Cloud Nine - Writing competition Entry

I have a lot to write about, the last few days have been pretty crazy. Not only did I meet four girls in one night who all work to save the environment, flew to four states in less than 24 hours, but I saw a friend of my proclaim "Yay! White people" when Tupac was playing at a bar I went to recently. I also met a nymphomaniac cab driver. I'll blog about those things pretty soon. I'm posting a story i'm entering in a writing competition. Its only 2,000 words. A very quick read. Ciao.

Cloud Nine

By Marcus Bird

Cloud Nine

Nights like these, Vince thought, made cold people wrap their arms tightly around one another while bustling to some destination. Nights like these the sky is streaked with grey clouds that turn into a brooding, black coat. This was the night he smelled Michiko’s hair. He was by himself—an amazing feat considering he hated being alone—and always felt the need to express himself through people he knew. He went to a popular bar, called Cloud Nine which had great Wednesday night happy hour cuisine. It was in this place, eating a Caesar salad, he saw Michiko. She walked in, a bundle of foreign expression, an externality of the rawness of Japan’s populace and fashion sense. She wore a shiny gray jacket adorned with large yellow buttons on the shoulders and a thin yet form fitting black vintage tee; followed by a chocolate brown skirt and long Cat-in-the-Hat looking socks straight out of a rugby player’s closet. Vince was in mid-bite when she walked in. She looked perturbed, lost in another country, or searching for something. Her eyes were dark and mysterious. Even her hair, a large bob of luxuriant styling courtesy of some uber-expensive Tokyo fashion shop, stood out. As Vince stared at her, she glanced at him and held his gaze. He coughed briefly, turning his eyes, and finished biting into his salad. After a few more chews, he glanced through the corner of his eye in her direction. She was at the bar, standing by herself.

Something inside him stirred in a way that it had never done so before. Maybe it was her striking contrast to everyone else, or maybe it was her foreign touch, that spark of Tokyo-pop and extreme fashion that tickled his relatively conservative sensibilities. Whatever it was, it gave him impetus. He sucked his teeth to check for vegetable particles, and wiped his hands on a napkin. A few long strides took him to the bar directly beside her. As he asked for a drink, Michiko hopped up quickly, so fast that her hair flew upwards and slightly touched Vince’s face. A smell briefly wafted into his nose.

Bubble-gum and Cookies.

She squealed with delight about something and Vince turned to see her hug a young man, also of Asian descent. He was much shorter than Michiko, with a round face, spiky hair and gentle eyes. In a full black shirt and pants, he was also in contrast with Michiko’s outfit. “That’s the DJ.” The bartender said. The bartender was a young twenty-something year old guy with a small outcropping of stubble on his chin, a wide well-proportioned face with a permanent cleft in his left cheek. He always seemed to be smiling.

“Is that his girlfriend?” Vince asked.

“No, nothing like it. She comes here every now and then to hear him play house music.”

Vince looked over to where the two just were, and they were gone. He turned his head and looked across the room. He saw Michiko sitting in a plush couch near to the DJ booth, where the small man was setting up.

“That’s DJ Yoda.” The bartender said with a laugh. “I love star wars.”

He slipped Vince a Vodka Cranberry and turned around to polish some glasses. Vince felt the same twinge of that weird feeling run through his stomach again. Michiko was sitting quietly in the couch, in the soft shadows of the lounge. Her hair almost covered her eyes, making her face look like a beautiful yet disturbing mask. She flicked up a strand of hair with her finger and looked directly at Vince. At this point, a hand seemed to be pulling him forward, tugging him towards the mysterious woman with the funny socks. Vince found himself with his drink in his hand, floating over to Michiko. She gave him a bright smile, showing rows of small white teeth.

“Can I sit here?” he asked.

“Yes, please!” Michiko replied.

“I love your socks.” Vince said.

Michiko let out a loud laugh that sounded like the jingling of bells. When she laughed, Vince’s eyes flashed to any number of hypothetical bars in Tokyo, where she would be sitting with some equally quirky girls, laughing in a booth on the twentieth floor of a nameless building. Laughing that same laugh.

“Thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed.

Vince knew she was from Japan. He had been there himself for two months, walking through the almost maddening architecture of a contiguous landscape, filled to the brim with people. There was a certain look many of the locals had, a look that a person who lived there for some time could pick out immediately. Sometimes it was a certain slanting of the eyes, the shape of the nose, or even the walk, a particular gait reserved for certain boroughs. Then it was the fashion, the odd sensibilities that reflected a city of bright colors, flashing lights and time-your-watch-to-the-second trains. It was like technology and man had mated and produced a host of Michiko’s, happy to exist in a world laced with self-parking cars and rapid text messaging in Kana.

“I’m Michiko.” She said.

“I’m Vince.”

“Vince?”

She said his name in the usual Japanese way, adding “su” to the end. Vince was now, Vinsu?

“That’s’ right. “ Vince replied.

“You like Japanese girls? Eh? Vince-san?” she giggled.

“I like all girls.” Vince replied.

“Ah, so-dayo..” Michiko said.

Vince smiled to himself, “Is that so”… bounced around in his head as his mind translated her little phrase. They spoke for a few minutes until the music started. Michiko ordered a few drinks and Vince followed suit. As they downed drinks time seemed to slow, with the taste of alcohol setting the tone for each moment that passed. Eventually a crowd formed on the dance floor and Michiko's eyes brightened as she heard a familiar song. Without any hesitation she went into the absolute middle of the dance floor, rocking to the music with her eyes closed and hair swaying. Vince eased his way into the center with her, doing a semi-awkward motion of house dancing relegated to those who spend their days walking in the park.

Michiko was wild—dancing like a possessed squirrel—and Vince struggled to keep up. She had an odd rhythm to the pulsing house beats playing. She was half-hopping and half-shaking in a way that didn’t really work with the music, but in a way … it did. In the middle of the usual interlude in a house song—an instrumental break of about thirty seconds that leads to the reintroduction of the bassline—she gave Vince a hug. Her body was small and firm and Vince could feel her shape as she pressed against him. The smell of her hair mixed in with the smell of a strong perfume she was wearing. She kissed him on the cheek, with soft, tiny lips and laughed.

“Dance, Vince!” she said.

Vince felt the buzz of alcohol hitting his body in waves. The music sounded duller but the bass was everywhere, reverberating off the walls, rattling his teeth and scratching the insides of his ears. The club was full of people as well, many of them looking like moving mannequins in Vince’s increasing blur of disconnect. Sometimes he looked at the DJ, standing in his booth with a massive pair of grey headphones on. If he looked up, Vince never saw it. He was fully focused on his job, pleasing the crowd… pleasing Michiko. Michiko grabbed Vince’s hand and pulled him close to her. After dancing for twenty minutes, the lightest sweat was on her neck, it glistened with each flash of the strobe lights overhead. She reached up and over his shoulder and grabbed him, pressing her face against his. Vince felt her lips quickly force his lips open, and her tongue, small and searching, invaded Vince’s mouth. The kiss seemed to last forever, and Vince found himself becoming enamored by Michiko. Her weird sense of style, the way she smelled and how she kissed all seemed to be perfect indicators of something he wanted. Something he needed. They broke the kiss for a moment, and he looked at her in the frantic glow of flashing lights. Her eyes were still dark and mysterious, and Vince wondered how many other guys she had kissed in this way, or looked at with those eyes. She felt slim and supple in his arms, and Vince found himself beginning to wonder how her body looked. It wasn’t something he was thinking the moment he saw her, but now after that kiss and her subsequent gaze—it was impossible not to.

“Let’s go outside.” She said. Michiko bounded with surprising control over to the DJ booth and gave Yoda a kiss. In the brighter lighting of the booth, she looked beautiful. The light accentuated her features, showing the slight flush her cheeks becoming red and made her hair look so shiny it almost didn’t seem real. They exchanged dialogue for a few seconds, but for Vince it seemed like forever. He was still thinking about the moment after they kissed, when she had her arms around his neck, almost staring into his soul. After giving Yoda another kiss on the cheek, she walked back over to Vince. They walked across the marble floors of Cloud Nine, excusing themselves as they felt dancing bodies lightly brush them. They grabbed their coats from the lobby and walked towards the exit. A few large bouncers in dark glasses stood motionless at the doorway, not seeming to breathe as they walked past. A set of large transparent doors with an artist’s rendition of a series of clouds on it was at the end of the lobby. Vince pushed the door and they stepped outside.

The first thing Vince felt was the cold hitting his face, then he felt Michiko’s hand in his, and it was surprisingly warm. She wore a soft orange jacket that fit her form perfectly. With a zip going all the way up the front just below her face, she looked warm and comfortable. “I got this jacket in Shibuya.” She said. “It’s a nice place in Tokyo.” Vince nodded as she said this. He himself had enjoyed walking through Shibuya, shopping for shoes and t-shirts. They walked down the sidewalk, not speaking for a few minutes and then Michiko turned towards Vince.

“I like you Vince.”

“I like you too.” He replied with a smile.

The statement seemed half-sincere, as if she said it knowing that something strange was about to happen, or that she had some kind of power Vince was not aware of, like telekinesis. Michiko must have read Vince’s thoughts.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” She said. “But I am new to this City. “

“Oh? The bartender says you are a regular at the Nine.” Vince added.

Michiko laughed softly, echoing the sound of softer jingling bells.

“Cloud Nine reminds me of one of my favorite lounges in Tokyo.” She said. “It was funny that the DJ who played there is actually Japanese! That was so crazy. Even though I’ve been here for two months, I’ve been to Cloud Nine maybe five or six times.”

“Ah, sodaro. “ Vince said.

Michiko’s eyed widened and a smile forced its way onto her face.

“You speak Japanese!” she said with excitement.

“Just a little.” Vince said.

She gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. They kissed once more and held hands.

“I live just a few blocks that way. Would you like to come over?” Michiko said.

Her voice sounded more reserved than before, and the tell-tale signs of her alcoholic buzz were wearing off. Vince could feel himself normalizing too. It was probably the cold.

“Sure, we can drink some ocha and watch terebi .” he said.

“Hahah! Drink tea and watch TV… very well!”

Michiko held his hand and they walked in the darkness of the night, heading towards her place. Vince felt the stirring in his stomach again and looked at Michiko’s hand entwined with his. It had been a long time since he had met anyone so interesting that liked him. He could see himself in Michiko’s life; probably at more clubs, eating at restaurants and sitting on a couch together watching television. He wondered if Michiko was thinking the same thing, seeing them through the designer panels of her Tokyo mind, creating an alternate reality with more gadgets and brightly colored clothing. They stopped by a row house with a bright blue door on the corner of a main street.

“Here we are!” Michiko said.

As they headed inside, Vince thought it was ironic that they met at Cloud Nine. In the morning, he wondered if he would know that he didn’t just go to Cloud Nine, but that he was on it. Michiko laughed again, a cascade of soothing resonation that made Goosebumps run up his neck, and Vince knew he would get his answer.