Disco Inferno

by Sari Colt

I opened up my medicine chest and popped two aspirin. I suffered from a mild headache, the kind you get from the intake of too much alcohol and French-Canadian men. Ah, the pleasures of Black and Blue.

My sojourn in Montreal was fun-filled, to say the least. Any vow of moderation that I may have committed to was immediately broken upon arrival. I've always thought excess every once in a while was necessary for the human spirit.

Alas, all good things must come to an end and so I departed Montreal with several business cards and a gum wrapper, of all things. Jean-Francois, a strapping chap, with a beautifully cut six-pack, had scrawled his telephone number on a gum wrapper, carefully scraping off the used gum before handing it back to me. A touch neanderthalic, but still quite charming.

As I unpacked my suitcase I saw a magnificent apparition. Jean-Francois, resplendent in his skin-tight spandex black shirt and black vinyl pants, appeared right in front of me. Spandex has got to be the twentieth century's most wonderful invention, I concluded. I wished at this very moment that I was still dancing with him.

I grabbed my day-timer on the table, flipping through the pages, praying for some availability. I could only squeeze in a return trip to Montreal next month. All because of that Emerson design project. Damn, that was too long to wait, I thought, knowing how difficult it would be to keep my hormones in check until then.

Oh how my head throbbed. A nice carrot-apple blend would be absolutely perfect right now, I thought. I decided to invite Marco to meet me at the Nirvana Juice Bar. It took seven rings before Marco's answering machine finally came on.

"Bonjour, I am having a fab-u-lous time at Black and Blue. Leave me a message and I'll call you if I ever return. Au Revoir."

Hanging up the receiver, I found myself thinking how strange that was. I could've sworn Marco had checked out of the hotel when I did. Knowing Marco as well as I did, there was a good probability that Marco hooked up with some cutie and didn't make it back home at all. I resolved to be brave and juice it alone, hoping that Monica, my favorite juicer, was on shift. She was the best one on the planet.

"Sweetie, this will definitely take away all your pain," said Monica soothingly as she filled the glass with juice. "Flying solo tonight?"

"'Fraid so. Have you seen Marco?" I asked.

"No, he hasn't been around this week," she said, "Which is weird because he's usually in here every day for his protein shake."

I guzzled my juice without taking a breath. It felt pretty good to be in taking something healthy for a change.

My neighbor at the juice bar tapped me on the shoulder.

"Would you like another?" she asked, tossing her flame-red hair.

"Uh, no thank you. I'm pretty okay," I said.

"Well," she said smiling, "if you change your mind, let me know."

"I will," I said, somewhat embarrassed at this exchange.

There was something intriguing about her. I looked at her closely. She had the most unusual opaque green eyes that I had ever seen. Her pale face was delicately sprinkled with freckles. I was certain that her beauty was admired by many.

"Name's Luci," she said, offering her hand.

"Kyle," I nodded.

"Come here often?"

I became uncomfortable immediately. I hated dealing with pickups by women. It was flattering, of course. But having to be polite and yet rejecting at the same time was utterly annoying. And my head was throbbing way too much for me to entertain some idle chit chat with a woman.

"No, not too often," I said as I looked over at Monica. She was smiling at my discomfort. I entertained the notion of switching to a booth in the corner.

Luci appeared to be reading my mind. "I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you. It's just I know we've met somewhere before. Were you at Black and Blue?"

"Yes," I answered, "I just came back the other day from Montreal. I don't remember meeting you there?"

"I don't think we actually met, but I did see you there. I was hanging out with my friend Alain. You must've seen him." She gestured with her hand, "He was wearing this exquisite pink feather boa."

"I'm not sure,"I said wearily. "I met hundreds of people. It's a bit of blur for me now."

"I guess I have a great memory, or something," she said. "Are you sure I can't buy you another juice?"

"No thank you," I said smiling. Instantly I found myself relaxed and at the same time, eager to converse with this woman.

"Wasn't the music fantastic there?" said Luci earnestly.

"Oh yes," I agreed. "Actually, I've heard some of those DJ's before when I was in London last summer. They are the best in the world."

In the midst of this conversation, my head was restored to normal, magically healed by the juice.

"Monica, you are a real miracle worker," I said handing over a ten dollar bill.

"Some people call me an angel," she said laughing, handing back the bill. "Your new friend has already taken care of it, sweetie."

Puzzled, I turned back to thank Luci and she was gone. Vanished into thin air.

"Monica, is she a regular?" I asked.

"She's been here a few times. Usually alone. Seems pretty nice. She's got great hair." said Monica grinning, as she wiped out a wet glass.

"Have a good night," I said as I walked out the door. Then I stopped. "Monica, if you see Marco, tell him I'm looking for him."

"Sure, sweetie."

The next morning my alarm went off at 7:15 sharp. This was way too early for human beings, I thought. Upon checking my e-mail I discovered a lengthy memo from Theodore Emerson regarding some design changes. I really wish that bastard would get his act together. Ugh. That will mean the delights of Jean-Francois will have to wait even longer. You'd think being self-employed would mean complete freedom. But so far I've been a slave to Emerson for the past two months.

I headed off to the Nirvana Juice Bar for some fortification. Monica was there, eagerly awaiting my arrival.

"Don't you ever sleep?" I joked as I inhaled the Rise and Shine shake.

"Sometimes," she said laughing. "Kyle, your friend is here," she said, motioning to the door.

Luci came and sat beside me flashing a brilliant smile. She was dressed in a black sweat suit with a matching black baseball cap.

"Luci, about yesterday, thanks, you really shouldn't have," I said.

"No trouble at all," she said.

"What brings you in here, this early?" I queried.

"After my morning jog I usually need some refreshment. I'm kind of new in town and I like to get out and meet people," she said. We sat in silence sipping away.

"Kyle, I was thinking."

"Yes?"

"Since we have a few things in common, why don't you come over to my place and I'll cook you a nice breakfast. I have this incredible one-of-a-kind collection of Euro techno records that you would just adore..."

"I'm sorry," I interrupted. "Thanks for the invitation but I really don't think it's appropriate for me to come to your place."

Another pickup scenario, I thought. Can never escape those.

"Oh dear," she said, alarmed. "I hope you don't think that I'm propositioning you. I am already committed to someone." She flashed her diamond ring.

"I just assumed that..." I said apologetically.

She interrupted me. "I know. I might have come across that way. But that wasn't my intent. I just find you to have a very unique aura and I relate to that. I'm really just looking for people to connect with."

"I'm really sorry," I said shaking my head. "I feel like such a fool. For jumping to the wrong conclusion."

She smiled again. "That's all right," she said sweetly. "Things like that do happen. The offer is still open if you want to come hear my music. And I make a mean Belgian waffle."

I looked over at Monica. She merely shrugged her shoulders. Decision time. A part of me wanted to go over but the other part was warning me not to. What the hell, I thought. Live large. Besides the Emerson project could wait a couple of hours. I'll probably have to pull an all-nighter on it. A home-cooked meal was much more appealing right now.

"Okay, I'll come by," I said.

"Great," she said excitedly. "I live only a couple of blocks from here. You are going to love my collection. I've even got a whole slew of disco records from the 1970's."

"Really," I said, impressed. "I just mad about that era. It's a shame that I was too young to fully enjoy it."

Luci laughed. "I guess I'm showing my age, huh?"

This was going to be very interesting, I thought.

As my fork cut into the plate, I knew that I had made the right decision. The Belgian waffles were absolutely delicious. I was savoring every bite. That old saying was true. The best way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Hmm, I wondered if I should try that approach with Jean-Francois.

As I stuffed myself with breakfast, Luci suggested that I "make myself at home" and she headed down the hallway. After packing in as many waffles as my body could withstand, I gave myself a mini tour of the loft apartment. It was a very spacious place, with an eclectic decor, suggesting a mix of styles. The main focus was an oversized plush red velvet love seat. She clearly had a passion for animal prints as there various leopard and zebra patterned rugs scattered about. Feeling full and sleepy, I sprawled out on the love seat and waited for her to return.

I must have dozed off for a good a half an hour when I was awakened by thumping. It had a constant pounding beat. Puzzled, I got up and decided to check around the apartment, determined to find the source of the noise.

The sounds grew louder and louder. Maybe her neighbors were playing loud music or something, I thought.

"Luci," I called out to her. There was no answer. I walked down the hallway where Luci had disappeared to. It was pitch dark and there clearly was no sign of her. I found myself facing a steel door. Placing my hands on the door, I felt the vibrations. It definitely must be the neighbors having a wild party, I surmised. Curious, I decided to open up the door and take a peek inside. The door was quite heavy and with strong yank, I pried it open. As a gust of cold air blew by me, I was temporarily blinded. I stood there frozen in the one spot. After a couple of minutes, my vision was restored and my eyes readjusted to the light.

There in front of me was a sea of white polyester suits, black shirts, and platform shoes. Bodies upon bodies, all dancing to the disco beat. There were at least five hundred men all whirling about, dressed identically. Their faces, covered in glitter, carried expressions of pure ecstasy. And the pulsating music. A huge crystal disco ball was spinning in the center of the room in tandem with rainbow-hued strobe lights. It was 1979 all over again. I was witnessing a true disco inferno.

"Kyle," a voice shouted. I did a three hundred and sixty degree turn. It was Marco, dancing cheek to cheek with a handsome fellow adorning a white polyester suit.

"Marco," I shouted back. "I've been trying to get a hold of you. How did you get here?"

"Isn't this a blast. I've been dancing for days. The whole gang from Black and Blue is here."

"They are?" And there, standing not one foot away, was Jean-Francois. Is this a reality or am I severely delusional, I wondered.

"Bonjour, Kyle". I felt my knees buckling beneath me. How could this be? There was my new crush circling me. He seemed taller than I remembered but no doubt it was due to the platform shoes he was proudly sporting.

"Jean-Francois!" I shouted gleefully, "I'm so glad to see you again. I was planning on coming to Montreal but my schedule is so chaotic."

Clearly not understanding a word that I had just said, Jean- Francois simply smiled and gave me a twirl.

"Do you know the Hustle?" he inquired. I nodded. I'd say yes to anything he asked but this was all so bizarre. So there we were, me, Jean-Francois, and about one hundred other people all doing the Hustle line dance. I was having the time of my life and after awhile I was completely absorbed by the energy in the room.

And so we all danced and danced. I did not even perspire. Not once of sweat. That's strange, I thought. I'm always sweating profusely. My body was dry and comfortable. I touched my arm and it felt slightly cold. Very odd, I thought. Curious, I touched Jean-Francois's back. It was cold too. What was going on here?

"Jean-Francois, how did you get here?"

He smiled once again. "Luci."

"Luci?" I said confused. "We all came with Luci."

Jean-Francois had started to enter his own private world, just spinning around me, grinning. Then he spun to the center of the room, far away from me.

To solve this mystery I had to find the elusive Luci. I pushed my way through the crowd and found myself back at the steel door that I had entered through. I touched the door. It was burning hot. With all of my one hundred and eighty pounds of body weight, I forced the door open. It slammed behind me. I was back in Luci's loft. I touched my arm. It was hot and my body was sweaty.

"Luci," I called out angrily. Luci magically appeared in front of me.

"Kyle, I'm surprised to see you," she said startled.

"Really?" I said sarcastically.

"Didn't you have a good time in there with all of your friends?" she said concerned.

"I mean it was great. Really fun," I paused. "But something doesn't seem right. Who are you and what's going on?" I demanded.

"Now calm down, dear," she said in a motherly tone, "Nothing for you to be upset about."

"That doesn't answer my question." I fumed.

"Kyle, my sweet Kyle. What I offered you was the ultimate party. The chance of a lifetime. To be with all your friends and to have fun, forever. What's wrong with that?"

"Isn't there something unnatural about that? What are your intentions with all those people?"

Luci frowned. She pointed to the front door. "I think you should leave," she said miffed.

"But, you haven't explained anything."

"Kyle," she said sternly, "If you aren't going to participate then you are not welcome here."

"Participate in what?"

"In our party."

"But I was. I mean, I'll go back there. I just need some clarification on this whole situation."

"I'm sorry, but it's too late for you. You are no longer invited. Goodbye."

And with a gust of wind I was thrown out the front door.

"What the.." I thought as I was tumbled down three flights of stairs. I awakened several hours later, bruised from my fall. I was lying in an empty grass-covered field. Precisely where Luci's apartment should have been. How could a building disappear like that? I wondered. In pain, I hobbled up the street into the Nirvana Juice Bar.

"You look terrible," said Monica noting my black and blue face. "Were you in a fight or something?"

"Uh, no, I was in a accident." I said unconvincingly.

"Here, this should make you feel better," she said handing me a juice.

"Thanks," I said, grateful for some normalcy and a chance to collect my thoughts. Monica handed me note.

"I almost forgot. Your friend came in an hour ago and left this for you. She said she was too busy to wait for you to come in."

Confused, I opened the note and began to read. "Kyle, please accept my sincerest apologies. I hope you weren't hurt too badly. I have a bit of a temper and sometimes I get carried away. If you do change your mind about joining us, let me know. You will always be welcome. Love always, Luci Fer."

Sari Colt writes: "I am a thirtysomething Toronto based-writer. "Disco Inferno" is my first published effort. My areas of interest include travelling and spirituality. Future plans include writing some non-fiction pieces, a novel, and possibly a short film. I am very excited to be part of The Danforth Review."

THIS WORK IS COPYRIGHT OF THE AUTHOR.

THE DANFORTH REVIEW IS EDITED BY MICHAEL BRYSON.