Two Men In A Club (Part Two)

'Steve?'
'What is it, dude? I'm busy.'

When I first met Steve, his first words where something like 'Here's my number, feel free to call me anytime.' I can safely say that's never the case, as every phone conversation we've ever had feels rushed as if he's doing something of massive importance.


'Are you busy?'
'...Yes.'

I bet he's sat in the spare room, playing Call Of Duty and half way through an oversized bag of Doritos.


'I was wondering if you'd like to go out tomorrow night...to a club.'
'Really?'
'Yeah, I've got two tickets.'
'Oh, cool. Hang on.'

I heard Steve moved away from the phone and shout to the next room.


'Mary!...Mary!...Dylan's giving us two tickets to a club tomorrow night, are you up for it?'
'No, no.' I said quickly. 'Two tickets. One for me. One for you.'
'Oh...are you sure?'
'Yeah.'
'What kind of club?' Steve asked.

The truth was that I had no idea what kind of club Spence's was. Up until a few years ago I didn't even know there was more than one kind. But I did know that I would be a deal-breaker for Steve. So the Bullshitter became the Bullshitted.


'Er...a rock club, you know...Quo...Zep...Tull...'

I was on thin ice. I wasn't even sure the last one was a band. A few seconds elapsed before he replied.


'Sounds cool, dude. What's it called again?'
'Spence's. I know the DJ.'
'There's a DJ?'

Oh shit. Are there DJ's at rock clubs?


'..Yeah.' I said softly.
'...Cool.'

At first I thought I'd do a little bit of research into Spence's, to get a feel of the place. The phone book didn't offer any clues, just the phone number. And like most establishments these days, I assumed it would pop up in a standard Google search. Nothing. I gave up all hope when realised the place didn't even have it's own Facebook page. So I gave up, safe in the knowledge that all I could do was just go down there on the night.


Spence's is a dance club discreetly situated in a backstreet in town, behind a Bookmakers and that place where you can swap CD's for cash. You could hear the pulsing beat a mile off, so directions were unnessacery. On each side of the darkened archway that led into the club, large yellow posters filled your eyesite, promoting the different kinds of nights that are on.


Wednesday Night - Tru Grime with Waltzy and Jeff
Thursday Night - Disco Beatz
Friday Night - Dance Anthems with DJ Alley

I assumed DJ Alley was the Allison I'd come to see, and not a rather talented side-street that can play music. A few people lingered below the archway, smoking and chatting whilst tapping their feet to the beat inside. One of them suddenly stopped his conversation and turned around towards me. A youngish lad with shaven blonde hair and a face only a mother could slap. He was chewing violently, his eyebrows firmly pressed down above his eyes. Surely he wasn't looking at me. I wasn't standing out particularly, wearing my standard going out gear. Jeans, muted shirt and a dark coat. Nothing different. I felt footsteps behind me. Along with that, clangs and clanks of several chains being hit together. It was Steve. I wish it wasn't.


'Steve...what...'

I didn't know which of the several questions I had to say first.


'What?' He asked.
'The shirt...the jeans....what...'
'What?'

I couldn't get what I wanted to say all at once. Steve had turned up in all out roadie gear. Full on roadie gear. Tight powder blue jeans with several chains hanging off them, big black boots that matched his leather waistcoat and to top it off, a faded Black Sabbath t-shirt.


'The t-shirt.' I tilted my head.
'What? Master Of Reality tour. 1972.'
'It's...'

I thought for a moment. As embarrassing as it would be walk into a club with him, it would be more embarrassing to go in there on my own. I could have done the usual, obviosuly. Go in there, order a drink, play with my phone. The Loners' Trio, as I call it. But I didn't the energy to keep that up.


'...Let's go in, yeah?'
'Cool.' Steve said, eyes widening.
'I'll admit, it's not really a rock 'n' roll club.' I tried, bellowing over the pumping drumbeat behind me.
'I know.' He smiled.
'You do?'
'Yeah...Dylan, you don't need an excuse to hang out with me...'

I could have told him the truth. About Allison and the fact that no-one else would go with me. But again, I didn't have the energy. Plus, keeping Steve happy was important.


Inside, Spence's is deceptively large. A three tiered building with balconies that looked down onto the main dance floor at the bottom. A sea of swaying bodies. Apparently, each floor had it's own musical theme, but tonight the same throbbing beat pumped through every door. The walls had neon blue spotlights set into them, making the staff illuminate as they threw glasses about and danced to the music.


'Seven quid to get in?' Steve shouted into my ear.
'I know.'
'Do you realise what I could buy with that?'

A six month old film on DVD, a chicken based meal for four people. But tonight it bought you a ticket into the largest club in town. I scanned the room to find Allison. She wasn't at the DJ podium below us, and the place was too crowded to pick her out. Maybe she'd already played and left.


'I don't see any fire exits.' Steve shouted, distracting my search.
'Yeah...'
'Dylan, do you see any fire exits?'
'No.'
'There's no fire exits in here!'
'So, I thought you were meant to be rock 'n' roll!'
'I am!' Steve squealed. 'But they're breaking regulations. I'm going for a tinkle!'

Suddenly I felt two hands clamp down on my eyes.


'Guess who?'
'Erm...'
'It's me!'

I spun around to see Allison stood gleaming at me, her short brown hair had been spiked up with lots of mascara around her eyes.


'Glad you came!'
'Yeah, me too!'
'You manage to give away the other ticket?' She asked.
'Erm...yeah.'
'Dylan!' Steve headed back over to me. 'Have you been in the toilets yet? There's no ladies or gents! It's just one!'

Allison looked Steve from head to toe and smiled.


'Oh, great, you brought your Dad!'
'What?' Steve flinched.
'No, no. This is Steve, he works with us!'
'Oh right.' Allison smiled. 'Rock on!'

I bought Allison a drink to impress her, and one for Steve to shut him up. We sat in some comfy leather chairs and chatted, about nothing, really. Me and Steve enjoyed a bit of banter too. Out of the contexts and confines of work, his guard seems to lower and he relaxed a lot more. Well, when he wasn't talking about the health and safety of the place.


'I'm just saying...with drinks being bought, this isn't the right carpet. If there's spillage...'
'Steve!' I warned him.
'I thought he was rock n roll?' Allison asked me.
'Hey, hey! I am!' Steve shouted at us. 'I threw a TV out of a flat window once!'
'A ground floor window.' I added.
'Yeah...'
'Into a skip...'
'So?'
'Because you didn't want it anymore.'

Allison and I laughed until a smile cracked on Steve's face. The alchohol made us more relaxed as the evening passed, telling tales of the supermarket we all knew so well. At 9pm, Allison played a full hour of dance anthems, mixing popular songs with pounding drum and bass. She even mixed one of Zep's tunes, which kept Steve happy, and by the end of the night, Allison met us outside to say goodbye.


'Thanks again for coming.'
'No problem.' Me and Steve smiled.
'I'll see you on Monday?'

Me and Steve walked back down the cobbled side street, the music becoming more distant as we strode down the path along side the bookmakers and towards to taxi rank.


'She's pretty rock 'n' roll, you know.' Steve said, as if he was admitting a serious fact.
'I know. Unlike you.'
'Hey!'
'What was all that about fire exits?'
'They didn't have any!' Steve held out his arms. 'Could have been worse...I could have brought up the Noise Regulation License thing.'

Rock 'n' Roll lives on.