Danny was a good time boy, he swayed with the hustle and bustle of the streets. Downtown boys loved him they thought he’d be “someone” one day.
When the night was dim, Danny could shoot the light like the Star Spangled Banner. When the day was dreary, he had a risqué adventure up his sleeve. Danny, had soul in his shoes and spunk on his tongue, he could conjure a party on a sidewalk and carry the moon on his shoulders like the universal light.
Danny was the boy!
Verma was a piece, a delight to the eye. Danny adored her curves and the sparkle in her eye. She liked hubbly and gin and sweet words in her ear. Danny swore on a bet to take her in.
“Tomorrow, will be D-day.” He promised his bookie pals.
He put his hands on the money and his heart on the challenge. The boys were screaming the odds; Danny coveted the dazzle and the danger of the dare.
He looked in the mirror and slicked back his hair, shrugged on his leathers and spun on his heels. He jumped onto his bike and peeled away from the curb.
She was waiting; he knew it. All breathless to serve. He imagined lipstick, bubble gum and faux fur, he knew she’d prefer pink and glitter and floral perfume.
He throttled the engine as he drew up to her door. She giggled when she saw him and sidestepped his paw.
He patted the seat and she gave him a coquettish grin.
He drove to the diner, all tinsel and glass. He thought it would make a good impression, one that would pay dividends at last.
They went in the front door, but she made a beeline out back.
Danny sat waiting at a table, more than somewhat confused, while Verma met up with Sarah B, and her wagon on call. Dirt flew on spinning tires, and they shared a conspiratorial smile, as they headed for the men with the money to collect, big time, on the bet that she’d called.