by Robin Banks
“Because he’s first class?”
“Yeah. And that might not sound like much, but it changes everything. Me or you, if we can’t buy our air, we’re fucked. It’s the workhouse or a spacing. Hugh will never have to worry about that.”
“That’s got to be pretty cool. Free air, everywhere?”
“Anywhere Fed. Places like Anteia, he’d have to buy it same as us. But that’s not a problem either, because his dad is loaded. Hugh doesn’t have to struggle to survive. He doesn’t have to do anything at all. Worst case scenario is that his daddy might not deem him good enough to take on the family business. I think that’s a certainty, given that the twerp has been allowed to come here. If circus doesn’t suit him, he’ll probably get retired off somewhere on an allowance. If he likes it, his daddy will buy him one and throw enough credit at it that he’ll probably make a decent go at it. Provided he surrounds himself with people who’ll do the thinking and the working for him, that is. He’ll get cheated like mad, but that’s not going to make a damn bit of difference to him. He’ll never be in it for the credit.”
“Fucking hell. I can’t fit that in my head.”
“And the opposite works, too. He’s utterly incapable of comprehending your position. The only difference is that he doesn’t need to.”
I squeeze myself next to Kolya. “So what the hell do I do with the kid?”
“If he’s any use to you, keep him. If not, I’ll try and palm him off. He’s not precisely everyone’s favorite. Worst thing is that he can’t understand where he’s going wrong, or that it’s a problem. He just doesn’t get it.”
“I’m not sure what I can do with him. Maybe if I had more time I could break things down for him more, but I don’t.”
She slides our plates on the table and squeezes herself in. “I hate to say this to you, because I don’t want to teach you how to be an asshole. You’ve already got a good teacher for that.”
“Alya, be nice,” grumbles Kolya.
“Anyway. If Hugh really gets himself a show, he could be useful to you. As influential friends go, it doesn’t get more influential than that. If he wanted to have animals, you could do really well.”
“You want me to kiss his ass, so when his daddy buys him a show I can go and kiss his ass some more?”
“Pretty much. Well, I don’t want you to do that, but I think you should bear it in mind as an option. There are worse things in life.”
I’m just about to snap at her to name one, when I realize how ridiculous that would be. “Gods. Is Tom aware?”
“I don’t think so. Not judging by how he’s acting, anyway. He’s not given Hugh the time of day yet.”
“Well, fuck. Thank you. I wouldn’t have thought about that.”
“Don’t mention it. Seriously. I don’t want to be reminded.”
I spend the afternoon trying to get Hugh to actually do some work while making the whole thing a pleasant experience for him. It doesn’t really work out. He does hardly anything useful and still gets bored and whiney. I just end up feeling dirty. I guess I’m not really cut for this kind of thing. I also know that it really doesn’t matter; I still have to try. It’s too big a deal to give up just because I don’t enjoy the process. If I do that, I’m no better than Hugh is.
Tom rolls in at dinner time and barges right into my bunk. “You heard about that new kid?”
“Yeah.”
“About his dad?”
“Yeah. He told me all about it. Repeatedly.”
“Fucking hell. This is great! Are you two getting along?”
“I’ve managed not to strangle him yet. Tom, I’m trying. I’m also very tired. Can we do this another time?”
“Right. Sorry. But you are trying to get along with him, yeah?”
“Yes. Doing my best. Will continue doing so.”
“He had a terrible time in the show. People had no patience with him.”
“That could be because he’s beyond useless, and obnoxious with it.”
“But you’re getting on fine?”
I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I don’t want to scream at Tom. “I'm doing what I can. I promise you.”
“You don’t sound very happy about it.”
“I’m not happy in general. Things kinda suck at the moment.”
“I’m sorry about that. I really am. It’s only for a few days, though. I’m making a ton of contacts and you’ve got Hugh to work on. We’re getting options.”
“Yeah. It’s splendid.”
“Try and sound like you mean it, how about that? I know what you need. You need to get the fuck out of here. We’ve not left the site since we got here.”
“I’ve not had the fucking chance. I’ve been working flat out.”
“You’re not working now. Get yourself cleaned up and dressed, and we can hit the bubble.”
“I’m tired. I told you.”
“We don’t have to go far. We can find somewhere to have dinner. My treat.”
“Holy shit. Did someone die?”
“Don’t be like that. Come on, get yourself ready. It’ll cheer you up.”
I don’t have the energy to argue and I’d like some food that didn’t come out of a packet, for a change, so I get as cleaned and as dressed as I can manage. Either it’s good enough for Tom or he decides to let it slide, because he doesn’t send me back in to change.
I do feel better as soon as we start walking up the tunnel. I feel as if I’m leaving all my problems behind; for a while, at least. When we get to the bubble, though, my mood sinks again.
“Man, this place is fucking posh. Look at it: it’s all villas.”
“Yeah. Pretty snazzy, hey? There’s got to be somewhere to eat, though.”
“Sure, but not our kind of place.”
“Our kind of place? What the hell are you on about?”
“It’s going to be all posh places.”
“So what? We’ve got credit. We look decent. They’ll serve us.”
“Even if they do, I’m going to feel fucking uncomfortable.”
“Hang on a moment. A month ago you nearly got into a fight with a bouncer over the boys’ right to get into a club. You’ve been giving me an earache for weeks about how the classism on show is bullshit. And now you tell me that you won’t eat a meal if you think a place’s too good for you? That’s pretty hypocritical.”
“It’s not like that.”
“How is it, then?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just do it. We’re going to do it anyway.”
“Man, I wish your mood was better.”
“Me too.”
It doesn’t us long to find a place. It’s not as bad as I’d expected. It reminds me a bit of that place Raj took us to, roughly a million years ago. I still feel like I shouldn’t be here, but mentioning that would only piss Tom off, so I keep quiet.
I don’t feel any better when the menus arrive.
“Tom?” I whisper. “I don’t know what any of this stuff is.”
“Just pick something that sounds nice.”
“If I could do that, I wouldn’t be raising the issue. None of these words mean a damn thing to me. Most of them aren’t even English.”
“Just pick something.”
“I’ll have what you’re having.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That would look silly.”
I'm too tired for this. All I want to do is scream at him and storm out, but then I’d just have to make up with him. I’m exhausted just thinking about that.
When the waiter comes over to take our order, I’ve still not picked. I’m ready to just point at an item on the menu at random – it’s not as if I know how to pronounce most of it, anyway. It’s not a problem, though. I don’t know if we look so clueless that the waiter gets the hint, he’s naturally helpful, or he’s trying to screw us by selling us the most expensive shit they’ve got, but he starts chatting amiably about what he would suggest and what drinks would go nicely with it and that kin
d of stuff. When he leaves, I’ve no idea what I’m going to be eating, but I don’t really care. I’ve never had a massage, but this is what I imagine a massage must feel like: someone taking over and making things comfortable for you. For a short time only. And for a fee.
Tom whispers to me. “See? It worked out fine.”
“Yeah. I guess. They’re gonna give us booze, too?”
“Apparently.”
“And you’re cool with paying for this?”
“Ask me again when we get the bill,” he grins. “Nah, man, it’s all good. We need a break. And things are looking up for us. Even if they weren’t, we’d still need a break.”
He probably regrets his offer when the food arrives. There’s a ton of it, and none of it looks like it was grown in a vat. I hope he’s got enough credit on him to pay for this. If not, I hope there’s a big enough window in the shitter. We still eat it, though, and Tom was right: it does cheer me up. After the third glass of whatever it is that we’re drinking, I’m feeling positively merry.
The waiter comes back when we’ve finished. “Would you like to see the dessert menu?”
“No, thank you,” smiles Tom. “No room.”
“The manager would like to have a drink with you, if that’s ok.”
That stumps Tom, but he plows on through regardless. “Yeah? Sure?”
As the waiter goes off, I whisper to Tom “Man, is this normal?”
“No idea. Act like it is, I guess. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Do you want a list?”
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
It’s not just one guy coming over, it’s three of them. They could be brothers, all with similar hairdos and clothes and jewelry – a ton of jewelry. Their gear looks expensive and cheap at the same time, I’m not sure how. Definitely showy, anyway.
They grab seats at our table as the waiter hovers around. They’ve brought a bottle of something and pour us all a drink.
One of them, Julian, looks like he’s in charge. He’s a bit older, his jewelry’s thicker, and his smile seems more focused. When he looks at me, I feel younger and smaller and poorer and dirtier. I don’t know why, because he’s being perfectly pleasant.
“You’re not local, are you?”
I shake my head because I’m not braining very well, and Tom takes over the speaking role. “No. We’re with the show. We got here just yesterday.”
“I thought so. Guys like you, we would have noticed you if you’d been around.”
I narrowly manage to avoid rolling my eyes at that. Here we go again. Everywhere we go, we keep finding the same shit dressed up in different clothes. I don’t know whether we send off some kind of signal that attracts this kind of people, or there are just not enough personalities to go around. Tom’s right in his environment, though, and I don’t have anything to do bar nod and smile and think about something else or nothing at all. With the booze I’ve already had and the booze they’re giving us now, I don’t think I could care if I wanted to. It’s all good, until one of the guys puts his hand on my leg.
I’m drunk enough that it takes me a moment to realize what just happened. When I do, I find it hard to get my brain up to speed. Instead of hitting the guy or bolting, I just stare at him in horror. He looks at me with an odd smile on his face. “No? Ok.” He pats my leg a couple of times and takes his hand off.
Julian smiles at Tom. “Is your friend shy?”
“Yeah. Kinda.”
“That’s a shame.”
They all have a bit of a laugh. I know it’s at my expense but they leave me well alone after that, so I guess it’s alright. I still want to go home, though. I’m tired, my brain’s fuzzy, and I have no idea what time it is. When I see how late it is, I nearly shit a brick.
“Tom? We need to get going. Like, right away. They close our tunnel at midnight. We’ll be lucky if we get through.”
Julian waves my concerns away. “That’s not a problem. We’ll give you a ride back.”
I don’t want to get a ride back with him. He’s been drinking, we’ve been drinking, and I really, really hate getting in vehicles with strangers. I know it’s ridiculous given who we are and what we do, but that’s how it is. I just want to get out of here, walk in the fresh air until my head clears, put this whole evening behind me, and get home.
I must still be in Tom’s good books. He gets up, smiles ruefully at his new buddies, and actually backs me up. “We don’t want to trouble you.”
“It wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“All the same. Walking will do us good after a meal like this. Got to keep fit somehow.”
They all have a good chortle, but they still get up. The waiter guy brings us the bill, but Julian waves that away, too. “Don’t worry about it. It’s been a pleasure to have some well-traveled visitors to entertain us.”
Tom tries to disagree, but not very hard. I don’t get this, or I get it and I don’t want to. Either way, I just want to go home.
On the way to the door, the waiter and the other two guys walk right behind me. Tom lags behind with Julian. They’re talking quietly to each other in the doorway, then out of nowhere they just latch onto each other’s faces. I know I shouldn’t watch, but I can’t stop. This doesn’t look like the usual thing. It looks even. It looks even and it looks like Tom genuinely has to tear himself from the guy, like he’d rather stay here with him and he’s just leaving for my benefit.
He still leaves, though. He comes over to stand with me, says his goodbyes, and we walk off. I have no idea how I feel about this.
“Luke? You alright?”
“Yeah. No. Don’t know.”
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know what’s happening, is all.”
“We just had a nice meal and some nice drinks and met some nice people. Nothing weird about that.”
“Actually that never fucking happens to us, so if that’s what just went on, then it is weird. I don’t know. Don’t worry about me. You like that guy?”
“What? Yeah. I think I do. I don’t know.”
“Alright.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Nah. Just have to, you know, file it. In my head. I think I’m drunk.”
“You definitely are. So am I. It’s all good.”
“Yeah. Ok. Let’s get home.”
When I wake up in the morning, I feel like shit. I really need to hit the ‘fresher and for the first time ever the damn life support alarm is late. I’ve just about decided to give up holding on, pick the least favorite corner of my bunk, and clean up later, when the alarm goes off directly behind my eyes and tries to push them out of my skull.
I bolt for the ‘fresher and come out just on time to witness Alya’s now-usual morning dash into Kolya’s bunk. She smiles at me on her way through. I find that offensive.
I make myself a coffee, even though the noise of the machine is killing me, thinking it may help. When I tried to drink it, I can’t stand the sound of my own swallowing. It’s just too damn loud.
I’m trying to decide whether to force the coffee down or shove my face in it and hope I drown, when Kolya’s door opens. There’s been no sign of the boy doing the morning rounds yet. Alya and Kolya come down their stairs and make for the kitchen. I get off the steps to let them pass.
“Rough night, kid?” she chirps at me.
“Kinda.”
“I’m sure you deserved it. Or you deserve what you’re getting now. Either way, it works for me.”
I contemplate throwing the coffee at her, but I don’t think I could stand the noise she’d make.
When the boy finally comes around, Alya and Kolya are standing outside the kitchen, drinking their coffees, chatting amiably and way too loudly. They keep trying to talk at me. I wish they would just drop dead. Quietly. As soon as Kolya sees the boy, he wraps an arm around Alya and kisses the top of her head. I have enough presence of mind left to wait until the boy is out of earshot, then I explode.
“What t
he fuck is that about? You’ve been like that since we got here.”
“Like what?” chirps Alya.
“Smooching. When people are around. It’s creepy as hell.”
Kolya pats Alya’s shoulder. “She is like a daughter to me.”
“Like a daughter? You do know what people will think, right?”
“Nope.” Alya smiles sweetly. “What will they think?”
“That you two are…” I can’t say it.
“We are what?”
“Gods! Fucking. They’ll think you’re fucking.”
“Maybe we are. Would that be a problem?”
“The hell you are. This is a front.”
“Very perceptive. So what if it is?”
“What the fuck is it for? It’s doing my head in.”
“Too bad. You’ll just have to suck it up.”
Kolya puts his hand over Alya’s head and sighs. “Stop now. He asks a good question. He needs to know. You are not helping.”
“What do I need to know?”
“This is for safety. For Alya. So the boys think she is with me. So they do not cause problems.”
My anger evaporates. My headache stays behind. “They what?”
Alya disentangles herself from Kolya. “If the guys think I’m taken, they will leave me alone. Hopefully. If I’m on my own, I’m fair game. There aren’t enough women on show for all the guys and I’m the only one in their class, as it were. It could get messy.”
“But they haven’t…”
“No. It’s all cool. This is purely a preventative measure to stop them getting any ideas. Hopefully. It could backfire and get Kolya into trouble, but I don’t think I’m worth fighting over.”
“This is ridiculous. If you’re not interested…”
She cuts me off. “I know. I can tell them. But that could get messy, too. This way is easier, if it works. Avoid trouble instead of having to deal with it. It was Kolya’s idea. More his style, really.”
He grabs her and kisses the top of her head again. “But she is a nice girl, and she listens to me. It makes me happy if it makes her safe. And I like this. Is nice for me. She is like a daughter, and now I can show it. Maybe is good for her, too. Make her more easy to handle. Less bitey.”