I promised you fic.
Title: Hero [1/4]
Fandom: Speed Racer
Pairing: In this part; Speed/OMC. In later parts; minor Sparky/Spritle and major Speed/X.
Rating: NC-17 for some serious shit; drugs, prostitution, but sex later on. :D
Length: About 12,000 words overall, this part’s 2,823.
Notes: Okay, I really need to explain this. Speed the whore is not unknown in this fandom, but I’ve gone the full wacked out job. This is an AU to the film from the point Speed goes off on his little wangst to Thunderhead after the Casa Cristo ‘onoez it was all for nothing’. The title… is a bit weird. It’s like what Speed was meant to become but didn’t. The line under the cut seems to be relevant somehow, but even I’m not sure why. So here you are :D Beta’d by the wonderful, wonderful princessezzy.
though nothing will keep us together
we could steal time, just for one day
we can be heroes, forever and ever
- Heroes, David Bowie
Speed clenched the steering wheel, hot wriggling tears slamming down his face. The Thunderhead turning approached, and his fingers flicked towards his indicators before he stopped, curled them back around the wheel and kept driving into the night.
He was 200 miles along the interstate before the weariness set in, something nibbling the back of his shoulderblades and he turned off at the next junction, sliding to a stop beside somewhere grotty and smelling faintly of fish. He stepped out of the 5 and locked her, looking around. He’d have to abandon her as soon as he could; she was far too conspicuous. He traced his fingers along the cold metal and walked into the bar.
He ignored the dancefloor, which was packed and dirty and sweaty. The noise was slamming into his head and he winced, shaking it slightly and approaching the bar domineering the right wall, sliding as little as possible onto a grotty stool. The guy behind the bar looked up at him slowly. “Can I get something to drink?” he called, straining against the throbbing music, and the guy reached beneath the counter wordlessly and pulled out a grimy glass, smearing it with filth as he rubbed it with a greasy cloth. “Forget it,” Speed muttered, and eyed up the dancefloor again.
“You should try one of these.” The guy perched beside him flicked a shot glass with clean fingers and it slid in front of Speed, spinning slightly, the heady liquid sucking into a tiny whirlpool. He looked down and curled his fingers round the glass, warm in the hot atmosphere. Not a frequent user of alcohol, he thought about protesting for a heartbeat, but the muddy thoughts of the last few days - of exhilaration replaced with anguish - curled hot and angry round his brain. He threw it back once and hissed, his eyes squeezing and dribbling down his face, before gasping and looking at the guy beside him with shock. The guy laughed and held out a hand. “Jamie. Hey, you look familiar.” Jamie frowned. “You into racing at all?”
“Me?” Speed shook his head, smiling. “I hate the shit.” He tried to introduce himself and stopped; he could hardly use his real name. His brain fogged up and he frowned, trying to focus on something else, something important. “Hey, do you mind getting another one ready for me? There’s something I gotta take care of.” Speed smiled slowly and walked out, looking around into a dirty night. The bar was perched on the edge of a vast expanse of water, and Speed eyed up the 5 before emptying the boot of a single duffel, pushing his helmet back inside and clipping the lid shut. At a moment’s thought he snapped it open to take up the picture of Rex and jammed it into his jeans pocket before parking her on a slope by the lake, climbing out and palming the keys. “Sorry, girl,” he whispered, reaching across and letting the handbrake slide loose. He watched her sink slowly, gurgling, before throwing the keys in after her as hard as he could and walking back to the bar. He slid back on the stool, slammed down the drink that was waiting for him and held out a hand, shaking Jamie’s firmly. “I’m Alex, and I need a ride.” His lips curled. “Going any place nice?”
Jamie knew some motel and had a grotty two-door shoved round the back of the bar. Speed climbed into the passenger’s seat for the first time since he was fourteen and let the landscape slide by, eyes flicking over signposts irreverently. He even dozed off for a bit; it was close into the early hours of the morning before the engine buzzed off beneath him and Jamie was opening the door. He opened his eyes and looked blearily into the moonlight, casting an eye around. “You can crash in my room tonight if you want,” Jamie said as Speed scooped up the duffel from the boot.
“Sounds good.” The gravel was hot and harsh under his feet but the alcohol was blurring everything, including his rapidly diminishing sense of morality.
“Oh, my brother’s in there, though.” Jamie sighed. “He’ll probably be totally out of it by now.”
“Out of it?” Speed echoed as they walked up to the room’s door, Jamie pulling out the key and letting them in. A low chuckle came from the floor and Jamie grimaced, reaching over to push open the window and let out some of the smoke. Speed breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, coughing slightly at the smoke but the smell raised goosebumps on the back of his elbows and he shuddered appreciatively.
“Hey,” Jamie’s brother grinned wackily from the floor. “Give the guy some, he’s pining for it.”
“What is it?” Speed asked quietly, eyeing up the white stick Jamie pressed into his fingers.
“It’s a little escape,” Jamie murmured, putting it into Speed’s mouth and lighting it up.
That was the first night Speed got stoned.
That was the first night Speed got fucked.
He spent about two weeks of euphoria with Jamie and his nameless brother, drifting in and out of consciousness. Occasionally he’d wake up and think of Mom or Sparky or Trixie and he’d stand up, he’d say right, I’m going back, then one of them would press another into his hand and he’d light up and lie down on the rotting carpet again.
Eventually, money became an issue.
“I’m going into town,” Jamie said. “I need to get some money for the rent.”
“Do you have a job?” Speed sat up, surprisingly lucid, but the weed had run out a couple of hours ago and he was relying on the whisky and it just wasn’t the same.
Jamie laughed. “In a manner of speaking.”
“You should take the kid,” Jamie’s brother stated. “He’s cute. You’ll get more business.”
Jamie looked Speed up and down. “What about it, Alex? You fancy helping me plug up some trade?”
Speed smiled nervously, eyes flickering between the both of them. “I don’t really understand.”
Jamie sighed. “You, come with me. You do lookout, help another client, whatever, I don’t care. C’mon.” Jamie dragged him into the car and Speed went without another word.
He was worried someone’d recognise him in town. He’d had a lucky break with Jamie, but the nearby town was full of race geeks and giant billboards. At one point there was a desperate ad on a giant telescreen, begging for information of his whereabouts, but Jamie was busy with a client and Speed just ducked his head, staring at the floor. Jamie came out of the alley smelling of cigarettes and Speed wrinkled his nose, casting an eye around. “There’s a guy over there who’ll give you fifty for a blow,” Jamie muttered, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and nodding across the dimly lit square. Speed followed his gaze to a man staring at him oddly, his head cast on one side and a strange smile curling his mouth. “Go talk to him.” Jamie pushed his fingers under Speed’s shoulderblades and Speed shot forwards, stumbling in the guy’s direction until he straightened and walked over nervously, pausing in front of him.
“You a friend of Jamie’s or something?” the guy asked, looking at him appreciatively.
“Something like that,” Speed agreed nervously. The guy pulled him into an alley and began slipping off his belt and Speed laughed nervously, backing away. “I’m not - ”
“Look, kid,” the guy sighed. “I can tell you’re new to this, so I’ll make it easy. I’ll give you fifty if you jack me off, alright?”
Speed nearly panicked, but the terrible tendrils of withdrawal were curling round his abdomen and he knew Jamie wouldn’t give him a fix if he didn’t pay his own way. Speed shuddered slightly and stepped forwards, curling his fingers around the guy’s boxers, and the guy smiled.
Speed paced across the street, stopping in front of Jamie and handing him the wad of cash. He was smiling to himself; he couldn’t help it. He wiped his hands on his jeans and made a face, but Jamie was flicking through the money. “Nice work,” he said, and Speed detected surprise in his voice. “This should keep us going for a while. C’mon.” Jamie said he had someone he needed to meet but Speed was exhausted, so slunk back and waited in the car alone. He should have used the time to think, but he was fixed on the next smoke, on what waited for him when they got back to the hotel; he could do with a good fuck. He rolled his head back against the seat. He tossed restlessly for a while, need beginning to nibble at his spine but eventually he sunk into a doze until Jamie snapped him out of it by slamming the driver’s door shut when he got in. “I got something special to show you when we get home,” Jamie smiled, dropping something on the back seat. Speed could tell he was excited.
That was the first night Speed snorted cocaine.
It got into a sort of pattern; drugs and booze and sex until the money ran out then sex until it didn’t. Jamie’s brother was getting uneasy, shifting about the place, saying they needed to move on, find a new town. Jamie was reluctant; the trade was better here than it had been at whatever shithole they’d been in before - more fatcat business men, Jamie had remarked, they’re all as gay as wankers - and the drugs were better too. “They’ll find us if we stay,” his brother muttered.
“So what? If we do, we plug them the kid and get the fuck out of here.”
Speed had been too high to care.
It was three months, maybe four before their luck ran out. Jamie was working a job downtown and Speed was keeping watch, headphones jammed in to block out the rutting noises slinking down the alleyway. He cast filthy looks at anyone who dared to glance near, but generally it was avoided. This wasn’t the best part of town and people were happy to slink past if just to get away. Jamie came out laughing, shaking his head and told Speed it was his turn; Speed sauntered down and met the guy halfway, smiling elusively.
“What do you charge?” the man rasped, smiling slightly.
“Anything you can afford,” Speed breathed, and smiled.
He finished with him quickly and pocketed the money, but froze when he exited the alley. Jamie was pushed up against a wall, surrounded by the biggest guys Speed had ever seen; one of them noticed Speed and yelled. Speed tried to get away but he was too slow, and besides, he’d not done anything vaguely constituting as exercise for months. “We’re taking you to the boss, Jamie,” one of them rasped, and Jamie simply smirked. They were shoved in a car together and Jamie shot him a warning look when he tried to speak; Speed slunk back in his seat and tried to focus on memorising the route in case they were chucked out halfway. No such luck; they pulled up in a parking lot to a shady club, the music emanating into the surrounding air. They were shoved and jostled through the club, pushed up a flight of stairs and into a leather-bound office. Speed glanced around nervously; Jamie seemed almost to be expecting it. There was a man spread out in the chair, his arms spread wide and his smile spread further. “Jamie Hendrikson,” he said appreciatively, leaning back. “I had hoped never to see you again.”
“I could say likewise,” Jamie spat, still fighting one of the guy’s holds; the man in the chair nodded and they were let go and left alone in the office. Speed could feel the music throbbing up from the floor and permeating his soles.
“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure,” he murmured, nodding towards Speed, who stiffened defiantly.
“I’m Alex,” Speed said before Jamie could shut him up. “Though I don’t know who the fuck you are.”
“Jack,” Jack said with a small smile. “And you could sort of say you’re stepping into my territory.”
“Jack runs a brothel,” Jamie muttered, pushing blood back into his wrists with his thumb as the cuffs fell loose.
“Oh, Jamie, you hurt me!” Jack stood, running his fingers along the side of his desk and stopping in front of it. “I’m not the proprietor of just one brothel, Alex. I run them all. And Jamie here,” he gestured at him, “Jamie hasn’t been paying his taxes.”
“I wonder if it’s a generic thing,” Speed spat, and Jack looked at him curiously. “The last Jack I met was an asshole too.”
Jack laughed. It teetered off and he eyed Speed up. “I take it you’ve got him smacked out of his head.”
“Naturally,” Jamie replied.
“Hmm.” Jack paced around the two of them, but Speed felt his eyes only resting on him. “Three fifty?”
“Four fifty at least.”
Jack seemed to find this amusing and chuckled slightly, halting in front of him. “I’ll do it, but only because it’s you, Jamie.” He moved back over to his desk and pressed a button under the rim; a compartment flipped out and Jack fingered through the money, counting some out under his breath before walking back over to them and pressing the money into Jamie’s hand. Jamie smiled bitterly and moved to leave; Speed tried to follow but Jack’s hand grabbed onto his arm. “You’re mine, Alex,” he whispered into Speed’s ear and even though he struggled he felt something sharp and cold burst into his arm and then everything dissolved into technicolour bubbles.
The trade was better with Jack.
No more hanging around dingy alleyways; this was all swanky penthouse suites and high-class businessman and extortionate prices. Sure, he had to put up with more than a handjob and the occasional blowjob; this was the proper shit, tied up to the headboard proper shit. No more coke, either; ohh no. With Jack it was all about smack, and Speed often thought that it was better than the sex.
---
five years later
---
“Hey, Max,” Speed shouted as he fumbled through the bathroom cabinets, cursing under his breath. “You been taking my fucking needles again?”
“No, I ain’t been taking your fucking needles!” Max drawled from the other room, spread across the couch with a useless stub of cigarette clamped beneath his lips. His eyes were watching some game on the telescreen; it looked like cockfighting, only with spears and humans instead of chickens. Max was into bloodsports. Speed was into heroin.
“You fucking piece of shit, you so have been!” he yelled, pacing back into the living room, glaring at his partner. Jack always had them do this shit in twos; one for the money, one for the sex. One to always make sure the other was okay, stuck by the rules. Besides, threesomes were in high demand, and paid twice as much. “My three-thirty’s ten minutes late and I haven’t got any fucking needles!”
“Take this one,” Max muttered and chucked one at him. Speed caught it and ripped the packaging open with his teeth; he sat down, closing his eyes as he took the hit.
“Fuck yes,” Speed breathed, his eyes rolling back.
“Alex?” Max looked over and watched him slam into the floor, his limbs beginning to twitch. “Holy shit, Alex!”
The world hurt when Speed finally opened his eyes.
His chest was labouring breaths between cracked lips and he winced at the white ceiling. His nerves felt fried, like he’d been shot with electricity all over, like his hair was standing on end and his whole body still throbbed with a current. He coughed slightly. There was a conversation happening near his head and a cold hand across his forehead. It felt good; his whole face felt like it was on fire, his whole body hot and sweaty and sore. This was worse than the morning-after. This was worse than anything he’d ever felt before. He tried to sit up.
“Don’t move, Speed, sweetheart,” a voice whispered near him. It was nearly cracking with exhaustion, with sadness, and Speed felt compelled to obey it, sinking back into soft white sheets. Holy shit - ! He panicked; the voice knew his name, his real name and he started thrashing, trying to get closer to it, trying to get away, but he was held down and he cried out as the world span noisily around him and he retched violently off the side of the bed. He waited till he could breathe before rolling onto his back, staring up weakly and a face registered above him.
“Mom?” he whispered, and the face nodded.
“It’s so good to have you home,” she whispered, and Speed closed his eyes.
Part II
Fandom: Speed Racer
Pairing: In this part; Speed/OMC. In later parts; minor Sparky/Spritle and major Speed/X.
Rating: NC-17 for some serious shit; drugs, prostitution, but sex later on. :D
Length: About 12,000 words overall, this part’s 2,823.
Notes: Okay, I really need to explain this. Speed the whore is not unknown in this fandom, but I’ve gone the full wacked out job. This is an AU to the film from the point Speed goes off on his little wangst to Thunderhead after the Casa Cristo ‘onoez it was all for nothing’. The title… is a bit weird. It’s like what Speed was meant to become but didn’t. The line under the cut seems to be relevant somehow, but even I’m not sure why. So here you are :D Beta’d by the wonderful, wonderful princessezzy.
though nothing will keep us together
we could steal time, just for one day
we can be heroes, forever and ever
- Heroes, David Bowie
Speed clenched the steering wheel, hot wriggling tears slamming down his face. The Thunderhead turning approached, and his fingers flicked towards his indicators before he stopped, curled them back around the wheel and kept driving into the night.
He was 200 miles along the interstate before the weariness set in, something nibbling the back of his shoulderblades and he turned off at the next junction, sliding to a stop beside somewhere grotty and smelling faintly of fish. He stepped out of the 5 and locked her, looking around. He’d have to abandon her as soon as he could; she was far too conspicuous. He traced his fingers along the cold metal and walked into the bar.
He ignored the dancefloor, which was packed and dirty and sweaty. The noise was slamming into his head and he winced, shaking it slightly and approaching the bar domineering the right wall, sliding as little as possible onto a grotty stool. The guy behind the bar looked up at him slowly. “Can I get something to drink?” he called, straining against the throbbing music, and the guy reached beneath the counter wordlessly and pulled out a grimy glass, smearing it with filth as he rubbed it with a greasy cloth. “Forget it,” Speed muttered, and eyed up the dancefloor again.
“You should try one of these.” The guy perched beside him flicked a shot glass with clean fingers and it slid in front of Speed, spinning slightly, the heady liquid sucking into a tiny whirlpool. He looked down and curled his fingers round the glass, warm in the hot atmosphere. Not a frequent user of alcohol, he thought about protesting for a heartbeat, but the muddy thoughts of the last few days - of exhilaration replaced with anguish - curled hot and angry round his brain. He threw it back once and hissed, his eyes squeezing and dribbling down his face, before gasping and looking at the guy beside him with shock. The guy laughed and held out a hand. “Jamie. Hey, you look familiar.” Jamie frowned. “You into racing at all?”
“Me?” Speed shook his head, smiling. “I hate the shit.” He tried to introduce himself and stopped; he could hardly use his real name. His brain fogged up and he frowned, trying to focus on something else, something important. “Hey, do you mind getting another one ready for me? There’s something I gotta take care of.” Speed smiled slowly and walked out, looking around into a dirty night. The bar was perched on the edge of a vast expanse of water, and Speed eyed up the 5 before emptying the boot of a single duffel, pushing his helmet back inside and clipping the lid shut. At a moment’s thought he snapped it open to take up the picture of Rex and jammed it into his jeans pocket before parking her on a slope by the lake, climbing out and palming the keys. “Sorry, girl,” he whispered, reaching across and letting the handbrake slide loose. He watched her sink slowly, gurgling, before throwing the keys in after her as hard as he could and walking back to the bar. He slid back on the stool, slammed down the drink that was waiting for him and held out a hand, shaking Jamie’s firmly. “I’m Alex, and I need a ride.” His lips curled. “Going any place nice?”
Jamie knew some motel and had a grotty two-door shoved round the back of the bar. Speed climbed into the passenger’s seat for the first time since he was fourteen and let the landscape slide by, eyes flicking over signposts irreverently. He even dozed off for a bit; it was close into the early hours of the morning before the engine buzzed off beneath him and Jamie was opening the door. He opened his eyes and looked blearily into the moonlight, casting an eye around. “You can crash in my room tonight if you want,” Jamie said as Speed scooped up the duffel from the boot.
“Sounds good.” The gravel was hot and harsh under his feet but the alcohol was blurring everything, including his rapidly diminishing sense of morality.
“Oh, my brother’s in there, though.” Jamie sighed. “He’ll probably be totally out of it by now.”
“Out of it?” Speed echoed as they walked up to the room’s door, Jamie pulling out the key and letting them in. A low chuckle came from the floor and Jamie grimaced, reaching over to push open the window and let out some of the smoke. Speed breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, coughing slightly at the smoke but the smell raised goosebumps on the back of his elbows and he shuddered appreciatively.
“Hey,” Jamie’s brother grinned wackily from the floor. “Give the guy some, he’s pining for it.”
“What is it?” Speed asked quietly, eyeing up the white stick Jamie pressed into his fingers.
“It’s a little escape,” Jamie murmured, putting it into Speed’s mouth and lighting it up.
That was the first night Speed got stoned.
That was the first night Speed got fucked.
He spent about two weeks of euphoria with Jamie and his nameless brother, drifting in and out of consciousness. Occasionally he’d wake up and think of Mom or Sparky or Trixie and he’d stand up, he’d say right, I’m going back, then one of them would press another into his hand and he’d light up and lie down on the rotting carpet again.
Eventually, money became an issue.
“I’m going into town,” Jamie said. “I need to get some money for the rent.”
“Do you have a job?” Speed sat up, surprisingly lucid, but the weed had run out a couple of hours ago and he was relying on the whisky and it just wasn’t the same.
Jamie laughed. “In a manner of speaking.”
“You should take the kid,” Jamie’s brother stated. “He’s cute. You’ll get more business.”
Jamie looked Speed up and down. “What about it, Alex? You fancy helping me plug up some trade?”
Speed smiled nervously, eyes flickering between the both of them. “I don’t really understand.”
Jamie sighed. “You, come with me. You do lookout, help another client, whatever, I don’t care. C’mon.” Jamie dragged him into the car and Speed went without another word.
He was worried someone’d recognise him in town. He’d had a lucky break with Jamie, but the nearby town was full of race geeks and giant billboards. At one point there was a desperate ad on a giant telescreen, begging for information of his whereabouts, but Jamie was busy with a client and Speed just ducked his head, staring at the floor. Jamie came out of the alley smelling of cigarettes and Speed wrinkled his nose, casting an eye around. “There’s a guy over there who’ll give you fifty for a blow,” Jamie muttered, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and nodding across the dimly lit square. Speed followed his gaze to a man staring at him oddly, his head cast on one side and a strange smile curling his mouth. “Go talk to him.” Jamie pushed his fingers under Speed’s shoulderblades and Speed shot forwards, stumbling in the guy’s direction until he straightened and walked over nervously, pausing in front of him.
“You a friend of Jamie’s or something?” the guy asked, looking at him appreciatively.
“Something like that,” Speed agreed nervously. The guy pulled him into an alley and began slipping off his belt and Speed laughed nervously, backing away. “I’m not - ”
“Look, kid,” the guy sighed. “I can tell you’re new to this, so I’ll make it easy. I’ll give you fifty if you jack me off, alright?”
Speed nearly panicked, but the terrible tendrils of withdrawal were curling round his abdomen and he knew Jamie wouldn’t give him a fix if he didn’t pay his own way. Speed shuddered slightly and stepped forwards, curling his fingers around the guy’s boxers, and the guy smiled.
Speed paced across the street, stopping in front of Jamie and handing him the wad of cash. He was smiling to himself; he couldn’t help it. He wiped his hands on his jeans and made a face, but Jamie was flicking through the money. “Nice work,” he said, and Speed detected surprise in his voice. “This should keep us going for a while. C’mon.” Jamie said he had someone he needed to meet but Speed was exhausted, so slunk back and waited in the car alone. He should have used the time to think, but he was fixed on the next smoke, on what waited for him when they got back to the hotel; he could do with a good fuck. He rolled his head back against the seat. He tossed restlessly for a while, need beginning to nibble at his spine but eventually he sunk into a doze until Jamie snapped him out of it by slamming the driver’s door shut when he got in. “I got something special to show you when we get home,” Jamie smiled, dropping something on the back seat. Speed could tell he was excited.
That was the first night Speed snorted cocaine.
It got into a sort of pattern; drugs and booze and sex until the money ran out then sex until it didn’t. Jamie’s brother was getting uneasy, shifting about the place, saying they needed to move on, find a new town. Jamie was reluctant; the trade was better here than it had been at whatever shithole they’d been in before - more fatcat business men, Jamie had remarked, they’re all as gay as wankers - and the drugs were better too. “They’ll find us if we stay,” his brother muttered.
“So what? If we do, we plug them the kid and get the fuck out of here.”
Speed had been too high to care.
It was three months, maybe four before their luck ran out. Jamie was working a job downtown and Speed was keeping watch, headphones jammed in to block out the rutting noises slinking down the alleyway. He cast filthy looks at anyone who dared to glance near, but generally it was avoided. This wasn’t the best part of town and people were happy to slink past if just to get away. Jamie came out laughing, shaking his head and told Speed it was his turn; Speed sauntered down and met the guy halfway, smiling elusively.
“What do you charge?” the man rasped, smiling slightly.
“Anything you can afford,” Speed breathed, and smiled.
He finished with him quickly and pocketed the money, but froze when he exited the alley. Jamie was pushed up against a wall, surrounded by the biggest guys Speed had ever seen; one of them noticed Speed and yelled. Speed tried to get away but he was too slow, and besides, he’d not done anything vaguely constituting as exercise for months. “We’re taking you to the boss, Jamie,” one of them rasped, and Jamie simply smirked. They were shoved in a car together and Jamie shot him a warning look when he tried to speak; Speed slunk back in his seat and tried to focus on memorising the route in case they were chucked out halfway. No such luck; they pulled up in a parking lot to a shady club, the music emanating into the surrounding air. They were shoved and jostled through the club, pushed up a flight of stairs and into a leather-bound office. Speed glanced around nervously; Jamie seemed almost to be expecting it. There was a man spread out in the chair, his arms spread wide and his smile spread further. “Jamie Hendrikson,” he said appreciatively, leaning back. “I had hoped never to see you again.”
“I could say likewise,” Jamie spat, still fighting one of the guy’s holds; the man in the chair nodded and they were let go and left alone in the office. Speed could feel the music throbbing up from the floor and permeating his soles.
“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure,” he murmured, nodding towards Speed, who stiffened defiantly.
“I’m Alex,” Speed said before Jamie could shut him up. “Though I don’t know who the fuck you are.”
“Jack,” Jack said with a small smile. “And you could sort of say you’re stepping into my territory.”
“Jack runs a brothel,” Jamie muttered, pushing blood back into his wrists with his thumb as the cuffs fell loose.
“Oh, Jamie, you hurt me!” Jack stood, running his fingers along the side of his desk and stopping in front of it. “I’m not the proprietor of just one brothel, Alex. I run them all. And Jamie here,” he gestured at him, “Jamie hasn’t been paying his taxes.”
“I wonder if it’s a generic thing,” Speed spat, and Jack looked at him curiously. “The last Jack I met was an asshole too.”
Jack laughed. It teetered off and he eyed Speed up. “I take it you’ve got him smacked out of his head.”
“Naturally,” Jamie replied.
“Hmm.” Jack paced around the two of them, but Speed felt his eyes only resting on him. “Three fifty?”
“Four fifty at least.”
Jack seemed to find this amusing and chuckled slightly, halting in front of him. “I’ll do it, but only because it’s you, Jamie.” He moved back over to his desk and pressed a button under the rim; a compartment flipped out and Jack fingered through the money, counting some out under his breath before walking back over to them and pressing the money into Jamie’s hand. Jamie smiled bitterly and moved to leave; Speed tried to follow but Jack’s hand grabbed onto his arm. “You’re mine, Alex,” he whispered into Speed’s ear and even though he struggled he felt something sharp and cold burst into his arm and then everything dissolved into technicolour bubbles.
The trade was better with Jack.
No more hanging around dingy alleyways; this was all swanky penthouse suites and high-class businessman and extortionate prices. Sure, he had to put up with more than a handjob and the occasional blowjob; this was the proper shit, tied up to the headboard proper shit. No more coke, either; ohh no. With Jack it was all about smack, and Speed often thought that it was better than the sex.
---
five years later
---
“Hey, Max,” Speed shouted as he fumbled through the bathroom cabinets, cursing under his breath. “You been taking my fucking needles again?”
“No, I ain’t been taking your fucking needles!” Max drawled from the other room, spread across the couch with a useless stub of cigarette clamped beneath his lips. His eyes were watching some game on the telescreen; it looked like cockfighting, only with spears and humans instead of chickens. Max was into bloodsports. Speed was into heroin.
“You fucking piece of shit, you so have been!” he yelled, pacing back into the living room, glaring at his partner. Jack always had them do this shit in twos; one for the money, one for the sex. One to always make sure the other was okay, stuck by the rules. Besides, threesomes were in high demand, and paid twice as much. “My three-thirty’s ten minutes late and I haven’t got any fucking needles!”
“Take this one,” Max muttered and chucked one at him. Speed caught it and ripped the packaging open with his teeth; he sat down, closing his eyes as he took the hit.
“Fuck yes,” Speed breathed, his eyes rolling back.
“Alex?” Max looked over and watched him slam into the floor, his limbs beginning to twitch. “Holy shit, Alex!”
The world hurt when Speed finally opened his eyes.
His chest was labouring breaths between cracked lips and he winced at the white ceiling. His nerves felt fried, like he’d been shot with electricity all over, like his hair was standing on end and his whole body still throbbed with a current. He coughed slightly. There was a conversation happening near his head and a cold hand across his forehead. It felt good; his whole face felt like it was on fire, his whole body hot and sweaty and sore. This was worse than the morning-after. This was worse than anything he’d ever felt before. He tried to sit up.
“Don’t move, Speed, sweetheart,” a voice whispered near him. It was nearly cracking with exhaustion, with sadness, and Speed felt compelled to obey it, sinking back into soft white sheets. Holy shit - ! He panicked; the voice knew his name, his real name and he started thrashing, trying to get closer to it, trying to get away, but he was held down and he cried out as the world span noisily around him and he retched violently off the side of the bed. He waited till he could breathe before rolling onto his back, staring up weakly and a face registered above him.
“Mom?” he whispered, and the face nodded.
“It’s so good to have you home,” she whispered, and Speed closed his eyes.
Part II