I had only been to that part of the city once, but we all knew about it. All the images I'd created in my head were right. The streets were well lit. The alleyways were dark. Neon and strobe lighting was every where. The clubs came in all colors, all shapes, blaring all different types of music. There were line-ups, bouncers with biceps larger than my cranium, and guest lists. Nick stopped his car in front of a club was a particularly long line. From where we sat, faces glowing red and blue in the neon light, the club looked more like an industrial building. It probably was at one time and painted black for effect. There were velvet ropes keeping the line straight. All the men and women stood impatiently waiting in their tweed skirts and jackets, slip on shoes and Chuck Taylors. For a moment I shuttered, thinking how out of place I was. For a moment I went into a panic. Then I looked down. My grandpa styled vest and girls jeans fit in just fine there.

Nick climbed out of the car, "You coming?" Faces from the line turned to see who could possibly be cutting the line. Nick tossed his keys to a thin black man in a white vest and said, "Can you empty the ash tray while you're at it?" The man didn't say no.

When Nick moved towards the rope a huge man in a black shirt that simple read "security" reached out and unclipped the barrier and let him through, waiting for me to step through as well.

"ID." The man said, looking down at Nick. There were rolls of adipose tissue at the back of this bald man's head. They bubbled and furrowed. There was no neck, just fat rolls. But that wasn't the only part of the man that caused me to stare. His nose, which clearly had been broken and reset too many times, was a little off center and swollen. I wondered if it obstructed his view. I almost laughed to myself.

"ID? Are you kidding me?" Nick snapped, pushing the man with the flat of his fist. I took several steps back until stumbling into a girl, no, a woman with legs longer than I had ever seen. Before I could look at her face I heard Nick shout, "Do you even know who my father is?" My hand reached out, ready to pull him away from this sour situation.

"Please, tell me. I need to know where to drop your corpse." I was shaking. The plastic edge of the ID was cutting in my palm.

"Listen, you big, dumb oaf." That was the end of us, I knew it. My brain's electric waves were getting lost in the confusion. My limbs wouldn't budge.

The bouncer, who's muscles were flexing beneath the freckled, scarred skin, towered at least 6 inches over Nick. They both held their ground.

"Listen to you, you little shit?" Slowly he unfolded his arms, bringing his hands closer to Nick and his tiny neck. Screaming out wasn't an option. All I could do was stand and watch.

"Yeah, listen to me." People in the front of the line up were silent.

"Whatchu gotta say, little bastard?" His hands were twice the size of my own. Nick almost looked bored.

"That I love you, dude." Nick laughed, sending an arm around the man's colossal shoulders. They embraced, but only for a second. They talked amongst themselves. The laughter was almost sickly sweet. But just behind them the pair of legs I had just bumped into moved through the door, not stopping to show ID.

"Where have you been, man?" The bouncer asked. His arms moved back into the intimidating folded position across his chest.

"Around, dude. Hey, Spoon. This is Bryson. It's this dude's birthday. You think he can get in tonight?" Nick was smooth. Careful and yet straight forward. I stood, still against the velvet, hoping that my face wouldn't look like this Spoon characters before the evening was over.

"Yeah, man. We need more people are here like you guys. You're cool. You're cool."

"Thanks, Spoon. You take it easy." Nick headed towards the door, motioning me to follow. I did was I was told, keeping a safe enough distance between Spoon and myself. Just in the dark door way Nick turned around and said, "You came through tonight. I'll come through too, dude." Spoon just nodded at the the encrypted message I was to have no part in. Something told me I didn't want to know anyhow. Nick grabbed my bicep and dragged me into the darkness. I couldn't see more than a foot in front of me, but I felt the music, the heat, and the other bodies all around me. Slowly, the light started to emerge from the corners we turned. Finally, the floor opened up. There were moving coloured lights from the ceiling I couldn't see. Black lights on the black walls painted all the white purple. A mass of bodies moved, all herding towards the center of the room, the dance floor. More like a sexual watering hole. Bodies moved against each other in ways I'd never heard of, in ways I only dreamed of. I shifted uncomfortable in the tight girl jeans. I suddenly realized my pants where almost cutting my circulation off at the bottom. Whoever came up with skinny jeans, apparently didn't understand the word, "comfortable".

I turned to tell Nick I didn't know how to behave, but he was gone. I scanned the room for any sign of him, but from where I stood anyone could have been him. Girls jeans, brown vests, flat rubber-souled shoes. Like looking for a needle in the hay stack as well as many other cliques. Unsure of what to do I moved towards the center of the room. There was a pull. It seemed to have its own gravity. No sense in fighting it.

Girls, boys, people whose gender I couldn't elucidate pulled at my arms and waist, pushing their bodies against mine. The further into the crowd I moved the hot it became. Without raising my head towards the ceiling I couldn't breathe. The air was too warm. It burned at my lungs.

The music was unlike anything I'd ever heard before. It was dance music, but not like I had heard on the radio. There was piano and trumpets. It wasn't rave music. It wasn't house, hip hop or techno. The beats weren't extremely complicated, but they weren't repetitive either. For the first time in a long time, I was actually enjoying the music I was listening to. The song changed and I wanted to dance, but I didn't know how. I felt awkward standing in the center of all the movement.

When I emerged from the dance floor I moved toward the bar. It boxed in the whole room, letting up for only the washrooms and exits. Multi-colored lights shone from under the bar. The bar tenders wore white bands around their arms that were glowing purple against the black light.

"What can I get you?"

"Um..." I hesitated.

"We'll have four hots of shots."

Spinning around in my seat I came to see those legs I had collided into earlier. They were more than just legs. Up from the thigh high black boots to the tiny black dress my eyes wandered over her. Her boots covered more than the dress did. It hung low down her back and dipped in the front as well. I looked at her face, thin and gleaming with perspiration. Her cheek bones were cutting. Her light colors eyes looked over at me for just a second before the shots were placed in front of us. Four tiny square glasses of intense blue liquid. Pushing two towards me, she winked and said, "Drink up." We both took one in our hand and tip our heads back, letting the liquid flow straight to the back of our throats. It burned and I slammed my glass down, eyes watering. We did the next. Even while standing at the bar, she danced to the music, using the counter's as her partner.

"Let's dance." She told me. Her voice was soft, barely audible over the music.

"I don't dance," I told her, shaking my head. She pulled her wild blonde hair over her shoulder and told me, "You're going to dance." Even shaking my head didn't work. Grabbing hold of the belt loop on my jeans, she pulled me off my stool before tossing a twenty on the counter and pushing me towards the dance floor.

"If anyone asked, you bought me drinks," she laughed, turning to face me. Her body was so close to mine, I was scared. Her hands grabbed my hips and moved them, rocking them from side to side. I just stared at her. Two shots and already I felt a little different. Not drunk, just brave.

"Keep your eyes on my body," she whispered into my ear. I did as she told me. The songs changed one from the next. I couldn't keep track of how many. I had no idea of the time. It felt like I had been moving for hours, but wasn't exhausted at all. It was all going so well that I panicked. Sooner or later it would have to end. She was going to leave me, so instead I let go of her waist.

"What's wrong?" she asked me, trying to grind her hips against mine.

"I gotta go."

"No." She pulled at my arm.

"Yes." I untangled myself from her grasp and pushed my way through the sweaty dancing people toward the exit. Hands grabbed at my arm again. I was about to yell at her, tell her to let me be, but then I saw Nick, looking confused.

"I'm going."

"Why, dude? What's wrong?" The two girls he had been dancing with started to make out when he turned his back on them. I watched, shocked and confused.

"I want to go."

"Yeah, I heard that. Why?"

I didn't say anything more, just walked away. I was surprised that Nick followed.

"Dude. This place doesn't close for another hour. Are you sure you want to leave?" Down the dark, bending corridor we walked. It was nearly empty. Everyone was taking in their last chances for a good time.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry you didn't have a good time," Nick said as we stepped outside. The air seemed cold against my sweat covered skin. Goose bumps popped up all over my body. I could feel them under my clothes. The streets were no where near empty. Intoxicated groups stumbled along the streets, singing and dancing. The parking lots were full. Music was still blaring from every direction.

"I had fun." I told him. And I did. My fifteenth birthday night had been full of all sorts of firsts; my first time in that part of town, my first alcoholic drink, my first night out without my family, the first night I didn't feel completely hopeless. It was just so over whelming.

"It doesn't seem like it," Nick pouted. I had ruined his good time and felt guilty about it. If I could have taken it back I would, but we were already heading toward the car. Nick was just as sweaty as I was. His pupils were wide and glazed over. His hair was plastered to his damp face. He looked different.

"Are you drunk?" He asked me. I shook my head. He seemed to be trying to work things out, but gave up and said, "Let's get some breakfast."