Page 10

Chapter Eight

NOVEMBER 2084

Alex

Solange’s flat was a bright, airy place in the centre of town. Alex always met her at an art lecture every Monday, after which they went back to her flat to take croc and make love. She had a sweet, sad aura that Alex found attractive, and she made no demands on him, seemingly happy to see him once a week and not interfere with the rest of his life.

She’d never once told him she loved him – which he found even more attractive. She also appeared to have an unlimited supply of croc, which she was always willing to share.

“You’re lucky to have this place all to yourself,” Alex told her as they lay on the bed after making love. “I wish I didn’t have Neil breathing down my neck the whole time.”

“You could tell your dad he’s been blackmailing you,” she suggested.

Sitting up, she wrapped a white sheet around her naked body, then settled down beside him again, her cloud of corkscrew curls spreading out over the pillow.

“If I did that, I’d have to admit to taking croc.”

“Why don’t you ditch the croc, ditch Neil, and live life on your own terms, Alex? Then you’d be free.”

He got out of the bed, feeling irritated by the unwanted life advice. “ Why don’t you display any of your artwork in your flat?” he asked abruptly, gesturing at the clean cream walls.

“You answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours,” she said sweetly.

“I’ve never seen so much as a doodle; I doodle all the time.”

“On every available surface – I know.” She gestured to the napkin on the bedside table, which was covered in little drawings of flying ducks.

She got up and wrapped her arms around him, her breasts warm and soft against his back. “What’s stopping you, Alex?” she asked. “Why not tell your dad you’ve been taking croc, promise to give it up, and be rid of Neil? Is it about your mum?”

Pulling away, he threw himself down in a nearby armchair. She refused to take the hint, and, draping the sheet around her, she sat on his naked lap and entwined her arms around his neck.

“Why did you take so much croc that day, Alex? The day of the accident?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“What happened? Do you ever talk about it?”

“Who with?” he snapped. “My father, who can barely stand the sight of me? Or my brother, who has to live every day with the consequences? Or maybe Neil?” He gave a disbelieving bark of laughter.

“Then talk to me. I’m listening.” She rested her head against his chest and smiled up at him.

“I don’t know.”

“Go on. I won’t judge you – you know that.”

He was silent for a long time, but she sat there, patiently, and finally he began to talk. “It was a beautiful day,” he said, gazing out of the window at the pouring rain. “Bright sunshine, warm. It was the first time we’d had a chance to relax and hang out since the Olympics. Everyone was all over Charles in the first few weeks afterwards; he was busy doing interviews everywhere, but then he had a free day, and he and Mum wanted to do a victory lap around the local area to show off his gold medal. When we were little kids we had a housekeeper, Mrs Tyler. Mum hated her, so she used to take us out for these long drives to get away from her. Charles wanted to recreate that, I think. ”

“Your housekeeper was an IS, right? Why didn’t your mum get rid of her if she didn’t like her?”

“My father wouldn’t hear of it. Mrs Tyler practically brought him up with her own son after his mum died.”

“So why did your mum hate this Mrs Tyler so much?”

“She said that Mrs Tyler acted like she was in charge, because she’d been running the house for so long, and that made Mum feel like a guest in her own home. She also thought that Mrs Tyler disapproved of her and looked down on her, like she wasn’t good enough for my dad because she was born and grew up in a government work camp.”

“I see. So, when you were little, your mum used to pack you and Charles into a duck and drive you around the countryside, so she could get away from disapproving Mrs Tyler… Go on.”

“We always stopped at the same pub for lunch – The Dark Horse. It was kind of a tradition. So that’s what we did on the day of the accident, too.” He paused, and Solange stroked his hair softly. “We were in such a good mood. Charles was so happy, because everyone loved him, and that’s all he ever wanted. Mum was happy, because she’d coached him to win that gold medal, which was all she ever wanted.”

“And you – why were you happy?”

“Because they asked me along,” Alex said simply. “I’d been at boarding school while they were off training, and going to races, and generally being completely obsessed with the Olympics. Mum looked after every aspect of Charles’s life – his diet, his races, his transport… everything. She kept a ton of charts and spreadsheets on his progress; she and Charles were always discussing them.”

“And you felt left out?”

“I suppose so.”

“Is that why you started taking croc to begin with?”

“Maybe. I liked how it made me feel. I had some trouble with school as well and croc helped.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I was, I guess, a bit weird? I didn’t find it easy to fit in. I felt awkward, shy. The other kids seemed to dislike me, anyway. I found it hard to make friends.” He found it equally hard to admit it, but she was as non-judgemental as she’d promised. “Still do,” he murmured. “It got easier when I did the proverbial ugly duckling into swan thing when I was in my mid-teens, though I don’t understand why that should be. I haven’t changed – just my looks.”

“I was always pretty. It’s not always a blessing,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong – it definitely opens a few doors, but… it attracts some right sleazy bastards, too.”

“Yeah. I can imagine you’ve been fighting them off all your life.” He tightened his grasp around her, feeling suddenly protective.

“So, why did you take croc that day, if you were feeling so happy?” Solange prompted.

“I don’t know.” Alex shrugged. “Why don’t you have any of your own art in your flat?”

“I don’t like anything I draw.” Solange buried her face in his neck. “My work is never as good as I think it’s going to be, in my head.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know. Why did you take the croc that day, Alex?”

“I told my father I’d give it up.” He gave a half-smile, half-grimace. “I’d been expelled from yet another school for taking croc a couple of months before, and Dad was really angry with me. Then we were kind of thrown together at the Olympics, because Charles and Mum were so busy, and we had a good time together. The night before Charles won his gold medal, Dad had this little talk with me; he was so kind and sweet that I promised I’d give up the croc. I meant it, too.”

“So – why didn’t you?”

Alex glanced absently out of the window. “I did. I hadn’t touched any croc in weeks, ever since I made my promise to him. Then we went out that day, and they were so happy, and we were having so much fun as we drove through the countryside. It was really hot, so I opened the roof of the duck, and it was amazing – everywhere we went, people recognised Charles and stopped what they were doing to wave. He sat behind me, waving back at them like he was Queen Matilda, loving it. I knew how famous Charles was after the Olympics, but I had no idea that people would react that way.” Alex shook his head, still bewildered.

“It was such a great moment,” Solange said. “We’d been so low for so long – as a country, I mean – and then Charles came along and made us feel like winners again.”

“I suppose that’s it, but before that he’d been a nobody, and it felt surreal – one minute nobody cared, and the next they were obsessed with him – with our whole family – and to be honest…” Alex hesitated, because he’d never told anyone this before.

“Go on.” She kissed his cheek.

“It scared me,” Alex admitted. “It’s strange to be recognised by people you don’t know, and to have people attach so much meaning to you because of something your brother has done. I hadn’t changed, but the way people looked at me had – and how can anyone hope to live up to that?”

“Charles seems to manage.” She grinned.

“Yes – if anyone was born to be famous, it’s him.”

“So, what happened next – on that day?”

“Well, Charles said we should go to The Dark Horse, like we used to in the old days, so I drove us there. It’s in a beautiful spot, a quiet village, popular with hikers. As a kid, I was always fascinated by the painted sign hanging above the door of a big black stallion, standing in a storm with a lost zone behind him. I used to try and draw that horse – there was something so beautiful, stubborn, and sad about him.” Alex buried his face in Solange’s cloud of hair and inhaled the sweet scent of her curls.

“So, you stopped at the pub for lunch – then what?”

“Well, of course, the minute we stepped inside everyone was all over Charles. I think that was why he suggested we go there.”

“Did you feel jealous? Is that why you took the croc?”

“Jealous of Charles?” Alex snorted. “Not at all. He loves all the adulation, but I don’t like being the centre of attention.”

“What’s he like?” she asked. “I mean – what’s he really like? I know you gave that quote to the press after he won the gold medal saying he’s a genuinely nice guy, but is he?”

“Yes.” Alex smiled. “He is. He’s a great big brother. He’s laid-back, kind, and, well, just plain nice.”

“I never got the impression he was the smartest duck in the water, though,” she said .

Alex laughed. “He’s not academic, if that’s what you mean. I don’t think he’s passed a single exam in his life. He’s more physical – big shoulders and hands, and that great big smile, of course.”

“I’d like to meet him one day.”

Alex sighed. “Everyone always wants to meet Charles. Sometimes people cosy up to me hoping I’ll invite them home so they can shake his hand.”

“You know that’s not what I’m doing, right?” She snuggled in close, grinning up at him.

“You’re playing a long game if it is.” He played with her hair gently, running it through his fingers. “It’s been nearly a year since we met.”

“So, carry on. You got to the pub…”

“Yeah, and the pub landlady came over and said lunch was on the house. People kept coming over and congratulating him while we ate, and afterwards everyone crowded around and took selfies with him, so that made him happy. Mum went outside for a cigarette, and I went to find her. Dad didn’t like her smoking, so she winked and told me it was our little secret, and we had a laugh about it.”

He stopped and glanced out of the window again, at the gloomy November skies. “I kept some matches in my wallet, and as I got them out I saw the little stash of croc inside. To be honest, I’d forgotten it was there, but when I saw it, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I went to the pub toilet and inhaled it all in one go. Then I went back outside, and we carried on with our outing.”

“Didn’t your mum or your brother notice the tears running down your face?”

“Charles was sitting behind me, so he wouldn’t have seen, and the duck’s roof was still rolled back and the wind kept blowing Mum’s hair into her face, so she didn’t notice. If I could go back…” He closed his eyes tightly. “I would do anything to change what happened that day. I made a big mistake.”

“And you’ve been paying for it ever since.” She caressed the side of his face.

“It’s only what I deserve.”

“Punishing yourself won’t change what happened.”

“Who said I punish myself? ”

“Don’t you? Isn’t that partly what your nasty little relationship with Neil is all about? You think you deserve him and all his weird, twisty little mind games. He’s your punishment – and the drink, and the croc, and the sex are all to take the edge off the pain when it gets too bad.”

“And why do you take croc and settle for a once-a-week relationship with a fucked-up man who will never give you the love you deserve?” he shot back.

“That’s easy.” She gave another of those sad smiles and drew his head down for a kiss. “I’m a glutton for punishment, too.”

Frowning, he pushed her away, so he could look at her. “What do you think you should be punished for? You didn’t have anything to do with the accident that killed your parents.”

“No, but I’d had a big argument with my mum the day before they died, so I wasn’t speaking to her when she left that day. I’m fairly sure that my last words to her were ‘I hate you and wish you were dead’.” She put a finger in her hair and curled it around and around, like a child.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms tightly around her and rested his forehead against hers.

“So, it looks like we’re both fucked up,” she said.

He smiled. “Misery loves company.” He kissed her again and then picked her up and carried her over to the bed.

Unwrapping the sheet from around her body, he sprinkled a packet of croc on her smooth brown belly, and then slowly lowered his head to inhale.

When he raised his head a few seconds later the drug had worked its magic, and he was feeling loose and happy. Then the tears began streaming down his face. Solange laughed and brushed them away with her fingertips. Sprinkling some croc on the back of her hand, she inhaled it, and when he kissed her again, she was crying, too.

They made love slowly, crying crocodile tears throughout, and afterwards he wrapped her up in his arms and held her tight.

“I wish I could love you,” he told her. “I honestly do. You know that, right?”

“Yes.” She smiled and kissed his shoulder. “I know that, Alex. ”

They fell asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms, and he awoke with a start a couple of hours later.

“Shit. I need to go,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“Why? Is Neil going to tell you off?” she grumbled sleepily.

“Well, it’s nine-thirty, and he asked me to be back by eight for some reason, so yeah. I think I’m in trouble.” He slid off the bed and scrambled into his clothes.

“Better run back to the ball and chain, then,” she said, making a face at him.

“Don’t start,” he said. “I use him just as much as he uses me – it works both ways.” He paused at the bedroom door. “Same time next week?”

She sighed. “Yeah. Same time next week.”

The flat appeared to be in darkness when he got back, which was ominous. Alex walked into the kitchen to find dozens of candles glowing and the table set for dinner. Neil was sitting at one end, his arms folded across his chest.

“Nice of you to show up, finally,” he snapped.

“Sorry – I got held up. What’s this?” Alex turned on the light and looked around. There was a neatly wrapped parcel lying on an empty plate at the place where he usually sat. “I told you I didn’t want any birthday stuff.”

“It’s not for your birthday, it’s for our anniversary. Don’t you remember?” Neil had that sulky, passive-aggressive look on his face that Alex knew all too well.

“The anniversary of what?”

“Our first time – in your bedroom at The Orchard – it was a year ago today.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Neil. I’m not great at shit like that.” He took off his coat with an apologetic smile.

Neil glanced at his watch. “You said you’d be home by eight. It’s nearly ten now. Where have you been?”

“At a lecture.”

“You didn’t have any lectures today.”

“A design lecture.” Alex shrugged.

Neil thumped his fist on the table, making the plates rattle. “ Christ, how the hell do you do it? Most of us have to work our backsides off just to get the degree we’re here for, but you swan around, going to whatever the hell lectures you want, and you still ace all your papers.”

“Business isn’t that hard. I read all the textbooks and regurgitate them, like a good little student, and I use my free time to do the stuff I’m really interested in.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy.” Alex sat down at the table, wondering if there was any chance of escaping this argument.

“Everything in your life has been effortless, hasn’t it?” Neil accused. “You have no idea what it’s like for the rest of the bloody world. You sail along, taking what you want, using people any way you please.”

“Yes. Is that what you want me to say?” Alex rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s been easy for me, Neil. I grew up in a nice house, with loads of servants, and went to the best schools money could buy, while you had to sell your soul to my father to get an education and stand a chance of a decent life. Boo-fucking-hoo.”

“You really can be a nasty shit,” Neil snapped, getting up.

“I hate to break it to you, but so can you. Now, do you want us to have this nice little anniversary dinner or not?”

“It depends.” Neil crossed his arms mulishly over his chest. “This lecture you went to must have finished hours ago. Where have you been since then?”

“Out.”

“With Bax?” Neil glared at him.

“With Solange.” Alex glared back.

“I could tell your father,” Neil snapped. “You’ve been doing croc, haven’t you? I can tell by your eyes – they go all glowy afterwards, and they’re still wet. I could call your dad right now and tell him.”

“You could – but if he takes me away from here, then you lose me altogether. Sure, you still get your tuition paid for, and a place at Lytton AV when you finish, but you don’t get me anymore, and it’s me you really want, isn’t it?” Alex taunted.

Neil’s eyes were dark and wounded. “You are such a fucking bastard. ”

“So are you. This” – he waved a hand at the candle-lit table – “is all a pretence.”

“It could be real,” Neil said desperately. “We could make it real. I take good care of you, don’t I?”

“Yeah, you do all the washing, cooking, and cleaning, like a good little indie.” He smirked. “You pick up after me, and lie to Daddy for me, and in return I give you fantastic blowjobs. Let’s not pretend it’s anything more than that.”

“I suppose I’ve been hoping you might grow to love me.” Suddenly, Neil looked so vulnerable that Alex felt guilty.

“I’m sorry. I’m a shit, I know that.”

“No, you’re just messed up.” Neil gave a little half-smile.

“And you’re too good for me. I don’t deserve all this.” He waved his hand at the table again.

“You do. And I want you to know I’ll always be here for you,” Neil told him earnestly. “Let me in, Alex, and I’ll prove it to you. Nobody will ever love you the way I do.”

“I can believe that.” Alex recoiled mentally. “So, what’s this?” He pointed at the present on the plate in front of him.

“It’s for you. Open it,” Neil said eagerly.

“You shouldn’t spend your money on me.”

“I want to. I think you’ll like it.”

He ripped open the paper and pulled out a sleek white box. “What is it?”

“It’s one of those new light box things. Turn it on!”

Flicking the switch on the base of the box, Alex almost dropped it in surprise as a startlingly lifelike 3D image erupted in front of him. A few seconds long, it showed a handsome man in his late twenties emerging from a ring of flames. He was half-naked, his oiled chest glowing in the orange light from the fire, and he was holding a book.

“Wow – this is awesome,” Alex said admiringly. “Who’s the guy?”

“It’s Hudson Brink – we saw him in that movie last week, and you said he was hot, remember? Some arty photographer took this photo of him and released it as a holopic – it’s what got Brink his first big movie break. It’s called Halo of Fire .”

“ Halo of Fire… ” Alex reached through the light image and picked up the white box. He turned it off and on again, fascinated by how realistic the holopic was. “I remember seeing a still version of this photo in a nanomag a few months ago and thinking how much I wanted to fuck him.”

“He’s probably straight.” Neil grinned.

“I bet the guy who took this photo wasn’t.”

It was as if the camera was making love to the movie star, capturing every curve of his biceps, homing in on the hard, flat planes of his stomach, and revealing a hint of a bulge in his tight jeans, while the halo of fire around him seemed to burnish his body, as though he was sculpted from the flames themselves, but emerging unburned like some kind of god.

“I thought it’d look good over your bed. I put a hook in the wall to hold it.” Neil grabbed the light box from Alex’s hands and ran into his bedroom excitedly; the image trailed after, as if it was following him. He hung the light box over Alex’s bed and stood back, admiring it. “See – perfect.”

It looked as if Hudson Brink was emerging from the wall, the flames spreading out around him.

“It looks great. Thanks, Neil.” Alex was genuinely touched. He put a hand around Neil’s waist and pulled him in for a gentle kiss.

Neil kissed him back hungrily, reaching for Alex’s bum – and then suddenly drew away.

“What’s wrong?”

“You… you stink of sex.”

Alex sighed. “We talked about this. We agreed that as long as I didn’t bring anyone back here, then it was okay. That was our deal, remember?”

“You always have to spoil everything, don’t you? It’s our anniversary, for fuck’s sake, Alex.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you had all this planned.”

“Tonight was going to be so good, and now you’ve ruined it. God, you’re such an arse.”

“Tonight wasn’t real. This…” Alex waved his hand at the holopic on the wall. “The present, the candlelight, the great big anniversary meal – it ’s all your fantasy, Neil, not mine. I don’t do any of this shit, and I didn’t ask you to do it, either.”

Neil’s face crumpled. “Sometimes I fucking hate you.”

“Ditto.” Alex flung back.

They stared at each other for a moment, breathing hard, and then moved at the same time.

Neil pawed furiously at Alex’s clothes, tearing them from his body, while Alex kissed him hard, then bit down, drawing blood. Neil pulled back, wiped his hand over his mouth, then stared at it. Looking darkly at Alex, he pounced, grabbing him and throwing him on the bed.

They grappled with each other, kissing, biting, panting, and scratching. This wasn’t the first time they’d had angry sex – these days, they often needed the anger to get hard. Neil seemed to enjoy it as much as Alex did, perhaps because it was the only passion he could arouse in him.

Shoving Neil face down beneath him, Alex reached for the lube. Above them, Hudson Brink emerged from the fire, his golden body burnished by the flames. Grabbing Neil’s hips, Alex closed his eyes and imagined he was fucking that beautiful movie star instead.