"You'll get your money." I took the pills and split.
Everyone said the after-hours club played the best music and they were right.
Just keep moving, I thought. Just dance and stay away from the house, the warden and all her "house rules." Fran. I can't believe that girl. Next thing I know, she's gonna make me piss outside in the bushes.
"Play it, loud!" I shouted and started dancing faster. Faster. FASTER.
I downed my sixth beer and third shot.
I was the best damn dancer in that whole company. I hope Walter drives the troupe into the ground and then gets cancer.
The women I danced with flew by me in an intoxicated blur.
They all wanted to be seen with me...to touch me.
"I'm the best you'll ever have!" I screamed.
The beat kept me going...moving.
I'm not stopping.
"Have another drink," she shouted in my ear, over the music. I didn't even know her name.
"Don't mind if I do."
I drank it down.
"Lets go back to your place," she said.
"Hell, no. My roommate's there. Let's hit your place."
A new song blasted out of the P. A. .
"But first," I said. "Let's dance, my chica."
Keep moving. Pop another pill, give the girl a kiss and keep moving.
That's how you've survived this long. That's how you'll make it to tomorrow.
"I want to go, baby," she whimpered.
"Then go. What do I care? There're more women like you here. There's only one man like me. It's your loss."
Whatever her name was, left. I found another partner and kept dancing.
I also kept drinking.
What's that they say? Live fast, die young and leave a good-looking corpse. That's what I'm gonna do.
It must have been the drinks.
Yeah, that's what it must have been.
Because the music stopped and I started to cry.
