Page 69 of The Quarterlands (Dark Water #4)

Chapter Eighteen

Alex

The next show Elliot planned to take him to was on Eden Floating City. Alex didn’t give a damn about the show, but he was interested in the floating city. It looked as if Tyler’s investment in the tech had paid off, because these cities were springing up all over the place.

He was, therefore, disappointed when he saw it.

It was grey, utilitarian, and ugly, squatting on the surface of the water like a vast metal spider.

He wasn’t sure why he’d expected anything different.

Tyler had been clear that the future of floating city tech lay in mass-producing them as cheaply as possible.

This was no Ghost Eye, all opulence and grandeur, designed and built for the rich.

Eden was functional, intended to house as many people as possible on the cheap.

The hotel hosting the show was squalid, but he was used to that.

He was given an armband with the number sixteen on it and took his place in a side room with all the other indies.

He found these shows tedious and distasteful, but Elliot loved them.

He’d often wondered whether he should speak of Solange to one of the houders who won his services for the night, but so far, none of them had been interested in talking, and he’d never felt that any of them were entirely trustworthy.

What was he expecting them to do, anyway?

Call the police? And say what? “This indie I traded for sex says a girl was killed by a famous businessman a few years ago?”

The longer he kept his mission a secret, the less he felt he’d ever be able to share it with anyone.

Maybe he’d end up taking it to his grave.

He just hoped Solange wouldn’t meet him there full of reproach for his long years of inaction.

He hated himself for it, berated himself constantly, but he simply didn’t know what to do.

Time was dragging by, and he was no closer now than he’d ever been.

Next to him, a sweet-faced blond boy smiled flirtatiously.

“Save it for the houders,” Alex said. He looked like the kind of boy Elliot would choose. He always went for the sweet, innocent-looking ones at shows. He liked to pretend they were virgins and he was the kindly older man showing them the ropes.

“They’re all old and ugly. You’re hot,” the boy said, grinning.

“This your first time?”

“At a show? Yeah. Not at sex, though. I’ve been shagging blokes for years.” The boy laughed. “I’m Eric.” He held out his hand.

Alex ignored it. “Not here you’re not. Here, you’re number nine,” he said, glancing at the boy’s armband.

“So, what are these shows like?” Eric asked.

“Boring. You wait here for ages, then parade around onstage. The houders vote on you, then there’s a terrible floor show – usually two blokes in costumes having sex.

The votes are counted, but they’re really only interested in the top three indies.

The houders get to pick an indie they want to sleep with.

After that, the whole thing descends into horse-trading, with the houders mainly just desperate to make sure they get their hands on a different indie to the one they came with. ”

“It sounds hot.” Eric grinned.

“It’s really not.”

“This place is amazing. I’ve never been on a floating city before.” Eric helped himself to a glass of Coke from a big tray on the side, gulping it down in one go. “Free drinks!”

“Oh, trust me, nothing here is free. It’s a cattle market.”

“It’s fun. I like it.”

“Where the hell are you from?” Alex asked, frowning .

“Oh, I’m not supposed to say, but…” Eric looked around, then lowered his voice theatrically. “I’m not actually an IS.”

“What?” Alex shook his head, bemused. “Then why the hell are you here, if nobody is making you?”

“I’m being paid.” Eric looked very pleased with himself. “I usually turn tricks down by the lost zone near the Canary Quarter. This is much more fun.”

“You’re a rent boy?”

“If you like.” Eric shrugged. “Though I spend most of it on croc, not rent.” His bright grin faded a little. “I have to hand some of it over to the gang that runs the Quarter I live in,” he confided. “Though sometimes they let me suck them off, and then I get to keep it all.”

This seemed to fill Eric with glee. Alex felt a little sorry for him; he couldn’t have been more than seventeen years old.

“Listen, do you have lube and condoms?” he asked, wanting to impart some wisdom to this stupid kid before he went out there. “Only, these blokes often don’t bother with them if you don’t bring any. I try to keep a stash in all my pockets now, just in case.”

“Sure. Lube, condoms, the works. I’m a pro.” Eric winked.

The show started, and Alex watched as Eric sidled out onstage. His earlier excitement had faded and he looked suddenly shy to be onstage, being ogled by all these strange men. Alex felt a pang of sympathy for him.

He was an old hand now, so he knew the drill. He made his entry with as little fanfare as possible, doing just enough that Elliot wouldn’t be angry with him later.

He achieved first place, as he often did. He was pleased about that. It’d make his life easier in the coming week if Elliot was able to have his pick of the indies.

Elliot whooped and ran up onstage. “I want number nine,” he cried out.

Alex wasn’t surprised. Eric was precisely the kind of sweet-looking innocent that Elliot often chose. Despite his profession, Alex hoped that Eric would be able to play along with Elliot’s shy-virgin fantasy.

Eric seemed delighted to be chosen by the winning houder and ran up to him, his own houder following on behind.

Alex wasn’t remotely interested in Eric’s houder.

He assumed he would be as sleazy and unprepossessing as they always were.

He was, therefore, completely taken by surprise when a hand grasped his arm eagerly, swinging him around… and he was face to face with Neil.

“Hello, Alex.” Neil grinned, pulling him in close and wrapping him in a tight hug. Over his shoulder, Alex saw Elliot tugging Eric away to his room for the night, eager to unwrap his prize. He didn’t so much as glance backwards to see if Alex was okay.

Neil drew away and gazed at him, and Alex stared back, speechless.

As a young man, Neil had been mildly attractive, but he was far less so now.

He looked prematurely middle-aged, his stocky frame having spread out, giving him a soft appearance.

His once floppy dark hair was now receding, so he’d shaved it close to his head, making his face look even rounder.

He still had ferociously angry-looking eyebrows, thick and dark, that slanted across his forehead like a canopy.

Alex didn’t say a word as Neil took his hand and led him away.

They reached the hotel room, a shabby, tiny space, but mercifully clean – they weren’t always.

Neil shut and locked the door behind them and then turned, and they stared again at each other for what felt like forever.

Neil seemed to be drinking him in, studying every detail, while he was still struggling to get his head around what was happening.

“You look good, Alex,” Neil said at last. “Still beautiful.”

“You look… older,” Alex retorted.

Neil’s face broke into a pained smile. “Life’s not been good to me. I haven’t been some rich bloke’s pampered pet all these years.”

Alex burst out laughing. “Oh, yeah. That’s totally what my life has been.”

“From where I’m standing it has.” Neil shrugged. “That fool Elliot dotes on you, doesn’t he? I’ve seen you in all the magazines and on all the celeb gossip sites. They call you Christopher Dacre now, but I knew it was you the minute I saw you. You’re just the same.”

“Why are you here, Neil?” Alex demanded. “Do you really want one more night with me that badly? It’s not as if you haven’t had me many times.”

“One night?” Neil scoffed. “Oh no, I don’t just want one night with you, Alex. I want so much more. ”

“What are you talking about?”

“You, me, us.” Neil moved towards him, and Alex took a step backwards. “Us, together again, after all this time.” Neil put his hands on Alex’s shoulders and gazed excitedly into his eyes. “It’ll be like the old times.”

“The old times were fucking awful,” Alex snapped. “And there is no us . There never was.”

“You know that’s not true,” Neil said fiercely. “I still love you, Alex. I always have.”

“You sold me out to Tyler.”

“No, you did that all by yourself.” Neil adopted a self-righteous tone. “I think you needed that, though. You needed to fall, to see how the rest of us live.”

“You have no idea how most indies live,” Alex retorted. “Your life was one of ease by comparison.” He thought of Solange, Ted, and Mick. “My father looked after you and your mother. He paid for your education, for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh, big fucking deal,” Neil sneered. “Largesse from the Lyttons. He did it because he loved being the lord of the manor, doling out jobs to those he considered most worthy, and bathing in their gratitude.”

“Compared to the houders I’ve had, he’s a bloody saint.”

“Well, that’s all over for you now,” Neil said sweetly. He sat down on the side of the bed and patted the space beside him, inviting Alex to join him.

“How?” Alex asked warily, not moving.

“Because now you’ve got me on your side. I told you I’d always take care of you, Alex, and I meant it. I tried to buy you, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Alex shrugged. “But Elliot turned you down. Where the hell did you find the money, Neil?”

“That doesn’t matter. I just want you to know that I tried to get you legitimately. It didn’t work, so I thought I’d try this instead. The point is, I’m not giving up on you. I never did, and I never will. Everything I’ve done since the day you were sold is to get you back.”

“Get me back?” Alex was stunned by Neil’s self-delusion. To still be so obsessed, after all these years – it was beyond belief. “Neil, you never had me. We were a business arrangement, that’s all. ”