Page 5 of When the Lights Come On
Youssef
BAR: A subsection of time in a piece of music, measured by a time signature
My manager is drunk.My best friend is drunk. Everyone at this party is drunk except me.
I stare at the melting ice cubes in my glass as they dilute the last few sips of rum and coke—my third rum and coke of the night—and wonder when I’m going to feel it.
I wonder when I’m going to feel anything.
“Duuuuude! Congratssss!” Nabil drops into the leather armchair next to mine and slumps against the backrest, a booze-fueled grin stretched across his face.
I give him a look. “Did you just saycongrats?”
He chuckles. “Maybe I did.”
I shake my head and finish off my drink. “You seem to have enjoyed your fair share of free champagne, my friend.”
“Cheers to that. You should get picked to headline major club openings more often.”
“Mmm.”
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. ‘Mmm’ is all I’ve had to say since I showed up to what I thought was going to be drinks with Nabil. What it turned out to be was a surprise announcement party organized by my manager. Thanks to a world-renowned DJ dropping out last minute, I’ll be one of the opening weekend headliners at a new mega club in Montreal that’s supposedly going to take the North American electronic music scene by storm.
Luxe.
That’s what they’re calling the place, and it’s all anyone in the industry has been talking about for over a year. The doors are set to open in November. There aren’t even any DJs in Montreal big enough to be in the same realm as the other headliners, but according to my manager, the Luxe people wanted to showcase some local talent with the vacant Sunday night slot.
So here we are.
I look around the private room of the bistro booked for the occasion. There are close to thirty people here, milling around with champagne flutes in hand or sitting at the clusters of tables and armchairs. I only recognize a handful of them. Mohammad, my manager, is propped against the drinks table, his slightly loosened tie the only indication that he’s at a party and not a board meeting. He waves his hands around as he tells a story to a few industry execs, his signature silver rings glinting in the room’s dim light.
“You know for a guy who just found out he’s headlining Luxe, you don’t look too excited.”
I flick my eyes back to Nabil and try to fake the enthusiasm I should be feeling, but all that comes out is, “Mmm.”
It’s like someone stole all the words out of my brain. This is mymoment. I should be leaping around the room like an idiot, spraying Champagne from the bottle. I should behappy.
“Mmm.” Nabil puts on a fake scowl. “Mmm. Urghh. Grawrrr.”
I give him my best deadpan stare, but he’s not deterred.
“Mmmmm. UGHHH!” He hunches over his knees and starts dragging his fists along the floor like a caveman. A couple people nearby look over and laugh.
“Okay,hemar. Knock it off before you become the night’s entertainment.”
He keeps grunting, the caveman routine getting more and more elaborate until even I have to laugh.
“There. See?” He slumps back in his chair again. “We’re at a party. It’s fun.”
I gesture around the room. “You’ve been working weekends way too long if you thinkthisis a fun party.”
“Fuck, I have been.” He drags a hand through his black hair and leaves a few strands standing up on end. “I haven’t been out on a Saturday night in...I don’t even know how long. That’s why Mohammad knew you wouldn’t cancel if I asked you to grab drinks.”
“Yeah, when you first suggested it, I thought you were about to tell me your club burned down.”
Nabil has been managing The Cube Room, a big nightclub and concert venue downtown, for the past few years. We met back when he was their assistant stage manager. I’d gotten a part time job as one of the club’s lighting riggers while finishing engineering school, and a bond of eternal brotherhood was formed. He got me booked for my first big gig. He’s also worked almost every weekend since we were young enough to still get carded at bars.
“Another rum and coke?” The waitress I’ve been ordering my drinks from pauses beside my chair with a tray of empty Champagne glasses clutched in her hands.
