“And that’s not good?” Zeke asked.
“Not if you’re trying to put out solid, palatable music that will appeal to more than one audience.”
“Interesting,” Zeke said, mostly because he really had no idea what Jake was talking about.
“He could have done much better,” Jake opined. “If he would’ve let the Nerdlys engineer that for him, he could’ve blown fucking Metallica out of the water. If that track is indicative of the entire album though, I think that Pauline’s information is correct. No one but a hard-core Matt fan is going to buy it and most of the radio stations aren’t going to play the cuts.”
“That’s too bad for Matt,” Zeke said carefully. He knew the score between Matt and the other former Intemperance members.
“Yeah, too bad for Matt,” Jake agreed, unable to help but a feel a sharp pang of petty satisfaction.
Even though it was Sunday night the Alturas Club, a trendy, upper-end nightclub, was fairly crowded with a variety of men and women, most between the ages of twenty-one and thirty. Jake waited in line like everyone else and paid his cover charge from a thick roll of twenty dollar bills he had pulled from an ATM machine earlier in the day.
Modern dance music was playing and couples were moving and grooving to it out on the large dance floor. Most of the cocktail tables were occupied currently, but there were a few spots open at the large bar that sat in a square in the center of the room. Jake grabbed a seat and ordered a rum and coke, tall, from a mid-thirties female bartender.
He paid her in cash and left a hefty tip, one that would insure she would make him another drink whenever he started to get low. He lit up a cigarette and then, drink in hand, turned around in his chair to scope out the room. Like always, it was a target rich environment. He noted three young women sitting at one of the cocktail tables drinking fruity looking concoctions with little umbrellas in them. All were wearing short skirts that showed off their legs and low cut tops that showed off their cleavage. Two were platinum blondes, one a brunette. He noted their existence and then continued to scope.
He was two drinks in when he finally decided to try an approach. The young brunette he had noted earlier was still sitting at the cocktail table but her two friends had gone out to dance. He set down his empty glass, put out his cigarette, and then walked over to her. She eyed him as he came closer, looking him up and down, her face remaining without expression. She certainly displayed no sign that she knew it was Jake Kingsley coming over to her.
“Hey there,” Jake greeted, putting a shy smile on his face.
“Hey,” she said, still with no expression, no tone in her voice.
“Care to dance a little?” he asked, waving his hand at the floor.
She hesitated a bit and then shrugged. “Sure,” she said. “Why not?”
She stood and took his hand, allowing him to lead her out onto the floor. The song currently playing was Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now), one of the staples played in clubs such as this. Though Jake did not have much appreciation for dance music in general, he did enjoy the simple, powerful beat of the tune. Without further conversation, he and the girl began to dance. She wasn’t bad, perhaps a bit less than enthusiastic. Jake, on the other hand, was a fantastic dancer and he knew it. He had no problem exploiting his natural sense of rhythm and showmanship for the cause of fornication.
“Nice moves,” his partner said appreciably after a particularly enthusiastic spin and shoulder dip maneuver.
“Thank you,” Jake told her. “I’m JD.”
“Darla,” she said, a small smile appearing on her face now.
They danced through that song and through the one after it, with Darla becoming a little more enthusiastic as they went. Still, Jake was not getting good vibes from her. She kept her distance from him, going out of her way to avoid touching anything but his hands, and even that was a rarity. So, when the second song ended, he thanked her for the dance and headed back to the bar, not even offering to buy her a drink. She did not seem disappointed.
He nursed another rum and coke, smoked another cigarette, and then drank a large glass of water to keep himself hydrated. He struck up a conversation with a cute brunette sitting next to him, but it only lasted until her boyfriend returned from wherever it was he had been. Jake took this in stride. The night was still young.
He danced a few times with a platinum blonde named Bobbi, and got enough vibes out of her that he asked her if he could buy her a drink. She smiled at him and told him that she was capable of buying her own drinks, thank you very much, and off she strolled.
“All right then,” Jake said to himself as she walked away. “Moving along.”
It was well after ten o’clock, and well after his seventh rum and coke, when he spotted the redhead. She was strolling around the perimeter of the dance floor, nursing a glass of white wine while she watched the dancers. She had on a slinky black miniskirt that was perhaps a bit shorter than propriety dictated. She was a bit on the chubby side, not obese by any means, but not model thin either. Her legs were nice, however, if perhaps a bit plump. And her face was cute, though her skin tone did not seem to contrast exactly with the shade of red that her hair was.
Jake decided to ask her to dance, not thinking it a bit odd that he had not been with a redhead since that fateful day in Cabo San Lucas when he’d cheated on Rachel, his girlfriend at the time, with one and had been caught, thus ending the relationship. There was just something about this girl that struck his fancy. Perhaps it was those huge mammaries she was displaying proudly. They would certainly feel nice if he managed to get his hands on them.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked her.
She did, in fact, like to dance. They went out on the floor and shook their booties to three straight songs. She was not shy about putting her body into contact with his and he felt those large breasts moving up and down his chest several times, her silky smooth legs sliding against his. She had no problem with him putting his hands on her waist as they moved to the beat of the music.
“You dance great!” she told him, visibly impressed with his moves.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he returned.
“I’m Clarissa,” she said. “Clarissa Fowler.”
“JD King,” Gath told her, not missing a stride or a move. “It’s nice to meet you, Clarissa.”
“You as well.”
The song wound down and a slow song started. Jake decided not to chance it at the moment. “How about I buy you a drink, Clarissa?” he offered.
That brought a big smile to her face. “I thought you’d never ask,” she said.
They worked their way over to the bar and found an empty spot to sit down. Jake got a brief flash of her black panties as she maneuvered herself onto the stool—a flash he was pretty sure had been deliberate. Yes, Miss Clarissa was putting off some good vibes. Even in a place like this, it was a challenge to find a young, attractive woman who was willing to head off and have meaningless sex with a total stranger. But there were always a few in the crowd.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.
“Rum and coke for me,” Jake said. “And for you?”
“Chardonnay,” she said.
“What kind would you like?” the bartender asked.
Before she could say anything, Jake answered for her. “The best you got,” he said.
The bartender raised her eyebrows a bit. “Uh ... that would be the ‘87 Inglenook Reserve,” she said. “It’s eighteen dollars a glass.”