Chapter 5

“And that was our very own DJ Brandy everyone!” The crowd’s cheers are deafening, along with some whines of disappointment. I can't blame them. I would be disappointed too if the best DJ was leaving for the night.

I’ve been part of Club Myth’s DJ line-up for four months now, under the stage name Brandy.

And again, like every other time that I'm spinning, tonight's Friday crowd is mesmerized. Ask anybody in the club to describe how they’re feeling as they move to my beats, to my music, and they’d answer like they are high on aphrodisiacs having the best sexual experience of their lives. 

That’s what Friday nights are all about anyway, it’s one of those nights where people flock into the club to get laid, and I had to match them with my music. With sensual sounds and heavy bass accompanying the strong, sexy dancers on the stage. It's also one of those nights when I let my music borrow my own voice to add to the crowd’s stimulation. Singing, humming, whispering, and at times moaning into the microphone to get the crowd going.

The crowd goes wild when I do that, eliciting several howls and whistles from them. It doesn't bother me, not in the least. Not when I’m playing my music, also high from the adrenaline and the energy, the crowd is pouring into me. A happy crowd means a happy club owner, and a happy club owner means a large deposit into my bank account.

I feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears because of the adrenaline. I should really take a break or else my heart wouldn't be able to take it. “Thank you, everyone! What a night!” I say into the microphone giggling while using the back of my empty hand to dab off some sweat that formed on my brow, down to my jaw and neck, and the tops of my breasts.

A full set runs for about three hours and that means three full hours of me spinning, dancing, interacting, and basically partying. It’s usually at this point of the night that I would beg for a bottle of water; and as if on cue, one of my friends and fellow DJs, Chris, tosses me one. I mouth a quick thank you before focusing on the crowd once again.

Unlike other clubs in Manhattan, Myth performs quick interviews and photo ops with the DJs. They treat DJs here like they would pop stars on the red carpet. It lasts usually about five to ten minutes but the longer the interview drags on, the more anxious I get.  Despite DJing here for four months now regularly, during Tuesday and Friday nights, I still have a difficult time dealing with the crowd or what my co-DJs call fans.

It’s weird to have fans. What is weirder is to have fans because you make them high and want to fuck.

In the midst of the cheering a particularly loud one pierces through the house music playing, “Brandy you’re so fucking hot, I love you!”

I couldn’t stop the blush that creeps up my neck and colored my cheeks. I hope my makeup is enough to cover it up.  I'm still not used to the crass comments and heady compliments. My laugh is awkward and forced when I speak next. “Right, see you guys next week!” Before running off the stage, almost bumping into the turntables and consoles.

I leave the roaring crowd behind as the music from the next DJ blares from the speakers. I lean on a table backstage, needing to catch my breath. Suddenly it was too hot and my skin-tight outfit wasn’t helping.

“Hey, you alright?”

I look up to find Chris’ familiar face.

I smile at his concern. “Yeah, Chris. I’m fine. Just needed to catch my breath.”

He looks unconvinced but he drops it. “Okay, If you’re sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He nods at my reply. “By the way, the boss wanted me to ask if you could DJ for a party next weekend.

Why me? I don’t do parties. Confused, I voice out my concerns. “Aren’t you the guys who do house parties?” Besides, I hate doing house parties because it usually meant interacting with strangers, and strangers are not really my kind of thing. I hate meeting new people.

Chris shrugs his shoulders and continued. “I don’t know either, I’m just relaying a message.”

I ponder on it. I mean I could use the extra money. Chris as if reading my mind said. “I think you should do it. It's for some big shot VIP, I mean why else would the boss specifically request you, right?”

He has a point."Äll right, I’ll do it.”

“Great! I’ll let the boss know. I know you need to get home.”

I smile again. Chris and I have grown so close these past few months that he even knew my schedule. Chris leaves to go wherever he’s going. I assume he’s headed for the boss’s office.

I check the time from the clock hanging on the wall. It's well past one in the morning. I fish my phone from my pocket; hoping that my roommate is still awake, I shoot her a quick text asking her to leave the door unlocked.

I left my keys. I’m really sorry, can you please leave the door unlocked for me?

The reply was instant; a simple ‘Okay’ sign. I let out a sigh of relief, pocketing my phone.

The walk towards the locker room is uneventful except for a few high fives and ‘good jobs’ from my workmates.

I hurry to get changed. I never entered the club as Brandy and I never left the Club as Brandy either. I don’t know why I decided on that, but it has become a habit that has stuck with me, so I just kept up with it all these months.

I take out a hoodie from my backpack and put it on to cover up the rest of my outfit. I took out the makeup wipes I had stashed, walking to a nearby mirror to wipe the thick product off of my face. 

“Another day is done.” I mutter to myself, “Let’s go home, Brandy.”