[RiddleRose]: 298.Gold Dust - NaNoWriMo '07.Chapter one

Chapter one.

In the back of a supposedly dead end alley, Wren crouched. It was dark back here, no streetlights. He could hear the two cops getting closer and closer, but he couldn't move yet. If he just disappeared, there would be no chase at all, and Wren enjoyed chases. After all, even if he did get caught, what was the worst that could happen? Jail? For how long? Not long, since they would be unable to charge him with anything. His multiple fake identities were rock solid, he could fool a lie detector every time, and anyway, what he did was not technically illegal. 

Granted, it was only legal because a law had not been passed yet about this particular drug, but still. 

The cops were at the end of the alley. Time to move. Carefully, he placed a small bottle on the ground in plain view. In the dim light it looked like there was some sort of swirling semi-viscous liquid in it. Even more carefully, he held his breath, popped the cork, and slipped down the open manhole beside him. Once safely below, he ran, hearing the cops run into the alley above him, swear, and stomp around for a while. He didn't stay to hear more, but after a few minutes there were lights behind him. The cops had discovered the manhole, and were stupid enough to think they could catch him down here. Wren laughed at the whole situation. He had played in these tunnels since he was a kid, and he knew most of them back to front, even in the dark. He had excellent night vision, and a small infrared wide beam flashlight.

He ran on, through the extensive system of abandoned subways, sewer lines, and working tunnels. At this time of night he was safe, no one was around. Wren really liked eleven thirty at night. 

Eleven thirty was a good time to deal. It was early enough that even in the suburbs there were people out walking, but late enough that work crews were all gone. Of course, he was in the city now, and the cops were more active here, but that was the price you had to pay. After a while, when he could no longer even hear the cops, he slowed down. He sauntered his way to the nearest safe manhole, coming up in the red light district. He wandered into a bar, ordered a glass of lemonade, and sat at his usual table in the back.

After a few minutes, at about midnight, a man opened the door of the bar, and made his way to the counter. He ordered a beer and sat down. As he did, he pushed back his jacket to reveal a momentary glimpse of a gold studded belt. Wren sauntered over, clapped the guy on the back, and said, “Hey man, long time no see! Come over here, I got a table, we can talk about the old days. Hey, you dump that girl yet? What was her name again... damn I forget. I always called her Goldylocks.”

The guy with the beer slung an arm around Wren's shoulders, and said, “Yeah, dude, she was such a gold digger. You know I caught her cheating? I dumped her right then and there dude. Name was Rachel. Pretty name, pretty face. Stupid though. Dumb as a brick.” he shrugged as they sat down. “Whatever. I never really liked her all that much anyway. She was just really hot.”

As they chatted about girls, baseball, anything they could think of, money passed from beer man to Wren. A tiny bottle passed from Wren to beer guy. In the bottle was something that looked like a swirling, viscous, golden liquid. Upon closer inspection, it was actually powder, so fine that it flowed, and so very golden that it seemed to glimmer softly in the smoky light of the bar.

After a few minutes, Wren clapped the guy on the back, shook his hand, and left, saying he had to get home, or his mama would worry. Since Wren hadn't lived with his parents since he started high school, it was a fairly ridiculous claim, but no one in the bar had to know that. The two exchanged “numbers”, written hastily on slips of paper. The one that Wren passed to the guy had a date and a location on it. The one the guy passed to Wren had the number three on it.

From the bar, Wren went home. His apartment was not in the red light district, so he took a taxi. He gave the taxi driver an address two blocks from his flat, and walked the rest of the way. It never hurt to be cautious. 

Once at home, he changed into a suit, tie, and dress shoes. He combed his hair, sprayed a tiny bit of cologne, and added a small, fake moustache. The elegant gentleman who walked out of the flat was a very different person than the one who walked in. This gentleman was the sort who opened doors for ladies, went to exclusive parties, and might actually wear a top hat sometimes. He also dealt Gold Dust in shady bars all over the city, but you wouldn't know it by looking.

Wren the gentleman hailed a cab outside his neighbors' house, and gave the cabbie an address in a high end district. This was a gentleman going to a soirée. On the way, he practiced his attitude, charming, gallant, and with a very slight Scottish accent, slight enough for it almost not to be noticed. This was a gentleman looking to pick up girls.

When he reached the soirée, he tipped the cabbie generously, and climbed the steps to a theatre. He lit a cigarette, although an observant watcher would have noticed that he never actually took a puff from it. After a few minutes, he checked his gold pocket watch, and stubbed out the cigarette. The aforementioned observant watcher descended two stairs, wrapped in a lovely gold evening gown, and delicately kissed both his cheeks. 

He offered his arm, and they walked up the stairs into the theatre, entering the private box she had provided, and waving at other members of the party, who were sitting in other boxes, and in front row seats.

Once again, money changed hands. It was a great deal of money. Four tiny bottles passed from his hands to hers, entering her purse as she searched for her opera glasses. The show was more than halfway through of course, but most of the opera-goers who had come in late had seen it many times before, and didn't really care.

When it was done, they left the box, and went to the hall that was for the rest of the night. There were hundreds of people there. A few were wearing some gold, and Wren made sure to go greet every one of them. Each time, money discreetly changed hands, and bottles entered pockets, purses, and even, in one case, a secret compartment in a shoe. Wren thought that one was a little extreme, but each to his own.

Once he had found everyone wearing gold, Wren just enjoyed himself. It was a classy party, held by some company or other as an opening for a new product. There were toasts, and speeches, which Wren mostly ignored, and then there was dancing. Wren wasn't a particularly good ballroom dancer, so he stayed on the fringes, near the buffet table. If someone asked him who he was, he told them he was Charlie Linn, visiting his aunt. He had noticed that there were several Linn's at the party.

When it was through, at almost four in the morning, he went home with one of the Linns, a stunningly gorgeous girl of twenty, who had been giving him looks all evening. He had, in passing, slipped her a note that read, “we're too young for this kind of thing. Meet me by the door when it's over” then, throughout the night, he had been careful to brush against her, sliding appreciative glances her way when she took off her outer shawl to reveal an almost inappropriate gown. 

She had met him by the door, and practically dragged him to her car, which he courteously drove for her. They went back to her place, where she discovered that his moustache was fake, thought it was screamingly funny, and decided that he looked even more sexy without it. He spent what was left of the night, and nearly all of the next day. He went home satisfied at five the next day, and slept for almost twenty-six hours, waking only to order a pizza, go to the bathroom, and answer a phone call.

In his dreams, a large tractor was being driven by a monkey, who assured Wren that it was all right, the monkey had been to driver's ed, and even had his license. The monkey produced the license, which was actually a fish, and drove the tractor into a wall. There was a huge explosion, and the fish flew past Wren's ear cackling loudly.

Then, with the logic of dreams, Wren was flying with the fish, far above the sea. The water looked golden with the setting sun. Wren flew on, skimming the waves, and watching his golden reflection, which was making faces at him. He came to a city, which was odd, because there had been no land in sight a moment before. The city was peopled only with adults, which Wren knew, even though he had never been there before. It was also trapped in the Victorian era, with the women in corsets and crinolines, and the men in suits and top hats. The girl from last night was there, but after giving him a blowjob she left with the monkey from the tractor. “But you blew up!” shouted Wren in confusion.

The small girl beside him in the light green dress shook her head, and offered him a piece of candy. “I don't take candy from strangers,” he said, and took it anyway. It slipped through his hand like mist, and he couldn't pick it up when he tried. The little girl picked it up and popped it in her mouth, smiling an adorable gap toothed smile. She was carrying a tiny parasol with embroidered ivy leaves on it. She walked away, beckoning him to follow, but try as he would, he couldn't keep up with her. His feet were like lead, and the whole world was turning black, the girl disappearing into swirling blackness, and then he woke up.