The club was called “The Factory” which seemed to Jacob a rather perfunctory title, as this waswhat the complex of buildings used to be anyhow. But that was more than twenty years ago andthe facility was reduced to a dark labyrinth of buildings protected by an impotent chain link fence and overgrown vegetation, rotting boards protecting broken windows and rusty chainssecuring doors falling off their hinges.The Jeep bounced and swayed as Jacob navigated the many craters marring the pavement.Without the glow of a nearly full moon to aid him, he was positive he would be investing in anew set of tires come Monday. Only one structure, a squat red brick building in the center of thecompound, was illuminated. He pulled the Jeep to a stop near the back of the crowded parkinglot and turned to Phil. “Doesn’t look like much.”Jacob met Phil Dawson at TechOne, a software development firm where they were bothemployed, about a year ago. Phil was short and thin and wore thick round glasses. He was in hisearly thirties, like Jacob, and their friendship started out of necessity; TechOne’s offices werecramped and being trapped in a cube less than five feet from one’s neighbor facilitated hastyacquaintances. Once the pleasantries were established, they moved on to movies, gaming, politics, and eventually embarking on a quest to help one other find “the perfect girl”…or theclosest approximation thereof. So every Friday for the past eight months they had set outtogether, braving nightclubs, double dates, and Internet dating to accomplish this goal. Jacobmet Trish five months ago; Phil was still in bachelor status.Phil smiled. “Yeah, right? But you gotta admit the place has a lot of character.”Jacob nodded. “Well, if we strike out here there is always mail order.” He switched off theengine and stepped out into the chilly February night.“Don’t think I have tried that.”The two men joined the small, but steady streams heading towards the entrance. Jacob folded hisarms across tightly across his chest. “Other than a creepy atmosphere, what else does this placehave going for it?”“Oh you know. Beautiful women, expensive drinks. The usual fare.”“Sounds exclusive. You sure you are going to be able to get inside?”“Don’t worry. Money spends the same, even if it’s from the non-beautiful people.”They arrived at the front of the brick building, where the constant pulse of music throbbed beneath their feet. The letters “T” and “U” were carved in a flowery script and flanked the largedoors at the entrance. The second and third stories were rings of glass, all painted black. Threemetal flagpoles, devoid of any colors, were on the left. A podium was on the right, staffed bytwo large men in overalls, black boots, and construction hats.
Leave a Comment