The White Gold

A/N One of my favourite Tupac songs, this one...

I pass by,
Can’t hold back tears inside,
‘Cause Lord knows for years I’ve tried.

-- Tupac, Wonder Why They Call You Bitch

Pain.

Alton tried to scream, but his mouth was suddenly filled with water. He kicked out with his feet and hit something solid, arms flailing, and then he was able to breathe again.

‘What the—’ Alton stopped and coughed, grappling onto Razi. ‘The Hell Razi, the Hell, I said I didn’t want to—I can’t swim, you bastard.’

Razi looked completely undeterred, holding Alton by the tops of his arms, the water bitter around their bodies. Alton could feel the cold press of the coin between their skins, and glared deeply in realizing that Razi had found his coin before bothering to help him.

‘What kind of moron can’t swim?’ Razi asked, trying to hold back a smile.

‘Me, you bastard,’ Alton replied, clinging shamelessly onto the other boy.

Razi attempted to pull Alton off of him, but the smaller boy refused to let go for fear of drowning. ‘Think it’s best we get out of the pool then, royalty?’

‘Think it’s best I don’t let go of you if I don’t want to die.’

‘Ali,’ Aaron called from the side of the pool. As the prince whipped his head around to see her he almost slipped. Razi’s arms snaked around his waist to keep him above water, and Alton turned to face him for a moment, their bodies pressed tightly against one another. ‘Er… Alton?’

Razi raised an eyebrow as Alton failed to respond to Aaron’s voice, instead just staring at him with a blank expression on his face, eyes slightly wider than usual. ‘Earth to royalty?’

Alton blinked, suddenly being brought back to reality. ‘Oh—’

But Razi’s mind was already made up.

He put both hands over Alton’s head and pushed him quickly under the water.

Alton’s scrabbled to get back up from the sudden cold pressure around him, clawing onto Razi’s middle for a moment until his mind randomly remembered that drawing blood from a haemophiliac really wasn’t a good idea—and then he was breathing air again.

‘What is wrong with you?’ he gasped, face red with anger. ‘That’s three times today you’ve put me in danger, and earlier you threw a bottle at Aaron!’

Razi just raised an eyebrow, a look that was often directed at the prince. ‘Speaking of Aaron, whore’s been trying to get your attention.’

‘I hate you, Razi. With the power of ten thousand three hundred and ninety-seven suns. And that’s a lott’a power,’ Aaron said seriously, giving Razi a cold look.

‘Oi,’ Emma called from the other side of the pool. ‘That’s my best friend you’re dissing, whore.’

‘Razi’s socially skilled enough to have a best friend?’ Alton asked sarcastically, snarling slightly, but the effect was ruined by the fact that he was still relying on the boy to keep him up.

‘Look who’s talking,’ Emma responded. ‘I have a curfew, and a deadline for tomorrow. Driving me home, Johnny?’ Alton caught sight of John nodding as he stood up, and then with a kiss blown from Emma in their general direction, the pair disappeared back into the house.

‘What’s the time?’ Alton asked, suddenly panicked by the fact that he had arranged for Josh to meet him at the station by eleven.

Aaron rolled her eyes. ‘It’s almost eleven. That’s why I was trying to get your attention, kid.’

‘Oh.’ Alton then went to pull out of Razi’s arms, but was stopped abruptly.

‘Plannin’ to drown again, royalty?’ Razi asked sarcastically. ‘You’re really not that bright, are you?’

Alton frowned, insulted. He’d spent almost all of his life doing nothing but learning, and now he finally got out and met people, he was being accused of being—

He got closer to Razi’s face, glaring directly into his eyes, and said very clearly: ‘Fuck. You.’

Then he turned in his arms and attempted to take on the pool, with or without the ability to swim.

Razi, however, did not let go. Instead he pulled him until Alton’s back was pressed very solidly into Razi’s front, hard muscles of his arms secure around the prince’s middle. ‘Feisty,’ he said into Alton’s ear, and he could practically hear the grin.

‘Raziel Ashur Danielovitch, I don’t care how much you’ve drank, you had better not be hitting on my friend,’ Aaron said, arms crossed over her chest.

Alton was so astounded by the sound of Razi’s full name that he completely ignored the “hitting on” comment. ‘Your name is—?’

‘Shut it, royalty,’ Razi grumbled.

‘—Your, your name is—Your name is Raziel Ashur Danielovitch? What the Hell kind of name is that?’

‘It’s Jewish, rassclart, and both of your names are places. What’s your middle name? Luton? Cambridge? Peak District?’

‘Samuel, actually,’ Alton replied dryly.

Razi’s arms slipped slightly, as if he were about to let the other boy go, but tightened his grip last second. ‘Well, “Peak District” would have been cooler.’

‘True,’ Alton agreed, allowing himself to be helped across the pool. ‘Then again, anything’s better than Ashur.’

Razi looked thoughtful as he pushed Alton up onto the side of the pool. ‘It means “black” in Hebrew,’ he told him. ‘And it’s a month of the Islamic calendar.’

‘Interesting, Razi, really,’ Aaron said, rolling her eyes. ‘But if you don’t mind, Ali and I need to go. You want a lift?’

Razi, still in the pool, glanced over his shoulder. ‘Shania’s been glaring at me for an hour now. Think it’s best I find out what’s wrong before I go.’ He sighed deeply, looking annoyed. ‘Damn you people, teaching me manners.’

Aaron scrunched up her nose. ‘Good luck with that. Maybe next time you’ll learn to call them the next day.’

‘Where’s the fun in that?’ Razi asked, flashing his friend a grin. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Aaron. Royalty,’ he paused, smile faltering. ‘Well, I’ll probably see you on the TV some time. Have a nice life.’

He saluted, and then laughed as if it were a great joke, before turning to swim through the water.

Alton was frowning, but he wasn’t sure why.

‘Arsehole,’ Aaron said under her breath, shaking her head as she watched Razi swim away. ‘C’mon, Prince Charming.’

Alton followed her a few steps behind, wondering if the name-calling these people did was usual for British teenagers. The teenagers he had met beforehand would act just like adults. Head up, shoulders back, smile and be polite to everyone even if you can’t stand them.

As it turned out, that wasn’t how teenagers acted in the working class. And the way the working-class Brit teenagers acted was—well, a lot more amusing, so to speak.

‘Why does he act like that?’ Alton wondered out loud, unsure of whether he meant it as an actual question or not. Aaron had led him back into the bedroom to collect their belongings, and when she looked up she could see Razi out of the window, looking uncomfortable and rolling his eyes as a pretty young girl snapped at him.

‘Like what?’ she asked, smiling. ‘That’s just Razi, I guess.’

‘It’s usual?’ Alton replied, drying himself quickly with a towel that Aaron handed him. His shorts and vest were still wet, but he pulled his shirt and trousers over them anyway, not wanting to go back to his family with an appearance that could cause distress. ‘I thought something might be wrong with him.’

He realized a moment too late that insinuating something was wrong with her friend wasn’t acceptable in Aaron’s mind. Her eyebrows drew together and her jaw became tense.

‘What?’ she asked, giving him a scathing glance. ‘We’re not perfect so there must be something wrong with us?’

‘No!’ Alton responded. ‘Of course not. I just—Razi’s not normal, is he?’

‘It depends on your basis of comparison,’ Aaron snapped, walking out of the bedroom, tartan skirt back on her hips and slightly twisted. Alton followed, desperately wondering how to put this right.

‘I didn’t mean any offense,’ he said once they were outside. Aaron still refused to look at him. ‘Really. I didn’t mean that—I mean—He’s just a bit different, right?’

‘Razi,’ she said sharply, suddenly stopping and turning to face the prince, ‘is fine the way he is.’ She went to walk on, and then stopped again. ‘No, you know what? He’s more than fine the way he is. People like you—’ She stopped and caught Alton’s eyes. ‘What right do you have to judge him?’

Though he was confused as to why they were arguing in the first place, Alton’s temper flared. ‘He pulled me from a roof into a pool!’ he argued, standing his full height, though he was still shorter than the girl. ‘And what do you mean, people like me?’

‘I like you, Alton,’ Aaron said, still looking annoyed. ‘But your people always seem to judge us. We don’t come from the same class so we’re just not as—as humane as you or something.’

‘I don’t even know how this started!’ Alton admitted, slightly hysterical. ‘I was just asking why Razi acts like—like, you know!’

Aaron seemed to calm down slightly. ‘It’s just a part of who we all are. Razi’s an arsehole, Emma’s an 80’s throwback, John’s a mute by choice and I’m… well, whatever the Hell I am.’

‘A future dentist,’ Alton supplied for her, as they climbed into the car. It passed his mind that the only mood-swings he’d met to rival Aaron’s were Mary-Ambra’s.

Mouth curling into a smile, Aaron started the car, sending him a glance. ‘Most people just wonder what kind of eighteen-year-old guitarist wants to be a dentist.’

‘To each their own,’ Alton replied. Aaron moved one hand across him to shuffle through the glove box for a moment, before dropping a magazine in Alton’s lap.

‘You’re so interested in knowing shiz about him,’ she said, eyes glued to the road. ‘Turn to page five.’

Alton stared down at the cover of Mephistopheles, a popular magazine he recalled hearing about. It appeared to be a teenaged rock magazine, completed with a black cover and a picture of a woman sneering at the camera, drumsticks clasped into one hand. The dim light from street-lamps gave patterns of light across the magazine, leaving it in a sequenced pattern of darkness every few moments.

Obediently, Alton turned to page five, where he was surprised to see a picture of Razi at one side in black-and-white, writing alongside it.

‘He writes a column?’ he asked, impressed. Aaron nodded.

‘Every week,’ she replied. ‘All he does is rant, but people lap it up.’

Enraptured, he began to read.

Razi Danielovitch
(Tattoo Tears)

Why One Shouldn’t Pick Up Random Strangers In The Street
(Regardless Of How Pretty And Rich Said Stranger Is)

Those of you who remember my friend Aaron will remember her avid fascination with picking up strangers. Said strangers have been pretty much everyone, good, bad and very, very ugly. In fact, that’s how we met Emma – but that’s another story altogether.

As I was leaving The Poltergeist with the rest of Tattoo Tears on Friday night (nearing Saturday morning, mind you – ‘letting me leave early because of an audition the next day’ didn’t work quite as intended), Aaron latched herself onto a stranger on the street.

I, of course, being the only non-idiotic member of Tattoo Tears (and possibly the only non-idiotic resident of this planet), suspected instantly who this stranger was. No, I’m not going to give you a name, but I will tell you this: the boy is famous, and not a rocker, therefore disqualifying any of your interests (for yourselves or me – honestly, people, stop trying to set me up, I’m never interested).

Aaron didn’t seem to have a clue who the Aryan was, even after he gave her his name. It’s not a common name, I assure you.

Isn’t it funny how people can meet strangers and not have a clue who they actually are? I have reason to believe that Aaron was confused when Pretty Aryan Rich Boy didn’t know who she was – and she’s the guitarist of Tattoo Tears, damn it!

It’s like a cast system of fame. Tattoo Tears are pretty well-known around England, though probably not outside of our native land. Pretty Aryan Rich Boy is worldly-known – especially in our stretch of land – eliminating the possibility of him caring about those less famous. And this really got me thinking. After Aaron, Johnny-boy and Emma realized who this sparkly stranger is, he reacted like a burnt cat, scrambling to get away.

If that’s what really, really famous people have to deal with – the possibility of being found out when one doesn’t want to feel famous – is it better for us humble commoners to just go on with our lives in peace and without this trouble?

Well, no. Because of money. Money equals happiness, does it not?

So, to answer the age-old question of why one shouldn’t pick up random rich strangers – it’s that—well, you might forget to rob them, and then we’re back to square one.

And where’s the fun in that?

Tattoo Tears are set to play their next gig in Winston Distance, Camden town, on the 11th

And maybe this might help you understand.
It ain’t personal.
Strictly business, baby.
Strictly business.

-- Tupac, Wonder Why They Call You Bitch