Party Time_Raving Arizona by Shaun Attwood

Author:Shaun Attwood [Attwood, Shaun]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Non-Fiction
Publisher: Gadfly Press
Published: 2018-04-13T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 33

Mari and Skinner pick a swingers’ club for a rave. Lucas brings Hotwheelz – the headliner – from the airport to my house and heads to the venue. Hotwheelz snorts glass, I sip GHB and we set off. I’m speeding along Loop 202 when the GHB – a depressant at high doses – knocks me out in the fast lane.

I hear Hotwheelz yelling, ‘Shaun, wake the fuck up!’ Leaning over, he’s steering the car in the middle lane. ‘You nearly fucking killed us!’

Realising the car’s changed lanes jolts me awake. But my head lolls forward like a baby’s. I almost nod off. ‘You’d better drive. That jibber juice hit me too quick. I’m all fucked up.’ I pull onto the shoulder, outraged by my stupidity.

At the club, Hotwheelz parks amid a crowd of agitated ravers.

Lucas runs to my car. ‘The owner’s cancelled the party!’

‘Why?’ The crisis lifts the GHB fog from my brain.

‘We don’t know yet,’ Lucas says. ‘He’s adopted the keep-the-doors-locked-and-hope-everyone-goes-away strategy. But it’s not working. More ravers are arriving and they’re getting angry.’

‘If he doesn’t open the club, the thousands I’ve spent will go down the drain!’ I shake my head.

Mari and Skinner rush over. ‘I’ve worked for months promoting this party,’ Skinner says. ‘If this fool thinks everyone’s going home, he must be smoking crack. I’ve been waiting to get the word from you to shoot the door open.’ He displays his gun.

‘Give me that gun.’ I grab it and place it in the glove compartment. ‘If you shoot the door open, that’ll just bring the cops. What’s that going to achieve?’

‘Actually, he would have shot the door down already if it wasn’t for me,’ Mari says.

‘Thanks for keeping him in check, Mari,’ I say. ‘Let’s hold off on any drastic action for now.’

Skinner storms off. Repeated requests to negotiate with the owner fail.

Fifteen minutes later, Skinner returns. ‘If you don’t give me my gun back, I’ll get a gun off someone else and shoot the fucking door open.’

‘Little brother, chill out,’ I say.

Mari shakes her head.

An Italian club-kid couple – short with big eyes and smiley faces – whom I’ve arranged to meet show up. I explain my predicament.

‘Primo’s real good at negotiating things,’ Marcello says. ‘He stays real calm. Do you want him to talk to the owner on your behalf?’

‘Yes,’ I say.

The bouncers allow Primo in. The crowd swells at the entrance, threatening to riot. The situation is on the verge of igniting when Primo re-emerges. The bouncers leave the doors open.

‘The club is open! Everyone come inside!’

We cheer and fill the small, dark venue with mostly ravers and some swingers. My friends settle on sofas adjacent to the DJ booth. Hotwheelz works the turntables. His trance elevates my mood. A hippy arrives with a gallon of GHB in a brown moonshine bottle. I sip some and take Ecstasy.

‘I’ve got a gallon of jibber juice!’ I say. ‘Anyone who wants a cap, come and help yourselves.’

‘I want some!’

‘Me!’

‘Can I try it?’

‘If you’ve never done it before, just take a small capful,’ I say.

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