Sunrise Over The Beat (Part 3)

Fate intervened. Just as I started down the steps, I looked towards the bar and found a familiar face. “Hold on 30 seconds, I’ve just got to say bye to a friend.” I raced back up the steps and sat down on the stool next to Chris, while Mike sat in a chair in the corner.

10 minutes later, I looked behind me, and Mike was long gone.

I’d stood him up twice now, and figured I’d lost any chance I had at sleeping with him. I sent him an apologetic text, but frankly, I was still enjoying chatting with Chris more. I’d been cruel just like Kyle, and I’d stood him up just like Paul. For a boy who just a few short months ago was raging against the horrors of the scene, I’d become an abusive slutty scene queen myself.

However, I still enjoyed chatting with Chris, despite the free booze and dirty looks Ash continued to give me. And I couldn’t help but laugh when Ash gave Chris a “receipt”. I told him it had the bartender’s phone number before he had the chance to unfold the paper and prove me right. I’d heard of plenty of people give their phone numbers to bartenders on the bill, but this had to be a rare sight I was witnessing. I felt privileged.

Really, I’m not surprised that Ash thought I was still trying to pick up Chris. Even as I sat on his right and chatted, a steady stream of old and sketch men sat down on his left and went up to bat. One was a dead ringer for Paul Hogan, croc skin vest and all, but about 30 years too old to his Backstreet Boy bleach blond bangs. Usually, Chris would just use me as a prop to get rid of him, which just garnished more dirty looks from Ash, not to mention everybody at the bar over 25. I loved the attention.

Chinatown, Saturday morning, 6am, hotcakes, and I stood Mike up. It really was a repeat of the week before. But this time, Chris made it pretty clear he was going for an early morning shag with Chris, so it was the bus for me. However, we almost didn’t make it.

Chris seemed to enjoy coming down from his drunk/high by talking to every stranger who passed us. For the most part, this was just an embarrassment and a nuisance. Until he starts up with 3 tough looking Lebanese men.

They stop, and walk right up into our faces. The one who seems to be the leader looks us both dead in the eyes and asks “Are you on drugs?” Was this guy, who very likely sold drugs, trying to be a moral enforcer? But, hoping to get this encounter over with as soon as possible, assured him we were not. When he asked us where we were, I told him simply “a club”. Eventually, I emolliated his concern, and he decided he was done with us. He shook our hand before walking away, and I was sure to keep “The Beat Megaclub” stamp facing away from him.

Why couldn’t Chris leave it at that? As the 3 began to walk away, Chris called after them “Goodbye!” The biggest and meanest looking one stopped and stared coldly. “I said goodbye!”, called Chris again. “See ya, shoo!”, performing the appropriate hand gesture with his limp wrist. He began to storm back our way, and I simply covered my eyes with my hand. I don’t know him, we’re not associated…

The leader grabbed his arm before he could take two steps. “Why are you wasting your time with faggots?” he asked in his thick accent. More interested in saving face than breaking Chris’s, he seemed to accept this and walked off. Frankly, I was grateful to the leader. I don’t think he was actually homophobic, but he knew denigrating us would put us below the mean one’s radar. I could swallow my pride this once if it meant not having to bail Chris out of a fight he (or I) couldn’t muster.

Finished, I say my goodbyes. In all likelihood, I’ll never see him again. As I round the corner, I brush shoulders with Ash, on his way to get ass. He smirks in victory, and I smirk right back. He thinks he beat me. I never told him that it was I who convinced the indecisive Chris to call him. I might be going home alone tonight (7am), but that doesn’t mean everyone has to. I know helping Ash get laid in no way makes up for how I treated Mike, but I hope it at least gave me back a little bit of karma.

That night, I had the misfortune of sitting with Kyle again. This time, I’d do right by Mike, and tell Kyle what a dick he was. Only problem was that Kyle didn’t remember a thing last night.

“Really, Michael was there? Well, tell him I’m sorry. I know he didn’t want to go out with me again after you told him I cheated on my boyfriend with you, but now he definitely wont.”

Blink blink… *faceplant into soup*

Michael was the name he’d wrongly put Martin in his phone under. He was talking about Martin the whole time!

Next Friday was in the middle of finals, but that didn’t stop Michelle from going out again. This time, I declined. I must’ve missed a good night, because she came bounding up to me the next dinner, antsy to share her stories.

“You should’ve been there man, it was amazing! Oh, and Andy was there, and he still wants to sleep with you.”

I cocked my head to the side like a puppy, very confused. She continued.

“Don’t you remember him texting you a few weeks back? I gave him your phone number.”

Blink blink… *faceplant into mashed potatos*

Now it all became clear. Those creepy text messages that night. Oh, I had the name right the first time, it was the boy I had wrong. I’d blamed “creepy braces boy” for the actions of the elf, and gave him the cold shoulder when he never deserved it. And I apologized to elfin Andy for standing up Mike, who was already upset by Kyle, who actually intended to ask about Martin…

And this, my friends is how it all comes to a close. Mike, Andy, Michelle, Jess, Paul, Pete, Chris, Ash, Kyle, Martin, and myself. Everybody, take a bow. You might think it was all for nothing, as none of us got our happy endings, except maybe Chris and Ash. But I’ll let you in on a little secret. My last night at The Beat, I met young, overweight, fake redhead lesbian just starting to come out. We didn’t know each other, we weren’t attracted to each other, and we don’t even know each other’s name. I was sobering up from my booze, and she was coming down off her pill. But we danced together. And really, it wasn’t dancing, as much as jumping up and down as fast and high as we can, screaming the words to a cheesy Pink song as loud as we could. The sun was starting to come up over The Beat, and the magic would be over soon, but that moment, I felt so fucking alive.