10-25-97
02:23:02 am CST
His car. His baby, his pride and second-hand joy. In all her resplendent glory, wheels grimy yet gleaming in the stale and broken light of a street lamp. The glaring and hideous mustard yellow of a boot was nowhere to be found. Whistling, Choi strolled closer, afraid to dispel the magic. He circled it once, twice, rubbing the scratches that marked it as his, his! Seven-fifty, and it was his again, free and clear.
Speaking of, he turned around, expecting the voice from the phone to materialize at any moment. Pocket protector, broken glasses and all, snorting to clear perennially clogged sinuses and fidgeting, not sure how to ask Choi--decked out in his leather and no shirt, even in late October--for his money. The mystery nerd from the phone never stepped forward. The only person in the vicinity was some guy slumped on a bench a few cars down, drunk or asleep, dead to the world.
Too good to be true. Had the voice freaked? Realized he was about to meet a tried and true criminal and panicked? Choi couldn't care less. He'd lose out on this new avenue for profit, but he had his wheels, and, if he hurried, could have his woman and his business to round out the night. Everything was coming up roses.
Until he attempted to open the driver's side door. A piercing wail, the syncopated bleeting of a car alarm screamed at him to back off. He dropped his keys as he staggered back. There had never been an alarm on his car; it was a classic, and there were some things you didn't do to classics. He used the Club to keep it from being stolen, had had to replace a window or two, but wire it up like a fuckin' safe? Never. Most car thieves weren't interested in dinosaurs like his baby; it took a professional to recognize quality, and most car thieves weren't pros in Choi's book. And most of the pros operating in the city, he knew.
The alarm died, leaving his ears ringing and him anxious in the silence. His heart beat in his throat, hands shook as they reached for the first pill he could pull from his pocket. Blue, a downer, just what the doctor ordered. He swallowed it dry and tentatively reached toward his car again, confused.
"Going somewhere?"
Choi spun in the direction of the voice, finding himself facing the newly wakened figure from the bench. Yawning, the man stood, swaying on his feet and replacing something into a coat pocket. He was tall, about as tall as Choi, but the overall impression he gave was one of softness, nothing like the dried-leather and sinew look Choi espoused.
"You go back to sleep, guy, you'll feel better in the morning for it." Choi located a cigarette and lighter, still steadying his nerves while he waited for the Blue to kick in. The other man yawned again, rubbing his eyes and running one hand up then down then up his face and through his mussed crop of short dark hair. A few strands fell into place, the rest remained akimbo. Choi took a long drag, exhaling right into the stranger's face. He never was one for manners. "Get lost, pal."
"You sure you want me to do that? Might have some trouble getting your car if I do."
Choi stared at him with his cigarette dangling from his lower lip. Sweet Jesus, he wanted to laugh but hadn't recovered enough to do so. Son of a bitch! His computer nerd looked the part of a drunk college kid ten years after being kicked out of his frat. From the slovenly donned clothing and loose jacket right on down to the unlaced work boots.
"I guess not," Choi replied, still taking in this walking contradiction to his expectations.
"You want to do this or not?" The man crossed his arms, shifting his weight first onto one foot then the other.
"Fucking gave me a heart attack, man," Choi mock swooned, a goofy grin lighting up his face. Life was truly funny. The more he looked the guy over, the more he wanted to laugh and the harder it was to keep his temper. This? This was his new connection? He narrowed his eyes at the other man's jacket pocket, at a barely concealed, highly suspicious lump. "What'd you do to my car?"
"Nothing permanent," he snapped, shifting again.
"That so," Choi sucked on the filter of his cigarette, rolling it between thumb and forefinger when he took it from his mouth. "I guess introductions are in order." Without waiting for what would certainly be continued rudeness on the other man's part, Choi leaned against his car and waved a hand over it. "This is my baby."
"We've met."
"And I'm Choi," he held out a hand, palm downwards as though to slap rather than shake the other's hand.
"Right." He made no move to extend his own hand or any attempt to introduce himself.
"No, no," Choi chided, allowing a dangerous glint to form in his eyes as he scratched his lip with his thumb, the cigarette between his index and middle fingers waving its lit end in the dark. "That ain't polite. I already told you how I work, cowboy."
"You said face to face. I'm willing to go that far. You don't need to know my name."
"Ah, but you know my name." Choi shrugged. "Don't see why reciprocity is such a bad thing where names're concerned."
The man's eyebrows slanted inwards, irritated. "Neo." He sounded unsure, as though the word were uncomfortable in his mouth or was in another language and he was murdering the pronunciation. He hasn't gotten time to practice saying it out loud yet. Choi frowned outwardly, but inside he was all Cheshire Cat.
"Come again?"
"Neo."
"Your mamma didn't call you that, boss. I meant your name."
"That is my name," Neo grated, grinding his teeth. "You want to be Choi or you wanna be Charles, Charles?"
Choi barked once, harsh. "Ha-haw, good one. Okay, Neo it is, man." He rolled his eyes, casting a sidelong glance at Neo. "You got some sorta complex about that name, man. Only two things a man has got cause to freak out about: his cock and his car. You need to chill about this 'Neo' thing."
"Speaking of cars," Neo rather untidily changed the subject, looking significantly at the dark, glossy beauty under Choi's rear. Choi patted it affectionately. "We doing this or what?" Choi raised his eyebrows, a bland expression approximating surprise. This Neo was plenty nervous. Probably one of those guys who never leaves the house. Might be the first time he's been outside in a year.
"Not so fast, Ney-o," Choi shook his head. "We've got to clarify a few things first."
"Like what?"
"No more phone booths." Neo seemed to know what he meant, so he continued, "we still work in person, but I'm the only one you have to see, promise." A good deal of Neo's visible nerves quieted with this assurance. Agoraphobe, called it. "We work on my time, though."
"What is your time?"
"I work at night, boss. I don't want to hear nothing about anything we do for each other before the hour off eight p-m"-he pronounced the 'p' and the 'm' as separate words for emphasis-"And I expect to be able to reach you then, even if it means getting you outta bed, you got me?" Like now, Choi almost said; this Neo guy wasn't drunk like he'd thought, he was drop-dead exhausted.
"Yeah," Neo mumbled, leaning one hip against his ride. "I don't sleep much," he added vacantly, speaking more to himself than Choi.
"I'm feeling you on that one, man."
Neo snapped out of his exhaustion-induced trance with a sudden swift shiver, focusing on him with suspicious eyes. "Wait. How are we supposed to do this?"
"I can roll by your place, cowboy."
"No."
"Uh-uh," Choi wagged his finger, the cigarette tucked into the crook of his thumb and forefinger, "I don't want to hear that word."
"There is no way you're showing up at my apartment."
"That word again," Choi shook his head as though he were the parent of an overly indulged child. It took more patience than most people guessed to do what he did. Dealing was an active sport, not to mention a competitive one. He wasn't going to let this asswipe slide by, but he wasn't going to nail him by being unreasonable. All he had to do was temper his demands with the right amount of temptation and suggestion. "Think about it, Ney-o. I come pick up the goods, drop off the cash, and I'm gone. I won't mess with the wife and kids. Honest injun." He seriously doubted there were wife and kids in this guy's life or immediate future.
"I don't think so."
"Well, then there's this way," Choi spread his arms wide. "Plenty of eyes around, maybe some people who might look over this way and see me, wonder what I'm doing with the likes of you. Me. Giving cash to you. Mighty suspicious for men in my line of work. Maybe some of them look at you and wonder who you are. This is not good for business, cowboy. Not if you wanna stay in that closet you been dressing yourself in."
"Don't threaten me," Neo growled, but his shifting gave him away. "You might have a point," he grudgingly conceded, "but not my place." He shrugged. "No offense, you just wouldn't be welcome there."
"I feel you, Ney-o." Neo was coming around, seeing the world from his point of view. Another few turns of phrase, and the whole thing would be Neo's idea from the get-go. "My style is my own. Not everyone thinks it flies."
"You are a bit...loud," Neo raised an eyebrow, struggling to maintain a serious face. Choi grinned, purposefully making it harder. "We can work out somewhere else."
"You know," Choi snapped his fingers as if he'd just thought of something, "maybe you could swing round this club I work at. Girls are pretty, loose, you might just learn something."
"I doubt it." Which Choi doubted, still smiling.
"Naw, you'd love it. I can get you girls, too, if you'd like, switch up your salary options. Man, you're so high-strung, they'd have a field day."
"No," Neo began, biting down on the word when Choi pulled a mug at hearing the word. "Maybe not," he corrected himself. "I don't-I don't deal well with people."
Ain't that the understatement of the year? "That's okay, man, like I said, I do all the dealing you'll ever need." I'm always dealing, always open for business, or hadn't you figured that out yet? Of course, Neo hadn't, or he would have known he was being played. Choi's brilliance meant exactly that Neo would never know. "Okay, so not my place. I have a few other dives, maybe something with a little more scenery and a little less interaction?"
"That...would be better."
"Mmm, wallflowers," Choi chuckled, almost wistful. "There's this place off Ocher, it'sall about the scenery, man." He let his eyes run over Neo's clothes for a long, quiet moment, sighing as he did.
"What?"
"I hope you have something shiny and black you can switch that up for."
"Not really."
"So, not Ocher?"
"Dress-code-optional would be my preference."
"Hmm," Choi tugged his earlobe and chewed his lower lip. "Hate to break it to you, boss, but I have standards. I'm not walking into a pub 'cause you can't be bothered to own more than two sets of pants."
"Huh?"
"If I catch you wearing jeans around me again, we're gonna have words. Comprende?"
"Yeah," Neo dropped his head, fiddled with the zipper on his open coat, "I guess. Is there anything that won't offend your delicate fashion sensibilities?" Neo sounded wounded, a petulant puppy.
"Naw, but if it helps, I like 'em in something tight and black or in nothing at all." Neo's head snapped up in a hurry; Choi allowed him a moment of frantic searching before he spoke. "I play honest, man. I swing any which way but lucid. It's better for business." He let that shock slide to home. Neo was a suburb boy, born and raised, or he was Mary Poppins; suburb boys thought life was Leave it to Beaver or The Donna Reed Show, one man, one woman, mess of kids. They never imagined Donna going down June, or maybe Poppa Ward liking it from both ends of the daisy chain. Mmm-fucking-hmm.
"This is not that kind of partnership," Neo sniffed.
"Why is that?"
"I'm..."
"Not interested?"
"No, actually."
"No, you're not interested, or no, you are?"
"Both, neither. I'm not really interested in sex, period," Neo answered candidly enough that it squelched Choi's none-too-inconsiderable incredulity. It took a lot to convince him thatanyone could be above interest in sex. Neo had to be one of the very few he knew that, because they lacked any and all artifice, he was willing to believe.
"No shit?"
"There are more important things. And...I'm no-not good with people."
"You mentioned. So, what, you do the one-handed shuffle mostly?"
Neo shrugged, head dropping again. "Yeah, sure, whatever." Choi debated holding his jaw to his face to keep from losing it. Plenty of his customers lacked social skills-it was why they turned to him-but most were despondent over the dearth of sexual activity in their lives. Not a few popped, sniffed, drank, or shot up for the express purpose of hallucinating that they weren't alone or to make masturbating in the dark a little more explosive. Neo made it sound like getting off were secondary to just about everything else. Granted, given how little sleep he seemed to live on, sleep might occupy most of his wet dreams, leaving scant room for sex.
But still...Jesus. "Not at all?" Neo shrugged once more. "Any preferences I should know about?" Neo fixed him with a quizzical gaze. "Just in case of emergency, cowboy. Never know when you might need to blow a load for sanity's sake. Always willing to help out in that area, seeing as you're no good to me in the nuthouse."
"Thanks," Neo said flatly, "don't need it. But, if I did, it wouldn't matter." His voice was level; it was no ballsy bluff or defensive retort to Choi's rather tasteless declaration of bisexuality. It wouldn't matter, Choi smirked. Yeah, he could see that. Beneath the haggard exterior and sloppy presentation he made, Neo was pretty. Nice lips, smooth cheeks free of growth, and eyes like a child's, round and wide. Choi could understand him receiving attention from both sides of the fence; his carelessness about sex probably meant he was truly flexible, too.
"You're changing my opinion of suburb boys, Ney-o."
"What?"
"Never mind," Choi waved it off. "Meeting?"
"I guess it makes more sense for you to stop by my apartment."
"Only if you're comfortable with that, man. I'm not gonna push." He hadn't needed to. A few well timed jabs at Neo's all too obvious paranoias and discomforts, and he had the guy gunning for the easiest way out of the whole thing. The option that left him the least exposed would be the preferred one, and Choi would come off as benevolent for supporting him in his decision. "You give me the address. I'll keep my ear to the ground, pass along work as it falls my way. That work for you, boss?"
"Ye-yeah," Neo nodded. Choi hadn't gotten to where he was today by ignoring even the subtlest signs of mistrust. He could be strung out, hung-over, tripping the lights fantastic, and still Choi could spot a yellow streak or festering doubt a mile off.
"What's eating you?"
"I don't want to be involved." There was steel in his voice, the earlier cockiness returning. This was the guy who'd jury-rigged an alarm to his car to scare the crap out of him and to keep him from driving away. This was the guy who hung up on him and not the other way around. The guy who also was scared enough of people that he'd let a drug dealer come to his home to do business rather than mingle with a crowd in a strange place.
"You don't like me much, huh?"
"You're smarter than I expected. I respect that. I just don't want to have anything to do with what you do for a living."
"Ouch," Choi placed his hand over his bare chest. "You have a few too many bad trips in college, Ney-o?"
"I don't use drugs."
"You look like you could use some."
"No," Neo replied, a touch too emphatic. "They mess up my head." He massaged one temple as if to prove it. Choi didn't take him to task for saying 'no' this time. That was fine. They could work on a level better if Neo stayed clean. Equating drugs to dollops of information wasn't something he wanted to do anyway.
"Fine with me, man. You want out, you stay out. Word of honor. No one who knows me knows you. Well, save for my girl, maybe."
"I don't want your friends coming with."
"Now, see, there's where we have a problem," Choi grimaced, as if he were puzzled. Truth be told, he could lose any of his usual crew without difficulty save for DuJour. Sita only had to be told 'sit!' and that took care of her and The Dude. If Pony started to hang around, too, there had to be ways to take care of him. Maybe using DuJour, killing two birds with one stone. Still, if he couldn't shake them, he didn't want this upsetting his arrangements. "My crew, they, well, they don't always get lost when you tell them."
"You seemed to have managed fine."
"Would you settle for them not knowing your name? They come along, they'll behave, stay out of your hair." Hell, The Dude was too stupid to remember where they went, Sita could be made to shut up, and no one else had any interest in Neo. Not Pony, surely, or he would have bothered him before Choi came along.
"No."
"We'll see then." Choi fished inside his jacket for his cigarette box, ripped the flap off and handed it to Neo. "Address."
"I'll tell you. Memorize it. No paper."
"No paper, no evidence, chief? Whatever, you're the man." Choi concentrated on the words, a task made more difficult by the Blue now playing freely with his brain. All he heard wasparanoia, paranoia, in a sing-song at the back of his consciousness, but he felt himself mouth the words back. Neo nodded so he must have gotten them right. He even managed to catch the little black box on a cheap silver key chain that Neo tossed him.
"For your new alarm."
"You're not taking that off?"
"You can disable it if you want. It's cheap."
"I'm not good with my hands." Fuck it, maybe DuJour would know how to work with the wires and shit. "Get some sleep, Ney-o, my man. Might be seeing you real soon, keeping you busy." The warm fuzzies were attacking en masse as the Blue circulated through his system. "You passed the test, man. You've been bloooood-ed," he drawled.
"What?" Neo stiffened, alert and alarmed. "What?"
"What what?" Choi mimicked, guffawing.
"What do you know?" Neo stepped forward and seized his upper arm. "Have you spoken to him?"
"To who, man? Get off," Choi threw his hold and slide further along the roof of his car until he was out of reach. The fuck?
"Don't fuck around, Choi. Do you know RedQueen?"
"Do I know who? Man, I know plenty of red queens. I know a shit-load of black queens, and white queens. I know more queens than Henry the Eighth. The hell is your problem?" His complete ignorance pacified his suddenly jumpy new friend. Neo's posture lost all its tension and recoil; he slumped back down into dazed, defeated stupor.
"Nothing. It's, uh, nothing."
"Right, well, you keep these wig-outs to a minimum 'round me."
"Sure," Neo offered no protest.
"I'll see you around, man." Choi hoisted himself up and away from his baby, retrieving his cell phone to check for customers' messages. Oddly, there were no missed calls. None on a Friday night?-he glanced at the phone's clock-Saturday morning? Neo shuffled stupidly away from his car as he opened the door, sober enough to click the button and kill the alarm before it had a chance to go off.
"RedQueen is Morpheus," Neo whispered so low he almost didn't catch it. Maybe he hadn't, maybe it was the Blue.
"Whatever you say, Ney-o. Get some fucking sleep." Choi slammed the door shut and peeled away. Through the haze of the Blue, he felt himself shiver. RedQueen is Morpheus. Naw, man, the Reds were uppers. It was the Blues that made you sleepy.