Bitter Sweet (2 page)

              With Sam’s brother a Stanford graduate and going through his residency in California, Sam had a lot to live up to. I’m sure she studied to match or even surpass him, although she would never admit to it. I, on the other hand, had the blunt hint from my parents that I would not and could not fail. All of that wasn't really necessary as my father and I would often play chess or run in the mornings as a way to keep our minds and bodies in shape. Every checkmate or every mile further I could take from him made me more and more competitive. Sam was my best friend, but if I hadn't lost a chess game to my father in the last three years, I wouldn't lose to her in academics. If Sam's drive was to best her brother and be top of the class starting in high school, I had to be better. The fact that Sam and I were the smartest was all that we needed, and thinking back on it, the fact that I stopped almost everything from getting to me to be calm all the time made me think that I was better than her in any situation. So at graduation when there were three of us in the school with identical GPA’s of 4.5, Sam and I appointed Jenny to speak in front of our peers. We had owned the student council our last two years, and therefore we owned the teachers as well. After all, our beauty was on the surface for everyone to see, and I considered my intelligence to be a weapon once beauty got me in the door.

              Getting back to Sam’s club fixation. This singular topic had become a dark cloud cast over both her mother and myself. This blight in history hit hardest when she turned eighteen last December. Her mother had been trying so hard to hold on to her little girl so much that she stuck to the traditional cake, ice cream, candle blowing, and tried pin the tail on the donkey at her birthday. I stepped in and stopped that, literally having to burn the box it came in halfway through the hour long conversation to convince her to cancel the bouncy house she wanted on the front lawn as well. Afterwards, I went with Sam and our friends to her first eighteen and up club, and she has been clubbing in and around the city with our other friends ever since. They all have tried to get me to go again, but I had not broken my resolve until graduation.

              After a dinner with the family, a retelling of my father’s rags to riches story, and promise of a trip to Hawaii for Sam and I, I found myself in a tight black dress heading into the heart of New York. The city lights flashed at me from all sides and it already felt like a party; New York never slept and even at nearly ten at night, there were street acts all over with men and women playing music and dancing, clowns juggling, people painted in silver acting as robots or statues that would suddenly move and scare people, all for tourist who gave out all the change they had and a little bit more before making it back to their hotel rooms. I thought this might actually be fun for a brief moment. Then the lights started to fade and the streets were becoming darker and darker; the amount of people around began to thin and my brief thought of fun vanished completely.

              "Sam, where are we going?" I asked, trying to hide my concern.

              "It's this really cool place I’ve wanted to go to, but it’s hidden out here. Just relax," she said, I could hear the excitement in her voice and didn’t want to ruin this for her. Still, I felt uneasy about this.

              We got to an area of the city that your parents would tell you to stay out of on the edge of the East River. It looked like an abandoned shipping dock with its large stone buildings and tall cranes. As we moved further, cargo containers began to close around us, growing taller, as Sam navigated through them. The car began to rattle along as the roads faded and soon, streets no longer seemed to exist. It felt like the large walls would fall - trapping us here at the mercy of whoever happened to come along - until the path began to widen to a large clearing in the middle of a sea of cars. In the middle of that sea, something that resembled a circus tent was pitched. However, this tent had a little sophistication behind it. It was about two stories tall with three crests that rose even farther into the air; the blood colored cloth walls swayed in the wind and rattled to the music from within. Three bright flags topped each crest. Colored letters spelled out “Masteria” in a strange looping script. The city lights had been replaced by stars and what little light that would escape the folds in the fabric. As we stepped out of the car, I could now feel the loud house music vibrating my clothes. I could sense Sam’s excitement as the pulse of the music became louder and faster. The other parked cars, a great example of organized chaos, scattered the path to the front opening. Sam took my hand and pulled me to the front door.

Alyon Alik

Chapter 02.0

             
There has always been something about the night that you can’t put a finger on. It’s just a feeling you get and nothing else can make you feel that way. Some will have a touch of fear seasoned to the taste of the unknown. Very scary monsters will play across their thoughts as they imagine what salvation the even darker shadows of the night brings to their fears. Others are caressed by excitement: the night emboldens them to go farther or love harder, unable to be seen by every eye in the light of day. As I thought this, I noticed I felt nothing as I walked the streets of New York’s Time Square. The people around me looked and thought they were excited, but they were idiots. I would, and had to change that.

              I wouldn’t buy a prime location in some upscale part of New York. The bastardization of Christmas lights and big speakers already infested the areas of any real value. To create an atmosphere to invoke the passions of the blood, I would need privacy for myself and my guest. For that, I looked to the lesser traveled areas of New York. Many of the abandoned docks and industrial areas were cheap; clearing out the squatters would be easy.

              The structure itself could not be new, however I did not wish to go through the hassle of gutting and reworking one of the old warehouses. Instead, I came across a failed circus selling off all of its assets, including their big top. I gladly bought it and found a company to do some alterations and dye it the colors I needed. At this point, my sister June was the only one I had told of my plans. Therefore, my mother knew everything...

              “Alik,” my mother called across the room one evening as we both sat reading in silence.

              “I felt this coming,” I said, marking my page mentally and putting the book down.

              “Felt what?” my mother feigned innocence.

              “Just what has June told you, or did you force it out of her?” I asked. Her fake expression of shock annoyed me to no end.

              “Okay, you caught me,” her voice got very cold and calculating. “You don’t feel guilty about opening a competing business to your own mother, your own blood?”

              “We would not be competing, you cater to a far more exclusive clientele. Where I would be dealing with…”

              “Everyone else. Yes, a far larger scope than myself.”

              “No, not everyone. I’m looking to redefine the night club.”

              “About that... I did get a name out of June. Masteria is a dangerous name, Alik.”

              “They are part of our history.”

              “How do you manage to be so selective with our past and not feel the hypocrite?”

              “Do we have to get into that now?” I asked her, not wanting to argue about what I did and did not like about who I was. Instead, I did want to know if she would allow me to raise a new Masteria.

              “No, you’re right. The real thing here is the name, Masteria. The old Masteria were places of lust, sex, bloodletting, and death. Is this what you intend to create in the middle of the city?”

              “Not at all. The old Masteria were the way they were as that is how they were built. Just walking into the smoke filled rooms was enough put you in a sexual high. Every emotion in the room screamed sex from the looks on the women’s faces to the slacked jawed smiles of the men. I will change the flavor of the emotion to inspire creativity and passion now only in music and performance, but the natural fear of the night will come alive and drive everything forward.”

              “You risk so much when death might be the only outcome for what you propose if someone were to... lose themselves in a room of such passion.”

              “Some of my guest will be heavily screened,” I said icily.

              “Well, a few overdosing teens isn’t out of the ordinary for illegal nightclubs, any loose guest of yours can be contained. Still, the risk of fail is high.”

              “I don’t fail, mother,” I said offended.

              “The only reason I will allow this is because I know you won't fail at it. Just don't presume that you don't fail, you do in many ways,” she said going back to her book. I ignored her last comment to get a fight out of me. I wouldn’t rise to her bait. “Also, you can’t have Alison, she is mine.” She smiled as if the afterthought was amusing. I had planned to go to Alison in the morning.

              “How did it go?” was the first thing my sister asked me in the morning as I got out of my car.

              “As well as to be expected,” I sighed as I watched the skeleton of the tent start to rise.

              “Lying to her is almost useless,” she said in her defense.

              “I know, she had her fun at my expense. It would have had to to happen eventually.” I sat down on the hood of my car and looked up. “Has the canvas come yet?

              “Yes, it’s in the container over there,” she pointed, “also everyone on your list except for..”

              “Alison, I know. Mother wouldn't give her up.”

              “That was more for your peace of mind, not her ability.”

              “Please don't remind me.” That got a laugh out of June. “You really should just pick one.”

              “I could say the same to you.”

              “Some on your list are older,” she said, changing the subject.

              “I want them to remember the essence of Masteria and bring it alive. Also, I have worked with them in the past, they know what’s at stake if the safety of my guest is ever placed in danger.”

              Excitement like I had not felt in a long time kept me at Masteria day and night as soon as the canvas was up. Modifications to the interior left much of the main space opened to hold the dance floor: all audio equipment was held in the skeleton of the structure, hidden by folds in the canvas just as my office was. As I looked down on everyone moving about the interior, my excitement was laced with worry. As my mother said, the old Masteria were places of sex, lust, and death. The new Masteria would embody the thrill of the night and the lights and sounds of music. “It had to,” I told myself.

              “What do you think?” June asked me a week before opening as we walked the interior of the structure.

              “It’s what I imagined,” I said looking around.

              The single original crest of the tent had been altered into three more graceful curves. The original height of almost three stories, not including the crest, was shortened to two, allowing the canvas to be moved around and let the tent sit lower and wider than before. Inside, a lattice of metal work created a bar; office spaces and elevated dance and performance platforms were linked by bridges of metal chain and rope. I couldn't help but smile as I looked around as my creation came to life. I could already sense the excitement of everyone finishing up the last touches before we opened in two days.

              “Have you given the sound system a test run yet?” I asked.

              “Just for levels,” June explained.

              “Mix something, I want to hear what we have created.”             

              “I thought you’d never ask,” she smiled.

              The instant June moved to her turntables, the sounds of work died. Whenever June put those headphones on, she became a different being. Before I could hear anything, she started to sway to a rhythm that I soon heard as a low click that was clear and crisp over the speakers. I closed my eyes and felt the music and the bass begin to fill in the spectrum. I felt the hand of a woman slide around my waist as she circled me. The house music came in full force and we were all swaying to the beat, having paired off on the dance floor. It was the first time in months I had felt anything close to this and as the bass dropped all my worries faded. I could only imagine what it would feel like for a human.