Sidewinder - Chapter Two

“If you could just answer a few questions... one question...” The reporter nearly had to jog to keep up with Six’s long stride, clutching his tape recorder in one hand.

“No.” Six looked around for his manager and rolled his eyes when he saw that the man was nowhere to be found. “Get lost.”

He tried to duck into the men’s locker room to fetch his bag but the reporter blocked his way, flashing a bright grin and holding out the tape recorder again. “Just tell me your name, age, ranking, and why you race.”

“Is there really anyone out there who doesn’t know that already? Get out of my way.” Six flexed his fingers, fighting the urge to curl them into fists, though not very hard. He could feel a headache beginning behind his right eye, thudding in time to his heartbeat.

“As soon as you answer me.” The reporter glanced down at Six’s hands, then back up, straightening his shoulders. “Arguing takes more time than just answering the question.”

“All right,” Six growled. “Six, twenty-five, S-class, money. Move.”

“If you could just expand on that,” the reporter started.

Six hit him with a short, clean punch that sent him stumbling back into the locker room door, pushing it open with his body before he slid down to sprawl dazed on the tiled floor. Feeling a little better, Six shook out his hand and stepped over him, snagging his skate bag from the locker nearest the door. Behind him the reporter began to curse and yelled for Six to stop, but Six just kept walking, taking the back entrance out onto the street. He looked up at the bright fluorescents that lit the entire city, drowning out the pinpricks of dying light just visible through the high ceiling above, then hailed a cab. He kept his eyes closed on the drive, absently massaging his temples and wishing he’d remembered to bring his pills with him.

He got out when the cab pulled up in front of his apartment on the east side, leaning on the driver’s side door to steady himself as he paid the driver. The driver said something about watching him race but Six barely acknowledged it, mumbling for him to keep the change as he pushed himself away from the taxi. His head pounded and throbbed as he made his way up the path to his apartment, fumbling with the keys three times before he was able to unlock the door and step inside. He ignored the cat that came to wind about his ankles, purring loudly, and stumbled into the kitchen to snatch the bottle of pills off the counter. He swallowed them dry and collapsed into a chair, waiting for them to kick in and keep his head from exploding.

He woke a while later, feeling bleary and disoriented, his back aching from the hunched position he’d passed out in. The cat was sitting on the table, watching him with its tail curled around its legs, and immediately began begging for food as soon as it saw he was awake. He grunted at it but still got up and filled its food bowl, sitting down right there on the kitchen floor to stroke it as it ate. The cat arched up into his hand, purring through its mouthfuls of food.

“Why do I keep you?” he asked it. “Stupid stray, you just cost me money.” He rubbed its head and pushed himself back to his feet, grabbing himself a bottle of water from the fridge and a mini-box of cereal from the cupboard. Taking them into the living room, he sprawled out in his battered old armchair and turned the TV on, flipping through channels as he ate. After a few moments the cat hopped up onto his lap, curled up, and went to sleep.

He channel-surfed for almost an hour, until he stumbled on the local news channel, which was doing a report on the day’s races. Most of it was about the newest qualifiers and he flicked it off when Zephyr’s grinning face filled the screen. He got up, dumping the cat off his lap, and went to have a long hot shower, standing under the spray until it began to grow cold. The phone began ringing as he stepped out, loud and strident in the quiet of his apartment, and he wandered over to answer it, still rubbing his hair dry with the towel in his hand.

“Where are you?” Six winced a little and held the phone away from his ear at his manager’s barked question. “How many times have I told you not to just walk off?”

“Speaking of walking off, where the fuck were you when I got cornered by that reporter?” Six asked. “You get paid to stop that kind of bullshit.”

“What did you do to them?” The man’s sigh came through the line as a long crackle.

“Punched him.” Six draped the damp towel around his shoulders. “What do you want?”

“There’s a big party at The Hatter. You need to be there.”

“I’m never going to be friends with any of them. They’re my competition, not my buddies.” Six leaned his hip against the counter and reached out to snag an apple, biting into it with a loud crunch.

“It looks good, Six. How long do you expect to coast by just on talent? You’re good, the best, but you’re a giant asshole and it puts people off.”

“Puts sponsors off, you mean. Have to keep the money machines happy.” He swallowed a mouthful of apple. “Give me an hour. I’ll come, I’ll pretend I care, and then I’ll go home again.” He hung up before his manager could answer and walked into his bedroom, dropping both the towel across his shoulders and the towel around his waist to the floor. He could feel the headache threatening to return and made a mental note to swallow more pills before he left.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, checked to make sure he had his wallet, and shrugged into his leather jacket on the way out the door. The fluorescents had been dimmed for the night but their light still hurt his eyes and he pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket as he headed for downtown.

The bar was crowded when he arrived, groups of people spilling outside onto the sidewalk as they laughed and drank and chatted. Six forced himself to move through them, nodding to a few of his teammates as he made his way to the bar. He thought briefly of the double dose of pills he’d already taken, then shrugged and ordered a beer anyway, taking it to a table in the corner where he could keep his back to the wall. Somewhere music was playing and someone was singing along off-key, accompanied by bursts of laughter every time they garbled a note.

“Hey, Six. This seat taken?”

“Yes,” he said, but she sat anyway, tossing her dark red curls back from her face.

“Michael forcing you to be here?” She smiled, revealing very white teeth. “Or have you finally become human?”

“What’s human about forcing yourself to hang out with people you don’t even like much?” He tossed back half his beer. “Who don’t like you either.”

“Whose fault is that?” She reached over and tapped his nose like he was a naughty puppy, ignoring his narrowed eyes. “I’m leaving soon myself. A private party. Want to come?”

“With you? I’d rather go topside wearing a sign that reads, ‘Free lunch’.” He saluted her with his beer bottle.

“Well, thanks for proving why no one likes you.” She pushed herself up from the table, the movement elegantly angry.

“Evita,” he called after her as she moved away, smiling when she turned and raised an eyebrow. “Have fun.” He could see by her expression that she was trying to work out what he really meant by that, then she glared at him and turned on her heel to stalk away. He snorted and drained the last of his beer, then signalled for another.

He was halfway through his third when he began to regret drinking on top of a double dose of drugs and a nearly empty stomach. Carefully putting the beer bottle down, he concentrated on getting the room to settle around him, feeling sweat pop out on his temples. Heat swept over him and he shrugged out of his jacket, each movement was made with exaggerated slowness. His stomach turned over as he struggled to his feet and headed for the door, desperate for some fresh air.

He walked straight into someone as he went out the door, his forehead colliding with their chin. Snarling a curse, he stumbled back, nearly tripping over the doorstep and forced to catch himself on the wall. He looked up into Zephyr’s concerned face and shrugged off the hand on his arm, pushing past him, Katia, and Jian to get out of the crowd. Jian called something after him that he didn’t quite hear, though it made the people around her laugh. Turning around, he flashed her his middle finger, then about-faced and made himself walk straight until he reached the relative darkness further down the street.

Running footsteps behind him made him whirl, and nearly fall as the world suddenly tilted crazily. Hands reached out to steady him until he regained his balance and he heard Zephyr ask him if he was all right. He decided that a ‘fuck you’ was too eloquent and just nodded instead, taking deep breaths to settle his stomach and his uneven heartbeat. Zephyr gave him a sceptical look and caught hold of his shoulder again as he stumbled.

“I’ll call you a cab.” Zephyr raised his other hand and let out a piercing whistle that made Six flinch in pain. One of the taxis cruising the street outside the bar pulled up beside them and Six found himself being bundled into the back seat. After a moment’s hesitation Zephyr climbed in beside him and gave the driver Six’s address.

Six blanked out for most of the drive and came back to himself just as the taxi pulled up to the curb outside his apartment. He got out under his own power and left Zephyr to pay the driver, weaving his way up to the door. For a long moment he couldn’t figure out where he’d put his keys, until Zephyr hooked them out of the hip pocket of his jeans and opened the door for him. The cat wound around their legs as they went in, tripping Six up and nearly sending him face-first into the wooden floor. Zephyr caught him around the waist and shooed the cat away, kicking the door shut with one foot before he helped Six into the bedroom.

“I’m fine now, go away,” Six said, or at least tried to say; it came out so slurred he could barely understand himself and Zephyr just gave him a puzzled look.

“I’ll get you some water,” he said after a moment, backing out of the room. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Too exhausted and dizzy to even begin to think of a good comeback, Six just slumped back across his bed and stared up at the ceiling until Zephyr came back with a bottle of water in one hand and the bottle of pills in his other.

“Still taking this shit?” he asked, helping Six to sit up again and passing him the water bottle. He held the pill bottle up to the light and squinted at the prescription label. “You’ll have no stomach lining left by the time you’re thirty.”

“Would you please just go away,” Six said, enunciating each word carefully.

“Once I’ve made sure you’re not going to choke on your own vomit. Sleep it off.”

Six gave up and lay back down, passing the water bottle back to Zephyr to put on the side table. He closed his eyes and tried to relax enough to fall asleep through the spinning inside his head. Eventually cool darkness swept over him, taking him away into sleep.