Aidan San Francisco 1981 Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

Aidan is spinning disks at Club Vamp when he sees her. She is as beautiful as the first hour of the first frost when every leaf is outlined in a tracing of ice.

Aidan looks at his playlist requests, “’Sweet Dreams Are Made of These’ — requested by Neil Jones.” It is a sweet, melancholy song. Not a dance song. Not a Vamp song. Aidan whispers into the mic, his voice echoes as if inside a deep cavern.

“Neil Jones… you have won the music contest… You will be tonight’s guest D.J.”

A man walks to the door of Aidan’s booth. He is solid and muscular. A jagged scar runs from the corner of his mouth up to his sandy hair that falls over his right eye. Aidan has seen him before. He is there most nights, leaning on the bar and watching the crowd. He never dances. He will not go near the video games. He hardly drinks, nursing a single scotch for an entire night. Something about Neil twinges Aidan’s memory, but Aidan ignores it.