[ WP ] A new drug hits the clubbing scene - cheap , very addictive , a great high and seemingly safe .

I stood tall, ruthless against the pulsing throng of dancers. A thousand violet and jade light beams, shot from a stage somewhere beyond the current of stabbing arms, ricocheted off the dark steel walls onto the entranced bodies. I leaped off the bar stool onto my feet, registering a seismic shock through my legs into my skull. My nerves quaked with anticipation and the musical vibrations. Behind me the bartender began screaming at some shmuck for not paying his tab. I eased my body forward, and approached the brink of the writhing chaos. 
 
 You cheap bastard, he kept swearing. The sneering moustach in the bowtie had been trouble from the start, inquiring about the stain on my shirt, this and that. Now he was worked up into a tirade of wanton displeasure. The real outrage was charging thirteen dollars for corn syrup, water, and a weak dribble of Jameson on top. I ended up slugging three down, one with that awful potion. I meant to get to the bottom of what exactly the brew had contained, but I missed my chance when that shady pal of mine disappeared with that woman. What was her name? Kicking myself for it, I knew the attempt at recollection would be futile. Damn. I meant to find out why she seemed so familiar. 
 
 I had to see this illusive musician before the drug had really ground its feet in me. I felt conscious of the flesh in my body, they way it tensed and shook against the pounding of my feet on the hardwood. For a moment I felt every bone in my body, my shambling skeleton aligning with a sudden awareness. The heat from the people was palpable. The bartender let out a final prolonged wail. Another fish, I thought, jumping off the hook. I folded into the crowd, a droplet merging with a puddle. 
 
 Bellows from every direction. I made a beeline for the stage, the whole reason I was conscribed into this dim mess. Dragged out from a particularly meaningful face to face meeting with a blank canvas, I was paraded into a car by a crazed Filipino from across the hall. He had started kicking down the door by the time I got there, which was quick based upon how hard he decided to knock. He never had one set knock, so you know never knew who he was. How he stayed fresh each time he came over, was anybody's guess. Sometimes I thought it was Morse code, tiny cryptic or lewd messages tapped away at my door for the past 8 months. I asked myself myself, as I did most nights, why I kept getting into a car with this ludicrous individual. Any day he'll flip and have my head, just for the fun of it. Any day this animal will put me on his mantle. Soon after, we were burning down West Burnside in Donny's modern domesticated tank. 
 
 The thing ran hard and roared down the road, spewing expended gas from the rear. The driver, a hulking man with chubby unassuming cheeks sat scrunched at the wheel. His discount mop of scraggly hair covered his ears and almost came down over bloody brown eyes. 
 
 “ Kiki's playing at the club, ” Donny said. 
 
 I put my arm up on the rest and sank into the palm of my hand. I thought of the canvas, my forlorn masterpiece. This time, I had it. This was it. I really had felt it too. Just another fish. I brooded out the window. 
 
 “ Kiki plays at the club every night. ” 
 
 “ Yeah, J.T. but tonight, this night, she's really there, ” he enunciated. 
 
 I went to give him a dismissing wave when I noticed a # 20 mop brush in my hand wet with pale navy. I brought it to my face and gave it a whiff. Pungent, very wet, and a lot of it. I almost made a cost analysis before Donny stopped at a red and reached into a backpack at his feet. I gave a condemning sign and told him he looked like a hen warming her egg, or in this case, aborting it. The disgusting fucker actually laughed. 
 
 “ Here, ” he handed me a ceramic vial, “ from her's truly. ” 
 
 I held it up to my eye, “ If she always sends you this stuff, why is she never there? ” Frowning I turned to him, “ What is this anyways? ” 
 
 “ She's there, man, she's there. Come on, we've made it. Hey, put that lid back on! You got ta put it in the drink or you'll have a fucking stroke or something. That stuff is dangerous. What are you doing with that brush? ” 
 
 “ I told you I was busy until you came screeching into my apartment. Will you hold it for a second? ” I went to put the strange liquid in my pocket when the buffoon thrust at me with the oil paint and delivered a killing blow. “ What in Jesus' funhouse are you- ” 
 
 “ Man, do n't hand this to me and expect me not to use it, ” squealed the mischievous driver. 
 
 “ What is wrong with you!? ” 
 
 “ I can fix it do n't worry I'll- ” 
 
 I held off the assault as best as I could, but the damage had been done. He had even thrown away the evidence, the brush plopping against the sidewalk as the light flashed green. In quiet seething anger, I knew I was beaten. I reached in the back and found a dirty sweatshirt, and wiped away what I could with it as a petty last word, but ended up just smearing it around my button down. Now smock, I had been arrogant. Donny was not phased. He did n't even look, just kept watching the road, a satisfying grin, hands neatly at the wheel. We parked across from the grungy club in a space ripe with serendipity and strode casually into the Bar hall. 
 
 I pushed continuously through the jungle. The stage lights, now nearly within reach, mellowed into a deep electric blue. The music receded before starting its steady climb. The crowd, following suit, floated into the crescendo until it built a pulse. I stopped cold. I squinted through the bodies. No dice. Everyone started to jump. They grasped at the air with soaring desperation, open fingers, lunging for a lifeline, waiting to capture the tidal change. I stood feel the great insatiable force around me, when I saw the girl through the churning bodies, leaning heavily on her back with and her arms crossed. Looking at me. Smiling at me. 
 
 Drop. 
 
 Flash. 
 
 Gone. Where'd she go? Damn it! Morgan, I had lost her. And like that I had it. Her, Morgan. Donny had introduced me to his man, a liaison from the less lawful markets, and his attractive friend. Big shot, Donny always said, knows his stuff. Always was asking him to go into business together, the guy was relentless. The girl had just tagged along that once. Morgan, she smiled then too, but something was off. Her lips were an impossible confident simper, unsure, but comfortable. Now in the haze of the retro light show she smiled with an almost sinister satisfaction. The lights flared into a crushing danger red. I pivoted to face her coming out of the mass, stalking towards me through the now frenzied horde. She quickly moved in close and reached out two fingers to dabbed at my chest and took a brief look. She smirked at me with her amused slender eyes and stood back on her left leg. 
 
 “ You're the painter? ” She mouthed, coolly miming brushstrokes. 
 
 “ Artist, ” I mouthed back. 
 
 She laughed and showed her teeth. Gorgeous. She pointed towards an exit and we pushed our way out. Breaking out of the crowd, I quickly found a table. Morgan had materialized with two drinks, and placed them on the ground metal surface. She put her elbows down and swirled her tumbler, watching the current. Finally she peaked up. 
 
 “ So, ” she relaxed suddenly, “ has it hit you yet? ” 
 
 “ Yeah. It came on quick. ” 
 
 She grinned fiercely, “ How do you feel? ” 
 
 I searched. I grinned back. 
 
 “ Naive. ” 
 
 She rose forward, a glass vial of fuchsia in her fingers. “ You know what this is? ” she spoke with a slight accent. I gave a droll shake of my head and she leaned suicidally over the table. 
 
 “ Eden, ” she whispered, “ Ambrosia. Do n't you know? ” 
 
 She poured half the vial in each of our drinks and let the last drop fall on her tongue. We let our glasses kiss, and downed the bitter chemicals. I immediately felt a strange question appear in my mouth. 
 
 “ Hey, do you have a sister? ” 
 
 The girl giggled. It seemed mortally funny to her and she finally asked me who it was I knew. 
 
 “ You're Morgan, right? ” 
 
 “ Morgan? ” she laughed, “ You can call me Kiki. ”
