"Richard Gere is coming, Victor," JD says, keeping up. "And Ethan Hawke, Bill Gates, Tupac Shakur, Billy Idol's brother Dilly, Ben Stiller and Martin Davis are also coming."

"Martin Davis?" I groan. "Jesus, let's just invite George the Pee Drinker and his good friend Woody the Dancing Amputee."

"So is Will Smith, Kevin Smith and, um, Sir Mix-a-Lot," JD says, ignoring me.

"Just apprise me of the crouton situation." I stop in front of the velvet curtains leading into the VIP room.

"The croutons are in excellent shape and we're all incredibly relieved," JD says, bowing.

"Don't mock me, JD," I warn. "I will not be mocked."

"Now wait-before you go in," JD says. "It's pretty much a catastrophe, so just, y'know, give your usual winning spiel and get the f**k out of there. They just want to know that you, er, exist." JD thinks about it. "On second thought-" He's about to hold me back.

"You've got to be sensitive to their needs, JD," I tell him. "They're not just DJs. They're music designers."

"Before you go in, Jackie Christie and Kris Spirit are also available."

"Lesbian DJs, man? I don't know. Is it happening? Is it cool?" I slap on a pair of wraparound green-tinted sunglasses before I slip into the VIP room, where a mix of seven guys and girls hang out in two booths, Beau sitting on a chair in front of them with a clipboard. The loony Details girl reporter, hovering dangerously nearby, waves and JD says "Hey, Beau" in a very professional way and then glumly introduces me. "Hey everybody-here's Victor Ward."

"My nom de guerre in clubland," I faux-gush.

"Victor," Beau says, standing. "This is Dollfish, Boomerang, Joopy, CC Fenton, Na Na and, um"-he checks his clipboard-"Senator Claiborne Pell."

"So-o-o," I ask, pointing at the guy with blond dreadlocks. "What do you play?"

"I play Ninjaman but also a lot of Chic and Thompson Twins, and man, this is all kind of borderline bogus."

"Beau, take note of that," I instruct. "How about you?" I ask, pointing at a girl wearing a harlequin outfit and dozens of love beads.

"Anita Sarko taught me everything I know and I also lived with Jonathan Peters," she says.

"You're warming this place up, bay-bee," I say.

"Victor," JD says, pointing at another DJ, hanging back in the dark. "This is Funkmeister Flex."

"Hey Funky." I lower my sunglasses for a wink. "Okay, guys, you got three turntables, a tape deck, a DAT player, two CD players and a reel- to-reel for delay effects to spin your respective magic. How does that sound?"

Muffled cool noises, mindless looks, more cigarettes lit.

"While you're spinning," I continue, pacing, "I want you all to sulk. I don't want to see anyone enjoying themselves. Got it?" I pause to light a cigarette. "There is techno, there is house, there is hard house, there's Belgian house, there's gabba house." I pause again, unsure of where I'm going with this, then decide to segue into "I don't want to be sweating in an actual warehouse. I want that sweating-in-a-warehouse feeling in a three-million-dollar nightclub with two VIP rooms and four full bars."

"It should be very chill," JD adds. "And don't forget ambient dub-we should have that too."

"I want instantaneous buzz," I say, pacing. "It's not a lot to ask. I just want you to make these people dance." I pause before adding, "And abortion-clinic violence does not interest me."

"Um..." Dollfish tentatively raises a hand.

"Dollfish," I say. "Please speak."

"Um, Victor, it's already four-fifteen," Dollfish says.

"Your point, sistah?" I ask.

"What time do you need one of us?" she asks.

"Beau-please take care of these questions," I say, bowing, before sweeping out of the room.

JD follows me as I head back up toward Damien's office.

"Really nice, Victor," JD says. "You inspired people, as usual."

"That's my job," I say. "Where's Damien?"

"Damien has instructed me not to have anyone interrupt him right now," JD says.

"I have got to complain to him about inviting Martin Davis," I say, heading back up the stairs. "Things are getting horrific."

"That's not a good idea, Victor." JD runs ahead of me. "He was very insistent that there be no interruptions."