Chapter 90.2

Chapter 90.2

Thankfully, the casualties were minor, but he couldn’t just sit in his office and watch as if it was someone else’s problem. He had to go to Long Island and personally supervise the situation, so he couldn’t keep his promise to leave work early.

Born a Lafayette, he stood upon privilege beneath his feet, yet a heavy burden was laid upon his shoulders. No matter how he struggled, the fact that he was a Lafayette remained unchanged. He couldn’t escape his duties or shed the weight crushing his shoulders and threatening to break his spine.

But he had one outlet to breathe. Relieved, he took a deep breath, pulled out his phone, and called Miran.

The phone rang several times. He pressed his forehead, waiting anxiously, and he waited until Miran finally picked up.

― André?

Her bright, lovely voice slightly eased his stiff shoulders. Leaning deep into the backrest, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

He just wanted to focus on Miran’s voice without thinking about anything else. Judging by the background noise from her side, he knew she was out.

“Mhm. Where are you?”

― I just got out of a bar in SoHo. Are you still on Long Island?

On his way to Long Island, he briefly called Miran to explain that he couldn’t leave work early.

“I’m on my way to Manhattan.”

― How long will it take?

“About an hour.”

From the other end of the line, someone called Miran’s name and said something, though it was unclear what they said.

― Hyungjung is moving to a club now. Should I go home and wait?

André’s eyes snapped open.

“No way. Don’t even think about taking the subway or a taxi alone. Stay with them until I get there.”

Though things had improved considerably since the 1980s, when he was a teenager, downtown’s security was still far more lax than uptown’s.

― Okay. I’m dying to see you. Come quickly.

She brought her lips close to the receiver, as if shielding the phone so no one else could hear. The call crackled intermittently and each burst of static was painfully striking his eardrum. Though he squinted one eye in discomfort, his tightly sealed lips finally relaxed.

“Address.”

She covered the receiver and asked someone a question. A man’s voice came through. It was muffled, but audible. Something about the tone was oddly unpleasant, and André frowned.

― The club’s called Limelight. Just look for the big church on Sixth Avenue at 20th Street. I’ll be in the ‘Shampoo Room.’ Hyungjung, wait! André, I gotta go now. See you later!

And so the call ended.

The summer after graduating high school, just before entering the military academy dorms, André had been dragged to a nightclub by Gerard once.

He felt repulsed by the garish disco music that was so far from his taste, and the flashy outfits that were almost painful to look at. People high on drg.s and alcohol with their pupils dilated, were tangled together, bare-bottomed and were having s1x like animals in the corners. The sight turned his stomach.

But what bothered him even more was how, with every step, men and women alike would stick to him under the guise of dancing to touch him. He hadn’t set foot in a nightclub since.

‘The idea that a church is a club is ridiculous enough. And they have a Shampoo Room? What is this, a hair salon?’

He wondered if the world of nightclubs changed that much over the past decade.

The New York where he was born and raised had always been dynamic, but lately, it felt like a furnace about to boil over. No matter what unusual event unfolded before their eyes, New Yorkers didn’t bat an eye.

Not just new technologies and businesses, but even the city’s bizarre street culture. The condensed energy, on the verge of exploding, shook the entire city like a wave. So it wasn’t exactly boring.

André crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

‘I’ll see for myself when I get there.’

–

After a long night of work, Enzo had gone home, and André stood staring with his arms crossed at the neo-Gothic church. From the entrance all the way around the corner to 20th Street, a line of people stretched out like worshippers waiting for a service.

A woman with piercings dangling all over her face and hair spiked into a mohawk; a man in a bikini and high heels; a woman in towering platform boots, easily thirty centimeters tall, wearing short shorts and a sheer T-shirt; and even a group of men in suits and ties that looked like they finished work on Wall Street.

It was quite a sight to see people who normally wouldn’t mix, would never acknowledge each other’s existence were standing so close together.

After observing briefly, he realized that waiting in line wouldn’t guarantee he’d get in.