Page 32 of The Close-Up
“Always.” His tone is as steady as his eye contact. Does anything faze this guy?
We line up at the door and wait for a few minutes before the bouncer starts to let people in. Right below the glittery Bangerz sign that sits above the entrance is a marquee with interchangeable letters. “Amateur Night! Saturday at 9 p.m.!”
Once we’re inside, a wave of pulsing EDM music hits my ears. I look over at Simon and make an exaggerated whiny face as I cup my ears with my hands. He rolls his eyes and laughs.
Over the deafening music, we somehow communicate via shouts and hand gestures that I’ll get drinks while Simon signs himself up at the DJ booth. I order club sodas for both of us. Even though I know Simon would prefer hard alcohol, San Francisco law prevents any club that serves alcohol from being fully nude. Since Bangerz allows nudity among its performers, we’re stuck with nonalcoholic beverages. While I wait for the bartender, I notice that the stage is empty. They must be setting everything up for amateur night. Drinks in hand, I weave through the dense crowd and scan for an open table. By some miracle there’s a two-person table free halfway to the stage. I hustle over and nab it, set our drinks down, then wave Simon over when I see him looking around.
He sits next to me and I slide him the club soda.
“Liquid courage to fuel you through your performance tonight,” I joke.
He winks at me before taking a long sip, then gazes around the all-onyx space, which is bathed in dim mood lighting.
“Now this is the best way to spend a Saturday night. Crossing off item one on my fuck-it list.”
I wrinkle my nose. “It’s weird hearing you swear.”
“You know what else is weird? The fact that you only had one item on your list.”
I shrug. “It’s the only thing I could think of.”
“Come on. There’s gotta be some other exciting thing you’ve always wanted to do,” he teases.
“I’ll think about it and add it to my list. I’ll even show it to you when I do. Promise.”
I chuckle as I sip my drink, taking in the décor. Every surface is painted black or red. Strobe lights illuminate the raised stage, which looks like it was shellacked with liquid glitter. The high-tempo dance music sets a frenetic tone. But it’s a few notches below the deafening volume that hit us when we walked in, so I’m thankful. Now we can actually talk to each other.
“You know, this would be a great moment to check off item number two on your fuck-it list,” I say to Simon. “This is the perfect place to give a huge, impromptu toast that makes the crowd go nuts.”
Simon laughs. “Not a chance.”
I set down my drink. “Okay, so here’s our game plan. As soon as it’s your turn to go up there, I’ll grab my phone and film you. I’ll probably do a lot of ridiculous shouting and hollering to make it look like we’re together, that way no employees suspect that we’re doing this for a show. If anyone asks, we’re a couple having a wild date night. Sound good?”
Simon bites his bottom lip, clearly trying not to laugh. “This isn’t some covert military operation, Naomi. We can just go with the flow.”
I eye a server who stops by the table next to us, careful to keep my voice as low as the overhead music allows. “I just don’t want it getting out that we’re filming this for a show. A lot of businesses wouldn’t allow us to film if they knew that—they’d want to draw up a contract or paperwork that entitles them to rights and profits, all that. And we don’t have the time or the budget.”
Simon nods his understanding, even though that smile still dances on his lips. “Makes sense.”
The server turns around to take our order. “You two doing okay?”
Simon slips his arm around my shoulders. “Would you be able to get a cranberry juice with ice for my girlfriend? If you’re not too busy.”
I scrunch my face in an attempt to hide the incredulous smile I’m aching to let loose. As soon as the server leaves, Simon drops his arm from my shoulders. I playfully shove his arm.
“Hey, I was just getting into character.”
The lights dim and the DJ’s voice echoes around us.
“Ladies, ladies, ladies! And gentlemen too! Who’s ready to kick off amateur night at Bangerz?”
A wave of screams and cheers follows.
“Please put your hands together for the first fresh meat of the night, Freddy the firefighter!”
The entire audience erupts as a tall, muscled guy from one of the tables in the middle of the club walks to the stage. He’s all smiles as he jogs up the steps and places a red plastic fire hat on his head. As the shouts and whistles persist, he takes his place in the middle of the stage and stands with his back to the crowd. Then the music starts. The beat for Ginuwine’s “Pony” drops and I squeal.
“Oh that’s brilliant.” I clap.
