Chapter Two: The Rhythm of the Night
Author's Note: I'm loving this story! It's so much fun to write, and it's now fun to 'write with a lisp' for Henry. Thanks millions to all my reviewers! I'm thrilled to pieces with all the reviews, I really am. *hugs all the reviewers*
* * *
After school, Christian searched out Henry, the most memorable of the people he had met that day. He didn't count the gorgeous cheerleader, simply because he didn't even know her name. "Henry!" he called, trying to catch the midget before he got into his car.
His eyes lit up. "Cwis!" He waited for Chris to make his way to the rusty station wagon Henry was driving. "How was your first day of class?"
"Eh..." he shrugged. "Not the best, but hey, that's life, right?"
"Wight."
He thought a moment, then came up with an idea. "Hey, what are you doing tonight?"
"Thudying."
Chris guessed that what he meant was 'studying,' so he made a suggestion. "How about you come with me to The Rhythm tonight. My uncle's the owner and I'm going to be working there. I could use someone to talk to."
"The Withm?" He paused. "I don't think tho, Cwis. Thanks."
"Why not? My uncle says everyone from Montmartre High goes there."
The little scholar looked sad at the statement. "Evwyone exthept me, I thpose."
"Come on, Henry. I don't know anyone. You can tell me who everyone is and we can talk about them behind their backs."
"Weally?" Henry brightened immediately at the opportunity to be on the giving end of some gossip.
"Really." He didn't give his new friend a chance to change his mind. "I'll meet you there at six, okay?"
"Got it. Thee you later!"
Chris chuckled to himself. "Bye."
* * *
Chris hurried home to change from his school clothes to something more fun. After all, he was going to the hottest dance club in town. And he might even see the pretty girl there. He wanted to look good. He changed into his favorite pair of faded jeans and a sleeveless black shirt that displayed the tattoo of a red windmill that was on his right shoulder. After running gel through his hair to spike up the ends, he was ready.
* * *
The Rhythm was definitely the hottest place in town. Uncle Harold hadn't been lying. Chris saw hundreds of Montmartre High letterman jackets and quite a few vaguely familiar faces. There were students from surrounding high schools as well. Chris parked his Bug in the almost over-crowded parking lot and began to make his way towards the front door.
The club was an incredibly place, even on the outside. It was a two-story brick building radiating with a thousand neon lights. Uncle Harold had always loved neon lights. Even Christian's room at home was decorated with them.
It must have cost a fortune to decorate the club. Each individual brick seemed to be painted a different color, and over that was painted wild designs. Strobe lights practically blinded anyone entering the building, but no one seemed to care. The crowd waiting to get in was practically pulsating, and The Rhythm wouldn't even open for another half-hour.
It was almost six now. Harold would be expecting him. As he walked through the crowd, holding up the ID that identified him as a Rhythm employee so he wouldn't be brutally attacked for 'cutting', Chris spotted a familiar short figure way back in the line.
"Henry!" he called, waving. His friend smiled and waved back. He looked as if he felt extremely out of place. He looked out of place, since he hadn't changed from the outfit he had worn to school and the rest of the crowd was in their raciest, sexiest outfits. But Chris barely noticed now, he was just happy to see a familiar face. "Come with me!" he called.
Henry cupped a hand to his ear. "What?"
Chris waved him over, yelling, "Come with me!" He waited while his short friend picked his way through the crowd. "I'll get you in now."
"Thanks!"
"No problem." Well, there would have been no problems had it not been for the two happening to go past the same group of jocks that had harassed Henry before. One pushed Henry against the wall. "Where do you think you're going, Geek?"
Chris' anger flared and he shoved the kid away. "Lay off, buddy." He shoved his ID in the football player's face. "Leave him alone, or you won't get in, ever. Got it, numbnuts?"
The bully acted nonchalant. "Sure, whatever man." He rejoined his friends as Chris and Henry headed for the entrance, but Chris could hear mutters of 'Geek-in-training' following after him. He didn't care. Screw them.
"I'm thorry, Cwis."
He shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Henry." They made it through the entrance with no further problems. The bouncer let Henry in after Christian okayed him by saying, "He's with me."
The inside of The Rhythm was, if possible, even more outlandishly decorated than the outside had been. Henry was aghast. Eight-foot high cancan dancers seemed to kick their way in brightly painted colors across a glittering black wall while men in neon-colored top hats goggled at the sight. The tile floor had even been painted, forming a spiraling swirl that started from the middle and circled its way to the walls in an array of mind-numbing colors.
A wide balcony worked its way around the entire room. From it hung flashing lights of all colors. "Christian!" A loud voice behind him boomed his name. He turned to see his uncle.
"Uncle Harold!" Chris would recognize him anywhere. His uncle was a tall, red-haired man with a more than slight paunch. He was well known for his wild outfits. Tonight was no different. Harold wore black pants with a red and white zigzag stripe up each side, a red and white striped shirt, a red cummerbund, highly polished red shoes, and a black beret.
Chris hadn't been able to see his uncle at home in the three days he'd been there because his uncle was constantly working at the club, trying to make it bigger and better. He realized now how much he missed his uncle. "This place is unreal!" he exclaimed.
"Tell me about it! Don't you love it?" He swept Chris up in a giant bear hug, spouting off sentence after sentence in his over-exuberant way. "I'm so glad you're here. Is this your friend? He's quite welcome, you know. Tonight's going to be the biggest crowd we've had in a long time, I can feel it!" He looked like a five-year-old opening Christmas presents. "Everything's going so well!"
END CHAPTER TWO
Author's Note: I'm loving this story! It's so much fun to write, and it's now fun to 'write with a lisp' for Henry. Thanks millions to all my reviewers! I'm thrilled to pieces with all the reviews, I really am. *hugs all the reviewers*
* * *
After school, Christian searched out Henry, the most memorable of the people he had met that day. He didn't count the gorgeous cheerleader, simply because he didn't even know her name. "Henry!" he called, trying to catch the midget before he got into his car.
His eyes lit up. "Cwis!" He waited for Chris to make his way to the rusty station wagon Henry was driving. "How was your first day of class?"
"Eh..." he shrugged. "Not the best, but hey, that's life, right?"
"Wight."
He thought a moment, then came up with an idea. "Hey, what are you doing tonight?"
"Thudying."
Chris guessed that what he meant was 'studying,' so he made a suggestion. "How about you come with me to The Rhythm tonight. My uncle's the owner and I'm going to be working there. I could use someone to talk to."
"The Withm?" He paused. "I don't think tho, Cwis. Thanks."
"Why not? My uncle says everyone from Montmartre High goes there."
The little scholar looked sad at the statement. "Evwyone exthept me, I thpose."
"Come on, Henry. I don't know anyone. You can tell me who everyone is and we can talk about them behind their backs."
"Weally?" Henry brightened immediately at the opportunity to be on the giving end of some gossip.
"Really." He didn't give his new friend a chance to change his mind. "I'll meet you there at six, okay?"
"Got it. Thee you later!"
Chris chuckled to himself. "Bye."
* * *
Chris hurried home to change from his school clothes to something more fun. After all, he was going to the hottest dance club in town. And he might even see the pretty girl there. He wanted to look good. He changed into his favorite pair of faded jeans and a sleeveless black shirt that displayed the tattoo of a red windmill that was on his right shoulder. After running gel through his hair to spike up the ends, he was ready.
* * *
The Rhythm was definitely the hottest place in town. Uncle Harold hadn't been lying. Chris saw hundreds of Montmartre High letterman jackets and quite a few vaguely familiar faces. There were students from surrounding high schools as well. Chris parked his Bug in the almost over-crowded parking lot and began to make his way towards the front door.
The club was an incredibly place, even on the outside. It was a two-story brick building radiating with a thousand neon lights. Uncle Harold had always loved neon lights. Even Christian's room at home was decorated with them.
It must have cost a fortune to decorate the club. Each individual brick seemed to be painted a different color, and over that was painted wild designs. Strobe lights practically blinded anyone entering the building, but no one seemed to care. The crowd waiting to get in was practically pulsating, and The Rhythm wouldn't even open for another half-hour.
It was almost six now. Harold would be expecting him. As he walked through the crowd, holding up the ID that identified him as a Rhythm employee so he wouldn't be brutally attacked for 'cutting', Chris spotted a familiar short figure way back in the line.
"Henry!" he called, waving. His friend smiled and waved back. He looked as if he felt extremely out of place. He looked out of place, since he hadn't changed from the outfit he had worn to school and the rest of the crowd was in their raciest, sexiest outfits. But Chris barely noticed now, he was just happy to see a familiar face. "Come with me!" he called.
Henry cupped a hand to his ear. "What?"
Chris waved him over, yelling, "Come with me!" He waited while his short friend picked his way through the crowd. "I'll get you in now."
"Thanks!"
"No problem." Well, there would have been no problems had it not been for the two happening to go past the same group of jocks that had harassed Henry before. One pushed Henry against the wall. "Where do you think you're going, Geek?"
Chris' anger flared and he shoved the kid away. "Lay off, buddy." He shoved his ID in the football player's face. "Leave him alone, or you won't get in, ever. Got it, numbnuts?"
The bully acted nonchalant. "Sure, whatever man." He rejoined his friends as Chris and Henry headed for the entrance, but Chris could hear mutters of 'Geek-in-training' following after him. He didn't care. Screw them.
"I'm thorry, Cwis."
He shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Henry." They made it through the entrance with no further problems. The bouncer let Henry in after Christian okayed him by saying, "He's with me."
The inside of The Rhythm was, if possible, even more outlandishly decorated than the outside had been. Henry was aghast. Eight-foot high cancan dancers seemed to kick their way in brightly painted colors across a glittering black wall while men in neon-colored top hats goggled at the sight. The tile floor had even been painted, forming a spiraling swirl that started from the middle and circled its way to the walls in an array of mind-numbing colors.
A wide balcony worked its way around the entire room. From it hung flashing lights of all colors. "Christian!" A loud voice behind him boomed his name. He turned to see his uncle.
"Uncle Harold!" Chris would recognize him anywhere. His uncle was a tall, red-haired man with a more than slight paunch. He was well known for his wild outfits. Tonight was no different. Harold wore black pants with a red and white zigzag stripe up each side, a red and white striped shirt, a red cummerbund, highly polished red shoes, and a black beret.
Chris hadn't been able to see his uncle at home in the three days he'd been there because his uncle was constantly working at the club, trying to make it bigger and better. He realized now how much he missed his uncle. "This place is unreal!" he exclaimed.
"Tell me about it! Don't you love it?" He swept Chris up in a giant bear hug, spouting off sentence after sentence in his over-exuberant way. "I'm so glad you're here. Is this your friend? He's quite welcome, you know. Tonight's going to be the biggest crowd we've had in a long time, I can feel it!" He looked like a five-year-old opening Christmas presents. "Everything's going so well!"
END CHAPTER TWO
