Countless ponies thronged the dance floor of Club P0n-3, spellbound by the whirling patterns of neon lights that somehow pulsed in time to the riveting bass and electromagical distortion presided over by the club's namesake, DJ Pon-3 herself. The chaotic music and the incessant clacking of innumerable ponies' hooves enfolded each other into a bizarre soundscape with a subtle beauty appreciated only by those who could perceive it. Though they knew it not, these revelers were truly the modern incarnations of the ancient devotees of Luna who celebrated the sacred night with sacraments of music and movement.
Every bit of this was lost on Octavia. Her attention was focused on the young pony in front of her and the dozen or so behind him, who were impatiently waiting for her to decipher the arcane instructions being shouted at her by the equally besieged Fresh. She was regaled with the proper ratios of the different types of alcohols that comprised a truly vast number of drinks the sophisticated cellist had never even heard of. She grasped the bottles clumsily in her hooves and mouth, unfamiliar with the entire process and envying the ease with which the more seasoned barcolt beside her handled the honestly ridiculous amount of alcohol being served. She watched as the glass in front of her filled shakily with a sickly green liquid, spilling over the modest amount of ice resting in the glass. Relieved, she put the bottle down and pushed the drink towards her customer. She received his bits and automatically dropped them in the till, already listening to Fresh telling her where to find the necessary components of the next customer's request. When she had completed that order and glanced again at the line she saw that two more ponies had joined it. Sweat began to bead along Octavia's face as she tried desperately to keep pace, her movements as she fetched, mixed and replaced the various drinks hardly ceasing.
The only good thing about this is that I don't even have time to think about how totally bucked I am.
Chilly night air washed over Octavia as she pushed against the club's outer door. She sighed in relief; despite the constant efforts of the building's climate control system it was still uncomfortably warm inside from the sheer press of bodies. Her eyes blinked in mild disorientation; she had become so accustomed to the incessant maelstrom of light that the honest and steady darkness of the night sky, broken only by the twinkling of stars, seemed to quaver maddeningly in the corner of her vision.
She shook her head slightly to clear her sight, her long black mane falling out of place to follow the brisk motion. Instinctively, she tossed her head to return it to its proper place. Only then did she step forward to stand beside the looming bulk of Heavyset, whose attention was focused firmly on the much-increased crowd waiting to be admitted.
Her breath caught in her throat at the simple size of the hundreds-strong line. A less dignified pony might well have made some embarrassingly high-pitched squeak to express the sudden cold rush of fear that filled them at the sight of so many antsy ponies who wanted admittance to an already-full club.
Instead, she asked the stolid bouncer (in a voice that definitely didn't tremble slightly), “Has the line been this long all night?”
Heavyset didn't turn his attention away from the crowd to answer in his low-pitched rumble, “No, Miss Philharmonica. We've been admitting about 30 or 40 ponies every half hour; the same number as have been leaving. However, 50 or 60 ponies have been joining the queue in the same time frame so that gradually it’s gotten this long.”
The gray mare frowned. “Are you worried about them getting violent or anything of that nature?”
The enormous stallion shook his head in denial. “No, I'm not. There don't seem to be any troublemakers.”
“Very well. I'll see if anything can be done to increase the number we're letting in and reduce this crowd some.”
With that, Octavia turned and slipped back into the club. She winced at the sudden resumption of pounding rhythm and blinding light as she eyed the already-filled-to-capacity club's interior.
How in Celestia's name am I supposed to get any more ponies in here?
Octavia watched, slack-jawed, as Cadia's blue aura grasped an unruly and very drunk colt who mere seconds ago had begun dancing a little too wildly for the safety of those around him. Now several ponies were nursing what would likely be bruises as they stepped irritably away from the crowd of those still dancing. The colt in question was unceremoniously levitated off by the impassive bouncer to be deposited outside.
Hoping to save face with the couple of ponies who had run afoul of the drunken colt's flailing, Octavia walked forward with the most winning smile she could manage plastered on her face.
“Gentlecolts,” she began, her heart pounding nervously in her chest. What if they get mad or threaten to sue or want him arrested? “I'm sorry your night was so rudely interrupted. Can I offer you a drink on the house?”
Thankfully for the ever more frazzled mare they graciously accepted her offer of recompense and followed her over to the bar so Octavia could instruct Fresh that their orders were gratis.
Oh Luna, I hope Vinyl doesn't get upset with me for giving out free drinks.
She left them happily sipping away at their beverages of choice to find Cadia and ensure nothing else had gone awry. And to get another case of Sweet Apple Cider from the storeroom for Fresh, who was quickly running out. And to see if there was rioting in the street yet amongst those who were waiting to enter.
Finally, Octavia had a moment to herself. A quick glance at the clock hanging behind the bar showed her that the club had already been open for three hours, as it was now eleven o'clock. Vinyl intended to remain open till one in the morning, so at least the beleaguered mare had the comfort of knowing that the night was more than halfway over.
For her part, the DJ was exactly where she had been all night; up on her raised console amongst the dancing ponies. Octavia watched, fascinated, as Vinyl's head bobbed carelessly in time to the music, causing her electric two-tone mane to fall rakishly around her face. Her eyes couldn't be seen through the lenses of her trademark glasses but her face was pulled up in an unmistakable smile. Her hooves fairly flew across the vast expanse of dials and switches, sometimes switching records with a deft movement that didn't interrupt the flow of music in the least. It was obvious the DJ was in her element, that this was her bliss. Octavia couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her own face at the sight; even though she didn't particularly care for the music she couldn't help but appreciate the other mare's obvious passion and happiness.
If anypony else had any thoughts on why she was staring at Vinyl so intently with a goofy smile on her face they kept it to themselves.
Octavia was serving drinks again. Vinyl had just played a number of faster-tempo songs and now a large influx of ponies had headed to the bar to seek refreshment and to allow their tired bodies to rest. An equal number had apparently decided to call it a night after that round of rigorous dancing and had already left to be replaced by a fresh wave of party-goers from outside. As she mixed and served an idea was taking place in the manager's mind. As soon as the crowd died down around the bar and Fresh could survive by himself again Octavia ventured out onto the dance floor herself. She walked calmly and reservedly through the writhing crush of dancers, most of them politely stepping out of the calm and focused mare's path and allowing her to approach Vinyl herself. Her sudden presence caught the DJ's attention and she leaned down to hear the grey mare as she spoke directly into her ear. Smiling, Vinyl pulled back and signaled her understanding with an ironic salute before adding a new record to her table. As Octavia made her way back to the bar she heard the music segue into a much faster and more energetic track as the ponies around her broke into even more active dancing. She smiled in satisfaction at her own craftiness.
Octavia was relieved to have solved the problem with the huge line outside so easily; after she had asked Vinyl to keep playing music that ponies would quickly get tired dancing to, the number of ponies leaving the dance floor had rapidly increased which in turn allowed Heavyset to let more of those in the queue inside and got things moving again at an acceptable rate.
She glanced again at the clock and saw, to her immense relief, that it was very nearly time to close. Fresh had stopped serving half an hour ago and by the sound of things Vinyl was winding the music down.
The other ponies all seemed to sense the changing mood and began to drift off on their own. By the time the hour hand landed on one o'clock precisely the door had closed on the last guest.
The music died and the lights cut out. Octavia sighed in relief and hung her head in sudden exhaustion. She hardly even noticed Fresh, Cadia and Heavyset gathering around her until Vinyl appeared and pulled them all into a group hug. “Ack! Vinyl! Can't . . . breathe,” she sputtered.
The overly-enthusiastic DJ released them with an apologetic, “Heh. Sorry. I was just so happy that everything went well. Thanks, everypony. This wouldn't have worked without all of your help.”
“Don't worry, Vinyl. It was our pleasure,” responded Fresh.
Everypony else nodded assent.
Glancing around, Cadia continued, “Well, Vinyl, if you don't need us anymore then I'm out of here for the night.”
“Sounds good, guys. I'll see you here tomorrow at seven to clean up a bit and make sure everything's ready for another night.”
With that, bouncers and barcolt departed, leaving Octavia and Vinyl alone together. Turning to regard her companion, the DJ said in a quieter tone, “And I especially wanted to thank you, Treble Clef. You did a great job keeping things under control. Especially getting me to tire the ponies out and getting them to leave to make room for more; that was brilliant.”
Suddenly bashful, Octavia drew her hoof slightly across the ground in an unconscious gesture of embarrassment. “Oh, well, it was just an idea. I wasn't even sure it would work.”
“But it did work! And it proves you've got a head for this kind of stuff. I'm really glad I hired you, now.”
Suddenly playful, Octavia batted back, “Oh, you're only glad you hired me now?” in mock hurt.
Taken aback, the DJ inelegantly verbally backpedaled, “No no no, I was glad I hired you before, but now I'm even more glad! That's what I meant!”
“I know what you meant, Vinyl,” Octavia replied, gently snorting in laughter.
“Hey, even if it hadn't worked out there was the always the option of you filling space as an exotic dancer.”
A flat “no” was her only reply.
“Ah well, a mare can hope,” Vinyl wistfully replied.
Getting back to business, Octavia continued, “Fresh and I recorded sales and inventory use for tonight. Do you want me to go over that and the profits from the cover charge now?”
“Nah,” Vinyl answered, gently shaking her head. “You can do that tomorrow if you come in a little early. It's getting late and I'm sure it's past your bedtime.”
Octavia let the jib pass. “Well then, if you don't mind I'm off for the night.”
“No problem, Treble Clef. See ya tomorrow.”
As the cellist let herself out, she was momentarily confused to see Vinyl whisk into one of the back rooms. She had rather expected the DJ to leave with her.
Oh well. Perhaps she has something to take care of before she leaves. She is the owner, after all.
“And then he said, ‘that’s not my wife, that’s Princess Celestia!' " Vinyl finished her raunchy joke with a huge grin.
“That’s – haha – that’s not funny – bwahaha – at all, Vinyl,” Octavia said with a snort of barely-contained laughter. It’s – pfft – base and vulgar.”
“Hay yeah, it is. That’s why it’s funny,” Vinyl said with an easy smile directed at her friend.
Rolling her eyes in faux aggravation, Octavia raised the glass of whiskey that sat before her to her lips and took a judicious drink before turning her eyes back to the financial statements spread out between her and Vinyl on the empty table. She ran the figures through her head for the hundredth time and the conclusion they pointed to was inescapable; there could be no argument with the numbers printed in black and white. She only hoped Vinyl would take the news with grace and dignity. “I’ve been looking at the numbers, Vinyl, and . . . well . . .”
“Well, what?” Vinyl demanded after Octavia had fallen silent for a little too long for her patience.
“The club . . . it’s . . .” Octavia said with a hesitant glance at Vinyl.
“It’s what?” Vinyl asked with growing concern. “Don’t tell me there’s something wrong! I just went through the finances a few days ago and everything was fine. What’s the matter? Come on, tell me! Maybe there’s still time to fix it; I can cut my pay, maybe even take out another loan if I have to. I’m sure we can manage somehow,” Vinyl continued, panic gradually rising in her voice.
“It’s fine, Vinyl,” Octavia answered with a smirk and a placating gesture of her hoof. “We have now been officially operating in the black for two whole weeks. I think that we can declare Club P0n-3 a rousing success.”
Vinyl simply stared at her blankly. “You . . . you . . .” she stammered before dropping her head down onto the table with a thunk. “You’re cruel, do you know that?” she said from behind the curtain of her blue mane that had fallen around her face.
“Come now, Vinyl,” Octavia said with a friendly nudge of the DJ’s shoulder. “You know I can’t miss an opportunity to give my best friend some grief.”
Vinyl snorted, unimpressed. “With friends like you, who needs enemies?” she complained, though a smile betrayed her true feelings as she raised her head to mock-glare at Octavia.
Octavia merely smiled back, though her mind was troubled by other issues; every single night she left alone and Vinyl mysteriously disappeared into the back of the club. She had never actually seen the DJ leave after closing time.
I know she owns this place and is certainly a busy mare, but come on. You'd think she'd go home the same time as the rest of us at least once.
She didn't want to pry but at the same time she couldn't shake her suspicion and nagging concern.
Well, I'm pushing the issue tonight and seeing what happens.
Vinyl stretched bodily and yawned. “Well, Treble Clef, that's enough of that for now. I don't know about you, but I'm for bed.”
“Good idea, Vinyl,” Octavia said sweetly. “Shall we go?”
“Oh, well, I've got a few things to do yet. You go on ahead,” Vinyl offered.
“Don't be ridiculous, Vinyl. You yourself said that you're exhausted. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.”
“It'll just take a few minutes,” Vinyl insisted.
“Fine, then. I'll wait,” Octavia said.
“Tavi, you don't have to wait. I'll be fine,” Vinyl said.
“Vinyl, what are you trying to hide from me?” Octavia demanded.
“Wha-what? I dunno what you're talking about,” Vinyl denied.
“Come on, Vinyl. You never leave with any of us. You always have 'stuff' to do. Don't tell me you're sleeping in one of the back rooms here or something stupid like that.”
“Of course I'm not sleeping in one of the back rooms!” Vinyl objected.
“You are, aren't you?” Octavia insisted, concern evident in her voice.
“I have a very comfortable sleeping bag. I don't mind,” Vinyl replied defensively.
“Vinyl, why would you do that?” Octavia asked plaintively.
The DJ looked away, clearly embarrassed. “I couldn't afford the lease on this place and rent for an apartment, ok?”
“Oh Vinyl, that's just . . .” Octavia paused, at a loss for words. “You helped me keep my home but you gave up yours to make your dream possible?” It was a rhetorical question, but Vinyl nodded anyway. “Well, I'm not having any of it. You can stay with me,” she continued boldly.
“But, Tavi, I can't—”
“No! You are the sole reason I still have a home. It's only fair I offer it to you,” Octavia said.
“Octy, I’m touched you would offer; I really am. But I’m not going to be a burden on you, taking up your space.”
“Vinyl, I am not going home to my apartment and my bed thinking about you sleeping all alone here on the floor. That’s final,” Octavia stated with steely determination.
“I hate taking charity,” the DJ muttered sullenly as she looked away, ears lowered.
“It's not charity, its friends helping each other,” Octavia insisted.
“Ugh,” Vinyl groaned as she buried her face in her hooves. The prospect of something more comfortable than the floor was difficult to argue against. “I’ll happily accept your offer if you promise me one thing, Octy; promise me that you’re not doing this ‘cause you feel obligated, since I’m your boss and all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this since I sign your paycheck.”
“Absolutely not. It will be my pleasure to let you stay with me, simply because you are my friend and I want to help you just as you helped me,” Octavia said without hesitation.
“It could be your pleasure, if you know what I mean,” the DJ replied, narrowing her eyes in a sultry fashion.
“Oh, you!” Octavia said with a giggle. “Come on. It's officially past my bed time.”
Together, Vinyl and Octavia left the club and set out into a starlit night for home.