Controlled Crash

Everyone is gone now. The party is over and DJ is all alone in his hotel room. They came together for the conference ostensibly to network, but they all knew each other anyway. That is all these things are to them: a chance to blow off steam after a hard quarter of working. They spend their days, their nights, their weekends and holidays building their companies all for a shot at the prize at the end of the never-ending race. They have no illusions, especially DJ, they are just cogs in the wheel of industry. He knows his place.

So he makes the most of it. He has a nice condo back east. A sweet, if not too flashy ride. Best of all he has a reputation of being the life of the party. He is the hook up at all these get-togethers. DJ knows all the right people, or if he does not, his “friends” back home do. He always knows how to score, no matter where the conference is.

That is why the party is always in his room. They come for the wild ride, and he is in the driver’s seat. It does not matter that he cannot just hit the sack when he wants to. He has to keep up his rep. So he bumps more lines, pops more pills, and downs more shots than anyone else. It is no big deal. They all need it. They all earn it. That is true for DJ most of all.

He has it all under control. He has to tell himself that as he straightens up a bit. It gets intense sometimes. It got intense this time. No denying it as he uses a hotel towel to clean sick and blood off the toilet seat. Some people can’t handle it, but DJ won’t blame them for that. Not everyone has his level of cool. It isn’t easy.

It is worth it though. He is convinced of it. He is convinced as he watches the sun rise over the plaza and realizes he won’t be getting any sleep after all. It is all good though, he has a cure for that, and he grabs the bottle of little white pills. He pays no mind to the bags under his eyes as he looks into the mirror before stepping into the shower.

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