From the next room, the wall moved forward and back to the ever present power of a good bass kick. Music was the fuel, no wait, that’s the drugs, or is it the women. Sometimes two is equal to three, and four can be triple sevens. I smelt the blood, freshly split from the 19-year-old chavs who just walked through the door. Feeling sad for the loss, another bunch of vampires in this stakeless city. I continued through to the bit where you pay. The man helping me had a dragon tattoo coming down over his eyes, undoubtedly the father of the bartender Michelle who always had her eye on me.
“Hit the bar, grab me 2, I got $10 on it. I’ll hit the piss pot and meet you in the back right. They’re holding it down there. It’s loud tonight.”
He nodded in agreement, I took my number for coat check and slid through the door, b lining for the bathroom. It was one of the modern bathrooms, big white walls, like an asylum, confined, within’ enough mindless lunatics to make it so. My mind was far from clear, but I took a chapter out of Plants’ book going in through the out door. The line stretched endlessly. After I washed up I moved out and towards the back.  Linking up with the sadboys, grabbing my drinks off of Max, I downed the first one too quick and was sure to feel the pain in a minute. It starts as an unpleasant feeling and quickly becomes debilitating. Oh well, so it goes.Â
“Big crowd tonight, you ready?” He greeted me with a smile, and spoke,
“I’m always ready, this guy’s tearing it up right now, I might tech in some of these Spanish tunes tonight.”Â
A true believer, in any and everyone, he loved the world and it became clear in his words.
I broke his train of thought,
“Well it’s easy for him, he’s using our equipment.” Laughing, I turned to Bre, talking with Matts, “and how are you tonight, darling?”
“Feeling good!” She said smiling, with her charm and wits about her, “I’m excited for you guys.”
Matts spoke up, “Where the fuck is he, he’s always running late man I swear, it’s quarter past, we’re on in...” Blah blah blah, Matts could go on for days about this stuff. He was Mark, and like clockwork, as Matts continued his complaining, the sea of people on the dancefloor split, and there he stood, 3 girls in his arm.
I stood up and headed in to see what was good, and to see the ladies. Mark was a chav, but he kept his mind together half the time and the other half he never forgot the morals he was raised on. But, by God, he and I loved a good hunt.
I shook his hand, told him and the ladies to come to the table, but he gave me the ole thumb across the neck, and it became clear that the lights made the women appear much more beautiful than they would have in the bright light of day. They declined anyways, something about the next act getting ready, and they wanted the front row.
“Vampires,” I muttered. Mark and I walked back to the table.Â
Sitting down, I lit a cigarette. The bar was a trendy one in uptown, and somehow smoking inside had made its’ way back into society. After taking a sip from the second beer on the table for me, the DJ on stage uttered his last words and spun his last record with charisma, and an extended sense of thankfulness. We stood up, Me, Mark, Thomas, and Matts, saying our goodbyes to Bre, and Thomas met her lips with a kiss. We headed towards the stage.
On our way up the stairs, we shook our predecessors hand and gave him some delightfully taken words of encouragement, and praise.
The lights hit my eyes, me and the boys, 2 hours and a boom box. The world moved to our music, our rhythms, our control. The drugs peaked, an orgasm of light and sound, an expose of the filth that filled this city but you couldn’t tell us that because right now, the world was ours. Problems were gone, friends were made, drugs and alcohol ran our bodies and drained us of all of our goodwill, sins for a Sunday morning, pleasures on a Saturday night.