Chapter Text
Spring is fast approaching. Snow melts into the asphalt, making way for warmer weather starting tomorrow.
Or, at least that's what the meteorologist said this morning.
Connor Stern hopes they're right. He doesn't mind winter, per se, but he's more than ready for spring to come around. For rain to replace snow and for warm to replace cold. Not only was this winter one of the coldest in recent history, but it was the snowiest he's ever seen. Snow fell so often, and so much, that the city spent more time closed than open over the past few months.
Things will open up more now, though.
Connor sits in the middle of the outdoor food court with his roommate and best friend Chloe Kamski, sharing a meal before the pair of them have to go their separate ways for work. They rarely get to share meals these days, because their evening schedules don't line up at all.
On weekends, Chloe often works overnights at Bean Junkie, the coffee shop in the food court, and Connor—
Well, Connor's weekend work doesn't matter right now. All his best friend needs to know is that he works weekdays at the used bookstore down the street from the small house he rents with Chloe.
Right now, he's enjoying the chance to spend time with his best friend. They sit in the food court, sharing an extra large order of pork belly pho and vegetarian fried rice from Chloe's favorite Asian Fusion restaurant, Lucky Lotus. Chloe will probably end up taking leftovers to work with her for lunch, but that's a part of why Connor ordered such a big portion. She always forgets to make lunch at home, and if he doesn't cook it himself, she'll probably go all night without eating.
Connor eats his fill, then tosses his chopsticks into the trash can next to their bench. When he turns his gaze back to Chloe, he finds his friend staring at him with concern in her eyes.
A teasing smile spreads across his face. "Keep worrying, and you're gonna get wrinkles, Chlo."
"Keep giving me things to worry about, and I'll keep worrying, Con," Chloe counters, picking up a piece of pork and holding it in the air on the edge of her chopsticks, before stuffing it into her mouth.
Connor leans forward, crosses his arms and rests them on his legs. "What did I do this time?"
When Chloe doesn't respond right away, Connor turns to look at her. She closes the top of the plastic food container and sets it on the table in front of her, then tosses her chopsticks into the trash with his.
Her silence lingers.
Connor hates silences like this. Not the comfortable silence of best friends having dinner together, but a long, awkward one that weighs heavy in the air. The silence of words unspoken. The type that feels more oppressive than any words ever could.
Luckily for him, Chloe hates those silences just as much as he does. When she turns back to him, she tucks her long blond hair behind her ear and rests her elbow on the table. She perches her cheek in her palm, and finally breaks the silence.
"You know that girl North who works with me at the shop?"
Talk about tonal whiplash. Connor takes a second to adjust to the seismic topic change, but eventually smirks and quips, "The one you've been into since she started working there? The one you and I have hung out with together on several occasions? That one?"
Never the one to mince words, Chloe just nods and replies, "Yup, that one." She taps her index finger rhythmically against her temple, but fixes a penetrating gaze on Connor. "She said she saw you on Ribbon Street last weekend."
Connor's brows rise. "Ribbon Street?"
"Yeah." She nods. "You know, that one really rough neighborhood that Hank is called to at least once a night? Where all the red ice dealers and sex workers are."
"What was she doing on Ribbon Street?" Connor asks.
He doesn't want her getting tangled up with someone who actually works there.
Well... someone else.
Chloe shrugs. "She rides the bus through there to get home," she explains. "Don't change the subject. You know Ribbon Street."
Quickly averting his gaze, Connor shrugs and says, "Yeah, I know it. But I've never been there."
Even without looking, Connor can tell Chloe doesn't buy the lie. She's got her father's sharpness, and there's a reason that Amanda saw her as a prodigy detective in the making, before Chloe decided she wanted to write her own future. Connor inhales, levels his emotions, then turns to look at Chloe with a much more confident smile. He shakes his head.
"I know Hank gets called out there a lot, so why would I let myself be seen there? So he can drag me back to Amanda's and tell her that I'm hanging around with drug addicts and sex workers?"
Chloe still doesn't seem convinced. "Maybe I should call Hank out there tonight to have a look around," she replies sharply, her tone carrying an edge of warning. "Or even get in touch with Amanda. If you don't go out there, maybe it was Cameron she saw."
Ice shoots through his veins at the thought of Chloe getting on the phone with Amanda after they spent the last six years out of her reach. He knows she's bluffing. She doesn't want to get back into contact with Amanda—or more specifically, her father, Elijah Kamski—any more than Connor does.
They worked too hard to shed that shadow. But the fact that she's willing to try that bluff means that she's seriously worried.
Connor flashes her an incredulous glare. "Seriously? Cameron would never be caught dead somewhere like Ribbon Street, Chloe," he points out.
After all, Connor's twin brother is still pretty heavily under Amanda's thumb. Willingly, no less. He still lives outside the city with Amanda. Takes Amanda's limousine to the city every single day for classes. Does every single thing Amanda tells him to do, and follows the Amanda Stern Steps to Success to the letter.
He's in school to be a lawyer under her direction—or maybe he's graduated by now, Connor wouldn't know; it's been years since he's seen either of them—and for whatever reason, he thinks he's happy.
He wouldn't do anything to disappoint Amanda.
The day Cameron spends more than a few hours in Downtown Detroit, let alone on Ribbon Street, is the day Connor is willing to believe anything.
"Maybe North was just messing with you," Connor continues, sweeping his bangs from his face. They leave a small gel streak on his glasses, which he takes off and sets on the table. He reaches into his coat for his microfiber cloth to clean them off, then looks across the table at Chloe's blurry visage. "She is kind of a shit stirrer, from what you've told me."
Chloe shrugs, and he sees a blurry smirk on her face. "Yeah, she is," she remarks. "But she seemed pretty sure it was you. She knows the difference between you and Cam."
Connor can believe it.
In the few times he's met North Mills, he's heard her call Connor "Mini-Hank" and Cameron "Mini-Amanda." He doesn't know how she knows, but she's not really wrong. He assumes it's all gleaned from information Chloe gave in their limitless conversations.
The fact that Chloe finally found a girl she feels like she can trust enough to fall for makes Connor smile. She's finally comfortable enough with her sexuality to try to find a girlfriend, and he couldn't be prouder of her for that.
Considering North is just as invested in their conversations as Chloe, Connor suspects it won't be long until they actually start dating.
Connor wipes his glasses and slides them back onto his face. Chloe looks at him, the concern still etched into her features, but before she has a chance to say whatever she's thinking, Connor stands and stretches his arms over his head.
"Don't worry about me, Chlo," he insists. "You know I know how to take care of myself."
"Do you?" Chloe asks, her expression blank. "Or are you just trying to get me to shut up?"
A coy smirk spreads across Connor's face. "Can't it be both?"
Heaving a heavy sigh, Chloe stands up and tucks the leftover Vietnamese food into her large tote. "All I know is that North isn't lying," she reasons, tying her hair into a thick ponytail. "If you are on Ribbon Street, just be careful, okay Con? I know Hank won't arrest you, but the others won't be so cool about it. That Reed guy? He's just looking for a chance. Fowler? Chen? They catch you doing whatever it is you do there, you're gonna end up in jail. Then what will Amanda say if she finds out?"
Connor averts his gaze and shakes his head. "I'm fine, Chloe. C'mon, I'll walk you to work."
"I'll make you a coffee for the road," Chloe tells him, barely concealing her disappointment. "In exchange for dinner."
With a smile, Connor replies, "Deal."
The coffee shop isn't far from here, but Connor would like a chance to warm up before he has to walk across town. Plus, he always feels better when he walks Chloe from point A to point B. He knows she can look out for herself, but there are a lot of weirdos in this part of town who are just stupid and aggressive enough to try something on a girl like Chloe just because she's pretty.
He's lost count of the times he's seen weirdos leering at her.
Conversation is much lighter on the walk to the coffee shop. Even as Chloe steps behind the counter to clock in, letting the high schooler covering the evening shift off for the night, they make a plan to go to the movies sometime next week.
Chloe mentions a concert she wants to see in town, and Connor makes a mental note of the band. Her birthday is coming up, so the least he can do is scrounge up a pair of tickets for Chloe and North to force them to finally go on a date. Then, after she finishes making his caramel mocha latte, he tells her he'll see her tonight and leaves.
He adjusts his sling bag over his shoulder and ducks into the 24-hour bookstore next door.
Connor has always liked this store. They treat it as a library for people who can't afford to buy the books, so sometimes when he's waiting for Chloe to get out of work, he'll sit at the bookstore with a cup of coffee from the shop and read.
Reading is one of his favorite pastimes, after all.
He's not here to read today, though. He hurries to the bathroom and steps inside, locking the door behind him. Approaching the mirror, he takes a glance at his reflection and sighs. He has some work to do, before he can head across town.
First, he has to take his glasses off and put his contacts in. They're an old prescription, but he can't afford a trip to the eye doctor right now. He can't see as well as he can with his glasses, but it's a lot harder to get clients with glasses on.
The only ones he can usually get them on are the ones with really… specific wants.
With the old contacts in, his vision is a bit blurrier, but he can still see well enough to take the next step. His hair is too loose and wild. Chloe tells him his curls are cute. That she wishes she had curly hair like he did, and a lot of guys and girls in the shop call him "the cute guy with the curly hair."
Connor doesn't mind his curls, not really… but he doesn't like it when clients pull them. Their fingers get too tangled, and they end up pulling way too hard trying to get out.
It happens way too often. It's easier if he gels his hair.
Using the last of his gel, he straightens his curls out and styles them in a side-parted quiff. He doesn't really look like himself like this. He actually looks exactly like Cameron. The thought makes him grimace, but he ignores that and grabs his eyeliner, tooth brush, travel toothpaste, and lip balm from the front pocket of his bag.
Someone knocks on the bathroom door, but aside from offering a quick shout of, "I'll be a minute!" he ignores them.
First, Connor brushes his teeth and rinses with the water bottle in his bag. Then, after wiping the remnants of toothpaste from the corners of his mouth, he balms his lips and moves on to his eyes.
Chloe discovered the way eyeliner made Connor's eyes pop in her first year of college, back when they were just settling into living on their own. A drunk Chloe decided that she wanted to use him as a dress up doll. She defined his curls, lined his eyes, and picked an outfit from his closet, all while talking about how she wanted to be a stylist.
And here she is, two years into a business major with a minor in fashion, with the hopes of opening her own full-service stylist shop once she graduates. She wants to cover everything from fashion design to hair and make-up, and from experience, Connor knows she can do it. He'll support her every step of the way, as long as she's happy at the end of the day.
With his eyes lined, he packs his bag with all his things, picks up the coffee Chloe made for him, and leaves the bathroom. He steps out into the bookstore, and a woman casts him an irritated glare, before rushing into the bathroom.
Connor makes his way back outside into the late winter chill, then stuffs his hands into his coat pockets. Once he's outside, he tries to make a game plan. He could go to Ribbon Street, but he doesn't put it past Chloe to actually call Hank to drag him home.
There are a few other places he could go.
Jewel Boulevard is further than Ribbon Street, but the crowd there is a bit rougher. As bad as Ribbon Street's red ice problem is, it's twice as bad on Jewel, and some of the other workers there get territorial. Most of the horror stories about drug wars and turf wars in Detroit center around Jewel Boulevard.
It's high risk, but it's also high reward, because Jewel is right on the outskirts of the rich part of town. The other option is underneath the overpass on the other side of town.
That's the riskiest option. Connor has heard stories about people not getting paid, or having their money stolen by the homeless people living there. So, he decides to brave Jewel for the night. Connor isn't afraid of risk, but the stories he's heard about the Overpass are enough to scare him.
Tomorrow, he'll go back to his usual spot, once Chloe has this worry bug out of her system.
He hops on the next bus, takes a seat near the front, and pulls his phone out to scroll his messages, to find three waiting for him.
All from Chloe, complaining about annoying customers at work.
He laughs under his breath and types a quick response, joking with Chloe that she should just pour hot coffee on the next guy to annoy her, then looks out the window at the city as it passes. He's looking forward to spring. Winter in Detroit can sometimes feel like an entire year on its own, and with how cold this past one was, it's no exception.
When the bus gets closer to Jewel Boulevard, Connor shucks his jacket and tucks it into the main pocket of his sling bag. He shudders against the chilly air creeping through the seal around the edges of the bus window, but he ignores it. Instead, he glances at his reflection in the bus window.
The way he dresses for his night work is night and day different from his day job.
There's more than one reason Chloe and calls him Mini-Hank. It's partially because he's osmosed some of Hank's attitude in their time spent together over the past four years, but it's also because his normal fashion sense is a mix between Hank Anderson Lazy and Amanda Stern Fashionable.
Normal Connor is all about layers. Leather jackets, fashionable vests, button downs, t-shirts, or sweaters with denim slacks or jeans. He wears neckties or scarves a lot, not for the sake of looking formal, but just because he thinks they're fun. His curls are always messy, and he tops it off with a pair of thick framed librarian-style glasses.
Chloe says he looks like a mix of a nerd and a train wreck, but he doesn't know if he believes that, since she also says he has the best fashion sense of any guy she knows.
Part and parcel for being raised by fashion maven Amanda Stern, he guesses.
For his night job, he discards all sense of comfort and personal style, and dresses in tight clothes. A low-cut, black v-neck henley with a string crisscrossed down the V, and midnight blue jeans so tight and distressed that there's not much left to the imagination. Connor suspects his clothing is exactly what made Chloe ask him about Ribbon Street.
He tenses at the thought; the idea that she knows.
Not tonight's problem.
Tonight's problem is making sure he's able to find a good spot on Jewel Boulevard.
So, when the bus pulls to a stop, Connor adjusts his sling bag on his shoulder and steps out into the chilly night air. He transfers his phone from his pocket to his sling bag on his way to Jewel Boulevard, burying it in the safety of his coat. Then, he turns onto Jewel Boulevard to find that he's actually one of the first people to show up.
A few women sit together near a lamp post, and Connor figures they've already claimed that as their spot. So, he takes up a spot a few light posts away, between a duplex and an apartment building. He finishes the last of the coffee Chloe made him, throws the cup in a trash can on the sidewalk, pops a stick of spearmint gum into his mouth to freshen his breath, and takes his position against the light post.
And he waits.
The three women nearby look irritated by his presence. It makes sense. A lot of the other walkers who work on Ribbon Street don't really like when new faces pop up, especially not when they're men. Connor doesn't care one way or another, but he knows that others see it as competition.
A bitter breeze bites down to Connor's bones, and he shudders, even as he pushes the collar of his henley down past his shoulder to reveal some of his freckles, and lets the cold numb his mind to the discomfort he feels. He doesn't have to do this for much longer. Only $15,000 left on his debt, and with what he usually makes in a weekend… it'll only be a few more months.
Just a few more months. Then he can try being normal for the first time in his life.
He spits his gum into the trash, then inhales deeply, letting the cold air in his nose ground him. Not much longer.
He roots around in his bag for his lip balm. He just has to hold on. Just a little while longer.
He glides the balm along his lips, then smooths them together to spread the balm around.
I don't have to do this for much longer.
When he caps his lip balm, he feels eyes on him from behind. An uncomfortable prickle crawls under his skin, but he ignores it. He turns, expecting to see one of the other walkers on the street staring at him for being on their turf.
It's not.
It's a guy, coming out of the duplex behind him. He stuffs a bag into his pocket, then glances up and down the road nervously. His furtive eyes stop on one of the women talking further down the line. But he turns away from them and hones in on Connor instead.
Connor lifts his head to meet his stare head on.
It's safe to assume that this guy came to Jewel Boulevard to buy some red ice from that house, but he doesn't look high yet. Connor has a hard rule about going home with icers when they're high, thanks to Hank's constant warnings about icers in general. But this guy doesn't seem high yet, and he's staring pretty hard. Like he's trying to gauge the situation.
While he stares, Connor examines his appearance.
He has neatly styled brown hair, a few shades darker than Connor's, combed into a tidy side part. A thin layer of five o'clock shadow peppers his chin and upper lip, like he skipped a day shaving. He's not the most attractive guy to show interest in Connor, but he's not ugly, either. Clean, for an icer. Connor offers him a nod and a quirk of the lips, wordlessly inviting him closer.
The guy's brown eyes shoot open wide, like Connor's attention took him by surprise, but Connor responds by letting his smile grow a little wider. The usual routine. Entice. Intrigue. Draw him in.
When the guy steps forward, Connor allows his smile to turn triumphant.
It's showtime.
As the guy approaches, he stuffs his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, stopping when he gets to Connor's side. The guy's dark brown eyes roam every inch of Connor's body, from his head to his feet.
"You, uh… you work here?" the guy asks.
Connor nods, his smile going coy. "I do."
The client nods back. "Cool," he replies. "How much?"
"$500 an hour. Protected blowjobs only, no kissing," Connor replies. "And no ice while I'm with you."
A few beats of silence follow, and Connor can see the client mulling it over. Finally, a smirk spreads across his lips and he nods.
"Okay."
"Okay?" Connor repeats.
The client nods. "Yeah. Sounds good. I'll take you for the night."
Connor's eyes shoot open. "For the night… as in all night? Like, until morning?"
"That's what I said, isn't it?" asks the client with a nod. He crosses his arms. "That a problem?"
"No! No, not at all," Connor replies hurriedly.
All night at $500 an hour—if all night means eight hours... that's $4,000! This guy doesn't look like he has that kind of money, but if he's offering to take Connor for the whole night?! Maybe looks are deceiving.
He'll have to find somewhere to text Chloe and let her know that he won't be home until morning, but… $4,000 is a huge dent in his debt.
Connor pushes off the light pole and turns toward the client. "Do you have a place around here?" he asks. "Or somewhere else we can go?"
The guy blinks and looks down the street toward the intersection for a few seconds too long. Eventually, he shakes his head and turns back to Connor. "I, uh… nah. Not from the neighborhood," he explains. "My car's not far, though. My d–I, uh… I know a place that's pretty close."
Getting into a stranger's car isn't one of Connor's favorite things to do, but if he includes it in the bill, it's not the worst thing. He weighs the options internally, then turns toward the client, who reaches into his pocket for his car keys.
"Well?" he asks, suddenly finding his confidence. "You want to or not?"
Shaking off his hesitation, Connor nods and adjusts his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah. Where's your car?"
The stranger swings his keys on his finger and turns toward the intersection he was eyeing. He gestures for Connor to follow him.
Something feels off, but Connor can't quite place it.
Is it in his client's disconnect from the situation, or the fact that he's breaking a rule to follow an icer for the promise of $4,000? Connor can't tell, and it makes him wonder if it's all in his head.
He decides it must be, and he follows behind the client.
As they walk down the street, a weighty silence fills the air. The three other workers glare daggers at Connor as they walk by, and Connor decides that maybe his first night on Jewel Boulevard will be his last.
But at least it has the potential to put a big dent in his debt.