urges.

Feb. 8th, 2004 10:42 am
pop_tarts: xtina's ass (dirrty)
[personal profile] pop_tarts
something I just had to do.

--

Monday she had to do a whole eight hours plus at the courier; the Connect rang at seven thirty and Christina groaned. Sleeping naked, she threw a shoe at Mer who got up to answer it.

It was Nick. "Can you come in early?" he said, talking straight to A. "We need you, I'm backed up till noon and gonna have to take three runs myself."

"Do you good," Christina replied. She stretched, back arched, feeling every single fibre in her mattress. She'd sweat again last night; it needed running through the recycler. "I need a bath before I come in."

"Run through the air showers here," Nick told her, "I need you."

Christina finally stood, eying her body. Another bruise, this time from falling off the bike last week, was yellowing up nicely on her hip. "I'll be there in ten."

Nick almost looked grateful.

--

When she got there it was every bit as bad as he said. Parcels were collecting in every in-tray he had, plus his desk, plus the huge filing cabinets in the back room. "Where is everyone?" The office was deserted save him, and Nick looked more than a little rushed.

He was on the Connect, yelling at probably one of the couriers. She signed in, took the first five packets in the 'rush' tray, and gave him a wave. Nick managed to put his hand over the phone and mutter, "yeah, thanks. at least you're here when you say you'll be here."

She took the lift down, across to the pharmacy like always. After a vitamin meth breakfast, Christina actually felt like she could deliver shit halfway across the city.

The first five took an hour and a half, and that was even with the bike; Christina felt the drug finally make its way through her system, and her skin started to tingle. The sun was just starting to heat the pavement up; she could feel the heat wave starting, but the meth cooled her down, and the sweat drying on her back.

She got three tips for delivery, including one from the estates' gatehouse; that one would pay the power and Connect for the next month. Back at the office, Nick was still on the phone. "You still short?" she said, scooping up the next ten packets - these were local, within twenty blocks. she'd have them out before ten.

Nick handed her another box and a message sheet - Britney had called her at work. Useless. The box was going to Joshua's diner; Christina rattled the box, it sounded like car parts. The trucks were battling tonight, it had been months since she made an appearance there but Joshua always kept those stupid machines in top condition. He'd want this before noon.

"I guess i'm off to the edge," being the edge of the city, where Joshua had his place. A diner, a greasy trailer, and enough track to have three car races, and the trucks going, all at once. People flocked out to his garage every second night.

Nick hung up and rubbed his forehead. "God, everyone wants everything right fucking now." He flipped some papers. "Yeah, Josh wants that yesterday, of course. You get the rest of the regionals?" and Christina rattled the bag of registered letters, all for the office blocks around their tower. "thank god. and I was hoping to leave early tonight, you imagine that?"

Christina realized - Nick looked tired. "You want me to close up for you?" she said, recklessly. Britney had called, and for some reason she wanted to be anywhere but the Sunset. "I got nothing goin' on till alarm."

"it'll be overtime, too," Nick said, and then sagged. "Thanks. she would have had my fucking ass if I was late tonight."

Christina was already headed to the lift. "She? good for you," she told Nick, and then, "bring her round the club some time," and then the lift got there.

Again and again, in nothing but thin cotton track pants and a white bikini, she ran the streets, signature, letter, signature, letter, signature, letter. The drug was holding strong, she wasn't even hungry. she couldn't feel the sun, the hot, disgusting air going past her face and arms and legs.

Her eight hours went past mechanically, she just ran, dropped things off, ran again. For Joshua's car part she took the bike, but she could barely feel the seat underneath her; just kept her eyes on the lines of the road. The rest of it was just one foot in front of the other, not feeling the soles of her feet.

--

a paycheque at the end of it; Nick gave her the day's code to lock the lift and ran out early. Christina had been working for the same courier long enough that she could do all his paperwork, and did; Nick owing her a favor could come in handy. She didn't think too hard about the other reason, the genuinely grateful look on his face when she offered.

Britney was waiting for her at home. She smiled, slow and gentle. "I tried to contact you."

Christina glared at Mer; obviously the stupid bitch had let Britney in. She shucked the pants, stripped off her clothes and the courier headband, and went for the washcloth. "I was busy."

"I wanted to ask if you--"

Christina, running the water, felt herself tighten. "I'm busy."

Britney took one step towards her, in tiny sandals. "I have something for you." She held it out, and when Christina just kept wiping the sweat and grime off herself, Britney put it on the table. "I was hoping you'd come with me for an hour tonight. I have to go down to talk to Eliot, but it's been a long time since I've been that deep." She looked away carefully; Christina knew the anxiety in her voice was staged.

Christina wanted a nap. She wanted a nap, and she wanted some food; the meth was wearing off, she could do with another tab, too. She wanted all of those things and it was six thirty already, there'd be no time for a nap unless she went now. "Can't you meet her somewhere topside?"

Britney's eyes flicked away. "I have to price the merch," she said, carefully. "For Don."

The washcloth hit her bruise, which obviously went deeper than it looked, and Christina winced, feeling that old familiar ache. There were some tabs in her drawer unless Mer had raided them, but no - looking and seeing those little yellow pills was like finding gold. Swallow, close her eyes, that was better. Christina said, "I can't."

A pause. "I just."

"You have your own bodyguards," Christina said, "Pharrell wouldn't let you wander around without one. I saw him in the hall as I went past." She dropped the dirty washcloth, suddenly, and it slopped water out of the basin and onto the floor.

Britney didn't stay, but she left whatever it was she'd brought with her. only after the door was closed did Christina look at what it was - a portable Connect, with all channels and all communications. perversely, it just made Christina resentful.

the mattress was still sticky, and had been baking in the sun coming through the window all day. Christina lay flat on her back, and felt the second tab start to work, slowly, more gentle than the first. she closed her eyes, and didn't move, just felt the world slip away as she tried not to think.

--
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