Five Urban Stories

by Thomas Dalcolle

  “Don’t worry, I put him under pressure. I made him realize he must sell serious stuff. He’s now dreaming he will fuck me without the condom for two doses of snow.”

  “Fine! You’re the best,” uttered Alex-Fair with a broad smile showing teeth tarnished by smoking.

  “Thank you, Alex. And…if you don’t mind, can I have my money now?”

  “Sure! And, are you available to boost another pair of my helpers? I have more work for you since you’re the best in waking them up!”

  Saying so, he took two hundred-Euro notes from his pocket and handed them to Esther. She took the money but appeared somewhat hesitant.

  Alex-Fair stared back at her, silent. He was waiting for her to speak.

  “Thank you, Alex. But could you also give me something strong?”

  Alex-Fair was ready for that. He knew that the girl lacked the regular supply from Lou. “Okay,” he replied. “Dust or needle?”

  “Needle, and let’s make it now, please.”

  “I have something special for you, dear. But it will knock you out. Are you sure you want it now? It will take two hours to recover, or your parents might notice you look dazed.”

  “Don’t worry. My parents are out of town for a few days, and the maid doesn’t care to check on me. She’s all-time stuck chatting with her I-phone.”

  “Okay, as you like! I will use your ankle’s veins to avoid marks on your arms, okay? Remove your trousers.”

  While she undressed, he prepared in a flash the dose in a disposable insulin syringe.

  “Lay down now.”

  Esther obeyed. She shivered in anticipation of the long-expected pleasure.

  “Thank you, Alex. Just tell me, for how long will I have to bother with that idiot big boy? He makes me nervous.”

  “Don’t worry, dear. They never last for long. That’s why I must squeeze them well at the beginning.”

  He inserted the needle with professional care, pulled in a little blood and pressed the plunger while releasing the strap he had tied under the girl’s knee.

  Esther moaned, smiling at him with gratitude. Then she fainted.

  Alex-Fair had a lousy smirk. He removed Esther's panties, opened her legs, and then pulled down his trousers and underwear. He was hard and slammed it inside her with force.

  She groaned while he continued to mount her fast.

  “Don’t worry, little bitch,” he murmured through tightened teeth.

  He found it exciting to mock and insult his victims while he raped them. “You won’t have to bother yourself with that big boy for long. You’re gonna last less than him with this shit you’re taking, in case you don’t get pregnant from Lou or me.”

  These last words excited him more than what he was doing, and he burst into loud gasps and groans.

  *

  That same morning, Fausto had a math test at school. During the previous weeks since that cursed fight and his meeting with Fair, he hadn’t studied for a single hour. He’d been too angry in the early days, then so busy hustling that he’d also deserted the soccer training.

  Although he had always been one of the best math students in his class, that day he felt as facing a series of unsolvable enigmas.

  He tried to solve the first problem, but he lacked whole chapters of theory that he’d totally neglected to study at home.

  So, he ended up delivering a blank test sheet. He would score the lowest grade ever, and it would be hard to put right such a failure.

  But not all evil leads to harm. Fausto left the school angry and concerned at the same time.

  He walked home, wondering how long would it take before his parents learned about his failure. The risk was of not having a chance to meet Esther next week, being confined in his room after school.

  Slowing his pace, he thought of what he was doing of himself. He was full of lust for Esther, and to satisfy his desire to have sex with her, he was ready to gift her a deadly drug. Not exactly a heroic undertaking.

  Selling real drugs was a crime. It wasn't something supposedly harmless like the stuff he’d sold so far. And if Esther had died because of that addiction? Would he bear the fault of killing her?

  Then he realized that, since Esther had resolved to sell herself for drugs, she would get it all the same from someone else. Likely, somebody, maybe that Lou, was already serving her.

  So, what should be the conclusion?

  By chance, he was very near to the truth, but he didn’t know.

  He was still struggling with his contradictions about desire and moral responsibility he hadn’t a clue how to solve, when he saw a group of the courtyard boys. They had gathered near a bar.

  There was Claudio and also Red, and they were surrounding him. Strange thing, Emilio wasn’t there.

  Looking at them was like recalling a far past, a lost time of innocence.

  But what were they doing? He neared them, hesitating, without calling out to them. They were too busy around Red and didn’t notice him.

  Claudio was playing one of his well-known bullying psycho tricks. He was pretending Red had offended him, and that he had to undergo what he put as a mocking punishment to atone for the fault.

  Red was trying to escape, saying “No, no,” in an imploring voice, but Claudio and the other boys had already caught him. Two of them held his arms. Claudio and another boy held his legs, keeping his thin body in a horizontal position.

  Then, they carried him towards the metal pole of a street signal at a corner, while he implored them to leave him free, twisting his body, helpless, and Claudio continued to make fun of him with his menacing, fatherly tone.

  Fausto realized what they wanted to do. It was a painful punishment that the bands of boys used for humiliating someone they despised.

  He felt his rage mounting against Claudio and all his bullying fixations. He clenched his fists ready to jump in the middle of the gathering and beat them up to make dead meat of them all.

  But then he recalled he had decided to never beat somebody again. He turned and walked away. After three steps, he heard Red shouting in pain. He turned towards them again.

  Claudio and the other boy held Red's legs with the pole in the middle and were pulling, crushing his groin, while the other two kept him hanged by the arms.

  “No! Stop, motherfuckers! You’re a bunch of assholes!” shouted Red. Then he burst out crying like a baby.

  That scene of humiliation was too much for Fausto. He found himself among them, and slapped Claudio’s shoulders with his open hand from the back, controlling the strength of the blow. It was just a warning to make him stop that nonsense.

  “Stop, idiots! Stop it,” he shouted. “Leave him alone!”

  Then he jumped around, hitting each of the four as a madman. They released their grip on Red who fell on the ground. Three of them withdrew and joined the rest of the group which now formed a circle.

  In the middle, remained Red, sitting on the ground still weeping and murmuring insults, Fausto and Claudio.

  Claudio faced him. “What the fuck do you want?”

  “Claudio, you’ve got to stop behaving like an asshole who thinks he is an almighty God. This is just stupid!”

  “So, if you want to give me orders, come and fight,” Claudio replied, standing with the fists in front of his face like a boxer.

  The circle of the troupe boys murmured, inciting Claudio to beat Fausto up. Many of them were ready to film the event with their iPhones.

  Fausto lifted his fists, and Claudio uttered with rage, “This time you finish to the hospital, I promise you, Fausto!”

  The first blow came before Fausto could see it. It caused him to black out for an instant and he found himself on the ground. But he wasn’t feeling pain, and Claudio allowed him the time to stand up before streaking his jab again.

  This time Fausto dodged it and hit Claudio in the stomach very hard. Claudio wasn’t good at absorbing punches and doubled over.

  That was the end because Fausto had the time to use
his right foot again, but this time as a second, straight and powerful punch to Claudio’s stomach.

  Claudio fell to the ground and was trying to recover breathing before standing up again when someone of the boys shouted, “A police car. Let’s scatter!”

  Two of them lifted Claudio and walked away together as if Fausto and the Red didn’t exist

  Fausto turned to Red. Thanks to his intervention he hadn’t suffered too much and was already recovering. He walked him home at a slow pace.

  “You should plan on wearing looser trousers, you know?” Fausto mocked him when they were near to his house.

  It seemed Red’s destiny to be the target of mockeries, he thought.

  But when Red spoke, just before entering his street door, what he said and the firmness of his voice surprised Fausto. “Thank you, Fausto. You’ve been brave. I will never forget what you risked by helping me. Yesterday I saw you in the public gardens, and I thought you were just another asshole. Now, I know you’re a cool dude.”

  *

  That afternoon, Fausto went again to his place at the public gardens, but he was thoughtful and knew he had to make a decision.

  Red’s words had unlocked his brain. He now realized he was risking his reputation of an accountable, clean boy, and an athlete of outstanding qualities for his age.

  The math test of that morning had been the first, unquestionable proof that he was already descending down the stair of personal values at top speed. And all that because of his fixation, the compulsive need to satisfy his craving for love.

  But what he had got so far had nothing to do with love. It was just some fast sex behind a bush, and an incitement to compromise himself to have more.

  Now he realized that all Esther had done aimed to put him under pressure—promising real sex in exchange for pushing real drugs, something that could kill and would leave a permanent mark on those who used it.

  Esther’s proposal was blackmail, it was inducing him to serious criminal business in exchange of lust fulfillment.

  Yet, the desire for her was overwhelming. Could he limit himself to give her what she asked without ever sell that poison to anyone else?

  Even in this case, wouldn’t he commit a crime against Esther herself? Or at the least, wouldn’t that be a moral fault he would regret forever?

  He was again in that maze of contradictions he couldn’t solve.

  The whole picture of his life in a few days had become too confused and risky; he was now undergoing the weight of his recent decisions.

  A few ordinary clients came for weed, then a man with greyish hair, one he had never seen, neared him. The man asked for the real goods, and Fausto had to tell him that he didn’t have it.

  The man shook his head, then stared him straight in the eyes. “Boy, what do you think to do here? Do you think this is a fair game you can play up to a point and then stop whenever you want to? Have you ever had half a shower? Reset your brain before somebody hurts you!”

  Then he turned quickly and walked away, uttering from over the shoulders, “Asshole!”

  The words of that man echoed and bounced into his mind until he decided what to do. He had to stop this crazy thing before it was too late.

  He decided to get in touch with Fair in the evening and to tell him his decision. He would then meet him to pay him back of the last sales and return the unsold stuff.

  He wanted to go back to his ordinary life, hoping to be soon back also in the soccer team as an active player.

  As for Esther, dismissing her was a bitter decision. But if she wanted to spoil herself with that poison, he would let her do it with someone else’s help. He wouldn't be the one.

  He walked away heading home. Now that he had made his decision, he felt better and trekked with pleasure as if someone had taken off a burden from his shoulders.

  After dinner, Fausto went to his room, sat in front of his desktop, and tried to get in touch with Fair thru the encrypted voice channel of a successful war game.

  In a few minutes, Fair appeared in an all-against-all combat. Fausto talked in their code. “Hi boss, it’s Boy. I must stop. My headquarters’ is suspecting something.”

  The line was noisy, like real radio communication on a battlefield. And the din of explosions and helicopters made it worse.

  “What? Repeat!” Fair yelled.

  “I must stop. Now! Or I risk going under investigation. When can we meet and where?”

  “Shit, boy! You were doing so well! It’s a pity. Okay, I will come tomorrow at six p.m. at your working place. You got it?”

  “Yes, at six p.m. in my place.”

  “Roger and over.”

  Then they hung up. Fausto had done it! Well, almost, but he already felt lighter.

  *

  The following afternoon, some minutes before six p.m., Fausto saw Fair approaching cautiously to his place of hustling. He was looking around, maybe fearing an ambush.

  “Hi, Fausto. What’s the matter?”

  “Why are you looking around? I didn't betray you. Don't worry.”

  “Okay, don’t waste time, and talk.”

  “I’m quitting. You said I was free to stop at any moment, and I have to. School is going badly, and my parents are suspecting something. It’s too risky.”

  “I understand. It’s a pity, you were earning well.”

  “Here it is your money. Check it. The unsold stuff is in the hiding places: twenty doses.”

  Fair counted the money quickly and said it was fine.

  “Then, thank you and goodbye,” said Fausto, ready to walk away.

  “Hey, wait a minute! Come with me and let’s check the ware.”

  Fausto reluctantly followed him behind the bushes.

  “Look at this,” said Fair.

  He swung to Fausto, holding a gun against him.

  “Hey, are you out of your mind?” Fausto hissed.

  “Shut up! If you want everything goes smooth, just listen well and shut up!”

  “Okay.”

  “Open your mouth, suck this, and don’t make a noise.”

  Fair shoved the gun’s barrel into Fausto’s mouth.

  “I promised you could stop, and I keep my word. But there are many ways to stop.”

  Fausto felt his stomach twitching. Worse, something bitter spilled out from the gun's barrel and spread into his mouth.

  “There’s something you must remember well. Never try to talk to anybody about our little agreement, about me, or about all that I explained to you!”

  Fausto just nodded.

  “To anybody!” Fair shouted. “Is that clear?”

  Fausto nodded again, while the saliva was almost spilling through his lips.

  “It is not just me who is asking you this. I’m part of an organization! And you put in your mind that in case anything goes wrong, from now on, like if you talk too much, or you inform the police, or similar things, there will always be somebody that will pay you back, using one of these toys,” and he thrust the gun’s barrel into Fausto’s throat.

  Fausto was almost vomiting, but Fair removed the gun hurting his teeth. After spitting several times, he recovered.

  “I owed you this clarification. That’s all.”

  Fausto nodded. “Okay, I understand.”

  “Just, remember that any time you want to restart you only have to call me. I’ll welcome you. Now get lost!”

  Fausto nodded again and walked away.

  For the first time, somebody had terrified him! His legs were almost faltering under his weight, and he stumbled two or three times like a dumbass while rushing away.

  This filled him with shame and rage.

  The stench of oil and metal still lingered in his mouth, and he spat. He thought he’d learned his lesson, and swore he would never repeat the mistake of nearing such human shit.

  *

  In the morning, he crossed paths with Esther inside the school. She didn’t even acknowledge his presence, as if she never knew him, and he did the same.r />
  Fausto understood it couldn’t be different, but couldn’t avoid noticing the absurdity of their behavior.

  After school, he stayed home all day, closed in his room trying to study. In the evening, before dinner, his father knocked on his door.

  Apparently, he was in a black mood but tried to keep calm.

  He told Fausto that the math professor had called him in the afternoon, immediately after looking at his test sheet.

  The professor had told him, that such a failure had never happened with Fausto, and warned him that there had to be something wrong.

  “What’s wrong, Fausto? Perhaps, after that fight in front of the school, I’ve been too tough and distant with you. But now I’m here to help. You only have to talk, and I’ll do all I can to help you.”

  “No, Dad, don’t worry. I was down after that accident. I wish it never happened.”

  “What made you feel so down?”

  “Well…I believe the punishment was too hard. Seizing my bike and then being expelled from the soccer team players’ list. All that upset me.”

  “Well, now we must recover. First with math, and I promise you that if you get a good grade at the next test, I will give you back the bike.”

  “Thank you, Dad, I’ll get my grades up.”

  “Wait, you need help. The professor suggests helping you with some private lessons, just four or five until you’re back in track. He gave me the name of a good teacher that will help you. I already called him, and you’ll start tomorrow afternoon at four.”

  Fausto knew that his father was a quick decision maker. “Okay, I’ll go. And thank you.”

  “Take this,” his father gave him a small paper sticker. “There you can see his address.”

  Fausto read it. The name was Merlino, which made him almost laugh, but he restrained himself, given the serious tone of the conversation.

  “With this, Fausto, I have done all I can to help you with the problem of math. Now it’s up to you: study hard, and you’ll have back your bike.” Fausto nodded.

  “Fine! But the problem isn’t only this,” his father continued. “Your football trainer also called me. He told me you deserted the training sessions in the last two weeks. That’s not what he was expecting from you, after a punishment. You’d better go there and explain things, or you’ll be out.”