Kid Kelly and his High-Kickers skittered into a serviceable version of “Nobody Else But Elsie.” The baby spotlights dazzled over the mirrored ceiling tiles. Beryl hummed along with the song. Faintly, Tony the barker could be heard hollered on the sidewalk below.

In a cloud of drugstore cologne, Cherie, Joan, and Mitzi walked around Beryl and took their seats front row center. Beryl gave them a bright smile and Joan threw her a wink. Footsteps stomped up the stairs to the dance hall. Salvadore shouted something in Italian and the rest of the girls headed to the open seats.

Behind the red velvet rope each nickel hopper struck a pose. Some were sultry, some looked shy, the punks looked absolutely terrified. Salvadore shouted again. Tickets in hand, the regulars hurried in.

Cherie as always was the first picked, followed by Joan and Mitzi. Beryl heavy brown fringe of hair fell over her eyes. She crossed and re-crossed her strong legs to hide the mends in her stockings.

The band broke into a Lindy hop. Beryl tapped her lucky shoes. Their rhinestones made Beryl think of diamonds and movie stars.

More fish came in circle the taxi dancers. Cherie had already gotten a drink out of a shoe salesman. Beryl turned to Marcella one of the punks in the second row of dancers.

“Remember keep your head up youngster,” Beryl said. "it’s just dancing.”

“But I have two left feet, BeBe.”

Beryl’s head fell back as laughter trumpeted from her belly. Her whole body shook in a riot of sequins and black chiffon. She snorted and wiped tears away. Marcella laughed in response covering her mouth with her hands. Kid Kelly and the High-Kickers slid into “Getting Sentimental.”

“Hey smiley how about a twirl on the dance floor,” a tall sailor said.