Connor gave me a fake ID last year for my birthday. I only wanted it so I could get into this club, The Echo. Regardless of what the ID says, I won’t be legal to drink for three years, but that’s beside the point anyhow, because I wanted to go there to dance, not to get drunk. Even before then, the bouncer, Freddy, had to know I was underage, but New York is sticky hot in summer, and really, what did he care if one more I’m-queer-but-nobody-really-knows-it kid added his sweat to the already wet brick walls of the basement club?
The Echo is a mix of three clubs near and dear to my heart: The Underground and The Bank in NYC and NEO in Chicago. There is something about losing yourself in the fog of a dry ice machine and the flash of lights and the music you love, that is unlike anything else I know.
My working title for the book - at the very beginning - was Underground. It sold as BLOOD MAKES NOISE which I still love beyond everything else.
