sweetheart, I promise.”
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