Read an Excerpt
It was 3:07 a.m. by Joey's Pop Halo watch and a bank of sweat and stale disco smoke was rolling across the dance floor of Klub Galaxy like skanky fog. Joey tried blinking but he could barely see past the end of his arm.
One glance up, though, and he knew exactly where he was. Beneath the spinning lantern, dead center of the dance floor of San Francisco's biggest queer night klub. This was his spot, where he danced every weekend, surrounded by hundreds of glistening male bodies sliding against each other like sausages in a meat factory while the deep house mixes of dj Marcus Barker made the air vibrate in front of his eyes.
Or was that because he was rolling? No, because he was hardly rolling at all. Marcus B had just spun out his favorite songMadonna's "Music" (albeit, a tragically flawed mix by Rumblesnatch)-and he should be flying but he wasn't. Manny and his damn Little Buddhas. They should call them Little Putas, just like him.
Then Joey heard the unmistakable opening beats of "Dive in the Pool," a song he detested with every fiber of his being.
That's it, he decided, I'm dropping again.
Drop ... Dead: The DJ Murders is a must read not just for fans of murder mysteries and detective stories, but for anyone who enjoys comedy and satire as well. The book also appeals to anyone interested in queer cultural politics, the social policies of the war on drugs, and the world of today's gay circuit parties and dance clubs.