"ID, please" the worn doorman of Elysium said.  Cary, who hadn't remembered to have it ready, dug through her pockets.  Matt, always two steps ahead, slipped aside and showed his.  He was stamped.  Then Andy, with his newly re-bleached hair went through as well.  Cary finally found the old thing in the inside coat pocket, practically hidden away.
     "Always the last pocket you check," she mumbled an excuse, running a hand through her spiky blond hair.
     "You don't keep checking if you find it."  The doorman grumbled.  Cary was stamped to drink and wandered into the dim hall wondering about the implications of that.  A small crowd of shaved and colorful punks were mumbling and smoking by a bulletin board.  They seemed so young to her.
     "C'mon blondie," Andy cajoled, "I see a few empty bar seats."  The darkly dressed painter and store clerk practically ran up the ramp to the main room leaving just a trail of cigarette smoke to follow.
     "Good thing he still has his priorities," Matt snickered in Cary's ear.  He took her hand.  She gave him a public kiss and shoulder slammed into him.  A look of mock pain played over his classic features.  There was a timelessness in his boyish beauty.  They headed after their old friend.
     The main room was brighter than the entry hall.  The stark work lights were on and showed that Elysium was a club best off when dimly lit.  A large bar dominated the corner near them and another bar lurked toward the back.  Cary could make out some of the main floor and stage over the haircuts.  Andy was leaning on two stools, possessively.  He had a strange grin on his face.
     "Two seats, next to each other," Andy said, amazed, "a good omen."
     "Oh please," Matt said gracefully sitting.  Cary looked over the floor.  Groups of people, strangers, were talking in clumps and posing.  It had been a while since she had gone out to see a show.  She searched for a familiar face.
     "Hey," Matt tapped her shoulder, "Whatya want to drink?"
     "Nothing, yet hon."  Her eyes fixed on someone across the room, at the back bar.  A woman, eyes full of mirth, laughed with a bartender.  She wore a leather biker jacket, black jeans and jet black hair.  She turned, saw Cary and waved excited.  Cary waived back, weakly.
     "There's Jean," she said, pulling on her old sweater.
     "Jean," Matt turned expectant.  Jean pulled a balancing act between beer cup, cigarette and crowded floor.  A lump formed in Cary's throat.  It had been years since they'd met up... for a variety of reasons.  Cary looked back at Andy, leaning against the bar casually.  Enigmatically, he raised his glass to her in silent salute.  He was drinking something red.
     "Damn it's good to see you," Matt said squeezing Jean fiercely.  Their jackets matched.
     "Shit, you too, Mattie," She said holding out her smoke and drink.  "It's been too long."
     "Yeah, I know."  He moved away and stared at her with a sad ecstasy.  He smiled like a fool and it put lines in the corners of his cloudy blue eyes.  Cary was struck again, by how perfect he looked, what a well-carved statue he was.
     "So, how 'ave ya been?" Cary moved in, one arm around Jean.  They exchanged a curt hug.
     "Been better an' I been worse," Jean answered, as she pulled away.  "Andy.." she smirked.  He didn't move but waived a tiny vigorous waive mid-drink.
     "I didn't know if you guys were gonna make it," Jean said blowing smoke, "the place started filling up about ten minutes ago."  She glanced around casually cool.
     "I forgot," Matt cocked his head back, grinning slyly.  "You practically live here don't you."
     "You got it Mattie-boy," Jean poked him in the nose. "Elysium is my home," she mocked, splaying her arms out in ownership.  She was energized  - very bouncy.  Cary wasn't sure how much of this she could handle.
     "I can't wait for The Morns, they're so awesome.  'Specially Ned.  He's a Real guitarist. Just too cool." Jean stopped only to take a perky drag off her cigarette.  "And have you seen the "Go Out" video.  It's so great when they blow the TV up.  It's Meta."  She held her hands up in amazement.  "It's just like that's what you want to happen, but you're only seeing it.  It isn't really happening, but who knows somewhere it might be, get it... It's just too cool.  Terrifyingly cool.  Too, too cool.  This is gonna be great.  Ever see 'em?"
     "Years ago, after Headman .  They were great.  Wild show."  Matt answered.
     "Yeah, Head's still their best album.  But their live shows just keep getting better and better.  They have a...a.. presence, you know?  It's like an energy, you either got it or you don't.  Wasn't expecting this crowd though."
     "Yeah, damn advertising.  Hey have you heard of this opening band, 'MalMusicka' ?"
     "Oh Gawd, MalMusicka is opening.  They are awful.  Stinko. They're this teeny Boston grunge wannabe group and the singer is this fat guy who just can't dance, but tries, and they do all these horrible covers and ruin songs and MalMusicka..., Really?"
     "That's what it says," Cary stated.  A hand gripped her shoulder.
     "Hi there", a low voice rumbled directly behind her.  She let out a yelp.
     "Ahhh, how long have you been there?"  It was Josh.
     "How long should I have been here?" His thin face loomed over her with an evil satisfied grin.
     "You big goofball, you scared the heck outta me."  She looked him over.  Black pants, vest and a poet's shirt; a neat new Victorian male.  His goatee needed a trim and his eyes were sunk and tired though.  Those saddened eyes held her so well.
     "Now there's a surprise. You scared."  Matt arched a brow knowingly.
     "So am I still in time for MalMusicka?"  Josh asked scanning the room.
     "Don't tell me you, LIKE, them?"  Jean recoiled from the blow.
     "No... no, no, but I know some of the guys in the band."  he answered smoothly.
     "Can you get us into the dressing room," Jean cooed wrapping, an arm around him,  "I always wanted to meet the worst band in town."  She broke her sweet expression.  She couldn't contain her malicious smile or laughter.
     "They're not that bad."  he defended.
     "They haven't started Josh, don't worry, you big lug." Cary gave him a punch in the arm.  Matt stared at that.
     "Hi Andy what-ya drinking?"  Josh asked elated.
     "Anything in a cup." He sipped.
     "Remind me not to leave you around any urine specimens."  Jean noted.
     "How's school?"  Cary asked.
     "Schools fine.  They're getting plenty of money and no one bothers them."  Josh flagged down the bartender,  "Me on the other hand.  I need to study a bit harder.  I'm not the genius I was. Rolling Rock, thanks."
     "Who is?" Matt wondered.
     "True enough, Anyway what have you been up to, Cary?"  Josh asked, waiving a white flag.
     "Oh you know really dull corporate video work, "Marketing Management in Action" and "The Corporation's Course," Blah blah blah blah blah."  Cary rolled her eyes.  "At least the set's are getting more interesting.  Primary colors are in now.  It looks like the young republicans are lost on Sesame Street - real goofy."
     "Sound's like fun." Josh answered.  Cary noted that Jean and Matt were holding their own talk.
     "Oh it's not, It is so dull... mind-numbing dull - the editing is just crap.  But my manager's ok and things are better."  She said off-handedly.  She couldn't make the other discussion.
     "That's cool." Josh looked distant.
     "Yeah, it is."  She looked down at the hole in her sweater.  It was small but she noticed.  "What time is it?"
     "8:17," Andy answered without checking.
     "Shouldn't the show have started already?" Cary glanced at the staging.  The lights seemed different.
     "Yeah 17 minutes ago & that's not counting MalMusicka."  Josh answered following her gaze.
     "Let's not mention MalMusicka."  Andy said chewing his maraschino cherry.
     "MalMusicka MalMusicka MalMusicka MalMusicka MalMusicka"
     "You're real good at this not mentioning thing aren't you Josh."  Andy winced.
     "The best."
     "Who the hell is that?" Cary pointed as blurs leapt onstage.
     "AALLLRIGHT !!!" one of the frantic men screamed into a mike, "Let me see you MOOOOVE."
     "MalMusicka."  Jean flatly accepted.
     "I'm getting a drink."  Handsome Matt said squinting.  The bassist onstage played a throbbing rhythm.  It had two notes.
     "Hey, let's give it a chance."  Josh pleaded.  But his face was washed with suffering, the suffering known as MalMusicka.
     "God this is a dead crowd."  Andy noted, leaning back too casually.  No one was dancing.
     "They'll be better when The Mornings start up."  Jean said wincing at the guitars grinding.
     "I'm going back for a drink, how about you Cary?" Matt asked over the feedback.
     "Well.....sure." She gave in.
     "MalMusicka is best taken with a soft head."  Andy explained secretly as Cary leaned in to the bar.
     "They're an opening band.  What do you expect?"  Matt asked across from her
     "Music."
     Matt ordered two beers and Andy ordered a "Smutty Evening" which was a cloudy, strong smelling drink.  Cary winced looking at it.  She turned and looked onto the sunken floor.  A few college kids had started dancing.  Or hitting each other.  It was hard to determine which.  She
noticed that Jean had wondered back to the back bar.  Josh was leaning against the pole watching the band.  He seemed miles away.
     "I hate drinking at clubs," Matt said.
     "Oh yeah," Cary said.
     "It's like, here, have fun emptying your wallets."  He pantomimed tossing away bill after bill.
     "Mmmn."  Cary looked.
     "I don't know," Andy noted, "I think it's a kind of privilege."
     "A what?" Matt asked.
     "A stranger mixes a perfect blend of juices and sodas and alcohol and presents it to you so wonderfully in a pleasant and delightful social setting.  I call that a privilege."
     "Andy, your bar bill has been over sixty dollars."
     "I'm very privileged."
     Matt and Andy continued to argue, but Cary didn't care.  She looked over to Josh and then to Jean.  They seemed to belong.  Even though he stood alone, it seemed as though Josh was at complete ease.  It seemed as though he owned the club and had invited everyone for a party.  Joan
was across the room talking to a cluster of leather clad clubbers.  Cary felt self-conscious.
     "I'm gonna dance," she leaned back, "Okay Mattie?"
     "To this?" Matt wondered.  Andy smirked.
     "Hey, it's a concert and that's what I came to do."
     "Sure."
     Cary maneuvered through the crowd.  She bumped her way through to the stairs to the dance pit.  A wave of nervousness swept over her.  Everyone on the floor were part of the scene and she had left all that behind.  She didn't know when it happened, but she stopped going out.  Maybe it was after Josh.  Then she balled her hands to fists and squeezed twice and she hit the floor.
     The crowd was rough and energized, even for a lousy opener.  Cary knew she'd be bruised in the morning.  But for just this once she'd be a teenager again.  The lights swirled a dizzying kaleidoscope and the rhythm pounded deafening through the bass bin speakers.  Cary stomped and swayed and slammed.  She turned.  On the floors edge Josh stood like a statue and beyond Andy and Matt were flickering ghosts in the distance.  She stared up at the lights washing through the crowd and the vocalist sweating into his mike. A manic grin crept across her face.  It seemed so foolish.  She had no reason to feel so happy.
     But she was.
 

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