What’s Happening? Read Free

absently.
    The drum beats rose to a crescendo, flying up from the background again, filling the room with their explosion. Suddenly, the air was still. Another beat; three more rapid beats and the music ended. The murmur rose again from the dark depths of the room.
    â€œYeah! Yeah!” the darkly bespectacled Negro on Bill’s left shouted as he applauded. “Man, those cats can really wail, can’t they?” he remarked to no one in particular.
    â€œYeah, they really move,” Bill replied.
    â€œHello, lean one. I’m glad you waited,” a female voice close behind Bill said softly.
    He turned. Rita’s eyes studied his face. He thought her long black hair and fair skin were a contrast in loveliness.
    â€œHey!” He smiled. “I almost forgot we had a big thing going. You were gone a long time.”
    â€œDon’t worry, I didn’t forget us.” She smiled and sat down.
    â€œYou dance pretty wild. You a dancer?”
    â€œNo.” She was pleased. “I go to acting class, but like all the cats that I hang around with are dancers. You know, I sort of pick it up.”
    â€œVery smooth indeed. This is a pretty nice place here, you know?” He looked around the club. “It’s kind of groovy—it jumps.”
    â€œIt’s all right. It gets to be a little much after a while … the same things, the same faces all the time.”
    â€œHey, man, dig these cats cuttin’ loose on the floor,” the bespectacled Negro on Bill’s left called loudly. He nodded toward the dance floor. Bill and Rita looked up. A couple was writhing to the music. The male partner had long, curly blond hair that fell over his forehead as he danced. He snapped his curls back into place with a gentle flick of his head. He wore olive pants, sandals, no socks, and a boat-neck, sleeveless shirt. He danced with a dumpy, bespectacled Negro girl. She wore a pair of pedal-pusher pants and a sailor cap with the brim turned down all around so that it looked like a white football helmet. Her blouse was coming out of her pants as the two of them bounced and swayed and twirled to the brassy music. He twirled and twisted on his toes, kicking his legs, quickly and snappily, high into the air. His face was stiffened into haughty indifference, save that he glowed as the laughing crowd jeered him on. The girl bounced and twisted, a far-off look in her eye. She was just somewhere, bouncing up and down, not really knowing or caring exactly where. The blond smiled broadly as an extra high kick was greeted by extra loud applause. The crowd laughed even louder, moving the blond to almost frantic twisting and bouncing.
    â€œReal crazy dance,” howled Rita, her face shattered with laughter.
    Bill laughed too. The entire theatre crackled with the noise of laughing.
    The music ended and the blond jumped up, landing on the floor in a split, his arms outstretched. The revelers at the tables began to sway convulsively with increased laughter. Tears of mirth escaped Rita’s eyes. One girl, doubled with laughter, fell from her chair onto the floor. The colored girl gave her blond dancing partner a helping hand and they walked back to their table in the shadows accompanied by laughter and applause.
    â€œIs that one of your dancing friends?” asked Bill, still laughing.
    â€œNo. I don’t know that couk. First time I ever saw him,” Rita answered, the laughter in her voice fading. “Josh is a dancer.” She nodded toward Jeannie’s shaven-headed friend.
    â€œI thought he looked like a dancer. I don’t know why. You know, it’s just that sometimes it comes through, you know what I mean?”
    â€œYeah. Lots of times people come through. You know.” She spoke suddenly more slowly and seriously, reflecting on Bill, studying his face. It was a friendly, pleasant face, she thought. “… You don’t come through though. You know, like you