The thrumming of the trombones wavered in the air and Ernesto’s fingers restlessly drummed along to the beat. The girl he was waiting for was around the corner, folding the waist of her skirt over to expose a little more leg. She had spent the past hour pleading with(more) her parents to let her go out, and they finally gave in a few minutes prior. The dance hall was particularly full tonight, and a few of the guys lingered outside to smoke cigars. The ones that stayed inside had an endless stream of partners, except for Ernesto. He was sitting at a table waiting for Gloria, and watching as some guy with a glistening forehead lifted Mr. Rosa’s daughter, Linda, off her feet and swung her around his waist. She giggled when he put her down, and immediately tried to straighten the flowers attached to her stiff pompadour.
Just then Gloria walked through the entrance. Ernesto spotted her immediately, and so did a few of the other pachucos. Her olive skin was illuminated by the club’s hanging lights, and a mass of dark ringlets were bouncing behind her head. Ernesto plopped his baby blue fedora back on his head and sauntered over to where she stood. Some of the guys knew that she and Ernesto were sort of an item, so they backed off. And the ones that continued smirking didn't even matter, because Gloria’s red Latin lips only curved upward at Ernesto's face. He winked at her in response, and draped his arm around her waist.
"Are you ready to dance baby?"
"Aren't you even going to ask how my day was?" she teased.
"It doesn't matter how your day went, because your night's about to be a lot better". (less)