Free Jazz Baby by Tea Cooper Page B

mind a brother like you.’
    Jack flinched as Alice ran her painted nails down the sleeve of his jacket. What was it with these women? First Cynthia flouncing off because he had matters to attend to, then Millie and her knowing looks, and now Alice.
    The song ended and the crowd of dancers left the floor, mopping their faces and searching for drinks and cigarettes. Dolly stretched then turned to the pianist, their heads close together — too close — as they laughed and joked flicking through the assorted sheets of music.
    Jack gritted his teeth and moved the chair closer to the centre of the room. Dolly looked as though she’d settled in for the night. The pianist struck up another song and with consummate skill Dolly performed a few tantalising Tango steps. Shrieks of excitement filled the air and he screwed his eyes tightly together as the crowd returned to the dance floor.
    The bass of the piano pounded in his head and when he opened his eyes Dolly was leaning over the pianist, her hands on his shoulders. His fists clenched; he wanted to floor the insipid bloody piano monkey. If her mouth had been any closer to his cheek she’d be kissing him.

Chapter 11
    By the time she’d sung her third song, Dolly started to enjoy the limelight. She had relinquished the piano stool and stood behind Lawrence, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders as she followed the words on the sheet music.
    Singing filled her with joy and her foot kept the beat as Lawrence worked his magic. People swirled and spun, their jubilant voices egging each other on.
    â€˜ Jazz Baby again,’ a voice called as the song finished and the dancers caught their breath. Lawrence hit the chords.
    No longer needing the sheet music Dolly turned to watch, loving the way the brightly coloured frocks twirled and twisted. The girls glittered like a pirate’s treasure set against the black evening suits the men wore. She leant closer to Lawrence as she swayed to the music, enjoying the spectacle. This was why she had come to Sydney.
    â€˜Dolly!’
    The deep voice cut through her song, through the piano music and through the excited chatter from the dance floor. She spun around and Jack’s hands clasped the tops of her arms, his fingers biting into her flesh.
    â€˜What do you think you are doing?’
    â€˜Let me go!’ She shrugged and pulled away from him.
    His grip tightened. ‘This is no place for you. Come with me.’
    His domineering audacity sent a wave of fury racing through her. What right had he to tell her what she could and couldn’t do? The guests loved her singing. She was having fun. The night was all she imagined Sydney would be when she’d dared to leave home and reach out for something more — to make a life of her own. This was 1923 not the 1850s. She made her own decisions.
    Knowing Jack’s strength Dolly slammed the heel of one of her borrowed shoes down onto his shiny toecap. A look of pure rage flashed through his eyes and he tightened his grip, lifting her from the ground. ‘Put me down, Jack. Now.’
    The music stopped and Lawrence’s voice echoed in the sudden silence. ‘I think you heard the lady.’ He pushed the piano stool back and stood.
    Lawrence’s head barely reached Jack’s shoulder and he wouldn’t be any match for the man; however, his support encouraged her to struggle against Jack’s steely grasp. The tense silence in the room hung louder than the music of a moment before.
    â€˜Jack! Please.’
    He peeled his black-eyed stare from her and glanced over his shoulder. The horrified expression on the faces of the onlookers brought him to his senses and he lowered her to the ground. Dolly’s knees sagged as she regained her balance, thankful for Lawrence’s arm reaching across her shoulders and holding her steady.
    â€˜Take your hands off her.’ Tendons stood out like ropes on Jack’s neck above his pristine