The last of the summer heat is thick and cloying when I step out onto the bright downtown street. Sunlight is bouncing off the glass windows of the high rise office buildings, and the sidewalks are full of business people rolling up their sleeves and tourists sweating through their t-shirts as they haul brand name shopping bags around.
I head down to Rue Saint-Catherine. The Cube Room isn’t all that noticeable during the day, but at night, the huge cube-themed LED installation above their sign is a well-known beacon for people looking for a good night out. I head around to the staff entrance and knock a few times before some college-aged guy opens the door.
“Hey, I’m here to see Nabil.”
He blinks. “Oh shit. You’re Youssef, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
He steps back and ushers me in, still blinking. “Wow. I’m a big fan, man. I saw your set at Piknic this summer, and I’ve caught a few of your club shows too. Your shit’s killer, especially that EP.”
“Oh. Thanks, man.” It hits again: that floating feeling. I swallow and resist the urge to shake my head to clear it out. “I appreciate that.”
I wave goodbye and make my way through the backstage area and out onto the main floor of the club. The air smells like a mix of spilt beer, cleaning products, and the stale remnants of dry ice: the sweet perfume of a nightclub during daylight hours. The big cubes made of tube lights that hang from the ceiling are all switched off, but the house lights are on, gleaming off the battered hardwood and the two bars at the back of the huge, empty dance floor. There are some staff members rushing around, and every sound they make echoes.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in here. I used to try to see a couple shows a month and catch up with some of the older staff members, but life hasn’t allowed it since my EP took off.
“Youssef!” Nabil appears at the edge of the stage that also houses the DJ booth and waves like he’s guiding a plane down a runway. “You’re here! Come join me in my office.”
“Your office?” I call out. “Aren’t I supposed to be fixing an electrical problem?”
“All will reveal itself, my friend.”
He disappears, and a few of the staff members rushing around the room laugh as I groan and climb up onto the stage to follow him. A short hallway off one of the wings leads to the staff room and the doors to two offices. Nabil is standing in front of his, grinning at me so wide I’m starting to get suspicious.
“What’s up?”
He just motions for me to follow him and shuts the door behind us. His office is small but organized, with bare concrete walls covered in old event posters. He sits on the edge of his desk, and I lean against the door to stare him down.
“What’s going on?”
“What do you mean what’s going on?”
“You’re acting...weird.”
He winks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, Nabil. You just fuckingwinkedat me. I walked three blocks in the sweltering heat to get here. Tell me what’s going on, because I know it can’t be an electrical problem.”
He shrugs, still grinning. “Maybe I’m just acting weird because I’m going on a date tonight.”
“You’re—wait, what?”
He nods and bobs his head to an imaginary beat as my jaw drops. I was starting to think he’d never get over his ex.
“Wait, is it with that girl from the bistro on Saturday?”
More nodding and grooving to a silent beat follows.
I swear in Arabic and reach over to punch him in the arm. “Shit, man. You literally drunkenly chased her through the building and still ended up with a date. I didn’t know you had that kind of game.”
He scoffs. “I did not drunkenly chase her.”
“Close enough.”
“Asshole. Maybe I won’t tell you my other exciting news.”
I lower myself into the chair in front of his desk. “Thank God there’s other news. I’m happy for you, man, but I’d be kind of pissed if you made up some elaborate story just to get me here when you could have, I don’t know, sent a text.”
