It's Always Snowy in Manehattan

“Vinyl, are you sure I’ll blend in?”

Vinyl took a critical glance at Octavia, taking in the coat, and beneath it picturing the shirt, the suit, and the bow tie. Ugh. No, you won’t. But how can I say something like that to your magenta? “Of course, Octavia. I’ll lead you to the VIP lounge, and you can chill there while I spin disks.” She laughed at the crispy air. “Ah, you should’ve seen me with Neon. We make a killer duo.” Catching Octavia’s glance, she explained, “Neon, my brother.”

Nigel Staccato, alias Neon Lights, was a fine male specimen of Homo Sapiens, with a strong, muscular build, and a pleasant singing voice. His skills included, but were not limited to, gardening, iron welding, car driving, chopper flying, working out, picking up specimen of the opposite sex, reading poetry, writing poetry, having sex with the opposite sex and making electronic music, in addition to playing the piano and mandolin.

Whose wild Christmas fantasy is this? A building, a normal building, rather, that froze in New Year’s eve, with tinsel tinseling everywhere, with spangle spangling all about, and a tree outside the club, of course, next to the long, estimated queue. Past the queue they walked. I wonder. Why don’t they make a separate entrance for deejays? Why should we stand oh hello there yes I’m with her boy you’re scary mr security, glad I’m on the right side of the barricades inside we go!

Well, could expect more. What’s this? A round bar. A round table! Your drinks, me lords! My lords, the correct. And music blaring. What’s the difference then. Why the need for a deejay if they are drunk on music already? What’s the difference if someone stands up and clicks the thing manually? They just make-believe with those spins of theirs. They might as well just click and turn it on. And yet they make so much money! How can they…

“There’s the VIP lounge, Octavia,” Vinyl introduced the cellist to the empty booth, on the balcony looming over the stage, on which an expensive setup stood. Well, at least that’s what she assumed. The booth consisted of two leather divans and two armchairs. Octavia sat in an armchair facing the stage. “You can order whatever you like,” Vinyl added with a smile. “It’s all on the house, that is, on me.”

Octavia raised her head. “Is it your club?”

“No,” Vinyl admitted, “but it’s Neon’s. He also works for a label. He’s wonderful.” She wanted to add, You’re gonna like him, but, frankly, introducing Octavia to her brother seemed like an unwise gesture. “So you can drink as much as you can.” She smiled uneasily.

“Is this,” Octavia asked seriously, “an attempt to get me drunk and seduce me?” She fluttered her eyelashes, or at least so it seemed to Vinyl. Yeah, definitely seemed. Just seemed. A mirage.

Yes, it is. And when you’re drunk enough, I’ll-! I’ll take you home and not touch a hair on your head. Because you have charmed me with your eyes, you magenta… “No, of course not. All right, I have to go get to the set.”

Octavia nodded, and watched Vinyl depart. A waiter materialised out of nowhere, a young man, presumably a master’s student. Though, what a master’s would be doing… Ah, to hell with that. One drink, not too much. “Gin-tonic.”

Whisky and gin. They’re gonna make me… drunk. Ah. Rum rum rumdadam. That beat is something of a… but it isn’t exactly. Ha! Nope. Not that much. Because once you turn it on, you cannot. Ramdadam. Hehe.

“ARE YOU READY TO PARTY?!”

Octavia blinked, sipping on the just-arrived drink, and looked at the stage. There, Vinyl Scratch in a ridiculous white suit and T-shirt was trying to get the audience going. Hm. Wasn’t hard, though. The thing was, such an audience, already drunk, and since they came here on their own volition… I mean, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to get those drones to party. Hm. Vinyl does it with style, though, you gotta admit.

“I SAID, ARE YOU READY TO PARTY?!”

The crowd roared. Octavia smiled. Let’s see what Vinyl has in store.

***

Only five drinks - and such fun! I don’t know what they put in those ginandtonics, they make me woo! Octavia descended from her holy booth into the roaring crowd of dancers, here I come! Woo, ouch, what’re you looking at?! Ha, dancing is so fun! Oh, that’s Vinyl on the stage! Viiiiinyll! She doesn’t hear me! Did I say it out loud? Everything’s so loud! Unts unts! Yeehee! Teehee! It’s so fun, this dancing thing. I guess Vinyl really has her groovy thing going on. Why, she’s kinda fun, I guess. When she’s not hitting on me. But that’s cute. She doesn’t make me feel angry, and that’s good. Few things never make me feel angry. Things! She’s not a thing! She’s a thinking, living, bea- ahem! Woman! Ugh! Cleanse.

“Heeeey, wanna dance with me?”

“Sorry, I’m-”

“No, cutie, I think you wanna dance with me!”

“No, I don’t!”

“I think you bloody well do!”

“Ah! Let go of me!”

“Hehe, kitty’s got claws!”

“What are you doing!”

“Rawr!”

“Stop! Security!”

“And the snake is out!”

“No! Security! VINYL!”

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Who the hell are you?!”

“I am the DJ of this bloody club, and I am her girlfriend!”

“Vinyl?”

“Oh, so-”

“Get out of this club this moment, or my brother will have you fined for damaging club property!”

“Oh, this beauty here is the club pro- What the hell are you doing?!”

SMASH.

“Breaking your head against the counter. Now you’ve damaged club property.”

Heavy breathing. Two women. And no one noticed?

After the long and tiresome battle, our forces retreated to the initial position. The reinforcements arrived on time, which allowed the main army to be diverted from the enemy’s massacre. Glory be to our noble pikemen who roared and slammed into the enemy’s forces! Glory be to the ingenious commander who led her forces on her white horse. Glory be to the gods who…

“Octavia, are you all right?”

“Yes… That man… He… Ugh.”

“He didn’t hurt you?”

“No. Um…”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. That was noble of you.”

“Slamming his head into the bar counter?”

“No, saving me. But… Hehe. That too.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Um. Yeah.”

“Something wrong?”

“Vinyl, you said I was your?”

“Oh! I’m really sorry, Octavia, I just…”

“No, I understand. It was to help me.”

“Yes. To help you.”

“Phew. How about we call it a night?”

“Japanese?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”