I got an old Underworld song going and tried to beat-mix a new Kid Cudi remix into it. I'd been practicing this at home but knew it needed to be dialed or I wouldn't use it. Somehow I managed to get the two songs perfectly matched, and the mix was seamless.
“Sweet!” Matt yelled.
“Great sound in here!” I yelled back. The DJ booth was raised above the dance floor. It felt strange to be so high up. I pulled another record out and replaced the Underworld. When I looked up again, Adam was in the middle of the dance floor giving me the thumbs-up. I went back to the turntables, trying to mix the next song in.
I'd just got the next song flowing when someone shoved me hard to the side. I stumbled and tripped over one of my record crates, my headphones popping off as I went down.
“What is this shit?” DJ Sly said. He ripped the needle across the
LP
. The speakers all snapped with the sound.
“Sly, what are you doing?” Adam yelled from the dance floor.
“What's this all about? Who is this clown?” Sly was looking down at me. He was in a white V-neck T-shirt and too-large jeans. He had one of those oversized brimmed hats on, this one with a giant star on the side.
“That's my brother, man,” Adam yelled. “He's filling in for you tonight.”
“I don't need no replacement.”
“Dude,” Adam shouted. Then he walked to the stairs that led to the DJ booth and looked up at us. “Dude, how are you going to play records with a broken wrist?”
“I'll manage.”
“Listen, he's only taking half pay. You still get a share.” Sly looked at me, then back at my brother.
“I get a say in what he plays. It's still my night.”
“Sure, man, sure,” Adam said.
“And I'm still going to use the mic. He is not to touch the mic.”
“I don't even think he'd want to. Would you, Rob?”
“No. I'm cool,” I said, standing up and brushing myself off.
“Whatever,” Sly said. Then his face changed, and he looked at my brother again. “You and I need to talk,” he said, climbing down from the booth.
“What an ass munch,” Matt said, once Sly and my brother had disappeared into the chill room at the back of the club.
“I always thought he'd be way cooler,” I said.
“That was not cool,” Matt said, shaking his head.
I put my headphones on the mixing board and slid the records back into their sleeves. I was shaking, though I wasn't sure if it was from nerves or because of what had just happened.
Either way, it started to feel like it was going to be a long night.
And it hadn't even started yet.
Half an hour later, there were people entering the club, knocking snow from their hats, then lining up for the coat check.
I tried to keep my mind off the fact that I was not in my room, practicing. That I was actually playing live. For an audience. I lined up my next five songs in a crate, put my headphones on and bent down over the turntables. I decided I would not look up again until all five of those songs had been played. Then I would check the crowd.
I was three songs in when Sly clambered into the booth and grabbed the microphone.
“You all ready for this!” he yelled. The suddenness of it made me jump. “I said, are you all ready for this?” I was playing Skrillex “Right In.” I pulled the record back, scratching out a new beat. Sly pumped his fist. Yelled into the mic, “Tonight is your night, my people. Tonight anything can happen. Tonight is the night for you to step outside of yourself. To let your inhibitions fall away. To do what you want to do. There are no rules here. What is it you want to do? What is it you want to say? Tonight is your night.” He hit the fog machine, and the dance floor filled with smoke. I switched to DJ Dean's “It's a Dream.”
Sly suddenly put the microphone down without switching it off. The feedback squealed through the speakers. I hit the fader for the mic on the mixing board and went back to the records. Sly punched me on the arm.
“Where's your brother?” he said.
“I don't know,” I said. I was trying to concentrate on the mix.
“You haven't seen him?”
“Last I saw, he was with you.” Sly stood there looking around the club. I went back to my records, and once I got a new mix going, looked back up. I spotted Adam immediately, chatting up the coat-check girl. I pointed him out to Sly. He jumped down from the booth and disappeared into the crowd.
About an eighth of a second later, Matt was beside me.
“That is so douche,” he said.
“The propaganda, or dropping the mic?” I said.
“All of the above.” Matt flipped a couple of light switches, then stared out at the dance floor. “Who knew this place got so packed so early. Must be something special happening tonight.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I'm playing.” I laid the next record on the turntable and took in the crowd. Though most people were leaning against the walls or talking in little clusters, there were at least thirty people dancing.
“Did you see that MJM just arrived?” Matt said. I almost knocked the record off the turntable.
“Where?”
“Coat check.” Sure enough, Mary Jane McNally was taking off her coat and revealing an outfit so lacking in material that I almost forgot where I was. She was talking to Amanda Palmer. The two of them were covering their mouths with their hands and laughing.
“Your song's running out.” I flipped the headphone back over my ear and quickly set up the next track. The beat-match was not amazing, but it worked.
“Close,” Matt said. I checked out where Mary Jane had been standing, and she was gone. I scanned the area.
“Where'd she go?”
“She's talking to Sly,” Matt said.
“She knows him?”
“Dude, I'm just giving you the news here. No background intel available. My advice to you right now? Play something good.” I dropped a Deadmau5
LP
onto the turntable and tried to ignore the fact that MJ was out there listening.
I had once come within fifteen seconds of asking Mary Jane out. We'd been standing outside the school. It seemed like a coincidence, but I'd been planning this chance encounter for a week. Mary Jane always waited for Amanda outside the school by the parking lot at the end of the day. However, Amanda was always late. Sometimes there was another girl or two with Mary Jane, but I had noted that on Thursdays she was always alone.
I had set up the chance encounter by starting to ask Mary Jane a question during history class just as our teacher, Mr. Hodson, was entering the room. Leaving me to slowly sit back in my seat and say, “I'll talk to you later.”
I'd found her out by the parking lot like I imagined I would. I started the conversation with a deep discussion of Mr. Hodson's sweaty armpits. Her laugh made me tingle all over. I moved on to the success of our girls' volleyball team, of which Mary Jane was a member. And then, right when I said, “So, I was wonderingâ¦,” which was the beginning of the well-rehearsed full sentence, “I was wondering if you'd like to catch a movie some time,” Amanda came out of nowhere, grabbed Mary Jane around the neck and dragged her a way in a cloud of “Oh my god, you will not believe.”
That was my one chance.
Now, out on the dance floor, Sly had one arm around MJ's waist. She was smiling up into his face. I could almost hear her laughing. If she was into guys like Sly, I figured I didn't have a chance.
I went back to my records.
“He's gone now,” Matt said. “Only to be replaced by your brother.” Now it was Adam who had his arms around MJ. It seemed innocent enough. After all, my brother just turned seventeen, and MJ is only fifteen. They weren't dancing or anything. Just talking.
He swung away from her, their hands attached for an extra moment.
“What's that all about?” I said.
“That's about your brother making all the moves you wish you could.”
“He wouldn't,” I said.
“No?” Adam went back to where Sly was talking with one of the bouncers. They banged fists, and then Adam looked up at the booth. He gave me the thumbs-up again, as though nothing had happened. Which, I guess, nothing had.
Two hours later, my set was coming to an end.
You would never think it, but DJing is incredibly tiring. You've pressed all your emotions and energy into matching each song perfectly and creating a flow of sound and beats.
I took my headphones off and pushed my stack of crates together. I was sweaty and hot. The bass had flattened out some time during my last mix, so I decided to pitch it up a little. Just as I touched the bass fader, there was a loud snap and all the lights went off at once. The mixing board flared with color for a second, then settled into darkness as well.
I've been in some dark places, but I had never before been this encased in blackness. People were yelling and laughing from the dance floor.
The door of the club opened, and a sliver of light illuminated the front passage.
“Everyone out,” someone yelled. “Come on, be orderly about it. Fire regulations says everyone gets out.”
“Don't you have emergency lights, man?” Someone else yelled.
“Out.” I decided to stand still. A moment later, there was a stumbling and banging on the staircase beside me.
“You blew the power, man,” Matt said. I felt a hand on my leg. A second later, another hand grabbed at my crotch.
“Dude!”
“Sorry. Jeez, it's dark.”
“That is your excuse, and we are going with it. We shall never speak of this moment again.” Everyone had their cell phones out, small white lights guiding them through the darkness.
“What happened?”
“I don't know. I was just shutting down. I don't think it had anything to do with me.”
“Quite the way to end a set, my man. You will not be followed,” Matt said.
“Think the power will come back on?” Matt had his cell phone in front of him. I watched as he bent down beside the mixing board.
“The streetlights are out too. It must be a full power outage.” Someone came banging up the stairs to the booth.
“What'd you do, Robbie?” Adam said.
“It wasn't me.”
“Sure it wasn't.”
“It looks like the whole neighborhood is out,” Matt said.
“That was an all right set,” Adam said. For most people, all right means passable. But for my brother, it's the height of all compliments.
“Thanks.”
“I talked to Ernie, and he said you might get next week as well.” He moved back to the stairs. “Come on, I'll help you get this stuff out of here.” He pulled a flashlight from his back pocket.
“It's just these crates,” I said. “Matt already put the turntables back in the car. Maybe we should wait, though, in case the power comes back on.” We stood silently for a moment.
“In my experience, if the power doesn't come right back on, it's going to be out a long time.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay. I was done anyway.”
“Okay, slide the crates over,” Adam said. I slid the first crate toward him. As Adam grabbed it, the flashlight shifted in his hand. The beam caught something low against the wall behind the booth.
“Hey,” I said. “Wait.”
“What?” Adam said.
“There's something here.”
“Where?”
“Right there,” I said. He moved the beam a little more, and what I'd seen before came back into view.
“That looks like a person,” said Adam. I froze. Adam pushed the crate aside and climbed down from the booth.
“Hey, hello?” he said. He trained the light on the person. “Hello? Are you all right?” Matt and I followed him down.
“It's Mary Jane,” I said. She looked like she'd fallen asleep.
But not quite.
I rushed over to her and grabbed her arm.
It was cold.
“Mary Jane,” I said.
“Is she all right?” Adam said.
“She's cold.” I shook her a little. “Mary Jane.” She didn't move.
“What the hell?” Adam said. He gave a nervous little laugh and bent down beside her. “She party too hard?” He put a finger to her neck. We all waited a second.
“Shit,” Adam said.
“What?”
“Call nine-one-one now!” Adam yelled.
“What the hell?” Matt said. “What's happening?”
Adam gathered her in his arms and ran across the dance floor toward the door.
“I don't know,” I said as I took off after my brother.
“Call an ambulance!” Adam yelled. People cursed at him until they saw what was going on, and then everyone got out of the way.
The parking lot was full of people shivering in the cold.
By the time I got outside, Adam was halfway across the lot, still carrying Mary Jane in his arms. A police car swung into the parking lot, and the officers got out. I ran up beside my brother.
“What happened here?” one of the officers asked. The other was on the radio, calling an ambulance, I hoped.
“We just found her like this,” Adam said. I scanned the lot looking for Amanda or anyone else who would take the responsibility for her away from us.
“Do you know if she's taken anything?” the officer asked.
“Taken anything?” I said.
“Drugs.” Adam stood there staring at the officer, Mary Jane still limp in his arms.
“We just found her behind the DJ booth, after the blackout,” I said.
“So you were not with her?”
“No,” I said. “I'm the DJ.”
“And you don't know if she's taken anything.” I looked at Adam again. He'd turned a shade of white I'd never seen before.
“No,” I said. “We don't.” An ambulance pulled in behind the cruiser, and two guys got out. They got Mary Jane onto a stretcher and then started asking questions. Luckily, the police answered for us.