1692 was the name of the club. 1692. Was that the year Columbus sailed the ocean blue? I can’t remember. I think that was earlier.
1692 is the club at 1692 South Jefferson Street in Dayton Ohio. Thursday night is goth night. Freak night. Every other night it’s a gay club. Thursday night, for them, is a little odd.
Thursday night it’s not just gay boys in the cages. It’s gay boys, too. But it’s straight girls, too. It’s everybody.
I’m in the car with Ashley. It’s me, Ashley, and Chad. And my friend Penelope. She and Ash and I once had a ten-second threesome in the bathroom of my apartment. But it was ok—it didn’t violate anything—because nobody came. The four of us are cracking glow sticks.
“Ok. This bag’s done.”
“Niiice!”
Chad opens his door and gets one foot out before Ashley stops him. She quotes the song we were listening to earlier:
“Where the fuck was you at?” She wags her finger at him. “What the fuck was you doin’?”
“There’s another bag of these, cowboy.” I toss him another bookbag. It’s a blue Jansport.
Chad opens it. He starts cracking. “How many bags do you have?”
“Six. Give that one to Marcus.”
“Marcus is gonna be here?”
I lean back at Chad and smile. “Yes.” Pretty sure Chad likes Marcus.
“Who doesn’t?” Ashley says.
“What?”
“Who doesn’t like Marcus?”
“You just read my mind.”
And Ashley says: “I know. Maybe you shouldn’t be getting rid of me too soon, you know?” She shies away. “I’m good for a thing or two.” Then she cracks a glow stick.