Real Gold by Deven Balsam

Author:Deven Balsam [Balsam, Deven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-12T16:00:00+00:00

“There are three weird, secret societies—that we know about—who are currently after us, each with dubious intentions,” I said. “So why are we going dancing?”

“Because I haven’t been to a club in eight years. It’s time,” said Penn. “Besides—who can stop us?”

“Anyone with a powder-actuated weapon.”

“Besides those people.”

“Someone good with throwing stars.”

“Don’t harsh my mellow Jude.”

“Alright, I won’t. Let’s get our faff on, then.”

We wandered our way through the crowded streets. Penn had put the Breadth of Life on over the ankh amulet, and wore both under his shirt. I asked him if it was uncomfortable but he stoically shook his head and smiled; I vowed to buy a halfway decent fanny pack or cross-body bag as soon as we were near a store that sold them.

We walked past a bar that was pumping the classic Aaliyaa track “We Need a Resolution”. Penn did a little bop with his head and I smiled and leaned close to kiss his temple. “You’re so great,” I said, completely awkward but perfectly happy despite our current situation.

“That place—right there,” said Penn, pointing to a tiny door in a narrow building sandwiched between a bank and podiatrist’s office, if I was reading the sign correctly.

“What is it about slippy little buildings and you?”

“I just like ‘em,” he said. I couldn’t argue with that.

The door was propped open so passersby could hear the hi hat and bass of the house music beat the lonely DJ inside was spinning. Washes of laser light swept across the bar and the floor to travel up the walls and over the ceiling, morphing from deep green to violet, lavender to aqua, hot pink to deep red, and again, on a loop of its own since the music was too chill to trigger a beat-inspired reaction.

“There’s nobody here,” I said.

“Exactly. Let’s make someone’s night.” Penn walked purposefully up to the little DJ table, set center-stage on a platform.

The DJ looked up as Penn approached and I saw them talking, and then Penn slipped him a fifty Euro note.

“Oh boy,” I said, chuckling.

The DJ then scrolled through his iPad, poking at the screen, then grinned as the house music faded out slowly. There was silence. The bartender looked up, concerned.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a choir of gothic voices filled the little bar with churchful ardor.

“What the fuck?” I asked, but Penn was in the middle of the dance floor, evoking a combination of John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever and goth night at the local pub realness. The DJ stood behind his little table, arms folded, an absolutely amused expression on his face.

The choir on the track sang “SING...SING!”

Then the DJ, the barkeep, and Penn were suddenly all jamming to “Hey now, hey now-now—sing this corrosion to me.” If there’d been anyone here but these three I would have ducked out, embarrassed, but something compelled me to join Penn and I slid over to him, busting out my best and most authentic Fresh Prince of Belair Carlton

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.