Chapter One

It wasn’t a very nice day.  It was hot.  Humid.  The clouds, pregnant and menacing, sagged low in the sky.  Low enough that to a child who’s imagination had yet been destroyed by the reality of adolescence could simply stand on their tip-toes, like an optimistic ballerina, reach upwards and stick a hand inside their fluffy existence.

To David Aymes, who hated to be called Dave, it just wasn’t a very nice day.

He sat staring out his window, upwards and onwards, into the clouds then into the atmosphere then into space where it floated indefinitely.  In front of him sat an invoice that he had started an hour ago.  It wasn’t an urgent matter of business or even a very important matter of business.  It was just a matter of business and that was the problem.  David was a mildly successful writer and photographer, making the bulk of his income off freelance reporting for online publications.  It wasn’t hard work, nor was it unenjoyable, it’s just that sometimes David’s mind wandered and at this very moment it wandered skyward.

David had been lost to the sky for some time now, but the most recent development had David feeling like a child at a toy store in the 1940’s as he pressed his face against the window, breathing with excitement.  It had been so unbearably hot for the past week and a half that when the sinister clouds rolled in mere moments before, and with them the slightest promise of rain, it had filled him with an unfair anticipation.  He wished with all of his might that he could take one of the many pens scattered around his messy studio loft and pop the most ominous cloud in the sky.  A low rumble in the distance shook his heart the way standing too close to the speakers at a concert does.  Was the noise the result of an obsolete train shambling its way along the decrepit tracks just north of his building?  Or the glorious melody of thunder?  David found himself clenching his jaw, a nervous habit that was the cause of his now almost unnoticeable overbite thanks to years of braces and subsequently years of torment in high school.

A sharp fork of lightning split through the sky like an axe through a tree.  Almost as a cue, a green light from God himself, the sky opened up.  The rain drilled into the pavement.  An audible hiss as the cold water struck the smoldering streets.  Satisfied with having witnessed the sky break, David turned back to his computer screen and stretched his long fingers out across the keyboard.  A, S, D, F.  ;, L, K, J.  Perfect form, his fingertips gently caressing the keys like a pianist preparing to play his most brilliant composition.

David immediately lost interest, stood and made his way to his balcony.  At least, that’s what it was called in the loft brochure.  In reality it was a slab of cement that extended no more than two feet out and, generously, three feet wide.  Just big enough for David and a plant he bought to “liven up the place.”  He killed it in three days, but didn’t have the heart to throw out Garth (he named the plant postmortem).  The black, cast-iron railing burnt David’s skin as he leaned on it.

“Drink up, Garth,” David had a habit of speaking to inanimate objects as if they were people, “you’re looking quite parched.”  One of his university professors told him this was a sign of creativity.  Everyone else attributed it to loneliness.

The street exploded with activity in the same manner the sky exploded with water.  People evacuated from their arid apartments into the streets, and with arms outstretched, basked in the natural beauty of the rain, the same weather the entire city had cursed a month earlier when it rained for twenty-one days straight.  Now, like a best friend they hadn’t seen since high school, they welcomed its cool, refreshing embrace with open arms.

David could feel the heat give into the rain and for the first time in over a week a breeze weaved its way through his messy hair, grazing his cheek, teasing his lips and finally rolling off his ears like a bed sheet.  David closed his eyes and listened to the shouts and squeals of delight coming from the ground two stories below.  And, like the rain relieved the heat, a smile relieved David’s face including his jaw that had somehow become clenched again.

To David Aymes the day that started as not very nice just got a little nicer.

Chapter Two

The rain had stopped.  Steam floated upward from the streets like cartoon ghosts escaping the body of the now cooler Earth.  Those with air conditioning retreated back into the comfort of their homes, those that didn’t sprawled across the wet grass with the hope of being absorbed into the damp soil.  David, however, wasn’t permitted either of these luxuries because at exactly 2:13pm it was finally time to begin his day.

The sun burned as bright and as hot as it did the day before, but thanks to the rain, a gentle breeze weaved its way through the clasped hands of lovers, between the toes of children and delicately through David’s shaggy hair as he walked east along Queen Street towards his first destination.  Every day for the past two months, David had visited Connor, long-time best friend and recent divorcee.  Two months prior, Connor had it all: Clark Gable good looks, a high paying job, a beautiful house and Liz, his even more beautiful wife.  And then like a spectacular train wreck in a faraway country that you only heard about on TV it all came to an violent end when Liz realized she no longer wanted a beautiful husband, but instead, a beautiful wife of her own.  Connor took the revelation of Liz’s (now known as Lezzy Liz) sexuality as a personal insult towards his virility, his masculinity, and to the very fibre of his soul.  The first month, Connor spent furious, a constant tornado of rage and hostility directed towards everyone but David, but now nearing his third month of being a bachelor, Connor had devolved from anger to something far less romantic.

David inhaled sharply before pounding on the front door.  On the opposite side, he could hear the frantic sounds of Connor desperately trying to cover up whatever self-destructive activity David had just interrupted.  The clanging of dishes, running of water, shuffling of papers, slamming of doors and the strangely eloquent string of profanity Connor was infamous for assembling into almost poetic prose.

“Connor!  I can hear you.  Just open the door.”
“Coming!”  Multiple locks, latches, bolts and chains clicked, slid and clanged in a poorly tuned symphony before the door creaked open.  Connor squinted as daylight poured in.  Dark bags have taken up permanent residence under his once radiantly sapphire eyes.  He ran a hand through his previously well-styled hair, now a greasy mess.
“Jesus.  When was the last time you took a shower.  You smell like a hooker’s ashtray.”  David held his breath as he pushed past Connor and into the house.

Every time David stepped inside his best friend’s house his heart sank.  It was the perfect physical representation of Connor’s life.  The house was once pristine and perfectly maintained, an object of vanity and pride, something David was secretly jealous of.  Now, to say it was in a state of disarray would be an understatement similar to saying there are some disagreements in the Middle-East.  Dishes piled high in the sink, holes punched in the walls during fits of anger, take-out containers scattered on every surface.  David made his way into the living room.  Connor shuffled in behind him.

David always had a keen eye, but it was hard to miss the stack of empty ice cream cartons on the floor and the half empty carton sitting on the coffee table with a spoon standing erect like a tombstone.

“Have you been eating ice cream out of the carton all day?” David counted the empties.  Four.
“No.”  Connor’s face flushed.
“There’s chocolate ice cream in your beard.”  Connor’s eyes welled up with tears like a child who was a caught eating dessert before dinner.  He rushed to the kitchen sink and turned on the tap.  He attempted to wash the incriminating evidence from his strawberry blonde beard, before submitting to the massive pile of dishes that posed too much of an obstacle to contend with.  He collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming out with as much enthusiasm as the tap he left running above him.

The water works came early this visit, David thought.  Mentally preparing himself for what could be a long visit, David turned the faucet off and sat down on the floor beside Connor, “You know, I think I liked angry Connor better.”
“What about happily married Connor?”
“That ship has sailed, buddy.”  David instantly regretted the words as they escaped his lips.  He could almost see each letter form in the air, turn into a dagger and drive itself into Connor’s heart.

Out of fear of doing further damage, David stood back up and began tidying the kitchen.  He started with the pizza boxes, six of them, then the empty bottles, twelve, then the Chinese take-out containers, seven.  As David stacked the cardboard pad Thai boxes, Connor looked up, knowing his friend was silently taking inventory of his life and smiled weakly.

“Is that a smile?  That’s a smile!”
“I’m just thinking about how much money everyone has made off my life imploding.  Lezzy took half and then my lawyer, hell, even Mr. Woo is putting his kids through college because of me.”  Connor took the boxes from David and gently place them in the recycling bin on at a time.
“You’re a charitable man, Connor Lawson,” David put his hand on Connor’s shoulder, “the Woo family thanks you.”
“Screw the Woos.”
“That’d be an awesome tattoo.”
“You’re supposed to be talking sense into me,” Connor said, scanning his body, looking for a suitable location for a tattoo, “not giving me even more terrible ideas.”
David grabs Connor by the face, “You worry me, dude.  You scare the hell out of me.  I love you and I don’t want you to O.D. on chocolate ice cream.  I mean, if you’re going to O.D. on something chocolate ice cream is probably the way to go, but I’d prefer if you just, you know, kept living.  So, please, clean this place up.  Listen to some happy music.  Go outside and get some vitamin D and for the love of God, shave this monstrosity off your face.  You look like the world’s richest hobo.”
“See, that’s what I need.  Thank you,” Connor pulled David’s hands off his face and stroked his beard, “but I think I’m keeping this.”
David was already half-way out the door, “Then there’s no saving you!”

Chapter Three

With arguably the hardest part of the day out of the way, David felt a weight melt off his shoulders and as he continued east along Queen Street he couldn’t help but smile his trademark crooked smile to no one and nothing in particular.  The world seemed to revolve around him, as if he were standing still and the city was placed on a conveyor belt, rolling slowly, but consistently by for his approval and viewing pleasure.  For a brief moment, David disconnected; from his body, from his mind, his ethics and morals, his past, present and future.  He became an unbiased entity of circumstance and simply allowed the pavement, and the pretty girls on bicycles, the mumbling transients and the kaleidoscope of automobiles to integrate with his beating heart.  For a brief moment, David’s heart pumped pure existence.

And then an over-weight, single mother stepped on his heels.  She scowled at him as if he had collided with her all the while yelling simultaneously at her children and into a Bluetooth as she zoomed past.  David couldn’t help but to be impressed that a woman her size could maintain such an aggressive pace.  As the wailing behemoth disappeared from David’s life and into someone else’s, he listened, with a smile, as she berated the poor bastard on the other line and couldn’t help but feel the slightest pang of pity for her two children.

The brief reprieve that the rain had lent the day was gone.  The afternoon sun had taken its toll on the city and even in the shade it was sweltering.  Sweat glistened off the lower backs of two brunettes who were traveling at a maddeningly sluggish pace, but the view was not one David intended to relinquish any time soon.  Their hips, swaying in synchronicity like a calm tide, hypnotized David.  With each stride he found himself appreciating a previously un-noticed curve of their Aphrodite figures. The two brunettes relished in David’s harmless leering, which they picked up on quickly, until they playfully waved good-bye and took up residence on a patio at a pub that was the site of David’s first and only fist-fight.

The brunettes had consumed more of his attention than David had originally realized as shortly after leaving them behind to enjoy their pitcher of Sangria, the drink he imagined they would order, he was at the door of WireTO, an upcoming independent newspaper that had contacted him about a job.  He opened the door and left out a sigh of relief as a wave of artificial arctic air crawled along his skin.

The interior of the building was surprisingly posh for a new business.  In the main foyer was a large frosted glass pane with the paper’s logo mounted behind the stainless steel reception desk.  A clean, modern waiting area lined the outside walls and in the center a small, abstract sculpture demanded the majority of the focus.  David thought the sculpture looked like a man attempting to rip off his genitals.  An interpretation David severely hoped was incorrect.  David made his way to the receptionist, finding it difficult to take his eyes off the statue.  The receptionist, an attractive red head with vibrant green eyes and quite possibly the best sense of work place fashion David had come across in the journalism industry.  She smiled a toothy and enthusiastic smile.  This girl loved her job.  Or life.  Or both.

“Welcome to WireTO.  How may I help you?”  She beamed.
“Hi there!”  David instantly regrets trying to match the receptionist’s enthusiasm in fear that she may have taken it as sarcasm, “I’ve got an appointment with Adam Valentine.”
“Sure!”  She thumbed through an expensive-looking day planner and then ran a slender, red-nailed finger down a list of names until she found his, “David Aymes?”
“That’s me.”
“Take a seat, Mr. Valentine will be with you in a moment.”
“Sure,” David smiled at her and she smiled back, bigger and brighter.

As David slid into one of the rounded plastic chairs, he couldn’t help but be surprised at how comfortable it was.  However, before David could get a chance to really enjoy its luxury, a tall, thin man strode through the frosted glass doors beside the reception desk.  The man’s piercing blue eyes bore straight into David’s skull and for a second, David felt violated, as if this giant could read his thoughts and was silently passing judgement on everything that had ever crossed David’s mind.  There’s a tense silence as the man stared at David, unflinching, and David stared back at him, feeling dwarfed in the chair that he now hated.

“Mr. Aymes,” the man’s unexpected British accent furthered David’s disorientation, “how the hell are you?”

And with a boisterous laugh, one that the receptionist joined in on, Mr. Valentine took one large step and extended his hand out to David.  Standing up, David shook his hand, realizing that this dramatic entrance was a frequent occurrence as the receptionist winked coyly at him.

“David Aymes, pleasure to meet you Mr. Valentine.”
“Please, call me Adam.”
David smiled politely, but couldn’t help but to once again become fixated on the statue.  Adam took notice of David’s uneasy stare and leaned in close, “Do you know what that’s a sculpture of?”
David shrugged.
“It’s a man ripping his dick off.  Now, come.  Let’s chat.”

Chapter Four

David found it hard to match pace with Adam’s long strides.  For every step the giant took, David had to take two.  And Adam Valentine was as graceful as he was tall, gliding effortlessly across the ground, as if he were standing on a conveyer belt that forced David to run alongside him.

“I hope the statue didn’t put you off too much.  It was a gift and it’s rude to refuse gifts,” Adam smiled, revealing two rows of perfect, ivory teeth.
David ran his tongue along his own teeth, feeling every miniscule imperfection, “You sure it was a gift and not a threat?”
Adam’s smile faded and he seemed lost in thought as if seriously considering the notion.  After a tense moment, he smiled again, “Well, it was from my father-in-law, so now that you mention it…”  Adam erupted into a wild laughter.

The offices were as stylish as the lobby.  It wasn’t a large office, but by no means was it cramped.  The same frost glass panels separated the desks, allowing for a sense of privacy in what would otherwise be considered an open concept work environment.  Each desk was littered with it’s occupants own unique collection of bric-a-brac: pictures, posters, a Rubix cube, figurines of cartoon characters and even a Jesus bobble-head.

“Where is everyone?” David looked around at the near empty office, aside from a round-faced man staring off into space and a mousy-haired young woman typing furiously.
“Here at WireTO you have the option of working from home or at the office.  I pay you the same just as long as your submission are on time and of the quality standards I expect,” for the first time Adam sounded like he was running a business, “believe it or not, most people do still show up to the office.  But I imagine most people saw the rain earlier today and decided to just stay home.  I assume the only reason Kevin and Julia are here is because they don’t have air conditioning.  Right, Julia?”

Julia’s eyes darted up at Adam, leering at him from over her thick, square glasses.  Her hands still assaulted her keyboard as if they were a completely separate entity from her body.  She was pale and every inch of exposed skin was littered with freckles.  Wild, dull brown hair framed her face and fell against her slumped shoulders.  David was simultaneously relieved and disappointed that not all of the women at WireTO were as attractive as the red headed receptionist.

“She’s the life of the office,” Adam whispered so quietly David barely heard him.

After walking the length of the office, Adam rested on a large desk.  It was organized meticulously.  Even leaning on the desk, Adam seemed taller than David.

“I’ve seen your work, David.  It’s brilliant.”
David was jarred by the sudden switch to business, “Thank you.”
“I don’t think there was a paper in the city, or in the country for that matter, that wasn’t using your shots from the G20.”  It was true, the city burned during the riots and David made a small fortune.
“The right place at the right time, I suppose.”
“That’s exactly right.  And I want WireTO to be the right place for you and now to be the right time.  I’ve also read some of your writing though that seems to be a bit more scarce.”
David wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or intimidate with how much Adam knew about his career.  David had written a few columns for other local papers about city life and even briefly had a weekly column in The Star on dating advice.
“Let me get to the point, David.  I want you to write a column for us.  Once a week for the printed publication and three for the website.  Each column is paired with a photograph of your choosing.  I’m giving you complete artistic control over this.  That’s what sets us apart.  The paper is written by the writers, not the editor.”
“I don’t know if I can do that, to be honest.  The pictures, not a problem, but I don’t what I’d write about four times a week…”
“Life, women, love, anything.  Give the world a look into the mind of David.  That’s what people want to read these days.  We’ve all become perverted little voyeurs.  Sate our sick little appetites and make some money doing it,” Adam grinned devilishly, “good money.”
David had no reason to say no, but still felt like the expectations were too high, that there was no way he could deliver, “It’s a good offer.”
Adam must have sensed David’s hesitation because he put both hands on David’s shoulders and locked eyes with him, “Take the weekend to think about it.  It’s a Friday night.  Go out and raise some hell,” Adam’s voice was like a father’s, stern and soothing, “it’ll be good for the column.”  Adam pulled out a business card and handed it to David.
“Okay,” David slid the card into his back pocket and extended his hand.  Adam grasped it with both hands and shook it enthusiastically.

As David stepped back out into the foyer, he couldn’t help but steal a look at the red head who was bending over, rummaging through her purse, the slightest hint of her red lace panties peaking out over her black slacks.  She looked back when she heard the door close behind David and caught his gaze.  He felt his cheeks flush as he darted his focus away from her and she couldn’t help but smile coyly at him.  Embarrassed, David quickened his pace. 

The red head rested her elbows on the stainless steel desk and put her head in her hands, “See you Monday,” she chirped as she bit her lower lip and winked at David who was already halfway out the door.

David had forgotten how hot it was.  Stepping into heat instantly made him exhausted and all he wanted to do was curl up in the closest sliver of shade and fall asleep.  Dazed, he almost didn’t notice his phone vibrating in his pocket.  Connor’s name and a photo of the man he once was flashed on the screen.  Inhaling, David answered.
“Connor.”
“David… you had that interview today, didn’t you?”  Connor’s voice was clear, lucid and alert.  David was immediately suspicious.
“I did,” David spoke slowly partly because of the heat, “what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that I didn’t wish my best friend luck for a job interview.”
“It’s not a big deal, you’re dealing with your own stuff,” David bit his lip, fearing that would trigger another meltdown.
“I’ve been using that as an excuse for too long now.  Did you get the job?”
“I think I did.  I did,” David corrected himself.
“Then tonight…” Connor was breathing heavily on the other end, “…tonight we celebrate.”
“Sure, want me to bring some beer or something?”
“No, tonight we’re going out.  Me and you, just like old times,” Connor’s voice quivered with uncertainty.
“I don’t know if that’s the best idea…”
“Fuck you, we’re going out!”
“Seriously?” David was only half-aware that he was practically shouting with excitement at this point.
“Hell yes.  And fuck you, I’m keeping the beard!”

The heat no longer bothered David, he was already living in the cool night air of the future.  This was going to end in a mess and he couldn’t wait.

Chapter Five

The balcony door was wide open.  A warm, but refreshing evening breeze rolled through the loft.  Even Garth, the long dead houseplant, seemed to revel in its sweet comfort.  The summer air carried in the muffled sounds of traffic, distant conversations and the rambunctious laughter of young women who started drinking at the first hint of dusk.

David, still damp with a towel wrapped around his waist, browsed through wardrobe possibilities on the rolling rack beside his bed.  He hummed tunelessly, elated from the days events and by what the evening to follow promised.  He pulled a white, short-sleeved button-down off the rack and tossed it onto the bed.  From the old, wooden dresser that sat in the corner of the upper level bedroom, he made his selection with much more certainty: a favourite pair of a blue jeans, faded with age; torn, stained and frayed to the point that most people would have thrown them out years ago.

Dropping the towel, David allowed the warm air to caress his skin, drying the remaining moisture from his body, whether it was water from the shower or a new, glistening layer of sweat, and closed his eyes, enjoying the freedom that nakedness delivers to those brave or shameless enough to embrace it.

The knock came as David sat on his couch performing his pre-excursion ritual of polishing his favourite pair of brown loafers.  “Door’s unlocked!”
Connor pushed his way in, carrying a four pack of some Japanese beer he swore by in university and a garment bag.  David stared at his best friend, stunned and feeling like an exaggerated cartoon character when he realized his jaw was agape.

Connor stood in the doorway, arms out-stretched and turned slowly for David’s sake.  His hair, though still shaggy, was washed and brushed to a near-golden sheen.  The mess of a beard was still there but trimmed tightly to his face and much to David’s surprise suited Connor’s face well.  Dark circles still hung under his eyes, but were barely noticeable by the returned brilliance of his deep blue eyes.  The only remaining trace of Connor’s downward spiral were his cracked, raw lips from dehydration.

As he made his way into the loft, Connor set the beer on the kitchen counter and hung his garment bag on the back of one of the chairs.  David put his shoes and polish down, jumped to his feet and embraced Connor.

“Look at this!”
“I clean up nice.  What can I say?” Connor beamed.
“I’m… I’m freaking out a little.”  David was at a lose for words.  Their chat earlier this morning was no different than they had been every day before.  There was no glimmer of hope as David left Connor, but somehow, today was the day he had gotten through.
“So am I, to be honest,” Connor clumsily pulled two cans from the four-pack, handed one to David and cracked his open, “to moving forward.”
They tapped their cans together and took a long swig of the piss-warm beer.  Immediately after swallowing, David and Connor exhaled sharply and their mouths twisted with disgust.
“Should probably put those in the fridge,” David put his open beer down and moved the remaining two into the fridge.  He lingered a moment as the cold air pumped out of the stainless steel fridge, but soon, the heat of the apartment swallowed any refreshment it offered.

Connor had made himself comfortable in David’s favourite chair, a leather La-Z-Boy that was once his grandfather’s prized possession.  David hopped over the back of the sofa and resumed polishing his shoes.
“Any suggestions for this evening?” Connor continued to sip his beer.
“Other than raise some hell and break some hearts?” David bit his lip having mentioned broken hearts, but it didn’t seem to register with Connor.
“But where?  Location is key, Mr. Aymes!”
“I don’t know,” David lost himself in the shine of his shoe for a moment, “The usuals?”
Connor’s lips softened, his gaze turned solemn, “I don’t know is nostalgia is what I need tonight.”
“Then let’s make a new usual spot.” David slid his feet into his shoes.

Chapter Six

It was only nine o’clock by the time David and Conner strolled into Absent M!nd, a new bar along the Queen West strip that felt more like an evil villain’s lair from a 60’s spy movie than a bar.  What wasn’t hard, rounded, white plastic was stainless steal.  Glass panes of vibrant purples separated tables and held up the liquor along the back bar.  Recessed into the white walls were crystal blue waterfalls that ran behind the booths and under the floor which in itself had a transparent walkway amoungst the white tiles that allowed you to see the water flowing underfoot.  David couldn’t help but wonder how often this effect caused people to throw up after a night of heavy drinking.  Elevated platforms with metal poles littered the dance floor in the back of the bar.  David watched as Connor’s eyes lit up when he saw them, no doubt imagining the drunk girls who would soon fill the bar fighting for a spot above the crowd for their fifteen minutes of fame.  David couldn’t pretend he wasn’t at least a little bit excited for the spectacle either.

The bar was crowded despite the sun still lingering along the rooftops of the city.  David and Connor grabbed the first table they saw and took in the atmosphere.  The wait staff were predominately female clad in white dresses with the skirt falling no further than half way down their thighs and knee high boots.  What put a smile on David’s face, and presumably many other men, were the brightly coloured wigs each woman wore.  Purple, blue, green, pink, red, orange.  Short, long, bangs, pigtails.  And the girls seemed to like them as much as the clientele did.  David watched as an ebony skinned waitress leaned on the bar talking and laughing with another waitress twisting her pigtail with one hand as if it were her real hair.

“Good call on going somewhere new,” David muttered, still enthralled by the sights.
“I know, right?” Connor’s eyes wandered as a freckled blonde paraded past with a tray of drinks.
“Don’t get out often?” The voice was thick like honey and smooth like velvet.  David and Connor both blushed as they turned to face the waitress who had manged to sneak up on them while they gawked at the other women.  She rested her elbows on their table and her head in her hands.  A smile crept across her thin, symmetrical lips, “What are you drinking?”
“Beer.  A pint?  Something dark.  And local.”  Connor tripped over his words.
“Jack and coke, please.”  David shot a sideways grin at Connor.
The waitress bit her lower lip, rolled her eyes and disappeared into the crowd.  A moment later she returned with their drinks.  Raising their glasses, they toasted to an evening of debauchery.

By the time the sun had melted in behind the skyscrapers and twilight sent in over the city, the bar’s crowd had double if not tripled in size.  More waitresses flooded onto the floor and the only men employed at the establishment remained behind the bar, shaking martinis and pouring shots that were carried away immediately by an efficient assembly line of gorgeous women with trays.  As David and Connor’s third round arrived at their table, the bar dropped into darkness, a few startled shouts were followed by hysterical laughter, but soon enough the darkness wrapped the bar in silence.  The only source of light were the waterfalls and the streams running underneath the glass walkways.  For a moment David forget where he was and let himself enjoy the tranquility of the soft glow and a gentle sound of running water. 

Just as suddenly as the bar dipped into darkness it exploded into luminance.  A small circular platform was being raised from the middle of the dance floor.  This really is an evil lair, David thought.  A heart-pounding bass thumped through the bar and every person within it  In the center of the platform was a set of turn tables and a variety of computer equipment.  When the platform finished its ascent, a stick thin Chinese man stood up from behind the electronics.  Connor elbowed David in the shoulder, causing a quarter of David’s drink to spill up over the edges of the glass and into his lap.  David would have been annoyed if he hadn’t turned to face Connor’s beaming eyes, watery with an early buzz, and a smile that hadn’t stretched across his face in far too long.  David couldn’t help but return a smirk.

David turned his attention back to the DJ.  The music was pounding louder now.  Standing a hair taller than five feet, the tiny man held his position on the stage as if he were a giant.  His impeccably spiked hair added to the illusion of his height as the crimson red spikes thrust themselves upward, defying gravity and everything David knew about hair.  The silver jacket the DJ wore reflected the spastic lights that now consumed the dance floor like a human disco ball, the black v-neck tee he wore underneath was cut so low that he was bearing more cleavage, however unimpressive, than the waitresses and most of the female patrons.  David was grateful that he could not see the DJ’s lower half, but he assumed it was just as absurdly fashioned as his upper body.  Neon spandex?  Skin-tight leather pants?  David crinkled his nose at the thought.

“Prepare to lose your minds!” The DJ’s voice, thick with accent, echoed throughout the bar and was met with by the raucous crowd with primal screams of excitement.

The waitress returned to their table and placed two shots in front of David and Connor.  “On me, boys,” she purred into David’s ear and disappeared.

Picking up the shots, David and Conner’s eyes told each other the exact same thing, which was simply a repetition of the world’s littlest DJ’s command not seconds before.  As the fiery liquor slid down the back of their throats and warmed their bellies, they did, indeed, intend to lose their minds.