Boston's waterfront always was a place for socially borderline personalities to gather. A place where a man's worth was measured not by the cut of his coat, but the pluck with which he wears it. Investors have poured in, over the last few decades, and with this influx of capital the area is becoming gentrified. Now the waterfront is the "Seaport District". The junkies relocated to the South End when the methadone clinic moved near the medical center. The pimps and whores migrated online for greener pastures. Generally speaking, the unsavory element is gone, While the area is considered safe, a hard undercurrent of humanity is sometimes found at 'The Club'.
In the 70's, an outlaw biker gang acquired a run-down building near the wharfs. To taunt the police, they painted "The Club" in massive letters across the front of the wooden facade. Eventually, the bikers were run out (or more accurately, priced out) and left the building abandoned. The derelict property, which everyone colloquially called "the Club", was purchased, and turned into a dance hall. While technically the bar was named 'Wild Pete's Tavern' (there is a small sign over the door to prove it), everyone still calls it 'The Club", as there are faded, white, ten-foot tall letters across the front proclaiming it.
On Tuesdays DJ Pauly does a throwback night, throwing in a healthy dose of old school classics in his normally modern set. To set the mood, Pauly likes to dress as a caricature of an old school sleazy DJ. He slicks his hair back, veils his eyes in retro Oakley shades, wraps an obligatory 14 carat gold Italian horn and chain around his pudgy neck, and douses himself in what seems like a gallon of 'Red', from his World of Polo cologne gift set. Pauly wears too much Polo, and everyone makes fun of him. He usually retorts, "A man has to smell gooood!", drawing out the last syllable for effect, but deep down, even he knows it is way too much.
In truth, the World of Polo set is a yearly Christmas gift from his Nonna. Pauly has lived with her since his teenage mother died from an overdose weeks after his birth, forty-one years ago. Multiple strokes have crippled Nonna and robbed her of most of her sense of smell. Before he goes to work each night, Pauly stops at her worn chair and leans down to kiss her forehead. When the freshly sprayed cologne wafts over her, she lights up as cologne cuts through her foggy nose. He loves to see her twinkle in her eyes when she knows he's wearing the gift. Sure, he is teased about the amount he wears, but his Nonna's authentic smile is worth the ribbing he'll get.
The crowd moves in rhythm to the pulsing music, keeping an imperfect time to the beat. They are joyously ignorant of external distractions, ignorant of all except for the small clusters of space they carve out and claim on the floor. Eager to shed the stress and miserable drudgery of the long week, they come for release. Even though the crowd is barely at half capacity the air in The Club is hot and thick. Heat from the dance floor lights and the dancing bodies, turn the dim room into a dizzying, sweaty sauna. Yet there is an electricity in the air, a wild vibe.
Dancing in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a group of friends, is Natalie. Her long brown hair whips with every twitch of her head and her lithe body flows with movement. It's been ages since the friend group has been out at the same time, and her unfettered joy keeps a smile on her face as she dances wildly in a new dress.
"I love the way that little black dress fits you," a voice yells over the music.
She turns to see Livy, her best friend and freshman roommate from college. It's been years since that first semester at B.U. and they still hang out every chance they get. Livy is Southern Californian but stayed in Boston after getting her marketing degree. She says she fell in love with the city, but the reality it was a boy. Natalie grew up a local, well as local as a suburban girl can be. In most ways they are nothing alike, but it doesn't matter. Deep down they love each other like sisters.
Livy is right about the dress. Sleeveless with mild V-neck, a sheer back dropping dangerously close to her ass, and a hem daringly flows just above mid-thigh. Natalie searched for weeks for a dress to show off the curves of her taut body and this one does it like no other. In it she radiates both femininity and strength. The dress elevates her confidence from attractive career woman, to smoldering goddess.
As her confident attitude increases, her sex appeal explodes and she becomes intimidatingly hot. All men say they want a goddess, but most are too timid to approach. Not only does she love the way she feels in the dress, she loves that it makes men feel she is out of their league. This feeling is not conceit, but just an effective armor in the company of 'thirsty' men.
"Yeah Nats, you look fucking amazing!", yelled Nick, Livy's new love. He was good looking in a way, if you like the generic, aging, frat boy type. He is much too new to speak to her in this familiar tone. His voice betrays that it is only a matter of time before he hits on her, like most of Livy's asshole boyfriends. Natalie faces him and sees his eyes fixated on her breasts; an awestruck look plastered on his face. He bites his lower lip and after a half a second, she quickly looks away to hide her utter disgust. Instinctively turning her body away from him she looks out across the floor. Looking out see past the lights of the dance floor, she can only make out figures in the darkness, no faces, but she feels their eyes on her.
Nick's comment would have dropped harmlessly except for two things. First, he had a nasally, yet booming voice. Secondly, he yells over the music at the very moment Pauly drops a dramatic pause in the music. Most of the people around them were stealing glances at Natalie all night, and now the comment ringing out over the silent floor seems to give them permission to openly stare at her. Nick is honestly surprised by the piercing glares from the two women.
"What the --", Livy started to say before being cut off by Nick.
"Hey, let me go get drinks..." Nick's voice trails off as he hurries to the bar. Livy watches him go, determined to keep him on a short leash. She saw the warm the smile on his face when he remarked on Natalie's looks, but she missed his eyes lingering on her breasts.
"Nice boy you got there," Natalie laughs stiffly, immediately resolving to stay out of Nick's orbit, even so she feels flush from all eyes staring at her.
"He has his finer points," Livy adds, "just look at that ass!" She watches Nick walk all the way to the bar in her typical, intense, codependent way. Livy falls in love quick, and hard. Each time she loses the love of her life, Natalie is there to hold her while she cries. This pattern was repeated at least two times a year, for at least the last dozen men. Now it is painfully clear to Natalie, Livy is smitten again. Watching her friend swoon as Nick walked away Natalie knew this time would be no different. Yep, it would be no different. Livy still had a knack for picking blatantly unfaithful assholes.
