Yes, yes, I know, I really shouldn't start other fics when I've got loads (more like three) others to complete. My thinking is that if I start more then I have more to continue whenever I do have time and an urge to write. This was something I've wanted to do for a while, just because I find it interesting that no one has really dabbled (as far as I know) in this bit of Boosh backstory before, whether you take it as real or not. Please, before looking closely to see if I've gotten everything right with the way prostitution is run etc, know that I've done my best and also - this is the Boosh Universe so if things are different, well I can be let off. :P Enjoy!
Disclaimer: This piece of work proves we should all be thankful I do not own them.
Maxi Taylor sat somewhat rigidly in the backseat of Mr. Hart's flashy Jaguar. His hands clutched the small rucksack containing what few belongings he had with him in the world as he watched the streets of London pass him by. He held the bag tighter to his thin stomach as it let off a rumble. Quite hungry was an understatement. But he didn't feel like pushing his luck by mentioning this aloud just yet.
The hand of the older man beside him stroked over his pale, bony, curled fists. His touch was gentle yet the platinum signet ring shimmered with power. Maxi gulped, raising his eyes to his 'new best friend' as he'd been told to think of him as.
"Relax, sweetie. I told you, you're in safe hands. There's nothing to fear now you've got Uncle Daryl looking after you." Mr. Hart flashed his famous charming smile.
Maxi nodded, returning the smile, even if it wasn't a hundred per cent genuine. He knew he wasn't the smartest kid in the world - his GCSE results and the many lashings from his mother had made that perfectly clear - but he was clever enough to know that anyone who happened to be a kidnapper or mass murderer probably wouldn't want to make their intentions clear until they were both out of public sight.
In saying that though, he did trust Mr. Hart, at least more than he trusted anyone else in the city. That being because he didn't know anyone else in London, excluding the wired tramps who had tried to molest him in whatever ally or abandoned shack he'd chosen to curl up in for the night. In the daytime, having lost the last of his money on his train ticket and the rest having been mugged right outside Kings Cross station, Maxi sat on the pavement playing his harmonica - living the cliché. He knew he couldn't play very well but his round face and big brown eyes managed to at least get him a few euros a day from the rare kind passers by, which he gladly took with the jeers and saliva from others. One morning he'd been given a fiver from a sweet old lady who gave it in return for the promise that he'd 'take care of himself'. Maxi had done just that and bought himself a warm, full English breakfast from a nearby café. And that's where he'd met Daryl Hart.
To think that had only been the day before yesterday, Maxi pondered as he swore they passed several Starbucks' all on one short road. In retrospect, his time on the streets had been very short compared to a lot of other unfortunates. And he planned to keep it that way.
"I know you've had it rough, Maxi. But all that's gonna change now, y'hear?" Mr. Hart continued to reassure him; "We'll help you get back on your feet."
"We?" Maxi's head span back around, his long, layered blond hair flying behind him.
Mr. Hart gave him a 'funny' look; "You didn't think you were gonna be moving in there on your own, did you? Little fella' like you, I wouldn't be able to sleep right. Gotta make sure someone's there to look after you."
Maxi bit his lip as an odd sense dripped down his spine. He wondered if 'to look after' was some sort of threatening euphemism. As always Mr. Hart was able to read his expression in a heartbeat.
"Now don't you worry, love. I'd trust your new roommate with my life - maybe even my pin number," Daryl laughed quite haggardly; "He's one of my best boys, known him since 'e was a nipper, near enough."
"He's been…into it that long?" Maxi couldn't help but cringe at the horrific image of someone even younger than him doing…It didn't even bare thinking about.
Quite annoyingly, Daryl repeated that laugh of his, as if mocking the disgust of such a thing.
"Nah, not that far. He did start pretty young though…I'd say same age as you," Mr. Hart said, studying Maxi from beneath his spectacles; "Though he looked a lot older. More the manly type. It ain't all fishnet stockings and mini-skirts…though I wouldn't be surprised if someone once asked him to 'play the part'. You never know who you were gonna get in those days." he chuckled again as if remembering a fond memory of his childhood.
It's not so bad, Maxi consoled himself, Black Luna Mag. says fishnets are gonna be in this winter. But the mini-skirts…?
"Obviously it's all handled a lot better these days. I can take better care of my kids. Do my best to make sure no smack-heads or nut-jobs are gonna be messing them about." Mr. Hart continued in a true to form paternal tone. "'Course I need you all to look after each other as well when I can't be there for ya. Like a proper family, ey?"
"I can take care of myself." Maxi muttered, immediately wishing he could bite back the words and swallow them whole. He might as well have been in rehab and claiming he didn't have an addictive personality.
Luckily for him, Mr. Hart merely chuckled once more; "Yeah, that's what they all say. And they all end up proving it as well. But ey," Daryl tilted Maxi's chin up; "There's nothing wrong with accepting a little nudge in the right direction is there?"
Maxi forced a light smile; "'Spose not."
"That's more like it." Mr. Hart cheered, bringing back his hand; "And I'm not gonna be hearing any complaints about you playing up, am I?"
"No, s…No, Uncle Daryl." Maxi replied obediently.
"Good boy." It wasn't patronizing or even condescending. But it still made Maxi feel dirty; "And like I said, you can trust my mate, Moon. He was one of the best back in his day. A fast learner and eager to please, no matter what. That's what you need to be in order to get what you need from a client. True, I've had some customers complain that he's…too eager but then I say if they wanted perfection they could try the dating agency, ey. And those have only been from when he first came back. 'E was just getting back into the swing of-"
"Came back?" Maxi interrupted, hoping it wouldn't seem disrespectful. He didn't fancy being thrown out of a moving car.
"'E stopped for a while. A long while, in fact. Said 'e wanted to try and make it in the 'real world'. Don't think I've ever seen on anyone go on a break for so long and come back. Must've been…twenty years almost." Mr Hart recounted with a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
Maxi was more than surprised. He was sure that once you got into the business then there was no getting out. There was no quitting and rehiring like any normal job. Twenty years?!
"Why did he come back?"
"Don't ask me. I let my boys and girls keep their own problems to themselves unless they want me to sort them out for them. And, word of warning sweetheart, do not go asking him about it either! Unless you want to 'ave your pretty 'ead smacked off its hinges."
"Wow, can't wait to meet him." Maxi moaned in sarcasm. Mr. Hart laughed again. Maxi thought it must have been wonderful to find everything so funny.
"He is a bit of a misery guts. Always 'as been. He weren't so bad as a young'un, 'e was a bit more full of 'imself and foolish. But I'm guessing whatever made 'im come back changed all that." he looked at Maxi seriously; "But 'e's decent. 'E 'as 'is flaws like the rest of us but 'e's a nice guy underneath it all. You'll be alright, Maxi boy."
All the kid could do was hold his bag tighter to himself and watch the world roll away from him.
They drove on for another ten minutes, any risk of uncomfortable silence being thwarted by Mr. Hart continuing to talk about his current and past employees. Maxi was able to catch a couple of names but soon the sight of the twilight sky over the rooftops stole his focus and also began to make him feel quite tired. It wasn't helping much when Mr. Hart starting to hark on about what Maxi had waiting for him.
"Central heatin', Freeview telly, your own room, warm bed…" Mr. Hart listed; "And you're lucky you've got a roommate who ain't a bad cook either. And if you're a good boy I'll get you an iPod or Xstation, whatever you little'ens love these days."
The way the old man was crooning on, anyone would have thought Maxi had found a golden ticket to Willy Wonka's factory. Which wouldn't be such an exciting prospect in itself after the recent scandal that revealed how Oompa Loompas were just kids painted orange and Wonka was imprisoned for child labour.
Finally they pulled up at a block of flats on the corner of a street in Westminster. As they got out of the car, Maxi scanned the building Mr. Hart was leading him into whilst his driver kept the car running. It looked like any other working-middle class block, the same as the rest of the street. Mr. Hart opened the front door and Maxi followed him up a couple flights of stairs and along the hall before reaching no. 18. Maxi couldn't help but notice that some of the inside of the building wasn't as appealing, with some scratches on the wallpaper and a strange smell coming from one of the doors they passed, where from behind he could swear he heard a high-pitched voice plotting either world domination or checking out a new gay bar opening up in town…or maybe both. Still, thought Maxi, he'd had worse. A lot worse.
Mr. Hart knocked on the door of no. 18. Four sharp, quick taps with his knuckles. Maxi counted ten seconds go by without any movement being heard from the other side of the door. He had no idea why he was hoping that no one would open it. After all, it's not like he wanted another night on a stone floor, unless Mr. Hart's 'kindness' extended to letting Maxi kip on his sofa. Even if it did, thought Maxi, something told him it would probably be better on the streets.
At last, the locks in the door clicked and it opened slowly to reveal Mr. Hart's employee. Maxi tried not to let the surprise shine out of his face like a beacon.
"Wotcha' Howard. Mind if we come in?" Mr. Hart wasted no time.
The man - Howard - turned his shifty, small eyes from Mr. Hart to Maxi, so fast that the boy nearly jumped back in surprise. He blinked at him, those intense chocolate brown irises hardening somewhat before he looked back at Mr. Hart.
"You know my door's always open for you, Daryl." said Howard curtly as if to any old friend.
Mr. Hart smiled and quickly made his way into the flat. Maxi on the other hand continued to stand, somewhat transfixed, in the hallway, looking at Howard like he was from another world. That would be a surprise considering the government had banned intergalactic immigration ever since those shamen from Xooberon were arrested for planning a heist named 'Oceans 81'.
This was probably the last man in the world that Maxi would have ever suspected to be on the game. Not to mention be one of Mr. Hart's 'best employees'. He looked like any other man. So much so that Maxi could've passed him on the street six times and probably not even have recognised him. He was so generic, plain and…old. He looked older than Mr. Hart which was saying something. His beige trousers and brown sweater-vest reminded Maxi of his geography teacher. He was also tall. Very tall, compared to tiny five-foot-three Maxi. That mixed with the way he was still staring at him as he smoked his cigarette was enough to make Maxi feel like he was back in his old principles office about to get a rollicking.
"You just gonna stand there admiring the view or you gonna come in?" Howard asked. "What's so eye-catching anyway?"
Maxi's feet where telling him to run. This really was a bad idea; "I…uhm…I don't think you're allowed to smoke in here."
"Well I was smoking on the balcony but I had to come and answer the door - so technically it's yours and Mr. Hart's fault. Do you really want to put any blame on him?"
"I…No, sir."
"Smart lad. C'mon in then."
Howard turned and Maxi followed him, staying at least four steps behind, into his flat. Once again Maxi found himself shocked by how his stereotype expectations had failed him. True, the place was no penthouse suit, but it just seemed like a plain, homely set-up, helped by the fact that everything was so neat and organized. It was like looking at something in a Homebase catalogue, except there were very few decorations or pictures in the place, except for a saxophone propped up in the corner of the living room, opposite the small T.V. Mr. Hart had already made himself comfortable in an armchair that looked like it belonged in an old folks home, putting his feet up on the coffee table and opening a can of Red Bull from the fridge.
Maxi continued to stand against the wall like a soldier awaiting orders, trying to avoid Howard's gaze as he kept on staring at him with a look Maxi had achieved enough times in his life, dressing the way he liked to.
"So Howard, this was the one I was telling you about. The Taylor boy from the café." said Mr. Hart pointedly.
"Right. Max, yeah?" Howard asked to his boss, not to the boy.
"Maxi." Maxi corrected.
Howard merely gave a nod to show he couldn't care less if his name was Colonel Sanders.
"Well take a seat, Maxi. Start making yourself at home, kiddo." Mr. Hart encouraged jovially.
"Er," Howard spoke up before Maxi could move a step; "…Home?"
"Yes, Howard, I did brief you on this earlier."
"No," Howard frowned; "You said I was gonna be getting an apprentice to train up. You didn't say anything about him living with me."
"Well did you think I was just gonna let him continue sleeping in warehouses?" Mr. Hart scoffed, staying relaxed in the chair he'd clearly made his own.
"I assumed you'd-"
"What? C'mon, Moon, we're in the middle of a recession. One so big it spans parallel universes. I can't exactly afford to rent out a place for him on his own, especially when he hasn't even started yet. Anyway," said Mr. Hart, getting to his feet; "It will do you good to have some company instead of rattling around here on your own."
"I like being on my own. I don't want anyone else with me; especially not some little electro brat."
"Uhm…I'm standing right here." said Maxi. "And don't diss the clobber, small eyes, this is Black Luna vintage."
Howard's head had whipped around half way through Maxi's defensive speech and he was suddenly staring at Maxi as if having just noticed him for the very first time.
"…What?" asked Maxi, feeling very uneasy again.
"You just…I didn't understand a word of that sentence." he snapped out of whatever trance he was in and turned back to Mr. Hart; "Daryl, please, I really don't need this, not now."
There was a crack in Howard's voice. Almost as if he was about to cry.
Mr. Hart sighed, placing his hands in his suit pocket. He looked at Maxi; "Kid, why don't you go check out your room, I believe it's the second door on the right."
Maxi didn't need telling twice. Though the new quiet and calm switch in Mr. Hart's voice unnerved him somewhat, he really didn't want to spend more time where he wasn't wanted and scurried down the hall and quickly locked himself in his new room. It was small, orange and dull, empty apart from a bed, a bedside table, a chest of draws and a lamp - but it was his.
Before he was ready to collapse onto his bed and have his long awaited sleep, he couldn't help but firstly throw his rucksack onto the bed and kneel down against the door, pressing his ear to the gap, finding it not to difficult to hear the voices in the living room.
"Howard, I've done a lot for you this year, the least you could do is help me out with this." he heard Mr. Hart plead in the least begging voice he'd ever heard.
"Daryl, anyone else would've been fine. It's just…well you saw him!" Howard retorted, vexed.
"Yes, he's very pretty. I can see him being very popular."
"He's a CHILD."
"He's old enough to work. And he can't get a job anywhere, he hasn't got anywhere to live so what else is he going to do - starve? Do you want that on your conscious 'cause I sure don't."
"Oh this is nothing to do with your conscious, this is all about what you can fit into your wallet."
"That hurts, Howard. That really, really hurts. It's true - but it hurts. Ain't I been good to you?"
"Yes, but…"
"You 'ad no problem with me helping you out at 'is age."
"I didn't know any better, did I."
"And you wouldn't have survived any other way and we both know it. Remember that it was a client from here that helped get you a job as a zookeeper."
"You mean binman."
"Sorry, have only just caught up with the canon. Either way, things could go up for little Maxi just like they did for you…" Mr. Hart then cleared his throat for some reason. "…But he needs someone to look after him, show him the ropes, as I taught you."
A heavy sigh rumbled the flat.
"…Okay, fine."
Maxi let himself relax, backing away from the door, having heard all he needed to hear. He went back to his double bed and crawled into it, wrapping himself in the cool, unused sheets, waiting for his body to warm them. He then reached for his rucksack and pulled out the first of his belongings to his new home, placing it on his bedside table, facing towards him.
The smiling faces of his father, sister and younger self all beamed back at him and he couldn't help but feel a poison begin to burn away in his stomach at the thought of what his dad would've thought if he knew he'd ended up here of all places. He squirmed at the disgust on his sister's face if she knew her little brother was about to become a prostitute.
-x-x-
Maxi was surprised his nap only lasted for a few hours. He thought with the lack of rest over the past month he was due to sleep right through till the next morning. He came out of his room at only quarter to seven to find Howard in the living room waiting for him. Except this was a different Howard to the one he'd met earlier.
This Howard…was a cowboy.
"You finally awoke then?" He gruffly greeted him.
"Either that or this is one boring arse dream." Maxi quipped back.
"Oi. First rule of living here is that I'm not gonna take any lip, you got that?" Howard wagged a disapproving finger at him from a hand fitted into a brown leather glove with fringe to match his new trousers. Maxi struggled to suppress a laugh. "The rest of the rules you'll find on the chalkboard behind you."
Maxi turned and, indeed, out of nowhere had appeared a narrow, vertical chalkboard on the back wall with many, many, many….MANY rules written on it. You've gotta be kidding me, gawped Maxi inwardly.
"No smoking illegal substances, no parties," Maxi read out with little enthusiasm; "No pets, no magic….No spoilers?"
"Oh sorry, that's for my book club." said Howard; "…But it also applies to you too, I guess. You better have those all memorized by the time I come home tonight, got it?"
Maxi's eyes widened at him; "You're….going out like that?"
"Yes." Howard replied back sourly, fitting a John Wayne hat on his head; "Just wait until you get some with dress-up fetishes."
"Oh." Maxi finally caught on, his stomach dropping; "You mean you're going…"
"…Line dancing, yes. Where do you think I'm going?! My god, do you even know what sort of work you're gonna be doing to repay Daryl for letting you live here?"
Maxi scowled; "Of course, I'm not just some dumb kid. We're not all experienced whores, small eyes."
Howard's eyes widened to normal sized proportions. Maxi guessed that wasn't a good sign. Maybe he'd gone too far with the 'whore' comment. Was that like a forbidden word in this industry?
"Don't ever call me that again." Howard ordered. "My eyes are perfectly normal, sir. Call me it again and you're out of here, rule one hundred and twenty nine."
Maxi looked at the board; "…But it only goes up to a hundred and twenty eight."
"Oh. Well. Add that to the list. And any others you can think of!"
"Sure thing…Partner," snickered Maxi as he went into the kitchenette.
Howard narrowed his eyes at the ignorant little squirt; "Keep this place clean and stay out of my room. Daryl may have been a soft touch but Howard TJ Moon is no sugar daddy, d'you hear me? You're on your own now and don't expect me to baby you, right?!"
"Right, whatever." Maxi crossed his arm, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"Right. Good…Anyway, I made you a lasagne, you've just gotta get it out of the oven in ten minutes, potatoes are in the pot and there's some ice cream in the freezer or chocolate mousses for pudding."
Maxi could only blink.
Howard grabbed his house keys off the arm of the sofa and stuffed them in his pocket. Without another word to his new roommate he was out the door.
Maxi knelt down to the oven to indeed spot the dish being baked inside. A second warm feeling began to bloom in the centre of his chest. He started opening draws and cupboards in order to find the plates and cutlery. Despite the compulsive tidiness of the rest of the flat, the inside of some of draws seemed to be crammed with all sorts of junk, from strange old trinkets to receipts from random places.
And probably something that stood out above the rest; a set of small passport sized photos taken in a booth that looked decades old. Photos of two men with their arms around each other, pulling silly faces - at least as silly a face as Howard could deign to pull - and sealed in frozen giggles. He could just make out a much younger Howard, almost unrecognisable for the lift in his fresh smile and the twinkle of joy in his eyes, and beside him someone else. A smaller man, closer to Maxi's age, with layered dirty-blonde hair and pointy features in his blue-eyed face…a face that Maxi could swear that he'd seen before, somewhere.
Before his curiosity could distract him further, his stomach gave a furious cry. "Alright, shut it, it's being sorted," Maxi mumbled, putting the photos back in its drawer and closing it, continuing his quest for a fork.
-x-x-
Howard entered the lift of the Marriott Hotel, thankful as the doors closed to be able to get away from the suspicious, disapproving gaze of the receptionist and the others in the lobby.
It did still surprise him how much things had changed since his day. Back in the eighties, the best clients Daryl had been able to find for his 'kids', as he called them, were yuppies and bankrupted business men spending the last of their fleeting savings on 'a final good night'. Probably before the suicide pills were taken, Howard always assumed that's what it implied. Nowadays appointments were arranged as if going to the dentist. And most of the people who could afford to waste money on such hedonistic luxuries in these times were those who had money to waste. Which was why Howard and others would be lucky enough to be taken to places like the Hilton or even for dinner at the Ritz.
He'd tried, when first coming back on the game a year before, to douse his shame by telling himself he was just an escort. Not a street walker. Not a tart. But in the end he realized, call a spade a spade, he was what he was. It was the only thing he was ever truly good at. And it's something he'd always been really, no matter how far he hide from it, even to go so far as let his brain delude itself into believing he was a virgin. Virgins were pure. Not dirty. Not like him. No one had to know, it was better they laughed at that rather than see through his less credible lies and know the truth. Most of them knew the rumours anyway, and had laughed at him for it, but never in seriousness. If they'd known…If Vince had…
Howard bit his lip. It had been weeks since he'd last allowed that name to enter his head. It was all that kid's fault! Maxi. If it hadn't been for Daryl then he wouldn't have let him pass the threshold. He'd looked so much like him. Ok, not facially, but the hair, the clothes, the make-up, the mockney twang, the confidence and the innocence - it was all unique and yet all so Vince. And that had been Howard's downfall.
Because he'd looked in that young man's eyes and seen the man whom he'd loved and yet never truly showed it. The man he'd let down, abused, betrayed and subconsciously moulded into someone different. Someone he barely recognised and who it killed him each day to be around as karma finally began to recede in on himself. It was clear that his once best friend couldn't stand him anymore. And he couldn't blame him. He knew he could never make things up to Vince. But he could help make another kid's life better instead.
Better? Had he really just thought that? Well it was the script.
Howard's stomach twisted at the thought of that precocious youngster selling his skinny, weak body for money. It was like imagining Vince doing such a thing. Except, he remembered with pride in his heart, his Vince was a fighter. And despite Howard's baseless accusations, he knew that Vince wasn't the mindless player he often came off as. He liked to please people, but even he wouldn't go so far as to make a living from it. A boy who grows up in a forest is born with the skills to make it anywhere without resorting to such depravity. Their little adventure on the island a couple of years ago had made that clear. Vince could take a handful of bamboo sticks and make a car, a house and an unfinished conservatory. Even if Howard had been allowed stock of the trees he still wouldn't have had the intuitive and creative skills to make more than a poxy shack. That was where he admitted defeat. This had been his only option. The bin men hadn't been able to take on new workers due to the recession. No where else would even give him an interview. In the end, booksmarts and GCSEs counted for little on the harsh streets of London. It wasn't what you knew, it's who you knew - and all Howard had known since he'd fled the Nabootique and Dalston in shame, was Daryl Hart.
The lift came to a halt at last and the doors opened. Howard walked down the corridor, not even needing to check where he was heading, before coming to number fifty two. He came here so often, no pun intended, that it was almost like a second home to him. He rapt upon the door which opened before he'd even drew back his fist.
He tipped his hat as was his usual greeting; "Howdy," before flashing a warm smile.
She took a long drag of her cigarette, it seemed no one gave much of a fuss about no smoking lately, the holder gripped between her chunky fingers topped with blood red nail varnish.
"Helloooooo - Evening." She raised one of her eyebrows. "You're a little late."
"Sorry, had to sort out dinner for my new-"
"No talking." Howard found his lips crushed between the fingers of her other large hand. "You've been a naughty cowboy. And I'm gonna ride you all over the West End till you're crawling on your nip-tits!"
Howard was then yanked across the threshold, the door closing shut behind him. He could see his handy hipflask full of whisky coming in…well, handy, tonight.
I give you my first attempt at writing Elanor, hence why it's so short. Reviews would be love. Thanks for reading.