Dance to Fashion

Carolyn Doyle

Description

A young mother, Zoe Hill struggles to break free from her abusive, drug-dealing husband in 1970s Wisconsin. After a family tragedy, Zoe chases her dreams by moving to NYC in hopes of a job in fashion. Through her journey, Zoe encounters fascinating new friends but faces numerous obstacles in order to survive in the city while supporting her young daughter. Zoe heads down the road to disaster when she turns to go-go dancing to pay her bills. Her quest for a career in fashion takes a few detours along the way, but despite it all, Zoe is determined to finish college and develop a career in fashion.

Sujets

• City Life
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 17 juillet 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780991530533
• Langue: English

Extrait

Dance to Fashion
A novel by By Carolyn Doyle
Skydance Press Nyack, New York


Copyright ©2023 by Carolyn Doyle
Dance to Fashion
by Carolyn Doyle-Nyack, NY: Skydance Press, 2023
ISBN: 9780991530526 paperback
ISBN: 9780991530533 eBook
ISBN: 9780991530595 ePub
Summary:A young mother, Zoe Hill struggles to break free from her abusive, drug-deal-ing husband in 1970s Wisconsin. After a family tragedy, Zoe chases herdreams by moving to NYC in hopes of a job in fashion. Through her journey,Zoe encounters fascinating new friends but faces numerous obstacles in orderto survive in the city while supporting her young daughter. Zoe heads downthe road to disaster when she turns to go-go dancing to pay her bills. Her questfor a career in fashion takes a few detours along the way, but despite it all, Zoeis determined to finish college and develop a career in fashion.
Topics:New York City, New York, Madison, Wisconsin, New Jersey, go-go dancing,death of a parent, boutiques, fashion business, fashion design, fashion school,transvestites, transgender, single mothers, abuse, drug-dealing, husbandabuse, rock-and-roll, bohemian, art, Greenwich Village, Fiction, 1970s,Nineteen-seventy-four, rape, police corruption, mafia, photography, art gal-leries, mental abuse, women’s clothing business, chick lit, American womenauthors, fiction.
LCCN: 2023910500
SAN: 920-8968
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in aretrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic,mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from Carolyn Doyle or Skydance Press.
Published in the United States of America
bySkydance Press, LLC Nyack, NY
carolyndoyleauthor.com
Printed in the United States on acid-free paper
First Addition
Please note:This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resem-blance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, orlocales is entirely coincidental.


This story is dedicated to all the single mothers struggling to balance motherhood with their personal passions and dreams.
May you stay strong and wise;
Hold on to your passions and grit,
And please-
Don’t let anyone crush the determination in your soul, or extinguish the love in your heart.


Her dream is for a career in fashion;
Her nightmare is exotic dancing to get there.

A young mother, Zoe Hill struggles to break free from her abusive, drug-dealing husband in 1970s Wisconsin. After a family tragedy, Zoe chases her dreams by moving to NYC in hopes of a job in fashion. Through her journey, Zoe encounters fascinating new friends but faces numerous obstacles in order to survive in the city while supporting her young daughter. Zoe heads down the road to disaster when she turns to go-go dancing to pay her bills. Her quest for a career in fashion takes a few detours along the way, but despite it all, Zoe is determined to finish college and develop a career in fashion.
Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Epilogue
About the Author
Sneak Peak: Perilous Ambition
Acknowledgments
For those of you who know me, you know I love to dance, and you know fashion has been a big part of my life. Thus, a perfect title for me: Dance to Fashion . If dancing and fashion hadn’t been in my life, this fictional story would not have been possible to create.
I am sincerely grateful to all those who have given me encouragement, or taken the time, in one way or another, to make my second novel a reality.
Thank you to my friends who have read and critiqued bits and pieces of this story over the years. Some of these friends include Harvey Rogers, James McSherry, Terese Dana, Susan Hansford, Jill Lynne, Victoria Gable, Jeanne Talbot, and Don Kelly.
An additional thanks to all the writer’s group members who have offered helpful critiques and advice along the way.
A special thanks to Bob Aulicino, who designed the cover and interior for this book and gave me advice along the way. Thank you to my brilliant editor, Mary Ellen Bernard.
And finally, I am most grateful to my family (Shawn, Skylar, Katrina, Roz, Madison, and Bella) for always being there for me.


“In Doyle’s novel, a woman’s dream is to become a fashion designer, but with a young daughter and a deadbeat husband, she feels stuck-until she makes a fateful move. Over the course of the novel, Doyle creates a believable picture of New York in the ‘70s.”
- Kirkus Reviews

“… Dance to Fashion takes the reader on a whirlwind ride through seedy strip clubs, dive bars, and the art and music scene of a bygone New York. The characters are catapulted to the climatic ending and Zoe’s life, like the readers’, will never be the same.”
- James McSherry, author of A Clean Street’s a Happy Street
Chapter One
D isco music throbs through our buzzed and wired brains. Excitement pulsates louder, faster, as we move on the dance floor. For one moment, it is only about dance. The crowded floor lights up with flashing neon colors under our spiky, platform heels. Glitter on our eyes, shaggy teased hair, Roxy and I in vintage velvet halter dresses, and Alice in gold lamé pants. We dance to the beat of 1973, to the beat of the newest dance craze-disco. And this is the place to be on a Saturday night in Madison, Wisconsin-The Scene Discotheque.
Christmas lights draped around the bar blink to the beat. I step off the dance floor and shake out my shaggy Jane Fonda hair. I didn’t realize how out of breath I am. Even so, it doesn’t take much for Alice and Roxy to urge me back to the floor.
“Come on, Zoe Hill,” Alice whines, her eyes lit up to match the glittery Christmas decorations. She pleads with me, arms out-stretched with her sing-song voice pronouncing my full name like it’s one word. “Zoeeeeehill,” she summons, “get your sexy ass back up here.” She rotates her shoulders and does a full body roll, her signature dance move.
A college kid gyrates with her from behind, trying to imitate her effortless rhythm and impress his friends. Alice plays along for a couple of beats, swiveling her hips and torso with the boys like they’re toys, and then she gently pokes one in the chest, dismissing him with an added wink, and turns to the biggest, tallest black dude ever. His Quiana shirt swings open to reveal fit abs as he mimics her fluid hip movements. His style is much more sophisticated than the “boy toys.”
I’ve got my eyes on those two as Roxy and I move to the beat. I’m in that dance haven where no one can touch me, hurt me, or disappoint me. My spirit soars as I’m absorbed into the music.
Roxy cocks her head and grinds her hips toward three preppy guys trying, with no dance skills, to flirt with us, to partner up. Yeah, right, I’m thinking. College students trying to be cool. I glance over at our table at the end of the bar where my stoned-out husband, Hick, and his loser friends are planted. I have given up on Hick ever wanting to dance with me, even though he is one of the most handsome guys in the place. One of the college guys wears a Santa hat. We play with them, dancing like wild slutty girls with no boyfriends or husbands sitting a few feet away. The Santa-hat guy looks familiar. I cannot imagine why, and I’m trying to figure out how or where I would know a guy like that. He has no panache-a buzz cut under the corny hat and clothes I would imagine were no good but to use for washing your car. Even though he looks like a teenager, he’s probably around my age, twenty-two. I would never be caught dead with a guy like that. Well, I’m married, but if I were single. How can you wear khaki pants and white socks to a discotheque? And a Santa hat!
By the time the song ends, we’re bored with the guys and ready for a break-time for another vodka and orange. Some of the girls go for a toot of coke in the bathroom. Hey, I know how it sounds, but drugs are big in Madison, known to be one of the coolest places in the mid-West, and everyone cool does a little of this and a little of that. I try it occasionally, but drugs are not my thing. That is not the case with a lot of the jerks around this town.
The D.J. yells out, “Dance contest in ten minutes!” Most people scatter from the dance floor for a breather. I head to our table, and there’s Hick slouched down in his chair with his angry expression emphasized by his bushy Fu Manchu mustache. He twists his silver and turquoise ring, a sure sign that he’s not getting enough attention. Then he runs his left hand through his shoulder-length hair. I know that quirk; it means he’s pissed off. Next to him is Paul, who mimics Hick’s attitude. That, too, is predictable.
As soon as I approach the table Hick stands up glaring at the three college guys. What’s he going to do, hit them or what? His chest is all puffed out like he’s itching for trouble. Roxy’s boyfriend, Keith, takes hold of Hick’s arm. Hick sits back down, turning his chair away from where the young guys are now leaning against the bar. He waves one arm in their direction like he can’t be bothered. I pretend not to notice, but what pops into my head is what it used to be like with