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

Chapter three.

The next day Wren woke at ten in the morning. He had long since given up trying to keep regular hours, and had simply trained himself to go to sleep when he went to bed. It worked pretty well, although it did mean that some nights he slept for twelve hours, and some for four, and every number in between. This time he had gotten about eight hours. That was pretty good. He had also had no unsettling dreams, which was excellent. 

He leaped out of bed cheerfully, showered, shaved, brushed his teeth, got dressed, and went outside via the back stairs. He liked these stairs. They were narrow and steep, and very much like a tunnel. Wren liked tunnels. They were comfortingly dark and enclosed. Wren was certainly not afraid of wide open spaces, he quite liked them. It was just easier to hide in tunnels.

Once on the street he headed towards the post office. He had a package waiting for him. He whistled as he walked, in a brilliantly good mood. The day was sunny, clear, and crisp. The trees that pushed their way through the sidewalks were brilliant reds, golds, and oranges, with only occasional glimpses of green. Fall was his favourite season of them all. 

By the time he got to the post office his nose was comfortably red, his cheeks were bright, and everything about him screamed “WHOLESOME, HANDSOME, ELIGIBLE, NICE BOY!” he greeted the woman behind the counter, gave her his name, (David McKirney for today), and picked up his package. It was heavy, so he flagged a taxi to bring it to Neil, stopping briefly on the way to buy him a few bars of sage scented soap. The taxi dropped him off, he tipped the driver, and hauled his package into Neil's flat. He took the aged elevator this time, because carrying the massive box up the stairs was potentially suicidal. 

He banged on the door, three times softly, three times loudly, and let himself in. Amazingly, Neil wasn't at his typewriter. He was sorting little piles of Gold Dust into little packets. Wren quickly held his breath and whipped on a surgical mask which he always kept in his pocket for exactly this reason. He unpacked the box, revealing about a hundred tiny glass bottles. Together, Neil and Wren carefully poured the Gold Dust into the bottles, being sure to cork each one tightly when it was full. They couldn't talk while they were doing it, because even the slightest breath or air would send it up into small clouds of shimmering gold. They had to move slowly and be aware every second of where each limb was. 

Wren breathed shallowly. Dealing Dust paid pretty well, but he couldn't afford to get addicted to it. He didn't actually know the effects of the drug, but he did know that they must be spectacular, since he got a new customer almost every week. He had tried a few drugs in high school, and none of them had done much for him. Even if Gold Dust was a lot prettier than most drugs, that didn't mean it was also less lethal, or less addicting.

They did this roughly every month. Wren would order bottles from an online store, under the guise of being an avid beetle collector. The bottles were to put the formaldehyde in, supposedly. Then he would bring the bottles to Neil, and if Neil was ready, they would painstakingly pour Gold Dust into the bottles. Wren liked using bottles because they never leaked, and they were easy to hide. He used glass, because it showed off the gold colour better, and because he could break them if he had to. He had once thrown a bottle of Gold Dust at the feet of approaching cops. They had stopped and run backwards in their haste to avoid the sudden golden cloud that puffed up from amid the tiny glass shards. It had been a very effective escape strategy, although Wren preferred not to use it. Those golden clouds represented his entire income after all.

When they were finally done, Wren sat back with a sigh. He took off the mask, and he and Neil packed the bottles away into the secret compartment in Neil's bed frame. 

Neil's bed was an awesome affair. It was an ancient four poster, with a canopy, hung with green and blue drapes. The headboard was about five or six inches thick, and carved all over with intricate designs. Wren had no idea where the bed had come from, but it was comfortable, big enough for three people to sleep on comfortably, and the perfect place to hide small glass bottles of Gold Dust.

One of the carvings was of a winged cupid blowing a bugle or some other such instrument. When you pushed the trumpet downwards, the cupid turned out to be a lever, which lifted aside a thin veneer of headboard, revealing a secret compartment inside. This was where Neil stored the bottles, before Wren and he could sell them all off.

There was another secret compartment in the canopy, that was even harder to find, and they put the extra bottles there. Wren took six and secreted them about his person. He would sell them all later tonight. He had four customers lined up, which meant he would have to hurry from one location to the next. Oh well. He would use the T for the first two, since they were earlier, before the T system shut down for the night.

He and Neil went grocery shopping then, Neil first putting on a dark leather jacket, and black jeans. For reasons Wren could not discover, Neil liked to present a more badass image when he went out any farther than the little café down the street. Wren was always careful about the image he presented, but he didn't even pretend to have a signature “style”. That would be too recognizable, and recognition was bad.

The grocery store was just a few blocks away, and it took them about ten minutes to walk there. They got all of the ingredients to make about six meals, and split them between them. Instead of going to Neil's place, they went back to Wren's, because Wren had a small kitchenette in his slightly larger apartment. 

This too was a ritual. After sorting and bottling the Dust, they always cooked themselves a meal together. Wren couldn't remember when this tradition had started. They had just always done it. It was a thing that they did. 

Wren was quite a good cook, and Neil was quite a bad one, so their meals tended to be decent. Neil always brought some whiskey along, and Wren provided coffee. Neil, of Irish descent, got back to his roots by putting whiskey in his coffee. Sometimes it seemed more like he was putting coffee in his whiskey, but Wren declined to comment on that.

After eating their meal of curry chicken and salad, Wren gave Neil the soap. Neil made some horrific faces when he realized it wasn't rosemary, and then he and Wren had a baguette fight until Neil was suddenly hit by an inspiration, at which point he sprinted out the door, leaving Wren to clean up the crumbs. Wren just shook his head and left them there. The rats would get them in the night while he was out.

It was about four in the afternoon. Too early for supper, too late for a second lunch. Not the right time to go to sleep. Not a good time for him to be out and about. Ugh. He thought about just going to a café and sitting for a couple of hours, til the sun set. It was a good idea, but after a while cafés can get REALLY boring. He would have to find something to do while he was there.

People watch? That was an idea. He need a couple of new personae, that might be a very good thing to do. His mind made up, Wren glanced out the window, saw that it had gotten windier, and added a jacket, scarf, and hat to his outfit. He walked the four blocks to the nearest café, a little hole in the wall place which attracted lots of interesting people, and ordered a large chai tea. 

For two hours he watched people, taking mental notes on characteristics that he would later blend together into a whole new person. This woman had a nervous twitch he liked, but it didn't fit with the ear scratching habit he had already decided to use. Oh well. That guy had a neat style, lots of safety pins, very good. He made a note to somehow acquire about a thousand safety pins. 

It was interesting, and fun to see what he could glean about the people who went in and out. That girl was clearly waiting for someone, and yes, here he was. A handsome boy, but Wren could tell he was a bit boring. A tryst? Looked like it. But she had apparently decided to break it off. There were a few angry looks, and then she stormed across the room to throw herself in the lap of a boy wearing incredibly tight pants, and about a million piercings. He not so subtly fondled her under her jacket, while smirking at the other boy, who seemed to shrink a little. 

Wren decided to add an element of that shrinking to his new character. He would be an outwardly gruff, inwardly shy guy, who liked to pretend he was tough. The ear scratching would be the key, giving away the insecurity. Yes. He liked it! He'd have to acquire some new clothes though. Baggier jeans, and tee shirts for some different bands. Less classic rock and more heavy metal.

Wren left the café at six, having almost entirely created his new identity. Pleased with the day's work, he picked up a take out Chinese dinner, and headed for his first rendezvous spot.