Monty: The Androgynous, Philosophical, Arson Enthusiast

Treasure

Nobody notices three more people moving through the front gate. The electric clouds above flash green and we enter through the small door. We stop in the entrance to take it all in, dark and cloudy and pulsing with human bodies. Everyone forgetting everything they are supposed to be and do. Everyone acting, not thinking. Drunk and wild, diving head first into boldness and grabbing for their desires. For once, not stifled by convention, manners and tact. People need to let the raw stuff out.

Nadia motions that she is going to find a bathroom and is quickly swallowed by the crowd. Art drags me across the room into one of the bedrooms. Art flicks on the light, the room is oddly empty. He surveys it, wide eyed, and then leaps towards the back wall. He runs his hands over its wooden panels and then turns to wink at me.

"X marks the spot,"

I lean in closer and scratched into its surface of the wood is a faint X. I shake my head and do not even bother to ask how he could know such a thing. Art is probably in some boozy pirates club.

He runs his hands over the panel, "Ahh, I see. Yes, this will do nicely. Just wonderfully!"

He flourishes his hands and pulls a silver knife from his pocket which he jams under the edge of the panel to yank it open. Three brown liquid bottles sit quietly in their dark place.

"Treasure."

Art's hand closes around the neck of the red label whiskey. He holds it triumphantly in the air.

"Only a fool pays for his drinks on a night like tonight!"

Art rushes out of the room with the bottle and I stick my head inside the hidden cupboard. A ring in the dust that covers everything else marks the place where the whiskey bottle once stood. Some thread of this night lead us to this dusty spot, for this dusty prize. I can feel that the night is ripe and waiting to be picked by those who know where to look.

I nod, "Life will balance it out."

But I quickly pull out three cigarettes and place them in the spot anyway. Just as a wink to balance. I replace the panel and follow Art's trail out of the room. Nadia leans against the wall outside the bedroom while Art brandishes the whiskey in front of him like a sword. Nadia snatches the bottle, cracks the seal and takes a sip.

"That was a spot that I needed to have hit," she yells over the music.

Art grabs the bottle and chugs down a good quarter of the brown liquid. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smirks.

"I can think of a few others."

Nadia deflates but rolls her eyes and smacks Art across the arm. I meet her gaze and raise both eyebrows in question. She shrugs and I see her pull an invisible veil over herself. I have seen this many times over the years of our friendship. Nadia and her unrelenting need to show no weakness, especially around Art. The veil solidifies her, it straightens her back.

She surveys the room,

"Would you look at this place."

The party pulls at my attention.

"Everybody is rocking alright." I grab the bottle and take some gulps of the fine liquor. I match Nadia's now wide grin. She can feel it too. That sweet stream of creamy water through the air. Snaking around, trying to enlighten us. The essence of this evening is potential, it is pregnant with it.

Art is bouncing on his feet and wringing his hands. "Bye cats!"

I nod but Nadia places a hand on both of our arms, "I want to meet up later."