Furnace
Ex-Bluelighter
Before everything had been exposed to me, I had thought that Greg and Clara were perfect for each other.
Greg, a veteran DJ, had numerous residencies around town. His style of popular funky house got people on the dance floor, and they never left when he was on the 1’s and 2’s. Clara was his much-better half. She has this fantastic smile and a personality that shone brighter than the dingy after-hours club they used to tag team before she had Greg’s baby last year.
I got to know Greg first. Before Clara, he was with Candace. She was this redheaded vixen that I used to crush on in a big way. I gave her her first pill of X years ago, and she was my toy for the entire night. It was awesome. Our relationship was strained and kind of vacant in the years proceeding that first night. She ended up dropping out of school, and working full-time on finding the sugar daddy that would free her from her white trash destiny.
Her and Greg proceeded to date for a while, until Greg found Clara. But that didn’t mean that Candace and Greg weren’t still lovers. In fact, while Clara was at home, pregnant with Greg’s daughter, He and Candace would hook up at one of his weekly residences and fuck around. I first noticed it when I saw them take off through the backroom, and into a stairwell behind the bar. The moaning and groaning weren’t of a couple of people smoking weed. I chuckled in ironic disgust when I saw Candace walk back in behind Greg, applying a new coat of lipstick to her worn out lips. I didn’t know then, but that would be in fact the first time Greg had been sloppy and not properly hidden his skeletons in the closet.
Years later, Candace would come up to me at the same bar where she had her numerous indiscretions with Greg and ask me about a trumped up rape charge that had just been recently dropped. I was celebrating justice in all of its forms, when she came up to me and started shouting in anger because I hadn’t told her about it.
“Yah, sorry I didn’t let you in on my personal private hell, Candace. I hope you can forgive me. Next time we’re getting wasted on beer and cocaine, and you’re laying next to me, holding my hand, stroking my leg, I’ll tell you about how a group of ‘friends’ conspired into thinking that I committed a rape, when in reality, I hadn’t done anything wrong.”
I was drunk, and it was hard not to be mean-spirited to anyone who hadn’t been informed (by me) about my struggle. Having to see this girl, and knowing that the rumor-spreading gossipmongers that sold me out in two minutes flat had informed her was a culmination of my years of panic and struggle. I could continue on, but there’s time for that later.
Greg was spinning that night Candace confronted me. I saw them look at each other, and head out the backroom door again.
A week later, I was at one of Greg’s other residencies. I was enjoying a combination of red bull and Smirnoff, when my friend, Tyler, informed me that he didn’t think too highly of Greg..
I already knew about Greg’s obvious indiscretions with women who aren’t the mother of his daughter, but what I was about to find out was fucking hellish.
“I don’t like Greg.” Tyler never seemed to be the kind to harbor negative feelings against anyone. He even insisted that I pick up his ex-girlfriend.
“What’s wrong with Greg?” I was waiting for him to tell me everything I already knew about his infidelity.
“He beat Clara. She came to Dynamix (a now-closed nightclub) and she was sporting a black eye.”
Now I didn’t know if this was true or false. Tyler’s not the kind to lie, and given the circumstances, the information I knew about Greg made me realize that, in fact, Greg was a fucking asshole, worthy of a beat down of epic proportions. I sat there and saw Greg going off to a played-out funky house anthem. My red bull and vodka was my only saving grace from the dirt taste Greg’s playing now put in my mouth.
Fast forward to last night. I’m at Dynamo, the new bar opened up by the former owners of Dynamix. Greg and Clara are there, getting ready to tag team. I’m waiting to buy a half-gram of k from a notable hard trance DJ. Even though I don’t want the K, I buy it anyway, since he’s in a rush, and I’m too complacent to tell him no. I sit there with the half-gram, and my friend, Coddy, asks me what I just purchased.
“A half a gram of K.” I’m thinking of doing some, but not a lot. I don’t even know why I bought it.
“Can I buy some off of you?” My eyes light up. I toss him the baggie, and tell him
“$25.” He hands me the cash and offers me a line. I do it up, and we sit there, aimlessly staring, or at least, that’s what it seems to me…until I see a group of trainspotters checking out the tracks Clara is throwing down. Wait. They’re not trainspotting. They’re checking out Clara. She is looking really good tonight. As soon as she drops her track, she starts dancing a little bit. Almost immediately, all the dudes start busting out their moves. Greg is standing next to her, and grimaces at all the dudes trying to style his girlfriend. It’s at this point; Coddy leans over to me and says
“So, was that shit about Greg hitting Clara true?” Coddy had a problem of covering his mouth when he talks. Later that night, I had a conversation about his problem.
“Yah, I guess so. I’m not sure, but check it out. All those trainspotters are checking out Clara, and for good reason, but check out Greg. He’s being all protective and shit.”
At that point, Greg walked up behind Clara, who was bent slightly, working the decks, and within moments, all the trainspotters fled with the quickness of a 100-meter sprinter, loaded to the nuts with horse steroids.
I leaned back to Coddy and told him about how Greg was messing around with other girls recently. His mouth dropped and his head shook.
“Yah, to top it off, the day before Tyler told us about how Greg gave Clara a beatdown, Greg offered to eat out Sara’s pussy after she gave him some coke in the bathroom.” Sara was a girl who got around. She was a big fan of drugs, and in fact, lost her baby b/c of drugs. This led her to attempting suicide. She was the only person I knew who had not been able to do it successfully. No one really mentioned that anymore.
“You’re fucking kidding me. Well, now I’ve lost all respect for him totally.” I was way ahead of Coddy on that trail. I ran out of smokes, and thought of something funny.
“I’m going to bum a smoke from Greg.” Coddy started to smirk and gave a smile. I headed over to Greg, and I smiled at Clara. She was looking good. Motherhood does wonders for women, honestly. I looked over at Greg and said hello. He asked me what he thought of his set, and I had half a mind to tell him that it sounded a lot like misogynistic house, but instead I stated that I liked the fact that he took a lot of his hip-hop stuff and incorporated it with his usual catalog of popular funky house.
I managed to get a smoke off of him, and he offered me to smoke a joint with him.
”Yah, I’ll stick around after your set, and we’ll blaze up.” I had no intention in doing so.
The last thing I wanted him to feel was that I was a friend and he could trust me.
Greg, a veteran DJ, had numerous residencies around town. His style of popular funky house got people on the dance floor, and they never left when he was on the 1’s and 2’s. Clara was his much-better half. She has this fantastic smile and a personality that shone brighter than the dingy after-hours club they used to tag team before she had Greg’s baby last year.
I got to know Greg first. Before Clara, he was with Candace. She was this redheaded vixen that I used to crush on in a big way. I gave her her first pill of X years ago, and she was my toy for the entire night. It was awesome. Our relationship was strained and kind of vacant in the years proceeding that first night. She ended up dropping out of school, and working full-time on finding the sugar daddy that would free her from her white trash destiny.
Her and Greg proceeded to date for a while, until Greg found Clara. But that didn’t mean that Candace and Greg weren’t still lovers. In fact, while Clara was at home, pregnant with Greg’s daughter, He and Candace would hook up at one of his weekly residences and fuck around. I first noticed it when I saw them take off through the backroom, and into a stairwell behind the bar. The moaning and groaning weren’t of a couple of people smoking weed. I chuckled in ironic disgust when I saw Candace walk back in behind Greg, applying a new coat of lipstick to her worn out lips. I didn’t know then, but that would be in fact the first time Greg had been sloppy and not properly hidden his skeletons in the closet.
Years later, Candace would come up to me at the same bar where she had her numerous indiscretions with Greg and ask me about a trumped up rape charge that had just been recently dropped. I was celebrating justice in all of its forms, when she came up to me and started shouting in anger because I hadn’t told her about it.
“Yah, sorry I didn’t let you in on my personal private hell, Candace. I hope you can forgive me. Next time we’re getting wasted on beer and cocaine, and you’re laying next to me, holding my hand, stroking my leg, I’ll tell you about how a group of ‘friends’ conspired into thinking that I committed a rape, when in reality, I hadn’t done anything wrong.”
I was drunk, and it was hard not to be mean-spirited to anyone who hadn’t been informed (by me) about my struggle. Having to see this girl, and knowing that the rumor-spreading gossipmongers that sold me out in two minutes flat had informed her was a culmination of my years of panic and struggle. I could continue on, but there’s time for that later.
Greg was spinning that night Candace confronted me. I saw them look at each other, and head out the backroom door again.
A week later, I was at one of Greg’s other residencies. I was enjoying a combination of red bull and Smirnoff, when my friend, Tyler, informed me that he didn’t think too highly of Greg..
I already knew about Greg’s obvious indiscretions with women who aren’t the mother of his daughter, but what I was about to find out was fucking hellish.
“I don’t like Greg.” Tyler never seemed to be the kind to harbor negative feelings against anyone. He even insisted that I pick up his ex-girlfriend.
“What’s wrong with Greg?” I was waiting for him to tell me everything I already knew about his infidelity.
“He beat Clara. She came to Dynamix (a now-closed nightclub) and she was sporting a black eye.”
Now I didn’t know if this was true or false. Tyler’s not the kind to lie, and given the circumstances, the information I knew about Greg made me realize that, in fact, Greg was a fucking asshole, worthy of a beat down of epic proportions. I sat there and saw Greg going off to a played-out funky house anthem. My red bull and vodka was my only saving grace from the dirt taste Greg’s playing now put in my mouth.
Fast forward to last night. I’m at Dynamo, the new bar opened up by the former owners of Dynamix. Greg and Clara are there, getting ready to tag team. I’m waiting to buy a half-gram of k from a notable hard trance DJ. Even though I don’t want the K, I buy it anyway, since he’s in a rush, and I’m too complacent to tell him no. I sit there with the half-gram, and my friend, Coddy, asks me what I just purchased.
“A half a gram of K.” I’m thinking of doing some, but not a lot. I don’t even know why I bought it.
“Can I buy some off of you?” My eyes light up. I toss him the baggie, and tell him
“$25.” He hands me the cash and offers me a line. I do it up, and we sit there, aimlessly staring, or at least, that’s what it seems to me…until I see a group of trainspotters checking out the tracks Clara is throwing down. Wait. They’re not trainspotting. They’re checking out Clara. She is looking really good tonight. As soon as she drops her track, she starts dancing a little bit. Almost immediately, all the dudes start busting out their moves. Greg is standing next to her, and grimaces at all the dudes trying to style his girlfriend. It’s at this point; Coddy leans over to me and says
“So, was that shit about Greg hitting Clara true?” Coddy had a problem of covering his mouth when he talks. Later that night, I had a conversation about his problem.
“Yah, I guess so. I’m not sure, but check it out. All those trainspotters are checking out Clara, and for good reason, but check out Greg. He’s being all protective and shit.”
At that point, Greg walked up behind Clara, who was bent slightly, working the decks, and within moments, all the trainspotters fled with the quickness of a 100-meter sprinter, loaded to the nuts with horse steroids.
I leaned back to Coddy and told him about how Greg was messing around with other girls recently. His mouth dropped and his head shook.
“Yah, to top it off, the day before Tyler told us about how Greg gave Clara a beatdown, Greg offered to eat out Sara’s pussy after she gave him some coke in the bathroom.” Sara was a girl who got around. She was a big fan of drugs, and in fact, lost her baby b/c of drugs. This led her to attempting suicide. She was the only person I knew who had not been able to do it successfully. No one really mentioned that anymore.
“You’re fucking kidding me. Well, now I’ve lost all respect for him totally.” I was way ahead of Coddy on that trail. I ran out of smokes, and thought of something funny.
“I’m going to bum a smoke from Greg.” Coddy started to smirk and gave a smile. I headed over to Greg, and I smiled at Clara. She was looking good. Motherhood does wonders for women, honestly. I looked over at Greg and said hello. He asked me what he thought of his set, and I had half a mind to tell him that it sounded a lot like misogynistic house, but instead I stated that I liked the fact that he took a lot of his hip-hop stuff and incorporated it with his usual catalog of popular funky house.
I managed to get a smoke off of him, and he offered me to smoke a joint with him.
”Yah, I’ll stick around after your set, and we’ll blaze up.” I had no intention in doing so.
The last thing I wanted him to feel was that I was a friend and he could trust me.
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