Fog of Disco

The Fog of Disco Part 1 of 6

Corey was in a bad mood. Regency thought maybe Corey hated being woken up in the middle of the night too. But if an early morning grudge war was on, Regency would definitely out-trumps Corey’s grump.
“This sucks,” Regency griped, “Seriously blows….I mean what…”
Speeding down Santa Monica Boulevard from Regency’s apartment to West Hollywood, Corey turned up the music to drown Regency out.

“Are you trying o drown me out?” Regency snarled.
“No I just love this song…?” Corey lied.
“You do not!” Regency sulked and snarled, a difficult achievement, “if I’m such bad company maybe you shouldn’t have woken me up!” He turned off the radio.
“I might not have if I knew how grouchy you’d be!,” Corey had enough, “I can drop you off at any corner. I thought maybe you’d like to help Madame!”

A pause filled the car. The silence was creepy as it reflected the complete quite of Hollywood at 4am. At these times LA looks peaceful and almost quaint. No road rage. No hipsters clubbing and screaming. No folks running oh so very importantly to where ever it is important folks go. Everything buttoned up tight till morning. Unless you were speeding down the boulevard to save your friend in some club catastrophe.

“Sorry.” Regency gave in first.
Corey sighed, “No problem. Let’s just focus on the issue, not ..other things.” Corey filled Regency in on the details of his phone call from Madame.
“So you got a frantic call from Madame screaming ‘there’s something in the fog, help, avoid the fog!’ and she hung up?”
“Yes.”
“I think she was joking with you. That’s like a totally famous quote from, oddly enough, The Fog with Adrienne Barbeau. Maybe she was drunk.” Regency had opinions about Madame’s true power as psychic 2-spirit drag queen who spoke with the dead. (Even though said fake power had been proven over and over again. He always played the cynic. Perhaps it was the large purple wigs she wore. Regency wanted to send her to a makeover show or at least drop her off at the Clinique counter. But Madame always laughed and skipped away. She was that annoying! Or so Regency said. )

“I think I know the difference between drunk and terrified,” this argument was old to Corey, “besides I tried to call her back…and yes mentally, and then I called the club and the manager was completely freaking out.”
“Why was Madame at the club?” Regency wondered if Madame was more popular than he.
“She hostesses a monthly disco night. How do you not know that?” Damn she was more popular than Regency!

Daren, the manager of the super club in WeHo (West Hollywood) was completely panicked when Corey called. Corey had to use a chant to calm him down and get any rational information out of him. The club had been in full swing and just after midnight he heard silence from his office. He came out and he couldn’t see anyone. No one. Just an empty disco filled with fog lit by emergency lights. He had a “friend” with him. This “friend” was super spooked but walked onto the dance floor anyway. Daren heard him yell a high-pitched scream and then nothing.

The fog moved towards him and Daren could see shapes in it. Shapes of people. It was terrifying. He ran back to his office and was about to call the police but he knew they’d think he was nuts. He thought maybe his “friend” had slipped him some kind of drug and he was seeing things. That’s when Corey called.

“WAIT!” Regency fumed in the grumpy car, “Is this another freebee?”
“well…” Corey stammered. Regency had been lecturing him on the importance of making money and completely hated what he considered to be a ‘boy scout’ attitude about helping people. When Corey pointed out that Jedi knights didn’t charge and would come to the rescue of any person in need, Regency told him that was galaxy long long ago. Corey gave up on Regency-logic after that. “We’re helping to Madame. Not a club manager. And who knows maybe they’ll swing us a few bucks?”
“You’ve obviously never dealt with club owners.” Regency was reconciled but annoyed.

They pulled up to LA Studio and found easy parking on the deserted streets. A rarity which creeped-out Regency more than evil fog. LA. Go figure.

The Fog of Disco Part 2 of 6

Demilla was outside the disco with the manager of the club. She had on her professional face. She also looked like she just woke up. Corey hated calling her, but she is the one who always insisted “if it looks like the hocus-pocus is crossing into protect-and-serve call me” so he did.

She was scribbling notes as Corey drove up. She kindly patted the manager’s shoulder and walked over to the car, “Man you can pick ‘em!”
“Well, “Corey was not un-used to her jibes and this ritual sort of removed tension and actual fear, “I asked the supernatural community to possess and torture innocents after brunch but darn it they just don’t listen!”
“Hence the evil part,” Regency chimed in. He found the ritual to be like every cool detective show he’d ever seen. Regency LOVED this part.
“Ah Brunch the true witching hour!” Corey said creepily.
“Bitching hour.” Both Demilla and Regency corrected at the same moment. A brief laugh helped everyone get on the same page.

Demilla gave them Daren’s statement, which corroborated the phone call. There was another pause. This one not filled with laughter. They each knew what came next. They’d have to go inside the damned disco. And no one, NO ONE wants to be in the disco of the damned.

“Hi Daren. My name is Corey and I am here to help you.” Corey was stickler for communications. Clearly state your name and that you can help and 99% of people will be glad someone is taking charge. Daren looked relieved.
“Hi. I can’t believe anyone believes me!” Daren almost wept.
“Oh grrrrl we see crazy shit all the time. Last week a ghoul almost ate me..” Regency was stopped by Corey and Demilla stepping on his foot at the same time….”OW!”
“Grrrl?” Daren looked even more hopeful, “So you guys are gay? Seriously?”
Demilla sort of oddly blushed, “I’m not sure if that’s relevant…”
Corey too was shocked by the sentiment, “Sure but that has nothing to do with……”
But Regency spoke gay better, and after moving his feet out of reach said, “Honey! Child! When they were passing out gay I thought the said Hee-eey and got in line twice!”
“Oh thank god! I can’t guess what some straight cop-y dudes would make out of this! Call us drama queens behind our backs. But this shit is for reals!” Daren now treated Regency like the boss, “Thank the Divas! And these are your hench…people?”
“I let them help. I got you boo. Now tell me what happened?” Corey and Demilla shrugged their shoulders and let it go.

Daren repeated the story again with a bit more detail than necessary about his “friend” and added a few more clues as to the time, 12:10, and specific things like songs styling, dress code and poppers give-aways.
“You just gave out poppers to anyone? You guys are awesome!” Regency exclaimed.
“And kind of illegal…” Demilla mumbled.
“Re- to the-lax Cagney alla Lacey!” Regency continued in gay.
“12:10 exactly?” Corey asked.
“Yes. The lights went out and emergency lights came on…?” The manager shook with memory.
“Well midnight is weirdo hour?” Regency thought nothing of it. But Demilla flashed Corey a look as he said, “it’s 10 minutes after the weirdo hour. Which means what happened may or may not have actually happened at midnight and it was 10 minutes before someone through off the power and we do not know who or why or what happened in that 10 minutes.”
“Can you put the power back on?” Demilla asked Daren.
“Yes. There’s a main switch in the lobby behind the cashier’s desk.”

“Ok. Let’s take this nice and slow. Can you open the front doors so we can see what we’re dealing with?’ Corey suggested.
“That’s a terrible idea! The fog will….” Daren re-freaked.
“Grrrl,” Regency re-gayed, “trust a bitch. Corey is really good at talking to things no one else can see. I’m not going to let anything hurt you. Open the doors.”
“They’re open. Well they should be. The club was open when…it happened….I don’t know where security went to?? Probably in the fog.”

With shaking arms Daren opened the front doors. He stepped back. Corey walked in arms up in some kind of magick gesture. There was no fog in the lobby, just a cashier stand to pay cover charges, a coat check unused in the current nice weather, and a staircase. The staircase was odd. It was blanketed in fog. It hung like a curtain two steps up. Thick white curtain of fog. Corey immediately knew this was bad.

“Stay back you guys,” Corey approached to fog with his arms out and glowing, “Spirit of fog and mist, Lady or Lord of Air I call you! Answer me. Let a traveller pass? Bid me welcome! A guest in your domain. Bid ME WELCOME!”

A sound of wind stirred somewhere up the stairs. BAM Corey was thrown back 20 feet into the cashier’s wall as a voice screamed “GET OUT!”

Demilla ran to Corey’s side, gun foolishly out but that was her training, “Corey!”
“I’m fine….asshole…ghost stupid nonentity!” Corey got himself up. “You can put that gun away Demilla. This place is haunted. And powerfully so. We need to get in and look for clues.”
“Sorry to say boss,” Regency threw in, “I don’t think it’s going to just let us in.”

Demilla walked calmly over the Daren, “How did you get out?”
“My office is by the bathrooms. I climbed out the window and down the back stairs. No fog in the bathrooms.”
“That’s our way in.” Corey was ready now.
Regency chuckled. Demilla and Corey gave him a “what? Look. “Going through the back door into a gay club. It’s like being underage again.” No one else laughed. “….and then there’s the whole back door troupe….” No laughing. “Tough room.”

The Fog of Disco Part 3 of 6

The open bathroom windows on the second floor were accessible from the back stairs by climbing over a very obvious ledge. It was so obvious one wonders if the club owners left it there for minors to use. (To be fair, when open, the back stairs would be staffed with security.) Clubs in LA love their security. It makes them look hard to get into and protected while there. Men, large and tall, donning white shirts and black pants looking terribly serious. Soldiers guarding LA’s most precious commodity… false glamour.

“Soldiers” is a perfect metaphor at this bastion of a club. Once a military hangar it has been a nightspot for decades. It’s a large cavernous space filled with rotating lights and the best sound system imaginable. Its industrial-look makes it strong enough to hold in all the divas. The steel girders looking down on who’s who through the ages.

Regency reached the top of the large metal staircase, “Maybe it’s radical-christian fog? Fundie-fog it has a pathological need to destroy anything that’s not fog! Or the type of fog it approves of….or…”
“Maybe it’s nerd fog,” Demilla snapped, “and it doesn’t shut up!”
“Fog doesn’t make a noise..”
“Shhhh”
“Well OK it shhhhhh-es when it comes out of the machine…” Regency thought it a was more a hisss.
“No SHHHHH,” Demilla re-snapped, “Shhhhhut up.”

“Are you two done?” Corey seemed nervous and kind of un-Corey, “Let’s climb over.”
“We should have brought that Daren guy.” Regency questioned command.
“He was a mess. Just a body to take care of. Dead weight.” Corey corrected, “we exchanged numbers. I’ll call him if we need him.”
“But,” carefully injected Demilla, “He knows the layout of the club…”
“I’ve been here a zillion times,” Corey re-corrected.
“YOU HAVE?!?” both gasped.

“I should have just come alone!” Corey’s anger was unnecessary.
“Geez Corey….,” Corey ignored Regency and started climbing over the ledge. Regency continued to Demilla, “I know he’s nervous about Madame but seriously with this? We’re not doing mission impossible. We’re exorcising evil fog. What’s the biggie?”

Demilla wisely waited for Corey to get a bit ahead of them and pry the bathroom windows open farther. Then she whispered, “Danny broke up with him. He’s just in a bad mood, let him have it.”
“Who’s Danny? Danny I haven’t heard of a Danny?” Regency was flustered.
“I thought you knew,” Demilla back peddled, “Drop it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Danny?’ Regency incapable of dropping any subject, “what kind of name is Danny? How long was he dating him? How did I not know this?”
“Shhh not long. Doesn’t matter. No idea.” She pushed him forward to the window, “say nothing or I drop you off this ledge.”

Regency knew she was not kidding. He gulped and continued. His mind of course raced. ‘Corey was dating? Corey hadn’t confided in me? Was I just an assistant? All those hints nothing more than me giving meaning to simple gestures and kindnesses? I mean does anyone like the name Danny? It’s like an elf name. Danny the elf. That sounds right. And ahha they broke up?!?! Which means I can move in…no I can’t be rebound guy…Can I?’

“REGENCY!” Corey hushed loudly, “Come on!” Corey and Demilla were in and not waiting for Regency to finish his inner-monologue.

The bathrooms were as industrial as the rest of the club. They were every bright with lots of mirrors, and luckily, no fog. The three slowly opened the large bathroom door and looked down a hallway. One could see the fog looming at the end. The silence was extra super creepy with a tad of yuk sprinkled on top. The emergency lights beaming ugly white light didn’t add calm.

“OK here’s the plan,” Corey whispered, “we go out slowly. Backs to the wall. Fog in front. We see what we can see. I have to try and talk to whatever it is.”
“Let Regency do it,” Demilla protested.
“ME?!?!” Regency gasped, “Are you nuts! What if the fog gets me?”
“Exactly. Then we’ll know. If it takes Corey we’re screwed.” Demilla said matter of factly.
“No,” Corey said, “I’ll do the talking. Let’s proceed slowly. Minimal talking. Regency guard my back. Demilla?”
“Got it.” She took point.

They slowly slid down the hallway from the bathrooms towards the disco filled with fog. At the corner Demilla held up her hand. She lowered herself and slid on her back around the edge disappearing into the chemical mist. Corey hunkered down. Silence.

The silence was huge. It weighted on Corey. Having lived so long took its toll on the witch. So many friends gone. Loves ended. It never got easier for him. There were periods of time when he would just give up belonging or caring. Those memories were the worst. He had, over and over again, forced himself to go back. Return to world and give a damn. It made him lonely sometimes. Other times he’s remember all their smiles and times and laugh and be filled with love. Other times the sadness won.

Demilla’s hand appeared around the corner calling him to the disco. Corey exchanged a look with Regency who managed to find the disembodied hand of Demilla funny. Oh Regency who found humor in everything. Corey sad smiled him and motioned his head to the doom ahead.

They joined Demilla in the main room. They slid along the wall a few dozen feet and into the fog filled room. The three looked tiny and absurdly lit in the vast whiteness of the discotheque. Corey held out a crystal and mumbled some words. Regency looked at him and thought he might be scared. Corey scared? If so, it wasn’t for himself. Corey was a pick-me-for-the-lions-save-my-people kind of dude. It’s one of the many reasons Regency loved him. ‘No wonder he doesn’t see me like I see him,’ Regency mind raced again, ‘he thinks I’m a wimp. Like the kind of guy who wouldn’t give up his life for another. I bet Danny would! Danny was probably some super hero saving people at personal peril all the time! That was why Corey never mentioned him. He’d have to reveal his secret identity! Heroes love heroes everyone know that!’ “Fuck Danny!” Regency said out loud.
“Huh?” Corey gasped. But too soon Regency stepped from the wall.

“Hey!” Regency called the fog, “YO! What’s up with the cheesy 80’s re-make? This is LA bitch. You don’t have the copy-rights. So why don’t you tell Ole Regency WTF and figure this out before I get mad. You don’t wanna see me mad!”

Silence followed then fog swirled. The dense stillness was replaced by movement and churning. Regency had gotten a reaction. Now they had to wait to see what that reaction meant.

“Regency?” Corey commanded, “come back to the wall.”
“I got this!” Regency gloated as a giant fog-hand reached out and grabbed him. His mouth went from a cocky smirk to open gaped terror.
“NO!” Corey screamed and tried to think of a spell. Call up wind. Dissipated fog. Moisture spells? All the while Demilla holding him back as Regency was pulled into the fog screaming, “COOOORRREEEEYYYY!”

“Let go of me!” Corey pushed Demilla.
“You’re not going to help him being eaten!” She power pushed him into the wall.

The fog swirled angrily. A feeling of terror over took them both. Angry disco fog, heck emotional fog period is not in the text books. Lances and hands of smoke grabbed at them. They dodged and weaved.
“RUN!” Demilla pushed Corey back down the wall.

Just as they reached the hallway, Corey heard Demilla scream again, “Shit! Help! No! Run Corey! GO!! G….”

Corey turned as she was dragged feet first back into the disco. Dragged. She was dragged fighting smoke and nothingness into the whiteness.
Corey stood open mouthed not knowing what to do.

Corey fought the urge to dive in after her. If his friends were dead he’d…NO they were NOT dead. There hadn’t been any bodies. Right? That’s a clue. Ok a clue. “You’re a fucking detective asshole think!” He had to regroup. He ran onto the industrial bathrooms. He turned on the water and splashed his face.

His eyes re-focused. He was still in the bathroom but it had changed slightly. He looked in the mirror expecting to see himself dripping with panic and water. He didn’t. Corey saw what was not there. But that which had been there years before. Rather who.

The Fog of Disco Part 4 of 6

“Mary I am hot!” The handsome man with feathered hair eyed his image, “These jeans are so tight I can’t breathe but who needs air when I got curves front and back!” Indeed his jeans were so tight they looked painted on and, Corey noticed, his only slightly looser polyester shirt was open to the navel. Little, but enough, was left to the imagination. The figure continued to speak to himself, “Ok Bruce, go out there and make him feel mighty real! Tonight is the night! Yes Randy I’ll move in with you. No. Move in? Well Randy I’ll have to think about it. Randy Randy Randy do you think we’re ready? AHHHHH!” Bruce screamed and jumped up and down a little. Randy hadn’t actually said or even hinted at Bruce moving in, but he sounded so strange on the phone. Nervous. Randy was always nervous. Newbies.

Bruce was quite sure Randy was ready for the plunge. Everything was going so well for them! Everybody was jealous! Bruce walked away from the mirror and then suddenly turned quickly and pointed sternly at his own face, “Do NOT say you love him! Don’t. You know how guys get. Don’t Le Freak him out!” Having scolded himself, Bruce flipped his hair like an Angel and swished out of the sacred space that is a gay bar bathroom.

Corey, trapped in the hallucination, seemed to follow the image, although he was aware of his feet not moving. His mind followed Bruce down the hall as he waved, screamed “He-eey” and bitch glared everyone present. Bruce was popular.

Bruce sashayed onto the dance floor. Raised hands over head he conga-esque danced through the crowd in a manner with a confidence Corey could never muster. His struts became smaller and his wide smile a smirk as he spied who had to be Randy. ‘Hubba Hubba’ thought Bruce and Corey at the same time.

Randy was hot. (Which is like saying the Sun is hot.) Slightly more conservative than Bruce, Randy looked a bit out of place. His face held a huge smile and his eyes leapt at you and out-sparkled the disco lights. He was in jeans, not quite as tight as Bruce’s (he could breathe), and shirtless. Midwestern square shoulders hunched slightly as he nervously clung to his tank top. He was happy to see Bruce and a bit relieved. He spoke in a slight accent which just made him hotter, “You’re here. Hi.”

“Hi! Did you miss me?” Bruce minced.
Randy smiled uncomfortably as Bruce leaned in and kissed him. Then the weirdest thing happened. Randy relaxed. There, in Randy’s kiss, he knew who he was.

Corey had seen it before and needed no explanation. Randy was new to the scene. The screaming queens and drag queens freaked him out. He had come from somewhere quiet. Where men were men. He left probably terrified before someone found out what he was. He probably flipped a coin and went West. Probably less scarier for a Midwestern boy. New York seemed dirtier and too tough. Probably ended up in LA hoping to get a job easily being a real good looker. Probably found gay bars through posters about town. This was post-stonewall. Gays just couldn’t shut up anymore. Probably thought that was going to get them in the end. A lot of probably, but Corey knew the story if not the specifics which made Randy: Randy.

All probabilities went away for Randy when Bruce kissed him. When they held each other the world was perfect for Randy. Even here in this place he would have called “Satan’s Haunt” a year prior, now he was kissing Bruce and it terrified him.

Randy seemed to catch himself relaxing and pulled back fast.
“What…?” laughed Bruce. Randy looked down and Bruce smiled even wider. Randy was so cute when he was speechless. Randy pushed Bruce to the side of the dance floor, which was only slightly quieter, Bruce half-yelled, “So what on good mother Earth is the matter? You said you wanted to talk. Well here I am with ears and everything….”

“I’m leaving.” Randy blurted out.
“What?” Bruce whispered.
“I think I’m leaving. Town.” Randy searched for words.
“WHAT? Why? What? I thought…I thought you were asking me to move in with you.” Bruce felt his world falling.
“Move in? Are you nuts? I don’t even think my landlady would let me live there… Gosh it’s hard enough not letting anyone know. Move in? You’re crazy.” Randy was flabbergasted.

Bruce had heard all these fights before. A warning went off in his feathered head. “Who cares what anyone thinks!” Bruce grasped at straws.
“Everyone. Me. You’re a hairdresser no one cares of you’re…the way you are. I work in a firm a real job…sorry.”
“No please go ahead.” Randy hated the assumption that his life was oh so easy because he generally worked with gays. Like bashers gave him carte blanche or something.

“Every day it gets harder. How much longer can I make excuses? Every day someone is trying to set me up with their sister or cousin or aunts even! And you…you make it worse.”
“How exactly?” Bruce was trying to not cry.
“I’m not like you. The way you walk in and take over. I’m not like that. I don’t fit in here.” Randy pointed to the drag and dancing queens, “I can’t be this.”

“So your answer is to go back home, get married, beat your wife and suck off truckers?”
“No.” Randy pouted a bit, “I don’t know exactly.”
“Randy, try! Things are changing! The world is changing. Gay rights are…”
“Nothing s changing….I don’t want to have this fight again….”

Obviously politics had quickly become taboo in their relationship. Both backed down without another word. The pause was filled by drumbeats and female vocals.

“So why are you here? Why even bother coming here?” Bruce was entering queen bitch mode.
“Because stupid I love you.”

Bruce stood silent for a moment. He understood now. It had gone too fast. A boy from the provinces had come to the city to explore. Maybe figure things out. Maybe get “it” out of his system. And he had found true love. It made him queer. Really queer. Not just: I like guys sometimes. Or sure I’ll screw a pansy. But Queer. And in love.

Bruce ran up and kissed Randy. It was returned eagerly…for a moment. “I can be strong enough for both of us,” Bruce begged, “I can help you. No one needs to know. We can slow it down. Hell, get a girlfriend to make your bosses happy. I can ride shotgun. I can…we deserve to be together forever.”

“This world’s got no place for two men and the word forever. I’m so sorry Bruce. ” Randy almost cried.

“Shhhhh,” Bruce knew the outcome. He’d been around the block. Randy would go. He might come back. But it wouldn’t be the same. It was over. Randy felt his heart break. No use fighting. He would give up. Too easily for so much love but he knew the answers. He whispered into Randy’s ear, “give me tonight? Just one last night? Love me for a few more hours and then go. Please? One last dance?”
“I can do that,” Randy half smiled, “then I’ll go.”
“Maybe the world will stop turning and tonight will never end?”
“Wouldn’t hat be nice?” They half-laughed and half-danced and half-tried not to cry.

The song ended and they parted.

Randy walked towards the staircase and front door. Bruce returned to the bathroom. But what they didn’t know. What only Corey could see: a piece of each of them remained. A tiny bit of their souls, or consciousness, or maybe the piece of love that two people create, refused to give up. And that piece held each other, in the rafters of a disco, forever.

The Fog of Disco Part 5 of 6

Corey held no shame in his tears. He let them fall. His breath returned and he sighed. He was no stranger to the cruelty of the world or how amazingly the human heart could beat. They had been in love. Out of step with a time when it would be ok, even welcomed. He could sense the fear in their hearts and the pain as they denied each other that glory. Cruelty had won that night. Love lost. Again.

When will love be safe? For everybody? Love of a person regardless of gender. Love of your child, again regardless of gender. Love of your God, yet again regardless of gender. Why do we insist love be so terrifying!

Corey shook his head. This was no time for politics or fond rememberings. He had a job to do. People to save. Sometimes in dark nights Corey would ask himself how worth saving people really are. But not now. No. Progress was being made he told himself. Progress every single day…… “Progress….” Corey suddenly realized the date and time.

At 12:01 it had become legal for gays to marry in the state of California. That “piece of their love” wanted its time. Its comeuppance. Its turn at possibility. The only problem was Corey wasn’t sure if “it” was angry or not. “I’d be angry…hell, I am angry. But am I angry enough to go postal on my community? Probably not…” Corey had an idea, now he just had to get through angry time clinging fog to do it.

Corey said a protective spell: a simple enchantment to repel water and other liquids from his person. Then he walked down the hallway to the fog. He looked hard into the whiteness. He tried to read auras or spectrums of light or emotions. He got nothing.

Corey, taking a cue from Demilla, lied down and army crawled into the disco. To his right was a glow stick lit bar. The fog didn’t seem to be penetrating the other sacred space in a gay bar. The kingdom of the bartender! (Or the area behind the bar.) This was probably due more to physics than awe for people who sling juice but it was a fun image and it made Corey relax.

Back to the ground and/or wall, Corey got to the bar. He climbed on top. Here was the opportunity to fulfill all those go-go boy fantasies, “and I had to wear boxers today!” Corey laughed. A quick word of power and Corey leapt to the first steel beam. He pulled himself up. From this angle he could see shapes in the fog. They seemed to be frozen or moving really slowly. He hoped to Gods the spirit wasn’t actually bending time.

Corey crossed the dance floor, well 30 feet above the dance floor, with ease. He was afraid fog hands would reach up at him and drag him into the 70’s but nothing happened. He hopped down and into the elevated DJ boot/catwalk. Now which to do first?

He turned down the master volume. He hit the black out button on the lighting board and searched for…he found the button that said mirror. Then he pulled out his cell and dialed.

“Daren?”
“Oh My friggin god I am so…what is happening?? I am…” Daren spoke 150 mph. Corey whispered the anti-drama queen chant, again, and Daren calmed, “What’s up?”
“I need you to turn the power back on.”
“Are you sure? You don’t sound sure…..”
Corey impersonated Regency’s gay speak, “Yes grrl, honey hit a switch!”

Daren pulled the master switch and the club came back to life. Lights through out the club flickered. “and the Creators held the galaxy and created time to spin it in,” he quoted as he flicked the mirror button on. On the silent dance floor, the giant mirror ball lit up and started to turn. The fog went wild. A mist hand, the kind he had been dreading, came up and held it firm. ‘Here we go’ Corey thought.

A figure emerged from the fog. It came at Corey. He grabbed his weapon. The microphone and cranked to volume! Feedback made Corey and the spirit cringed. He lowered the volume.

“Now that I have your attention!” Corey used his DJ voice, not that Corey had ever been a DJ but rather quickly created one. “Tonight goes out to all the lovers. Especially Bruce and Randy!” The spirits stopped. For now he realized they were two not one. They seemed to be one being because they were holding hands…still.

Corey lowered his DJ voice and spoke to the spirits, “Congratulations guys. You did it. Your love helped pave the road. Enough broken hearts lined the path that we finally got the right to marry. You have been heard. That may not seem fair but the world, our world, is greater than just us. And our tomorrow is awesome. Which is more a word from the 80’s but…I digress. Do you Bruce take Randy to be your lawfully wedding husband…….”

Corey spoke the vows for the non-verbal entity. They nodded or seemed to nod. Corey could feel the peace. The love. Un-tortured now by a world it could exist in. Corey finished, “I now pronounce you husband and husband!” Applause and screams filled the disco!

Corey nor “Bruce and Randy” realized the fog had dissipated. A crowd of hundreds were screaming and laughing and cheering! A chorus of yes. “Congrats guys!” Corey yelled enjoying the wave of love from the dance floor below. The spirits seemed to fall into each other at that moment. A kind of kiss. One that would never be pulled away from. Corey reached out and held that kiss. He placed it on the record on the turntable. He put the needle down. The volume up.

Disco beats filled the room and un-frozen people grooved like tomorrow was here today. Corey flicked a few more buttons and lights pulsed to sexy beats. Corey waved to Demilla and Regency doing the bump. He easily spotted Madame in the center of some sort circle doing the hustle. She waved at him. He called back waving his hands in the air like he just didn’t care. And that kiss went into that song into that needle into the wires and systems and speakers and through the hangar disco dancing and loving forever.

The Fog of Disco Part 6 of 6

Ty looks at himself in the mirror. His clothes are a nod at hipster but he is so much cooler than that. His post boy-band hair looks awesome! He switches and sways his reflection making sure you can see his abs and ever so accidentally the top of his butt crack. On accident! “Yes girl you are hot!” Ty laughs hoping no one hears him.

This club is awesome, even if he did get charged a half a day’s pay to get in! There are lights everywhere. The music is amaze-balls, whatever the hell retro-disco is, and so loud in forces you to dance! There are some hot Daddies, like over 30, types. Ty likes how they eye him. Like he’s dessert? Little do they know he’s the main course! “Hell, I’m a buffet bitches!”

“Please let Todd be here! Please let Todd be here!” Ty prayed. Even their names, Ty and Todd, were so cute together! Todd is beautiful. Quite possibly the most beautiful man in the whole wide world. And he likes Ty. He likes him a lot. Is it love? Is that this feeling? Is Todd the one?

Ty has planned his wedding since he was 14. It’s simply the most perfect-est wedding ever. Pale greys and clean summer white bunting fills the church. In his mind it’s usually the church he was brought up in but other times it’s some gigantic cathedral in Paris, like the one with all the glass or the other one on an island, whatever. But the bunting is always there. And the grooms men and women wear pale blues with summer white trimming. And then from opposite doors come Ty and whoever. (It changes depending on what TV show he is watching.) They slowly, awkwardly, cause that’s super cute at weddings, walk to each other. An arms distance away. The priest person blesses them and talks about how serious a commitment marriage is! Ty and whoever nod seriously, cause this is the serious part. As they exchange vows Ty will get misty. He will know that right there, an arms distance away, is his true love. And it will be overwhelming and beautiful.

Ty comes back to the disco and laughs at his reflections. He thinks, ‘I bet every gay man ever stood in a bathroom and planned his wedding!’ Ty takes a second glance to make sure his hair is perfect. Yes. How could Todd resist him! Is Todd the one? Maybe. No. In true love there are no maybes! But sometimes it’s hard to tell with so many possibilities! Ty is not as naïve as people think. He knows he’s young. Hell, he even knows he’s a romantic. But why is that such a bad thing? To see yourself in someone’s eyes an arms distance a part? “That’s it!” yells Ty.

He smiles awkwardly, which is cute, at the bathroom attendant who probably thinks he’s nuts. His phone beeps. Text from Todd reads: “here.” “OMG” Ty breathes. Why did that message just make him loose his breath??? Why was he so happy to be in the same room as Todd? He text back “dance floor bar.” He drops a dollar in the dish and walks, not rushes, down the hallway. There are so many people to get to know. He smiles shamelessly but not flirtatiously. Hitting the dance floor he starts the search for Todd. But not desperately, like he’s desperate, more just…cautiously curious as to his whereabouts.

He stands by the dance floor bar as casually as kid can. ‘I look like a bride to be! Order a drink!’ he thinks. He turns to wait for the shirtless bartender’s attention. As he turns with two vodka cranberries he sees Todd. Todd is staring at him. They smile. He hands Todd a drink and asks, “were you there long?”
“I was enjoying looking at you.” Todd smirks.
‘Hubba Hubba’ thinks a blushing Ty.

“Great night!” says Todd awkwardly, which looks so cute on him!
“Right?! You look great!” Ty flatters.
“Yea you too!” Todd smiles. Another awkward yet cute pause.

Suddenly the distance of an arms length is simply too great a space between them. Ty cannot breathe. He is falling. The only recourse possible lies in Todd. He reaches for him. Todd grabs his hand. No one had ever had hands as smooth and firm as Todd.

Ty reaches in and, needing the oxygen in Todd brings his lips forward. Todd mirrors in equal desperation. They kiss. Neither pulls away. It dissolves into smiles and foreheads. A new song mixes in abruptly making them aware of the word around them.

“You wanna dance?” asks Todd.
“Hell yea!” laughs Ty.

They head into the crowded dance floor but since they’re only one person they don’t need much room. Todd says something in the noise.
“What?” yells Ty.
“I said,” loud-whispers Todd in Ty’s ears, “I hope tonight lasts forever!”

“Me too!” laughs Ty with another small kiss, “forever!”