Special Track

As night fell, a long queue had already formed outside a nightclub near Vanderbilt University. The bouncer at the door was expertly selecting men and women with the most striking style and presence—a standard rule for any popular club. Strict customer screening creates a higher "social status" for the venue, forming a positive feedback loop. At this particular club, the catalyst for this exclusivity was a piece of EDM that had gone viral online.

"How about we go in now? Will there be no room left if we go any later?" Abigail looked somewhat anxious inside the car.

"As long as we show up, there's always room." Taylor, sitting beside her, was looking up, touching up her lipstick in the vanity mirror on the sun visor.

"So, you're going to 'flash your face' to get in?" Abigail asked.

Taylor shook her head, then, with a touch of vanity, placed her hands on her waist and twisted slightly in the car: "No, I'm going to 'flash my figure'."

After a final check of their outfits, the two stepped out of the car. Even as high schoolers, one at least needs a formal outfit for important occasions like prom.

Taylor wore a pure white spaghetti-strap jumpsuit, while Abigail wore a dark green strapless gown. Both dresses had modest slits that barely reached the knee, and both were sleeveless designs.

Arm in arm, clutching handbags with metal chains in their free hands, they wobbled onto the sidewalk. Abigail was still not quite used to her high heels and had to rely on Taylor for support.

Before the two meticulously dressed girls even reached the entrance, they drew the side-glances of a group of men waiting in line. Taylor, wearing sunglasses, held her head high and looked straight ahead, like a model walking a runway.

Beautiful women are always the super VIPs of a nightclub; the entrance guarded by the bouncer had one side reserved specifically for the stunners.

"Welcome." The tall bouncer took one look, immediately stepped aside, and let Abigail through.

When it was Taylor's turn, however, the bouncer pointed toward the end of the line in the distance.

"It's not safe for the 'blind' to be here," the bouncer teased, mocking Taylor for wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night.

Beyond this obvious issue, Taylor's unappealing, flat figure was the fundamental reason she couldn't cut the line.

Seeing her friend fail to "flash her figure," Abigail couldn't help but cover her mouth and giggle.

Taylor was annoyed. Muttering, "You'll regret what you just said," she rummaged through her handbag and pulled out her ID.

The bouncer took it, then watched as Taylor lowered her sunglasses to reveal her eyes. He quickly and respectfully made way for this "big star."

"Don't tell anyone; I'm just here with a friend tonight." Taylor put her sunglasses back on and walked down the stairs with the giggling Abigail.

"Is it really okay to just show up unannounced like this?" Abigail thought of something; she hadn't forgotten the "mission" for tonight.

"Telling him would be the wrong decision. This is a nightclub, after all. Who knows if he's got something going on with those gold-diggers?" Taylor countered.

Their infiltration of the club tonight had a bit of a "test" to it. Abigail had expressed similar worries, and Taylor had immediately concocted this plan.

Abigail nodded, fully making up her mind. As they entered the main hall, a waiter in a vest approached to ask if they had a reservation. Only then did they realize how popular the place was, so they had no choice but to head to the bar to sit.

"Two Bellinis—one neat, one on the rocks—and two olives." Taylor ordered the cocktails.

"Prosecco mixed with peach purée and a splash of liqueur. I hope this place makes them authentic," Taylor explained the ingredients to Abigail while trying to sound knowledgeable.

But after one sip, Taylor immediately pushed the drink aside and asked for a glass of ice water instead.

Abigail looked toward the DJ booth. It wasn't even 9:00 PM yet, and the booth was empty.

"Ladies, who are you waiting for? Why not come to my table? I happen to have a few empty seats." Before long, a man approached Taylor's side to hit on them. He had curly black hair and a floral shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing a gold chain.

"Thanks for the invite." Taylor grinned, acting as if she were about to stand up.

The man was delighted and about to lead the way, only to find Taylor frantically feeling around the area with both hands, shouting, "Where's my cane? Abigail!"

The man's face went pale, and within seconds, he found an excuse to leave.

Just then, the two DJs, Joel and Ryan, appeared in front of the dance floor. Even though they hadn't started their "performance" yet, the crowd erupted in cheers.

"RAY! RAY! RAY!" The audience chanted Ryan's stage name in perfect unison.

In just half a month, Ryan had sparked a trend among the students at Vanderbilt University.

At the bar, Taylor and Abigail couldn't help but exchange a look.

"Country music really doesn't seem to suit him," Taylor said, somewhat surprised. She hadn't expected Ryan to have won over a crowd in just a few days.

"He found his own path!" Abigail was mostly just happy for him.

The dance floor grew more crowded. The first part of the set was led by Joel, a mashup of classic club hits. During this part, Ryan raised his hands to clap to the beat, his body swaying slightly. Although Ryan had convinced himself to try to get into it, his stiff movements still looked a bit comical.

After about 40 minutes of warm-up, Joel picked up the microphone.

"What's up! Are you ready to party tonight?"

"If you're with your best friends, make some noiseeeeeeee!"

"This next drop is gonna blow your mind, are you ready?"

"Let's take it up a notch!"

Next, it was Ryan's turn to shine. The standard rhythm of Tremor kicked in. Green laser lights flashed incessantly, and two blonde dancers in lingerie, wearing seven-inch heels, walked gracefully from both sides to the DJ booth. With Ryan's help, they stepped up onto the platform and began dancing to the beat—gogo dancing, the kind of provocative moves performed in clubs and adult entertainment venues.

Abigail couldn't help but frown. Such a performance was a bit too risqué for a high schooler, especially seeing the dancers just inches away from Ryan, with some moves almost landing right in his face.

Taylor's focus, however, was on Ryan and this electronic track called Tremor. Beyond her surprise, she could feel his rapid progress, and... he was just as bad at moving his body as she was.

The drop of Tremor and the dancers' performance pushed the atmosphere to the limit. About fifteen minutes later, the gogo dancers left, and Ryan, uncharacteristically, picked up the microphone.

"Everyone, I've prepared a special remix for tonight! One I've never played before! It's called Dog Day Afternoon..."

"Pfft!!!" Taylor spat out a mouthful of ice water and began to cough violently.

Abigail quickly handed her a napkin.

"This water is just too cold," Taylor hurriedly changed the subject, her breathing ragged, feeling so angry she just wanted to grab a bottle and smash it over Ryan's head.

It was not easy to achieve this in such a setting.

Ryan had remixed the track, changing it from a three-beat to a four-beat rhythm, and with the added speed, mixing, and various sound effects, it was impossible to tell whose voice it actually was.

Taylor breathed a sigh of relief, but the vulgar lyrics in the song still made her cheeks flush red.

"Where did Ryan find this song? Whoever wrote these lyrics is a total bitch," Abigail said, growing increasingly annoyed as she began to curse.

Taylor just gave a silly smile, not daring to respond at all.

The subsequent performance returned to the first phase led by Joel, as the nightclub show for the night continued in this repetitive cycle.

Abigail and Taylor kept observing Ryan, and they discovered that he was actually quite "self-respecting"; not only did he avoid flirting with the two go-go dancers, but he also maintained a distance when approached by female customers.

"I knew he wasn't that kind of person," Abigail finally felt at ease.

"Shall we go find him?" Abigail then suggested.

Taylor also wanted to confront Ryan, so the two of them grabbed their bags and stood up, heading toward the booth where Ryan was resting. Along the way, they passed a table, and sitting behind it happened to be the man who had previously hit on Taylor.

Seeing the tall girl in sunglasses easily dodge a waiter carrying a tray, he realized he had been played.

Being played was one thing, but being played in front of his friends was a much bigger problem. Unable to save face and fueled by alcohol, the man set down his glass, stood up, and walked toward the two girls...