Burn My Paranoia One Last Time

7. Shout it from the Rooftop

"Take me somewhere new," I lean in and shout over the booming music.

We exchange an adventurous grin and she pulls my wrist.

"This way, m'lady," Sloane announces, squeezing us through the wild thrashing crowd.

We cross through another tightly packed hallway with red fluorescent lights. I cough, the smoke from a group's cigarettes dancing seductively through the air.

"Welcome to our parents' nightmares," she smirks, extending her arm like a showman.

The sea of gothic people part to reveal a blinding white light. I shield my face instinctively. Suddenly, the light starts cutting into bars and flashing violently to the beat of the music.

My eyes go wide and my jaw drops when my vision finally adjusts.

The dark silhouette of a man slowly lifting himself up a pole is lit up by a backlight. On the stage next to him is the silhouette of a woman with an Afro spinning around a pole with nothing but her long leg wrapped around it.

My heart starts beating fast. I can't tell if it's the drums, fear, excitement, or the product of all three.

"Holy shit," I barely utter, my jaw still unhinged.

"Come on, don't just stand there! Dance!" Sloane jabs my arm and starts swaying.

The scream of an electric guitar sends the lights fluttering again, causing her motions to look like a series of frames.

I begin swaying too, pumping my elbows in the air and thrashing my head. "This is so sick!"

"Haha I know right!" She yells back.

The clash of the drums and the strumming of the guitar speed up, as does the intensity of our slam dancing.

The lights reveal cage dancers, one of them sticking out their tongue and hanging their head upside down next to us.

Clubbers with increasingly risqué garments pass us by as we dance through the crowd, all of them moving seductively.

I can't keep track of how much time goes by. One minute I'm spinning and the next I'm sitting on a hill overlooking the sleeping city.

The crescent moon is shining ethereally, but with a comparatively pacifical brilliance than that of the harsh strobe lights underground.

Up here is tranquil and silent, and undoubtedly fresher. The only music playing is that of crickets hiding in bushes.

"It's a good thing I brought something to sit on," Sloane pats the towel underneath us proudly.

"You're always so prepared," I muse peacefully, reclining on my elbows.

"Cheeuh, guess who else came prepared?" Joel reaches into his jean pocket and shuffles something out.

I sit up and peek over Sloane.

"What's that?" I tilt my head.

"I rolled up some blunts for us while you guys were setting up the towel. Pretty schweet, eh? They're wrapped in tobacco leaves so they're gonna give us a wicked high." He dramatizes by putting two fingers to his lips and tracing them to the air.

"Oh my god, that's so sick," Sloane cackles. "I'll take one!"

"Right?" Joel's eyes flicker with the spirit of teenage rebellion as he passes Sloane a roll. "It'll hit stronger if we veg out in your limo with the doors closed. Rain, you want?"