Chapter 3
'Razors Edge', Gotham City the following night
'Razors Edge' was the name given to a part of Gotham not even the most dedicated tourist would ever have wanted to visit. It was a side street between two derelict slums. It was barely an alleyway really, but it was one of the places where those seeking the darker shades of vice went looking. It was a place of avoided eyes and guilty glances.
Brad knew he was running a risk being here, the Bat's reputation for breaking up his particular sort of business was legendary, but he needed the money really badly. His landlady (She disliked the term "pimp"), Ma Graves, was upping the rent on his room again, and there was only one way he knew to get the money he needed that quickly.
Brad had his eye on one john in particular who was cruising the street in a blue Cadillac. For starters it was a nice car, not just that it was a classic, but it was well looked after. It was a trick you picked up on the street, no pun intended, expensive cars didn't mean a thing if they weren't looked after. If a guy didn't look after his car, then what did that suggest about how he treated other things?
It didn't work all the time of course, Brad had had his share of bad experiences, "clients" who went too far because it was their money next to the Gideon Bible, but it was a guideline he followed anyway.
He hunched himself deeper into his jacket. It was black leather and stylish, a present from one of his regulars, who said that with his dark hair it make him look like Marlon Brando. The only "Marlon Brando" Brad knew of was an old fat guy who he'd seen in some lousy movie with Val Kilmer (Who _wasn't_ bad looking in Brad's estimation), so he must have meant someone else, at least, Brad hoped to God he did. There was a hat that went with it, but Brad only ever wore that for the regular himself, he looked a complete jerk when he was wearing it.
He took another drag on his cigarette. Ma Graves had very definite rules, smokes on the street if you wanted, nothing stronger, or you would be out so fast your ass would bounce down the pavement like skipping a stone across a lake. Off shift, weed if wanted it, but you bought it from her and anyone with needle tracks would likewise be out on the street. It was also all right to come back with the smell of alcohol on your breath if you'd had a good night's business, but not otherwise.
The car braked up the Edge from where Brad was standing and the driver beckoned a small group of boys over to him. They approached with the usual swagger, each trying desperately to show why they were the one to pick. He asked them a couple of questions, and several immediately shook their heads and backed off, returning to their spots with as much dignity as it was possible to muster on a chilly night when you're not wearing very much. Whatever he was asking for wasn't something they wanted to sell, which was a clue in itself.
The guy finished talking to the crowd, a couple of who pointed in Brad's direction. Like him they worked for Ma Graves, but clearly weren't as desperate for the rent money, and besides they tended to try and send each other business if possible. Brad sauntered up to be next to the pavement when the car pulled up, taking a last drag on the cigarette before stamping it out. Waste of an inch of tobacco, he thought ruefully, but hopefully this would be worth it.
Leaning through the Cadillac window, Brad saw that, up close, the driver was probably in his thirties despite his short silvery white hair, was well built and knew it well enough to wear a cutaway T-shirt and designer jeans, both of which were brilliant white. He wore an expensive looking pair of wraparound shades, but they didn't hide the fact he was good looking. If "cool" needed a poster-boy, this guy could have been it.
"Hi there, bright eyes!" said the driver.
Brad had often been complimented on his eyes, which were a soft hazel colour, he always felt they were his best feature, so the guy was foff to a good start
"Hi stranger!" And now the dance began…
"I was wondering if a guy like you might be able to tell a visitor passing through this ol' town of yours if there's a good place to have some fun around?"
"That depends, what sort of fun are you looking for?"
"Well, the company of another guy is always good in a strange town, a "boys night out" sort of thing…"
There wasn't even a trace of embarrassment or hesitation in his voice, which was always a relief. This guy knew exactly what he wanted. Many times Brad had had to practically play word association to get a john to admit what exactly he wanted in advance.
"..I was wondering if you might be able to… show me the ropes?"
Brad raised an eyebrow and forced a smile, that sounded like the sort of code he was used to "…or you might show me?"
"You never know" He beamed and Brad noticed he had a really nice smile, with white, even teeth. Again, such things mattered little, considering what this guy was wanting, but even so… It had been a slow night so far, and miserable pit though it was, Ma Grave's place beat sleeping on the street.
"Gotham is an expensive town. It could take quite a bit just to get us through the night, and the things I can show you. Especially if you want to walk on the wild side."
Again with the smile, "Oh that's not a problem, I have resources, and I like sharing with my friends. I DO have to admit that I like the wild side though. Nothing too… frenzied, but certainly a little…. energetic. On a scale of 1 to 10, lets call me an 8. Would a couple of hundred for the next couple of hours be enough do you think?" The man pulled out a wallet and showed the relevant bills to Brad before tucking thema way again.
Brad was listening very closely, especially to the money offered. There wasn't the air of desperation that often spoke of a build up of uncontrollable violence, nor was there outlandish offers of money, which almost guaranteed a bad trick. He still had a couple of scars to show for the last time he hadn't listened closely enough. This guy sounded almost genuinely curious, which was rare enough in itself.
"Well, for three hundred, I think I might be just the guy you're looking for."
The guy frowned slightly, then smiled, another good sign in Brad's book, it meant he had thought it over carefully before going ahead. "You know, I think you might be right. I have a motel not far from here. Care to come for a drive in my car?"
Brad smiled again "My Mom always told me not to take lifts from strangers."
Actually his Mom's most memorable, and last, piece of advice to Brad had been nearly three years ago "Get the hell out of here and don't come back! I don't need a brat around queering my chances with this guy." He'd been two days shy of his eleventh birthday.
"A wise woman, your mother. All right, I'm Cory and you're..?"
"Brad."
"Okay. Brad, now we're not strangers, would you like to come for a drive in my car?"
"I was going to insist on it. A Caddy, right?" Brad knew that he should keep things business like, after all this guy did just want to pay to screw him and god alone knew what else, just like all the others, but he seemed so open and, for want of a better term, charming, that it didn't seem like the same thing at all. This guy projected friendly vibes even to people he'd just met.
Another part of Brad's mind was asking., "Why does a guy this cool, this good looking and this confident with himself, need to pay for rough sex with an underage kid then?" but he chose not to listen to it, as he so often ignored it in the past.
He gave the invisible sign to Marcus, Ma Graves current shepherd, a giant of a man who could probably squeeze blood out of a stone and who was there to protect Ma's "investments".
The other guys on the street who knew Brad waved as he left and he waved back at them. Half an hour later they would have found it impossible to describe the man they had saw Brad leave with, or even what type of car he drove, their memories of him were fading, like some sort of dream. Frowning, they would only recall him looking "cool".
'Razors Edge', Gotham City the following night
'Razors Edge' was the name given to a part of Gotham not even the most dedicated tourist would ever have wanted to visit. It was a side street between two derelict slums. It was barely an alleyway really, but it was one of the places where those seeking the darker shades of vice went looking. It was a place of avoided eyes and guilty glances.
Brad knew he was running a risk being here, the Bat's reputation for breaking up his particular sort of business was legendary, but he needed the money really badly. His landlady (She disliked the term "pimp"), Ma Graves, was upping the rent on his room again, and there was only one way he knew to get the money he needed that quickly.
Brad had his eye on one john in particular who was cruising the street in a blue Cadillac. For starters it was a nice car, not just that it was a classic, but it was well looked after. It was a trick you picked up on the street, no pun intended, expensive cars didn't mean a thing if they weren't looked after. If a guy didn't look after his car, then what did that suggest about how he treated other things?
It didn't work all the time of course, Brad had had his share of bad experiences, "clients" who went too far because it was their money next to the Gideon Bible, but it was a guideline he followed anyway.
He hunched himself deeper into his jacket. It was black leather and stylish, a present from one of his regulars, who said that with his dark hair it make him look like Marlon Brando. The only "Marlon Brando" Brad knew of was an old fat guy who he'd seen in some lousy movie with Val Kilmer (Who _wasn't_ bad looking in Brad's estimation), so he must have meant someone else, at least, Brad hoped to God he did. There was a hat that went with it, but Brad only ever wore that for the regular himself, he looked a complete jerk when he was wearing it.
He took another drag on his cigarette. Ma Graves had very definite rules, smokes on the street if you wanted, nothing stronger, or you would be out so fast your ass would bounce down the pavement like skipping a stone across a lake. Off shift, weed if wanted it, but you bought it from her and anyone with needle tracks would likewise be out on the street. It was also all right to come back with the smell of alcohol on your breath if you'd had a good night's business, but not otherwise.
The car braked up the Edge from where Brad was standing and the driver beckoned a small group of boys over to him. They approached with the usual swagger, each trying desperately to show why they were the one to pick. He asked them a couple of questions, and several immediately shook their heads and backed off, returning to their spots with as much dignity as it was possible to muster on a chilly night when you're not wearing very much. Whatever he was asking for wasn't something they wanted to sell, which was a clue in itself.
The guy finished talking to the crowd, a couple of who pointed in Brad's direction. Like him they worked for Ma Graves, but clearly weren't as desperate for the rent money, and besides they tended to try and send each other business if possible. Brad sauntered up to be next to the pavement when the car pulled up, taking a last drag on the cigarette before stamping it out. Waste of an inch of tobacco, he thought ruefully, but hopefully this would be worth it.
Leaning through the Cadillac window, Brad saw that, up close, the driver was probably in his thirties despite his short silvery white hair, was well built and knew it well enough to wear a cutaway T-shirt and designer jeans, both of which were brilliant white. He wore an expensive looking pair of wraparound shades, but they didn't hide the fact he was good looking. If "cool" needed a poster-boy, this guy could have been it.
"Hi there, bright eyes!" said the driver.
Brad had often been complimented on his eyes, which were a soft hazel colour, he always felt they were his best feature, so the guy was foff to a good start
"Hi stranger!" And now the dance began…
"I was wondering if a guy like you might be able to tell a visitor passing through this ol' town of yours if there's a good place to have some fun around?"
"That depends, what sort of fun are you looking for?"
"Well, the company of another guy is always good in a strange town, a "boys night out" sort of thing…"
There wasn't even a trace of embarrassment or hesitation in his voice, which was always a relief. This guy knew exactly what he wanted. Many times Brad had had to practically play word association to get a john to admit what exactly he wanted in advance.
"..I was wondering if you might be able to… show me the ropes?"
Brad raised an eyebrow and forced a smile, that sounded like the sort of code he was used to "…or you might show me?"
"You never know" He beamed and Brad noticed he had a really nice smile, with white, even teeth. Again, such things mattered little, considering what this guy was wanting, but even so… It had been a slow night so far, and miserable pit though it was, Ma Grave's place beat sleeping on the street.
"Gotham is an expensive town. It could take quite a bit just to get us through the night, and the things I can show you. Especially if you want to walk on the wild side."
Again with the smile, "Oh that's not a problem, I have resources, and I like sharing with my friends. I DO have to admit that I like the wild side though. Nothing too… frenzied, but certainly a little…. energetic. On a scale of 1 to 10, lets call me an 8. Would a couple of hundred for the next couple of hours be enough do you think?" The man pulled out a wallet and showed the relevant bills to Brad before tucking thema way again.
Brad was listening very closely, especially to the money offered. There wasn't the air of desperation that often spoke of a build up of uncontrollable violence, nor was there outlandish offers of money, which almost guaranteed a bad trick. He still had a couple of scars to show for the last time he hadn't listened closely enough. This guy sounded almost genuinely curious, which was rare enough in itself.
"Well, for three hundred, I think I might be just the guy you're looking for."
The guy frowned slightly, then smiled, another good sign in Brad's book, it meant he had thought it over carefully before going ahead. "You know, I think you might be right. I have a motel not far from here. Care to come for a drive in my car?"
Brad smiled again "My Mom always told me not to take lifts from strangers."
Actually his Mom's most memorable, and last, piece of advice to Brad had been nearly three years ago "Get the hell out of here and don't come back! I don't need a brat around queering my chances with this guy." He'd been two days shy of his eleventh birthday.
"A wise woman, your mother. All right, I'm Cory and you're..?"
"Brad."
"Okay. Brad, now we're not strangers, would you like to come for a drive in my car?"
"I was going to insist on it. A Caddy, right?" Brad knew that he should keep things business like, after all this guy did just want to pay to screw him and god alone knew what else, just like all the others, but he seemed so open and, for want of a better term, charming, that it didn't seem like the same thing at all. This guy projected friendly vibes even to people he'd just met.
Another part of Brad's mind was asking., "Why does a guy this cool, this good looking and this confident with himself, need to pay for rough sex with an underage kid then?" but he chose not to listen to it, as he so often ignored it in the past.
He gave the invisible sign to Marcus, Ma Graves current shepherd, a giant of a man who could probably squeeze blood out of a stone and who was there to protect Ma's "investments".
The other guys on the street who knew Brad waved as he left and he waved back at them. Half an hour later they would have found it impossible to describe the man they had saw Brad leave with, or even what type of car he drove, their memories of him were fading, like some sort of dream. Frowning, they would only recall him looking "cool".