After Hours
Rain is coming. The humidity sends the odor of sage gusting into the crowded club, drafting off the ravines above the big parking lot. Chaparral oils mix with skunk and tar. Perfumes and smokes cling on the sweaty clothes of …
We Begin the Beguine
Struggling Artists
“What’s the matter?” Emma asks, opening kitchen cabinets and pulling down tins.
Dance flings himself into a chair with a thump and sits looking at the floor, with his hair fallen over his face, and only part of one eye …
Schools Of Leadership
Drin finds himself staring at a pair of backsides. One man has long curly golden hair; the other’s is long, straight, and black.
Dance hands Robert a plate. “Go make deadly smile mojo. Take food so people don’t start feeling …
Jokes From Dance
His name is not Ha Neol Ahn. Not any more.
It rattles her. That name came out of the research she did before their prizewinner showed up, when she was trying to get some grip on where their first chair …
We Begin the Beguine
“Does our Miss Emma believe in fate?” Dance asks.
Emma rubs her eyes, looks up from the stack of grant application paperwork. “What are you talking about?”
“Does Miss Emma ever pray for good luck, as some of the ladies …
Jigs in the Stairwell
The stairwell is no longer pleasantly echoing with Irish jigs and reels.
“It’s drowning frogs out there,” Emma says, crossly, shaking out her umbrella. Her shoes are soaked. “Did you hear the thunder going?”
“Yes, I did, and just look …