Neon is the Colour of Vengeance (Flappers and False Gods)

THE INTERVIEW

Evan walked aimlessly around Hugo’s cavernous apartment. Every room was cold, dark and impersonal. There were no photos and nothing that could give any insight into the man who lived there. It made him feel even more isolated.

There was no one he could confide in now if he didn’t want to suffer a grisly death at the hands of the mob and his only ally was a hitman. Yet, Evan felt strangely calm, like he had gotten something off his chest. He hadn’t realised how much of the weight he carried from the loss of his uncle. Being on a journey to get answers was freeing, it made the end of his old life somehow more bearable. Maybe he had been unhappier than he realised.

Abandoning caution, Evan decided to snoop, eager to find something that might help him understand Hugo better. He should be scared of Hugo, and he was, but that wasn’t the only thing he felt about him.

Carelessly, he pulled out drawer after drawer, opened cupboards and rifled through anything he could get his hands on, but the only thing he learned was that Hugo had a penchant for dark blue suits.

Giving up his search as a bad job, Evan flopped down onto the large bed. It seemed too big for one person, almost lonely. Lying there, Evan tallied up all the things he knew about Hugo as he tried to build a full picture of him in his mind. He was extremely handsome with his pale skin, icy grey eyes and hair so dark it was almost black. In spite of himself, Evan found Hugo sexy. When he’d seen him at Trade, he’d been stunned by him. If he was braver, and Hugo had stuck around for longer than a few seconds, he might have made a move then. But that hadn’t been how they came into each other’s lives and that path was off the table for them. It didn’t stop Evan imagining it, however.

Hugo was a dangerous and prolific killer, but he wasn’t unfeeling. He hadn’t harmed the addict who had tried to rob the clinic even though he was more than capable. It made it easier to see the man underneath the monster.

Monster. It was the word Hugo used most to describe himself, but the longer Evan spent in his company, the less it seemed to fit. He was capable of being monstrous, Evan had seen that first hand, but a monster at his core? Evan was starting to doubt it.

Dr Chowdhury, a man whom Evan admired, had talked of Hugo’s kindness, he believed that Hugo could be more. If Evan was going to survive their time together, he had to believe the same.

Unable to ponder his grim situation any longer, Evan wandered into the living room in search of a distraction. It didn’t take him long to find it. There was a blank space over the mantelpiece and a quick scan revealed a small button hidden in the marble. Evan pressed it and a large glass screen sprang to life. It filled the room with sound and colour. It was like being in one of those art exhibitions entirely comprised of light.

Evan threw himself back onto the couch and used his Index to scroll through the hundreds of channels available in the colony.

“And here with me today to make an appeal for her son’s whereabouts is Barbara Carter.”

It was like being struck by lightning. Evan felt his heart stop in his chest as he saw his mother on the screen. She was standing outside the Tenebrium Police Department amongst a crowd of journalists and officers. Barbara Carter was Black, her grey hair cropped close to her scalp. She had been in her late forties when she’d had him. Now in her late seventies, she was slightly hunched. Her hard life showed on her face, but even amongst the wrinkles and the stick she used to walk she was teaming with life as if she had another seventy years in front of her.

Today, her face was streaked with tears and her eyes red. She looked crumpled, defeated, much as she had done when his father had left. Evan’s heart ached for her. Tears spilled onto his cheeks as he watched her, he wanted to turn away, but he couldn’t. It was torture to see her in such pain and be unable to reach her.

“Please bring back my baby. He’s all I have. He’s a wonderful, kind person. If anyone knows anything, please contact the TPD and let them know.”

“Mrs Carter,” a reporter called from the crowd. “Do you have a message to whomever may have been involved in your son’s disappearance?”

“Please give him back to me.” It was almost a wail. “I don’t care who you are, I don’t care what you’ve done. I just want my son back. Evan, if you are out there, please let me know that you’re okay. There is nothing we can’t fix together. I love you. You are my world.”

“I love you, Mom,” he whispered to the empty room.

His disappearance had made the news.

Watching his mother outside the TPD had brought home his situation more than anything else ever could. As the report changed to one about the murder of a horticulturalist in Eltham, it was all Evan could do not to spiral. He took several long steadying breaths, but the tears kept coming. He had known this would happen and it was too late to turn back now, but neither of those truths provided any comfort.

He would never know how long he sat there sobbing. He barely registered the front door opening, but the clicks of heels against the hard floor alerted him to the presence of a stranger.

Thinking quickly, Evan used his shirt to wipe his eyes, then laid back on the couch as if expecting Hugo. “Is that you, baby?” he called in as sultry a voice as he could muster while terrified.

“I don’t think so,” came the reply.

Evan recognised the voice. It was the woman who had pretended to be a police officer. ‘Alice,’ Hugo had called her. He had also warned that she was dangerous. Heart pounding in his chest, Evan waited for her to come into view.

Blonde and dressed head to toe in powder blue, the woman sauntered into the room as if she owned it. She bit her lip at the sight of Evan lazing on the couch. “And who are you?”

“Steven,” Evan said, pulling the name from the back of his mind. “Who are you?”

“So, you’re the ‘Steven’ Bobby keeps telling everyone about. I see why he likes you. Those eyes.” She made a noise of appreciation.

“Hugo’s not here.”

“I see that. But perhaps you and I could have a little fun till he gets back.” She slipped her long coat off and let it fall to a puddle on the floor around her. Had he been attracted to women, and not fearing for his life, it would have had quite the effect. As it stood, he was petrified.

She sashayed over to the couch and sat delicately down beside him, one hand trailing up his thigh.

“I’m gay,” Evan spluttered.

“So?” She looked at him as though he was being ridiculous. “You’re a prostitute, aren’t you? I can pay.”

“I don’t…I’m off the clock.”

In one fluid motion, she was straddling him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Evan could tell she was enjoying seeing him squirm. “Where is Hugo?” All inuendo left her voice to be replaced with undiluted malice. She placed a single pointed fingernail under his chin, forcing him to meet her eye; he held back a wince.

“Why would he tell me?” Every fibre of his being wanted to throw this woman from him, but he didn’t dare. He just sat there frozen. Something about her made him feel like the devil themself was sitting on his lap.

“Guess you aren’t really that serious. I always tell my lovers where I’ll be.” There was something triumphant in her voice.

Evan didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent.

“Fine,” she said, suddenly jumping to her feet. “Be a dear and tell him I dropped by.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and give my regards to Benny.”

“Who?”

Something flashed across her eyes and her mouth curved almost imperceptibly into a smirk. “Your boss at Ward Eight. Benjamin Pickford.”

“Right. Of course. I’ll tell him you were asking for him, Miss…?”

“Alice. You do that.”

With the elegance of a ballet dancer, she almost glided from Evan, stooping to pick up her discarded coat before leaving the apartment.

Evan touched his chin where she had placed the finger and felt a small cut. She had drawn blood.

Shakes racked his body, and he put his head in his hands, trying to stop himself hyperventilating.

His mind was racing, doubt and fear crept in to be met with a crushing sense of loss and sorrow. He needed the world to stop spinning just for him, just for a moment, but it never would. Just as he had when his uncle had died, Evan found himself craving oblivion.

A raid of the well-stocked pantry later, and he had found some top shelf liquor. With a shaking hand, he poured himself a glass. Then another. Then another. He hadn’t meant to be, but he was thoroughly drunk by the time Hugo arrived home, and in a mood to make bad decisions. After all, he had nothing left to lose.

“You sure made yourself at home,” Hugo said, his eyes taking in Evan sprawled on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table and the half-empty liquor bottle clutched to his side.

“I’ve had a bad day.”

Hugo said nothing, he just looked at Evan with his head cocked to the side.

“Drink?” Evan slurred, offering Hugo the bottle.

“No thanks, I’ve just had major surgery.”

“I did that! I’ve had my hands inside you. Isn’t that weird?” Evan tried to sit up, but he was finding it difficult. “You are gonna feel like crap in the morning. The comedown from Verve is…” Evan pulled a grotesque face.

“By the looks of it, you’ll be right there with me. Come on. Let’s put you to bed.”

Hugo leaned down to pull Evan to his feet. Desperate for an escape, to feel something that wasn’t bleak hopelessness and too drunk to think about the consequences, Evan threw his arms around Hugo’s neck and kissed him hard. Hugo froze in the embrace for a moment before pulling back.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

“I told you I had a rough day. I made the news.”

“I saw.” In his drunken state, Evan couldn’t interpret Hugo’s expression.

“And your friend Alice came by.” He pointed clumsily to the cut under his chin.

“What?” The alarm on Hugo’s face should have sobered him slightly, but Evan wasn’t in the mood to be lucid. “What happened?”

“She tried to get me to sleep with her. I told her I was Steven.”

“She believed you?”

“Yup.”

“Are you sure?” Hugo put both his hands either side of Evan’s face, willing him to focus.

“I’m very sure. She tried to purchase my services because I told her I’m Stefan…Steven. He’s not really your boyfriend, right? Just a guy who fucks you for money?”

Evan tried to pull Hugo back into a kiss, but Hugo resisted easily.

“What are you doing?”

“I have a thing for bad boys.” Evan chuckled drunkenly.

“I’m not really interested in being ‘a thing’. You would regret it in the morning.”

“You’re attracted to me, right? You called me beautiful. I’m not talking about anything emotional, but you want to fuck me, don’t you?”

Hugo’s eyes widened. “Yes, I’m attracted to you,” he said slowly. “But I’m not a creep. It would be taking advantage, and I don’t do that.”

“A hitman with a heart of gold.” Evan laughed, then hiccupped. “I’m not a drunk prom queen.”

“Yes, you are. Besides, I like my partners in control of all their faculties.”

“You use sex workers, but you won’t use me?”

“You will be mortified by this in the morning, and the Verve is wearing off. Let’s get you to bed while I still can.”

Hugo carried Evan to a spare bedroom, then set him down carefully on the duvet. Evan watched enraptured as Hugo pulled off his sock, shoes, and slacks before tucking him in gently.

“Try not to throw up on my sheets.”

“No promises.”

Evan was asleep before Hugo had closed the door.