Free Through the Cracks by Honey Brown Page B

as silently as he’d lowered himself. He stood by the window. A pale glow from the alleyway lights shone through. The rest of the room had grown dark. Billy woke and cleared his throat, continued lying on his side, dozing, then he struggled up, reached for his smokes.
    ‘I don’t sleep like that round any old social outcast, let me tell you.’
    The burning tip of Billy’s cigarette glowed and crackled as he inhaled. His fingers rasped against the paper sides and his lips stuck to the filter.
    ‘No school, hey?’
    Adam shook his head.
    ‘You read and write?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Don’t worry, even when you learn, all you’re really learning is that you’re no good at it. You know what people will say to you?
I came from dirt and I succeeded
.’ Billy snorted. ‘Really? Is that fucking so? And you reckon dirt is a bad start, do you, dickhead? What did they want? To float down from the clouds, God’s gift to the fucking planet?’ He scoffed and smoked. ‘It’s when you come from someplace lower . . . Look, I’m not saying I came from the same place you did. All I’m saying is I know it ain’t no level playing field.’ He stood, took a deep and final drag of his cigarette and went across to put it out in the sink. He washed the butt away. ‘Hang tight for a bit. I’ll be back in five.’
    He left the kitchen before Adam could say he needed to go to the toilet. The urge had come on suddenly. Adam squeezed his legs together. He cupped his groin. The pain in his back speared lower. He waited.
    Until he couldn’t wait any longer.
    There were no hallways at Vern’s place. The kitchen door opened into the studio. Fans were spinning. The smell of fresh paint and a sharper chemical smell filled the air. A light was on over by the easel. It bounced off the darkened windows. Adam didn’t see Billy at first, because he was standing in the shadows. Then Adam spotted him and began to move towards him. He stopped. Vern was kneeling in front of Billy. Adam waited out the rush of fear and dizziness. The air exited his lungs. The man’s head and shoulders blocked most of the act. It was no mystery to Adam what they were doing. He stepped backwards, returning to the kitchen. Billy had a clear view across to him. His expression was hard to read in the dim light. Judging by the way he inclined his head he wasn’t upset or afraid. He calmly indicated for Adam to go back into the kitchen.
    Adam closed the door. He was gripped by the need to run. It increased his need to pee. Adam fumbled in the dark for the sink. He put one knee up on the edge. He pulled down the elastic waistband of his trackpants and urinated where he believed the plughole to be. It sounded like he aimed right. His hands were shaking. The urine burned as it left him. Adam pulled up his pants and went to the window. From memory it was a long drop, but not so long that he wouldn’t attempt it. The bottle opener was still in his pocket. He’d swapped it over when he’d changed clothes.
    Billy came in. He turned on the light. His gaze was both dull and glistening. He took a folded note of money from his pocket and showed it to Adam before slipping it away again.
    ‘Let’s eat.’

T he money paid for their food downstairs in the café. It paid for a better fitting T-shirt, a packet of smokes, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a bag of jellybeans. Adam saw it was the same kind of note as the bundle of cash in the safe, one of them, a single one.
    Billy had shaken off his quietness at the bottom of the steps, wriggled his shoulders, jumped up and down on the spot, thrown a couple of punches in the dark, swiped his hand over the top of Adam’s head.
    ‘What do you feel like? Pizza? Want a steak and chips? I reckon you need some decent stuff – a burger with the lot. If you tell me you’ve never eaten a burger before, I’ll know you’ve been on another planet.’
    Adam had eaten a burger before. Hamburgers, like fish and chips, had been a treat, and a thing