What Goes Through The Mind Of A DJ – New Rules Novel | New Rules Novel

EMMA - CHAPTER 41

What Goes Through The Mind Of A DJ

Organizing these nights felt beneath me after the over the top extravaganza that was the Subway station party. We had a bunch of short films playing at the cinema next door, a couple of people from the brand sponsors leaned by the bar, dressed a lot more low key then the group of young fashion hipsters making an early start on the free beer.

Slips had popped out to see a friend for a couple of hours so I grabbed beers for Mason and his friend. He looked kind of uneasy, like he had expected a big crowd, I reassured him that it would fill up right after the films finished and pointed him in the direction of where to set up.

We used to put on one these parties every month, but we had chilled out a little on them lately. I had a text from my Jamie saying she was out with a couple of friends and can I put her name on the door. These nights had a reputation for getting pretty loose.

Viv looks tired, I don’t tell her though. I hate when people tell me I’m tired. There is no immediate way to resolve it. What is the expected reaction? “I’ll try to get more sleep?” What kind of bullshit was that?

The new DJ starts playing while the other music is still on. I wave at the sound guy to turn the music off, and he gives me a look that says, “Yes love, I’m aware of what’s happening”. The crowd from the films swarms the bar and we move to a table towards the back. The girls all seem a bit overdressed, which by minority renders us underdressed. My sister texts back two hearts and a +4 with a question mark. I hope her friends aren’t too wasted. The last time she came to a work party she brought this wasted girl from Texas.

Viv looked like she was drinking a beer for the first time, holding it that awkward way that some girls do.

“Do you need a straw with that?” I ask.

She screws her face up, “Shut up.”

A photographer starts to move around, shooting the room. He should really wait to people have loosened up a bit, no one is even dancing yet. But still, everyone clamours to get in shots.”

“So is that chick from your work coming?” Viv asks.

“Oh my god. She better not. She has been walking around like a new queen. I sent her this email to do a follow up for something else and she flat didn’t get back to me.”

“How old is she again?”

“I dunno, she’s been there less than a year. It’s driving me nuts. I can’t take it,” I let a breath out and take a drink, “I used to be fine with whatever, wouldn’t let it get to me. But I’m over it. I tried to reach out to her. If she wants to play this game… She can’t think I’m that much of a push over. Am I that much of a pushover?”

She sits, up and crosses her arm, suddenly more aware of the conversation. “What? No. No way. Don’t take that shit. You have been there for ages. Think of what you have given that place. Point her out if she comes.”

She better not come. I imagined confronting her on the dance floor, proving to her that she had been way out of line as she twists into a pleading apology. Then I run it again, but I put her in a really ugly top.

We chat to a few people, a journalist with a white patch in his hair. He’d just come back from India exploring hidden underground gentlemen’s clubs. Not strip bars, not even women working there. Just hidden places men went to drink whiskey, eat, smoke and chat. He was a big guy, made Viv look like a toy when he sat next to her. Afraid to sit up straight in case it looked weird. Viv was pretty tiny. He left to get us all fresh beers. A dance floor had formed and the music was louder, he was playing tunes that everyone seemed to know. A group of girls danced harder then everyone at the front. Less than half of them with bras on. I wondered if not wearing bras was this big last year and asked Viv,

“Yeah. Maybe. I dunno. Do you think Mason is hot?”

“I guess so.” I say, “But it’s hard to tell now that he is playing.”

“What? How do you mean?”

“You know, they are always hotter when they are preforming.”

“So. Still means they are hot.”

He seemed to enjoy it more than some of the DJs we normally got, moving around to get the crowd going. I didn’t like his clothes, they looked old and worn, but not in the good way. He was someone that could probably do with a wardrobe upgrade. At least he wasn’t into bright t-shirts and chains like half the other hip hop DJs.

It was gratifying, to think that I put him there, and that he was happy to be there and enjoying it. He did look happy when a tune came on. Most DJs just look they are too cool to be in any spot unless they are staring out at one hundred thousand people and even then half of them look asleep. I wonder what it would be like. I’d watched a series of gif’s the other day of David Guetta wasted on drugs, dancing along behind the decks then looking terrified, like some kid on really strong acid for the first time. What would it be like to have taken drugs, standing up in front of that many people and twisting knobs?

* * *

Viv returned from smoking with the huge journalist dude, she didn’t appear too phased by the massive height difference. We sat at a table with Andre and the new guy he was seeing. Andre was getting pretty drunk in a way that made him super excited about his own jokes/stories and caused him to spit a little when he spoke. The guy seemed nice. Quiet, but that seemed to work for them. Mason joined us with some of his friends, Slips was playing and his tracks were a lot more aggressive. I brought back a round of vodkas in preparation for an exit move. My sister hadn’t showed, hadn’t text. I worried about her, she automatically lost half her brain cells after a few drinks.

“I’m gonna shoot home,” I said, “Great set dude.”

“Really? It’s still early. Slips is just warming up,” Mason said, leaning in close. I noticed Viv watching as he spoke to me. Everything looked more intense when you had to say it right into someone’s ear.

“This week has been pretty full on and I have a bunch of stuff in the morning. Thanks again for helping out at short notice. Cool if you flick me an invoice?”

“Sure no worries. I hear you’re doing work with Darnell?”

“Yeah. He just came onboard, we’ll be doing his debut.

“Nice,” He said, “What’s he like to work with?”

The question made me feel false inside and made me grind my ribs together at the thought of the whole scenario. I said simply that he was “Awesome.” And smiled. He told me that he would love to get some of his beats to him and that I could check out his Youtube channel. I resolved to find a way to get back on the Darnell project, it was rightfully mine – like I could just let that bitch take it.

“And Vince?” he asked, smiling. I was over tonight and started plotting my exit.

“What can I say? He is what he is.  It can be a bit much at times, but I can’t complain. Everyone always says how lucky I am, how amazing the job is and they expect me to be eternally grateful,” I paused. “I’ll stop there. Let’s just say he keeps things interesting.”

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