15. All That Glitters

Chapter Fifteen

Arctic, Czar

Lonephalt, Tenth County

The bright beam of the flashlight blinded him. Narrowing his eyes against the intense light, Arctic reached to the door and thumbed the driver’s window down with the switch. He gazed up at the officer, blinking his eyes rapidly as he tried to make out the man’s face, and returned his hand to the steering wheel.

“What are you up to tonight?” the officer asked, gruff voice sounding familiar.

“Shit,” Arctic mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Officer Warner Fontaine said.

What a place to fall asleep and wake up, Arctic thought. He knew he should’ve just gone straight home after Taboo’s impromptu czar meeting. “I got tired and decided to pull over,” he said, shrinking down in his chair. He hoped the tussled mess of his blond hair would be enough that ol’ Warner Fontaine wouldn’t recognize him. He resisted the urge to reach up and comb his bangs over to cover the blue streaks in his hair.

It was pointless. If Warner was going to recognize him, it was already too late.

Lowering his flashlight, Warner dropped down to his knee, hand curling over the edge of the window as he leaned his face into the car. Arctic closed his eyes, trying not to think about the last time someone had done that to his car. “You know it’s dangerous for someone like you to be alone so far out of town at this hour,” Warner said.

Someone like me? Arctic thought, scrunching his brow.

“It was noble of you to get off the road since you were tired,” Warner continued before Arctic could say anything. “But you really have to think about your safety too. There are dangerous people in this town.”

Arctic sat up and scrunched his arms together as he turned bashful blue eyes to Warner. “Oh but the streets must be safe with you on duty,” he said, allowing his voice to rise into a more feminine pitch.

A smile crossed over Warner’s face. Arctic had to admit that the look was refreshing. He thought not for the first time that Warner was an attractive individual.

“How do you feel now?” Warner asked. “Can you drive?”

Arctic nodded. “I think so,” he said. He bit his bottom lip and reached up to brush a few strands of hair off of his cheek. “I don’t have far to go.”

Warner’s eyes followed the motion before resting on Arctic’s face. “Would you like me to escort you?”

Arctic swallowed. He knew this was verging on dangerous. The more he engaged with Warner the more likely it was that Warner would recognize him for the racer he was. “No, no,” he said. “I was just heading home. My dad would kill me if I came with a police escort at this hour.” Arctic had to wonder what his dad would say if he came home out of the blue eight years after having run away.

“Now, why are you even out by yourself at this hour?” Warner asked.

This wasn’t going to end well, especially when Warner realized that Arctic didn’t have breasts. At this point, he had only one option and he had to be quick about it. Warner wouldn’t continue to stand idly by after Arctic started the car. Unless he managed to down play it. It was worth a shot.

“I was at work until midnight,” he said, sliding his right hand down the steering wheel. “I work fast food in Starvale.”

“Fast food,” Warner repeated. “A lady of your caliber?”

If Arctic was uncomfortable before, he was approaching fear now. “I really have to get going now, if you don’t mind,” Arctic said. He reached down and started the car.

Warner was on his feet in an instant, blinding Arctic with the flashlight beam again.

Arctic swallowed again and, before Warner could say anything further, slammed the accelerator to the floor. He sped away from the rotating red and blue lights and sped towards Lonephalt city limits, glad that Warner had removed his hand from the car door and that it wasn’t ripped off. It wasn’t long before Arctic saw the triangle on his Psypher unit that represented a police officer following a few blocks behind him. Warner was always slow to call for backup and it was highly likely that he had yet to recognize Arctic’s car as MX-5s were common enough among civilians. Arctic still had time to escape.

He turned rapidly on each successive street as they came up until the police cruiser triangle was completely gone from the map. Then he slowed down and drove to All That Glitters, the only club in a town the size of Lonephalt. Lonephalt was a place known for two things: its criminal population, which made it an unfavorable place for businesses, and its Suicide Road. The former was the reason why All That Glitters had no competition. The latter was the reason why no one wanted to live in the town.

Arctic slammed the door of his Mazda MX-5 closed and stormed across the street to the club’s entryway. The only bit of the place that was above ground was its utilities and its roof. The rest of the place was sunk into the earth, pulsing music beat making the street outside feel like an earthquake was constantly rattling the planet.

Arctic only came to the place for one reason tonight. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to talk to someone.

“Evening, Czar Arctic,” the doorman greeted as Arctic stormed through.

“It’s past midnight, get a damn watch,” Arctic said pushing past the man and into the club.

The whole club was a lot darker and a lot tamer than the clubs Arctic had been to in the other counties. It was bathed in a single color of light at a time and it took a good number of minutes for the light to rotate to the next color. Music pulsed but it was always the same baseline with no words. Patrons spoke in only quiet tones and no one danced. Their bodies were pressed close together as they took turns smoking a joint or huffing some other inhalants.

The man Arctic was looking for sat at the back corner table with his back to the wall. He must’ve had a great view of the entire place and probably had even seen Arctic come in. Truly was good like that. He always caught everything that was going on around him, so Arctic wasn’t surprised to see that the man had ordered him his favorite choice of hot apple cider before he even reached the table.

“Where’ve you been?” Truly asked. “You look a mess.”

“The lord above, Taboo, called together a czar meeting at the last minute,” Arctic said downing half of the cider. His knuckles turned white on the glass and it shook in his hand.

Truly covered Arctic’s fingers with his palm. “It’s okay,” he said. “You should just step down. Let me be czar. Then you won’t have to see him.”

Arctic scoffed and finished the cider.

“Another, if you would,” Truly said to a passing waiter.

“Bronze wouldn’t want it that way,” Arctic said. “Bronze wouldn’t want any of it like this.” He swiped the empty glass off the table with an angry back hand.

“I know,” Truly said. “He was my friend too.”

Arctic dropped his hand into his lap and pressed his palm against the flat of his stomach. “Yeah, friend,” he said. “Taboo’s making us host the winter events.”

“He can’t even take a year to at least act like he’s grieving?” Truly asked. “Even if he didn’t like Bronze personally there were a lot of people who respected him. Taboo’s just going to dishonor his name by doing this.”

“No he said we’d have a special event in Bronze’s honor,” Arctic said. He used his other arm to backhand the condiments dispenser off of the table before resting his chin on his arm on the tabletop. “After what he did to Bronze? In Bronze’s honor. I wanted to kick him where it hurts.”

A smile spread across Truly’s lips. “Between the legs?” he asked.

“He deserves that much and more,” Arctic said. “He’s Number Six now. He said he challenged the old Number Six at their meeting a couple days ago. And won.”

“So what?” Truly asked. “It doesn’t give him any more power than what he has now.”

“Which is all of it,” Arctic said.

“Only because you let him have all of it,” Truly said. “Fight back.”

“He’s frozen all of the czar challenges for Tenth County,” Arctic said.

“That shouldn’t matter,” Truly said.

“And Mercedes froze all of the Number challenges for czars,” Arctic said, pressing his forehead against his arm to stare at the tabletop up close.

“You should’ve challenged him months ago,” Truly said.

“I could never win,” Arctic said instead of telling Truly the truth. It had nothing to do with his ability to win. After what Taboo had done to Bronze, Arctic knew there was nothing stopping the man from doing it to him too. The mere thought of it was terrifying. Even Bronze’s top Lonephalt racer, Fuel, had thought the crash had been an accident.

“But anyway, why the freeze?” Truly asked.

The waiter came back and set a fresh glass of cider on the table. Arctic lifted his head to look at Truly, placing his chin back on his arm as he did so. “Taboo didn’t say,” Arctic said.

“A real gentleman,” Truly said. Arctic didn’t miss the accompanying eye roll. “You know, you could’ve at least told Mercedes what he did to Bronze.”

“Yeah, right, like he’d even listen to a guy like me,” Arctic said. “Especially when Taboo would deny the whole damn thing. And continue to make it out to be an accident.”

“How’d Mercedes come by Taboo as being the right czar to take Bronze’s place anyway?” Truly asked.

“I don’t know,” Arctic said. “You seem to forget that I wasn’t even a racer until a few weeks after Bronze was killed.”

“I do remember that,” Truly said. “You showed up to the Lonephalt Battle Royale free-for-all czar challenge Taboo held in that pearly blue MX-5 of yours, top down and everything. Everyone thought it was some kind of joke. Everyone knows that those cars perform best from 30 to 70.”

“I suppose I should be laughing now,” Arctic said. “But I don’t find anything funny.”

“I’m sure the atmosphere of Glitters doesn’t really help that, huh?” Truly asked.

“I saw at least twenty drug deals between the door and here,” Arctic said. “I thought about grabbing some.”

“Bronze never did any and neither should you,” Truly said. His eyes roved around the room once. “You never know whose pockets you are lining when you buy drugs anyways.”

“Why would that matter?” Arctic asked. Did it really matter if he did something that Bronze wouldn’t have done himself?

“If you buy into someone else’s criminal empire, you’re jeopardizing your own,” Truly said. “You never know who might be trying to get their foot in the door with low level drug deals.”

“Of course,” Arctic grumbled, “you’d say that.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I guess I’ll stay out of the drugs.”

“No, not about that,” Truly said. “Taboo.”

“Nothing I can do,” Arctic said. He buried his face back against the table, forehead pressing against his forearm. He felt like screaming into his pillow as he had often done when he had been a child. “Except play his game.”

“What game would that be?” Truly asked. “The one where you let him do it again?”

“Do what again?” Arctic asked, half lifting his face to meet Truly’s gaze.

Truly held his gaze for only a couple of seconds before shifting his eyes elsewhere. “Bronze—”

“Yeah, right,” Arctic said, dropping his face again. “He can’t. No one’s over him in Tenth. He’d have nothing to gain by hurting one of the czars.” Unless someone like me challenges him, Arctic thought, shivering involuntarily.

“What about the Numbers?” Truly asked.

“That’s their problem, not mine,” Arctic said. “As if he’d be able to beat Mercedes anyway. The man’s never lost.”

“What game then?” Truly asked.

“Hosting the damn winter events,” Arctic said. “And his stupid Bronze honoring event. He wants a thing in Lonephalt for that.”

“On the Street of Saint A?” Truly asked.

Arctic violently slapped the full glass of cider across the table towards Truly. It skittered across the smooth surface of the table with liquid spilling out over one side and then the other. Truly’s hand snapped forward and caught the glass while it was still upright. The liquid sloshed around in the glass for a moment more before settling. Truly then raised the glass to his lips and downed its contents.

“Fuck off,” Arctic said.

“No, really,” Truly said. He eased the glass back across the table towards Arctic. “You should consider having the event on the Street of Saint Apollos. What better way to honor the man’s memory than to take people to the place where he died?”

“Bronze died in the hospital,” Arctic said.

“You know what I mean,” Truly said.

Arctic stood up abruptly. “Whatever,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

“Hey, Arc,” Truly said as Arctic turned away to leave.

Arctic stopped for a moment and glanced over his shoulder at the man he knew only as Yours Truly.

“The number’s 9666,” Truly said. “You should call it sometime.”

Arctic huffed back through to the front door of All That Glitters. He witnessed quite a number of other drug deals on the way out but refrained from stopping to get some. It wasn’t because Bronze didn’t do drugs. It was because Bronze would’ve been disappointed in Arctic if he had started doing something like that. After everything that Bronze had done for him.

The four digits spoken by Truly were at the front of Arctic’s mind as he stepped into the early morning air. It wasn’t the number of Truly’s own mobile, as Arctic already had that number, and Tenth County racers had ten digits in their own mobile numbers and not four. That meant that the four digits belonged to a racer in another county. It could’ve been any one of the other six counties. Arctic wasn’t sure. He hadn’t made it a habit to find out what racers in other counties were about in the seven months he had been a racer himself. None of that mattered.

9666, Arctic thought climbing into his MX-5 on the other side of the street. Must be the mobile number of the devil. But, then, Arctic knew the devil had a ten digit mobile number.