Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Blue Lightening ❯ Office Girls Celebration ( Chapter 1 )

AC 189

Fierce eyes stared out into the dark, busy street, framed by a curtain of dirty blond hair. God, he needed a shower. And a new bandana, this one was getting a little too ragged. But first, food. He had the kid to protect.

Kid was huddled in the shadows provided by a reasonably dry cardboard box. There was even some paper in the bottom to shield the cold of the concrete. Solo focused on the cigarette held carefully in kid's grubby fist, then at the wide purple eyes.

“Ok, I'm off. I'll be back soon, k?”

“K.”

“If I'm not back by dawn, get outta here. See if Sharkey's gang'll take ya in. Do wotever `e tells ya to, k?”

“K, Solo.”

“Stay safe, Kiddo.”

“Stay safe.”

Solo hated to leave the other boy, but they needed credits. And he could do with some more smokes. For a few hours of hell, he got cleaned, made a little money and was usually able to earn a pack of smokes in exchange for a few smiles.

The front of the club was garish, harsh blue neon lights streaming over the splattered pavement. Solo made his way soundlessly around the back. Bradd recognised him and let him in.

“Lonewolf, darling, how have you been?” he was asked as soon as he stepped foot inside, reveling in the warmth.

“Fine, thanks, Mystique” he replied, looking up at the scantily clad blonde. Her hair was in loose ringlets tonight, falling over her red satin clad shoulders.

“I'll let Scar know you're here. Have a shower, and see Bess about a costume, ok?”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, honey. Don't skimp on the shampoo, you know how they like your hair. You can use my drier.”

Solo nodded, and moved off in the direction of the bathrooms. He hated this job, and he hated himself more, for the knowledge that he would be grooming the Kid for this role soon enough. The people were nice enough that it was not an opportunity to be missed.

 

Scar walked into the bathroom as he was drying his hair, a towel wrapped around his slim waist. Solo eyed the pile of clothes in his hands. Blue net tonight, huh?

“Evening, Lonewolf,” the tall man said.

“Evenin', sir. What do ya want me to do tonight?”

“Hm… there's a spot free on the poles in ten minutes. By then I might have a client lined up for you. If not, you'll be serving for the night.”

“Thanks.”

“Its no problem, you're popular and you bring in the customers. More so for your erratic appearances.”

“Um… boss?”

“Yeah?”

“I got a friend, `e's a bit young now, but I was thinkin' of trainin' him up a little.”

“Really? Good. Bring him with you when you think he's ready and I'll see what we make of him.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He felt dirty, despite the shower that he had just taken, but at least the kid had some hope of a future. Scar was a fair man. He made sure that the customers didn't touch the workers who didn't want to be touched, and kept his place relatively drug-free.

The blue net scratched against his skin as he dragged it on. A tight shirt and loose pants that gathered at the ankles. There was a blue sequined thong too. Fun. This was going to chafe against the pole, he could tell. Once he was dressed, he quickly made his way to the performing area of the club. A nameless dancer pointed him to the left of the stage. The stage was central, positioned at the back of the club, with poles on separate bases flanking each side. There were a few dancing cages suspended from the ceiling, and the rest of the floor space was taken up by small tables and booths. The bar was an island nearer the door. On special nights, the tables were cleared away, leaving a dancing floor in the centre of the club. Those nights were good nights, a pretty boy could get a lot of tips.

Solo chalked his hands, and then stepped out. The club was smoky, the patrons hidden in shadow. He stalked over to the free pole with a smooth, cat-like gait that bought him a few whistles from the crowd. Careful not to let his feelings show on his face, he closed his eyes and began to dance. He did this for the Kid. He did this so that they could eat. And if Kid started working too, maybe they would bring in enough credits to look after a few more streetrats. Or they could save up and maybe fix up a proper lair. There was a fire-gutted building a few blocks away, but they would need to buy some boards; the first floor was unstable and the basement already taken. Only an idiot would make a lair on the ground floor of a building, that was asking for someone to come in and find you.

Solo filled his minds with dreams of the future as he moved to the beat. He ignored the eyes that he could sense tracing his limbs and the smoke that dried his throat. There was a glass of free water waiting for him backstage, and it would be clean too.

“Wolf!” someone hissed, and he knew that his time was up. He gracefully swung around the pole until he lay on the floor, then slid off of the platform and made his way backstage, searching for that glass of water.

“Wolf, there's a party of girls, looks like an office group.”

“Ok. What do they want?”

“You'll serve, and do anything else they ask. If it goes on till the end of your normal shift, you'll get all your credits for dancing, plus the tips they give you. If they run up a large tab I might give you a cut of that too, depends on how business goes. Fair?”

“You're always fair to me, boss. Thanks,” Solo said, brushing his hair out of his eyes and setting his empty glass back on the table.

“It's fine, Wolf. I like you. Anyways, if I treat you good, you keep on coming back. There's one guy who I'm fairly sure turns up just to watch you, you know.”

“Really?”

“Don't worry, I make it clear to everyone that you're not selling,” Scar said, winking.

“Thanks again, boss.”

“No sweat. Table 10. If they get too pushy, tell Mickey, ok?”

“K.”

 

Table ten turned out to be surrounded by six young women. Solo put on a bright smile as he approached then. “Good evenin'! I've been told that ya were looking for a server for the evenin'?”

He was suddenly under the scrutiny of six pairs of female eyes. It took work to keep the smile on his face.

The woman with short red hair spoke first. “Yes, we were. What is your name?”

“Lonewolf, lady.”

“Lone wolf? So you have no pack?” a lady with very dark skin asked.

Solo was surprised by the questions. They were in one of the quieter corners of the club, true, but most patrons didn't spend their evening interrogating the staff. “I guess not. I `ave someone I take care of, though.”

“A brother?” she questioned.

“Ya could say that we're like brothers,” Solo said evasively. “Would ya like t' order drinks?”

“Stop interrogating the boy, Sasha,” said the red-head. Sasha pouted, but he could tell that she wasn't really offended.

“I think we'd like Bacardi and coke all round,” said a woman with long black hair. She had a choker with a silver dragon design around her neck and looked Asian.

“Sure!” Solo said, smiling at her. “I'll be right back!”

Mickey, the barkeep, was quick to serve him up the drinks. “How are ya doing, Wolf?” he asked in his booming voice.

“I'm fine!” Solo shouted over the noise.

“That's good. Here's a tray, make sure ya don't spill those! I'll see ya again soon. Make sure ya tell me if there's any trouble!”

The best thing about working there, Solo reflected, was the way that they all looked out for each other. Ever since he had showed up at the back door, starving hungry and dirty, leaving Kid coughing in an alleyway, he had been welcomed and invited to work for his pay. Even if it wasn't the most respectable job in the world, word had got around that he was a worker here, and the pimps mostly left him alone.

The girls looked pleased to see him back. “So, Lonewolf, how old are you?” Sasha questioned.

“I don' know,” Solo replied honestly.

“Are you serving us all night?” asked the girl with the dragon choker.

“Yes, if you'll `ave me,” Solo joked. The girls laughed, and he felt pleased. If they liked him, they were likely to tip well.

“We're here `cause we finished up a big project today,” confided a girl with very short brown hair. She hadn't spoken to him before. “We're celebrating.”

“Don't tell him everything, Nicky!” protested the red-head.

“Congratulations. Would ya ladies like anythin' to nibble on? Smoke? Or do ya just wana watch the shows in peace?” he knew that the shows tonight were geared towards both sexes, so he was pretty sure that there would be something to interest them. But they surprised him.

“Actually, we'd like to talk to you, wouldn't we, girls?” Sasha said, looking around the table. They all nodded. Solo swallowed. Well, at least they didn't want lapdances…

 

After half an hour, he walked back to the bar and collapsed onto the polished surface.

“Wolf?! You ok?” Mickey asked, concern laced through his voice.

“Women are vicious,” Solo said, wearily lifting his head. “They wanna know every little thing `bout me!”

Mickey smiled, relieved. “That just means that they like ya, Wolfie. Now, what have the lovely ladies ordered?”

“Six more Bacardi an' coke's, an' eighteen shots wi' a dish of salt an' a plate o' limes.”

“Ooh, so they're getting serious,” Mickey said as he squirted coke into six glasses. “Good luck. But hey, at this rate I think you'll be getting a cut of the bill. Ask them if they're tabbing it or paying as they go along, this'll take ya two trips.”

Solo asked, and Sasha accompanied the blond to the bar on his return trip. He left her talking with Mickey as he carried the shots back to table 10.

The girl with the dragon choker - Mei Ling - quickly caught onto the way he eyed the cigarette machine when he passed it.

“Here, get me some ciggs,” she said, handing him some change. “And get a box for yourself for later.”

“Thank you,” he said, startled.

“You looked so surprised,” she commented when he came back with the boxes.

“You're all being so nice to me,” he admitted before he could stop himself. He felt a blush spreading across his cheeks and quickly ducked his head, letting his long hair shadow his face.

“Such pretty hair, Mei commented, reaching out to touch his head. He forced himself not to flinch. They had been so nice, he couldn't spoil it now.

“Why do you keep your hair so long?” Nicky asked.

Solo shrugged. “Do ya want the sob story or the facts?” he asked.

Nicky grinned. “The facts.”

“I don't have any scissors.”

He got a laugh for that one. They were too drunk to seriously consider the implications of the statement.

*

Solo staggered out of the club several hours later, his pack of smokes clenched tightly in his fist. He was back in his comfortable street clothes, which had been rinsed through, but not washed. He never knew who did that for him.

His feet ached from running around all night, but it wasn't too bad. He had some credits hidden in various places around his body. It didn't take him too long to reach the alleyway where he had left the Kid. Scared purple eyes peered out at him from the shadows of the box as he approached.

“Ya gotta be more careful, Kid,” Solo admonished. “I coulda bin anyone.”

Kid shook his head, his longish brown hair swinging around his face. “Nope. I knows ya steps.” A small, smudged hand pressed a cigarette into his hands. “Here ya goes. I kept safe.”

“Good boy. Ok, I think we's good `ere for the night.”

“Wots left of it.”

“Shh now.”

Solo wedged himself into the box, settling Kid onto his lap. The younger boy curled up against him and settled into a light doze. Solo knew that he would be awake again the instant he moved. Solo leaned back and closed his eyes, unwilling to watch the progression of time as the dawn light slowly illuminated the pavement. They were safe, for now.

Used to be, that Solo would regularly move around, always running from danger and hiding in the shadows. But Kid would never be able to keep up with that. They were in the grey area between two major gang territories, and they had the club as a fairly sure source of income. Once Kid began making some credits as well they could make a more permanent lair. Well hidden. And get a few more of the streetrats out of their soggy cardboard boxes and… into dryer ones. There wasn't a whole lot to hope for, but there was something.

A small tug made him open his eyes and glance down. Kid had grabbed a hold of his long tail of blond hair, now clean thanks to his shower. He was holding it tight in his fist, his face serene in sleep, but still with a hint of wariness. Solo smiled, and dropped a light kiss onto his head.

“I'll keep ya safe, Kiddo,” he muttered. “And once ya begin workin', we better see `bout a real name too, ne?”

Sleepy violet-blue eyes blinked open at the sound of his hushed voice. “Solo?”

“Don't worry, Kid. Sleep.”

Kid lifted his hair and rubbed his cheek against it. “S'nice `n' clean.”

“Yeah. An' if'n ya begin's workin', yours'll be too.”

“Really?”

“Fer sure. Sleep now.”

“K, Solo.”

Solo watched him fall back into his dreamland, knowing that any further words on his part would keep him awake longer. Once he was sure that Kid was sleeping soundly, as soundly as he ever did, the blond let his own eyes close and dozed himself.

Maybe once they had a proper lair he would be able to let himself sleep properly again.