The Electric Vibe Devastates

by Jens Lloyd

Pseudo-pop pulses through his veins. Rhythm, rhythm, rhythm of his body against hers. She is moving in circles. He is keeping up. Lights from above bounce all around. He searches for her eyes, finds only darkness and bouncing lights.
Fifty people have found refuge here tonight. The rectangle of a dance floor is filled with the pounding of soles. Barefoot, they all move. Bounce. Pulse. Pop.

Grabbing after her, he says, “Why? Are we done?”
She laughs, releasing an enticing energy. He feels connected.
“Listen, man, I can’t do this all night. But I’ll see you. Tomorrow, yeah?”
“Where?” he stumbles.
A flash of her eyes. A flash of a smile. Enough of a response.
He’ll be back here tomorrow.

He hits the pavement and the day is almost over. The setting sun casts red all over the street.
Clicking over from the adverts, he finds some trip-hop-Bollywood-fusion beat and sticks with it. There is some vocal track layered on it. The feminine vocals are like water. Smooth enough that he can slip into the beat and slide down the street.

Sitting outside the rectangle, he is waiting for her and downing some bland, pointless drink. It burns. He is watching the dance floor. Two guys are at the center, caught in some tangle of a move. They unwind and break away to the cheers of the surrounding crowd. His focus goes back to the tabletop. He runs his finger around the wet circle left by glass. He rubs it out and thinks of the watery vocals he got lost in on the way here. He feels the dance floor revving back up.

Her jeans are tight and he can see all her muscles tense as she sits down.
“Hey,” she says calmly.
“Didn’t expect you around here.”
She looks up at him. He gets a glimpse of her eyes. That energy, he felt it when she laughed last night, it is still there.
She goes after the thick laces on her boots. He is slipping off his shoes.
“You want something to drink?”
“Nope. I think I’m alright.”
“Yeah.”
She slides out of both her boots. He gets up and offers his hand. She pushes him onto the floor.

The electric vibe devastates. His vision is beginning to blur. The music gets hot. It is dripping out from the speakers and onto the floor. She is leaning back into him or something like that. He is losing his grip. She is starting to sing. It reaches his ears in waves, bleeding in with the music. She sounds like water, stretched out far over a beach. And she is getting into him. He can’t help it. He grabs for her and misses. He grabs again and gets her shirt. She slows down.
“ ,” she says.
“I can’t break ,” he shouts.
“ ,” she turns back to the speakers and starts moving again.
He seeps through the crowd towards his table. He doesn’t even know if he said anything to her. Maybe he was just pushing thoughts out of his mouth and failing. He needs something cool, refreshing.
A guy takes a hold of his hand.
“ me!” the guy exclaims.
“ sorry ,” as he breaks away.
Nearing the edge, two girls dance into his path. He gets mixed in with them. And spins.

He has his head in her lap. They are sitting on the curb.
“Sorry.”
“No problem, man.”
“That got too much for me and then those two ladies got me and,” he ends his sentence somewhere.
She laughs and looks down the street.
“It is time to go.”
“Oh, no. Really? What time is it?”
“Time to go.”
“Ah. But. I wanted to stay with you.”
She looks at him.
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to stay with me here.”

“Where do you live?”
They are holding hands.
“Somewhere close. I am not staying there for long.”
“Oh. Cool. I want to move to. I hate where I live. Can I move with you?”
She starts walking faster and he stumbles to keep up.
She turns to him.
“Can you move with me? I dunno. You do pretty good.”

She bangs at the tap, getting a few more drops into the cup.
“That’ll have to do, man.”
“Hey. No big deal. It should be enough. Just some water.”
He takes the cup and gulps.
She drops down onto the floor with him. She reaches behind and grabs a pillow. She offers it. He denies it and chooses to rest in her lap again. She doesn’t protest.
“So, you really are getting ready to move?”
“I don’t have much. It is easy.”
“Cool,” he eases into it.
He is soon fast asleep.

There are muffled sounds coming from above. Cars roll by outside the walls. Heavy noises infiltrate the small, crooked room.
His head is on the pillow. He wipes some of the drool from his mouth.
“Uck.”
“Yeah, you started doing that on my lap.”
“Oh, crap. I’m sorry.”
“No, no. It was kinda funny. Cute, too.”
She is rummaging through a paper bag.
“Juice?”
“Sure.”
She tosses him a half-empty bottle of orange juice.
“Food will be another issue. I’m all out.”
“No problem. Let’s go get some breakfast. On me.”
“Fine. If you wanna call a meal at 3:30 in the afternoon breakfast.”

The best he can do is some bran muffins from the local coffee place.
“I’m sorry for this. I promised breakfast.”
“Muffins work.”
They find a table in the corner. Some of the people in the place look at the two of them and wonder what the hell their story is.
He bites into his muffin.
“Take the paper thing off.”
“Huh?”
“The paper cup thing around the muffin.”
She laughs, as he spits out the bits of muffin and paper.
Delicately removing her paper thing, she leans back against the window.
He reaches into his pocket for his player.
“You wanna listen to anything?”
“No, I’m good. I don’t dig it as much if I’m not up and moving to it.”
“Oh. Sure. Be all cool like that.”
She smiles.
He spins to the song he was listening to yesterday. The vocals like water track.
He looks at her.
“You sing, too.”
“Huh?”
“You were singing or whatever. Last night when we were on the floor.”
“Oh.”
“It was cool. Real cool. I liked it. It sorta sounded like the vocals on this one.”
He presses play and hands it to her.
She listens.
Laughs.
“This sounds a lot more sexy, I’m sure.”
“Nope.”
She looks at him. And hands him back his player.
“I like you,” he says.
A beat.
I like you, too” she says.

Back on the street, they have one more conversation.
“Where are you moving to?”
“Probably far.”
“Yeah, like outta town?”
“Yeah.”
“Listen, I don’t have,” but his thought dissipates as he catches something her eyes.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Right now, I am going back to my place to nap for a bit.”
“Oh.”
“You should do the same.”
He is silent.
“See you later, man.”
And she turns and is gone.

He slowly walks back. He is blasting some apocalipsis-metal. Some new sound from Mexico that he’s been digging on for the last few weeks. It sounds good really loud. The shredding guitar alone rips out all the other crap flying around in his head.

He is back early that night. Earlier than usual. He is drinking more. His foot is tapping. He has taken off his shoes, trying everything to anticipate and speed up her arrival.
The energy is too much. He jumps onto the floor. He finds release to the sounds of a bounding Caribbean-infused brick-tech track.

He slips out from the group on the floor and finds his seat again.
He wants her. But he is thinking that he should just leave. He let out his energy for the night. He is all done. He should go.
She bends down and whispers into his ear.
“You look good out there without me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters as he pulls her out onto the floor.
She flings off her boots. He reaches for her hips. They hit the vibe together. The resounding thump of human soles begins to dull his hearing. She starts to fade, but he reaches for her and pulls her back into him. The room and the sounds and the soles become one. Like all the nights previous.

Peeling away from his body, she slips him a kiss.
“ ,” she says.
“ ,” he replies.
And she retreats from the dance floor.
His eyes track her, as she slides along the far wall and towards the door. She is soon obscured.
He fends off a few people who try to dance with him.
He is at the center of the rectangle, unmoving.
He wants one last glimpse of her. He won’t get it.
A shredding guitar detonates out across the dance floor. The speakers project some vicious thread of apocalipsis-metal.
It rips out his thoughts and leaves him blank.