Page 37 of Crocodile Tears

“Shit… sorry,” Solange said, and Gerard chose that moment to come.

Alex knelt there with Gerard’s hand still grasping his hair, watching as Solange turned and went back into the club without another word. He wondered how he must have looked to her, on his knees in some dirty back alley behind a club, sucking off an ugly bloke he’d only just met, and all because he’d wanted some croc.

“Thank you, young sir,” Gerard beamed down at him. “That was most marvellous.”

“Nobody talks like that,” Alex said, wiping his hand across his mouth. “Now, give me my croc.”

“Of course.” Gerard reached into his pocket and pulled out a little red-and-green-patterned tin. He opened it, and Alex saw several packets of croc nestled inside. Gerard picked out four, then grabbed another one. “As a tip,” he said grandly. “That really was splendid, my dear Mr Lytton.”

Alex took four of the packets. “We agreed four, so that’s what I’ll take,” he said. “If I make a price, I stick to it.”

“The whore’s moral code, hmm?” Gerard said, beaming at him. “Very well – but if you ever want more, you know where to find me.” He patted Alex’s face clumsily, looking pleased with himself.

Alex shoved the croc into his pocket. A whore? Was that who he was now?

A shadow appeared beside him, and he caught a flash of a thin, pale face in the darkness.

“You got some croc there, mate?” a low voice rasped, and a hand made a quick grab in the direction of Gerard’s tin.

“No! Go away, or I’ll call the police,” Gerard snapped, shoving theman away. He slunk back into the shadows and stood there, watching them pathetically. “Quarrie scum,” Gerard hissed. “There are more and more of them slinking into town these days, like rats from the sewers.” He raised his voice. “Piss off back to the Quarterlands, or do the decent thing and become an IS.”

The pale-faced man melted even further back into the darkness of the building.

“They’ll murder us in our sleep if we’re not careful,” Gerard said. “You coming back inside?” He jerked his head at the door.

“Not yet.”

“Well, don’t stay out here too long – it’s not safe.” Gerard cast a meaningful look at the Quarterlander and then returned to the club.

The pale man stepped out into the light thrown by the club’s exit sign. He was about the same age as Alex, with grimy tear streaks from habitual croc use lining his cheeks.

“Give me some croc, mate,” he rasped. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You look like you need food, not croc.”

The man shrugged. “Croc’s better than food. When you have croc you don’t care about feelin’ hungry. Everythin’s good with croc.”

“Yeah.” Alex took one of the little packs Gerard had given him, wishing he’d taken the extra one he’d been offered now. “Here.” He threw it at the man, who grabbed it out of the air like it was manna from heaven.

“Thanks, mate. You want anythin’ for it? You want me to suck you off?”

“No, piss off,” Alex snapped, feeling ashamed. What was the difference between himself and this tear-stained croc-head? The man slunk off silently into the night without a second glance.

Alex was too unsettled to go back into the club, so he perched on a nearby brick wall, turned up his collar against the winter chill, and stuck a cigarette in his mouth. He was patting his coat pocket, looking for his matches, when someone held out a lighter for him.

“Hey!” He turned to see Solange standing beside him. “Oh, it’s you,” he said gracelessly.

“Wow, you know how to make a girl feel special.” She sat down onthe wall beside him. “So… you’re gay? I didn’t get that vibe off you back in the club.”

“Bi,” Alex huffed around the side of his cigarette. Blowing out a plume of smoke, he handed it to Solange.

“Ah. Right.” She took a drag and gave it back. “Do you always blow guys you’ve only just met?” She sounded curious rather than disgusted.

Alex shrugged and pulled his coat jacket even tighter around his body.

“It didn’t look like you were having a good time.”

“I wanted croc,” Alex told her bluntly. “Gerard had some, and I didn’t, and tomorrow…”

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