Chapter Text
"Hopkins! Come here a minute!"
Jimmy groaned and looked over his shoulder to see Gord hailing him from across the courtyard between Harrington House and the athletic center, where Jimmy had been headed.
"What?" Jimmy growled, reluctantly approaching the prep.
"I need a favor." Gord shot Jimmy what was probably supposed to be a charming smile. "My bicycle is, ah, out of commission. I need it repaired."
"Do I look like a freakin' bike shop?" Jimmy exploded. "You're gonna make me late for gym!"
Gord arched a well-groomed eyebrow. "Since when did you mind missing a class? Quit making excuses, James; I can see right through you."
Jimmy folded his arms and scowled. "Why do you need me to fix it?"
"Well, I only want the best for my bicycle, and you did pass shop with flying colors last semester, and, ah--"
Jimmy leaned closer and tapped Gord on the chest. "Now you're making excuses. Just take it to the bike shop."
Gord looked flustered, then finally hissed, "I don't have any money. Aquaberry got in their new stock for spring, and I, uh, went a little overboard. Daddy refuses to give me an advance on my allowance, so I won't have any cash for two more weeks!"
"Then get one of your rich little friends to give you a loan!"
Gord looked horrified. "I can't let them find out I'm short on funds! Heaven only knows what Derby would do."
"Tough luck," Jimmy said unsympathetically. "Just 'cos we made out a couple times, doesn't mean I'm your slave." He started to walk away, but Gord grabbed at his sleeve.
"Jimmy, please. If I don't get it fixed, everyone will start to get suspicious. Look, when I get my allowance, I'll pay you double what the bike shop would charge."
Jimmy sighed and turned back to the desperate prep. "Okay, okay. Where's the bike?"
Gord beamed. "Oh, thank you." He motioned for Jimmy to follow him towards Harrington House. "I'll make it up to you. In more ways than one."
Jimmy rolled his eyes. "One way is plenty. I just want the cash when you get it."
Gord led him to the bike rack in front of Harrington House, where Jimmy found an Aquaberry-turquoise BMX which would have been quite impressive if half of the front wheel wasn't at a ninety-degree angle to the other half.
"What the hell did you do to it?"
"I got rather, ah, distracted coming back from town, and I ran into a fire hydrant."
"I see." Jimmy knelt down in front of the bike to study the bent wheel. "And was the distraction male or female this time?"
"A gentleman must be discreet," Gord said loftily.
"Male, then, hunh?" Jimmy stood and dusted off his slacks. "This is gonna take more experience than one semester of shop. You'll have to get one of the greasers to do it."
"The greasers? You've got to be kidding! I can't ask them."
"Would you rather explain to Derby why you don't have a working bike?" Jimmy chuckled when he saw Gord's dismayed expression. "I'll go over to the shop with you. They'll do it if I say so-- and if you ask nicely."
Gord looked pained, but he nodded. "All right."
He unlocked his bike from the rack and wheeled it on its back tire after Jimmy. Gord hung back a little as Jimmy wandered into one of the garages in the auto shop area and looked around. The garage was more empty than usual; only one greaser was there, rummaging through a box of parts with his back to Jimmy and Gord.
"Uh, he looks busy. We can come back later," Gord hissed at Jimmy. At the sound of his voice, the greaser turned around, then grinned.
"Jimmy, hey. What's up?"
"I need a favor, Vance. Gord here needs some work done on his bike."
Vance looked at Gord, and immediately his cheerful expression faded. "A preppy needs my help? And hey, aren't you the one that caused all that trouble between Johnny and Lola?"
"Him and half of the other guys on campus," Jimmy replied before Gord could say anything. "Gord's decent, for a prep. And I don't think he's had any designs on girls lately. Right, Gord?" Jimmy gave Gord a rather indiscriminate wink.
"Erm, yes, that's right." Vance still didn't look convinced, and Gord wheeled his bike forward a little. "Couldn't you at least look at it. . . please?"
Vance looked down at the bike, then stared. "Holy crap, what have you done to 'er?" He crouched down and ran a hand over the warped wheel. "Poor doll. . . he's been treating you bad, hasn't he?"
"She-- I mean, it's just a bike!" Gord spluttered.
"Just a bike? No, no, no!" Vance tugged the bike away from Gord and lifted it up onto the counter. "This is one a' the most beautiful bikes I ever seen. Damn, if I could afford something like this. . . ." He shook his head then reached for a wrench without looking at Jimmy or Gord again. "Yeah, I'll work on 'er. It'll be a pleasure."
Jimmy bit back a snicker. "There you go, Gord. I won't even charge you."
"As well you shouldn't!" Gord replied indignantly. "You didn't even do any wor-- I mean, uh, thank you," he amended when Jimmy gave him a threatening look.
"That's more like it." Jimmy thumped Gord on the back. "You two have fun." As he walked out of the garage, he chuckled to himself. He had a feeling Vance and Gord would get along just fine.
--
After Jimmy left, Gord stood awkwardly in the doorway to the garage. He wasn't too sure that it was a good idea to let the greaser mess with his expensive bike, but he didn't really have much of a choice. He watched Vance's broad back as he tinkered with the bike. A moment later, Vance cast him an irritated glance over his shoulder.
"You gonna just stand there, or are you comin' in? I don't bite."
Gord slunk in and stood next to the greaser. "I didn't want to interfere with your. . . work." Now that he got a good look, it seemed that Vance was groping his bicycle more than attempting to fix it.
"How'd this happen?" Vance tapped a bent spoke with the wrench.
"I wasn't looking where I was going." Gord decided not to tell him the full story; the cretin would probably beat him up if he knew Gord looked at other boys like that.
"Hmph. How could you be so careless with a beauty like this?"
"I don't need a lecture," Gord snapped. "Just fix it!"
Vance scowled and set down the wrench. "I can't."
"What? Look, I told Jimmy I'd pay him double to fix it. I'll. . . I'll pay you triple, when I get the money."
"It's not the money. I'd do it for free, just to get to work on 'er. But she's gonna need a whole new wheel-- look, this spoke is snapped." Vance raked a hand through his hair, which was a beautiful shade of chestnut and would have looked quite good if it wasn't full of gel. "You'll have to take it to the bike shop."
Gord's shoulders slumped. "I can't. I don't have any money."
"You? Ha. All you twerps are loaded."
"How many times am I going to have to explain this?" Gord exploded. "I'm broke, okay? And before you ask, none of my friends will loan me anything. It would be social suicide, even if they wanted to." He sighed and rubbed at his temples. "I might as well confess to Derby and get it over with. Christ, he'll probably kick me out of Harrington House. I'll have to sleep in the dorm again. Ugh."
"Sounds like you need new friends more than a new wheel," Vance observed.
"What? I'll have you know, my friends are worth their weight in gold!"
"Maybe so, but only if you have gold." Vance shook his head. "Oh well. Your friends ain't my problem."
"Yes, thank you, you were a huge help," Gord spat, reaching for his bike. Vance pushed his hand away and picked up the bike himself, setting it on the ground.
"I said your friends ain't my problem. Your bike is. Jimmy asked me to help you out, so I'll do it. I got some credit down at the bike shop, so I'll get you a new wheel if you promise to pay me back."
Gord stared at him. "You're-- you're kidding. You'd do that for me? Just because of Hopkins?"
Vance smoothed down his hair. "Actually, it's 'cos I feel sorry for you." Gord spluttered indignantly, but Vance ignored him and started wheeling the bike towards the door. "We'd better hurry; it's getting dark. Come on if you're coming."
To Gord's relief, they didn't pass any of the other preps on the way to town; the last thing he needed was for them to see him in the company of a greaser. Gord's brief affair with Lola had been acceptable to his friends only because it had pissed Johnny Vincent off, though that hadn't been Gord's reason for doing it. He had pursued Lola because it made him feel naughty, and he liked feeling naughty. But then, kissing boys made him feel naughty in spades, and it was a lot more satisfying than dating a money vacuum like Lola. Too bad his friends would never understand.
Vance was whistling as he wheeled Gord's bike into the Bullworth Vale Shiny Bikes store. He's having fun pretending my bicycle belongs to him! Gord thought crossly.
"Vance! How's it going?" the store owner asked when he saw the greaser.
"Got a bit of a problem." Vance wheeled the bike up to the counter and gestured towards Gord. "My friend here had a little accident. You got a wheel that'll fit this beauty?"
His friend? Gord thought blankly. I don't even know him! He could hardly believe that anyone, much less a greaser, would accept him so quickly.
"Ouch. That looks pretty bad." The owner looked the bike over, then nodded. "Yeah, I got one. Not cheap though." He glanced at Gord. "You look like you can afford it."
"Actually I wanna pay for it with my credit," Vance said quickly. The owner blinked at him, then looked at Gord more carefully.
"Okay then. You want me to put the wheel on for you?" Gord nodded.
When the owner took the bike to the back of the shop, Vance looked over at Gord again. "You're awful quiet. I didn't think you could go five minutes without shooting off your mouth."
Gord bit back a retort and instead said quietly, "It's your territory."
The corner of Vance's wide mouth twitched in a half-smile. "Sure is." He really isn't bad looking, Gord thought. Vance's nose was sort of big, but he had expressive green eyes and the suggestion of a nice body under his bulky jacket. Gord turned away and pretended to be studying a rack of bike helmets.
"I hope this isn't cutting into your plans for the evening," he said after a moment.
"Nah." Vance chuckled a little. "I was gonna skip dinner anyway. Edna's cooking is startin' to get to me."
Just what I wanted to hear, Gord thought with a smile. "You know, my parents have a running account at the Vale Hotel for when they come to visit. If you don't want to wait for me to pay you back in cash, I could buy you dinner there. They'll take it out of my allowance."
"The food there costs as much as a new wheel?"
Actually a meal at the hotel would probably cost more than the bike wheel, but Gord said quickly, "It would be a start at repayment, anyway."
"Hmm. They got burgers?"
"Er, well, they have steak."
"That works." Vance leaned against the counter next to him and grinned. "I haven't had a decent meal in weeks. Been too busy in the shop to go out, and I can only stand so much cafeteria food."
So that's how the other half lives, Gord thought in disgust. Imagine having to actually eat in the cafeteria!
The shop owner returned with Gord's bicycle before he could say anything else. Gord was suitably impressed; it looked good as new.
"Thank you, sir," he said as sweetly as he could manage.
"Yeah, well take better care of it this time," the owner grumbled. "Vance, I hate to tell you this, son, but that about eats up your credit for that last trade in."
"It's okay." Vance appeared to be too busy staring at the bike to pay much attention to him. "I'll have some more parts to bring in next week."
As they walked outside with the bike, Vance asked shyly, "Do you mind if I, uh, ride her a little ways?"
"All right." Gord handed the bike over to Vance, who straddled it almost reverently.
"Wow. If I ever get some extra cash, I'm getting one exactly like this. Only, uh, not this girly blue color."
"It is not girly!" Gord sniffed. "It's fashionable."
"Whatever you say," Vance smirked. He pushed off the ground with one foot and pedaled around Gord in a circle. "She's so smooth. . . ."
The sun had completely set, and despite the streetlights Gord was a bit worried that Vance wouldn't be able to see well and would re-wreck the bike. "Come on, let's go eat. I'm starved."
Vance pedaled along beside him slowly as they passed the couple blocks between the bike shop and the hotel. Gord glanced at him with a warm feeling in his chest; it was nice being around someone easy to please for once. No asking for presents like Lola or the preppy girls, no whining about inconsequential matters like his male friends. No copping an attitude like Jimmy Hopkins, good kisser though he was.
Vance reluctantly got off the bike when they reached the hotel, and Gord chained it to a nearby rack. He started towards the restaurant's entrance, but Vance hung back.
"Uh, you mind if we sit outside?"
Gord looked at him over his shoulder. "But it's night!"
"Yeah, I know, but. . . I get nervous in fancy places like that." Vance looked down at his grease-stained jeans awkwardly. "I don't exactly fit in."
He had a point, but they were more likely to be seen together outside. Gord hesitated, then shrugged off his apprehension. Aquaberry had closed for the evening, so if any of the other preps were in town, they'd probably be at the boxing club, not over near the hotel.
"All right, we can sit outside." He sat down at one of the tables with a relieved-looking Vance across from him. When the waiter brought them menus, Gord snatched Vance's away without letting him look at it. He didn't want Vance to see how expensive the food was, in case the greaser would change his mind about dinner.
When Vance protested, Gord smiled. "Just order what you want."
Vance ended up with the biggest steak Gord had ever seen, well done, with a baked potato and salad. "You really are hungry," Gord muttered as he watched the greaser tear into the meat.
"You would be too if you had to survive on Edna's cooking," Vance mumbled around a mouthful of potato. "Sometimes I wish my parents lived in town. They drive me nuts, but at least I could eat decent."
"Mine don't live here either," Gord commented, eating his own meal of mahi mahi more demurely. "Some of my friends' parents actually moved to Bullworth Vale from other towns so their kids could go to school here without having to live on campus, but I don't mind living in Harrington House."
"Wow. My parents barely had enough to send me to school here. There's no way they coulda moved here too."
Gord was suddenly embarrassed that he had mentioned his friends. Vance didn't seem to be particularly ashamed of being poor, but Gord felt rather callous nonetheless. But how am I supposed to know what to talk about with him? he tried to reason with himself. I've never associated with anyone who wasn't rich other than Lola, and she brought it up all the time, just to get presents out of me.
"So what do you do for fun?" Vance asked as he finished off his steak, shaking Gord from his thoughts.
"Well, I like to go shopping," Gord began, scowling when he saw Vance smirk. "Sometimes I go to the boxing club to watch the fights, but I don't box myself. And I race my bike."
"Really?" Vance's smirk was immediately replaced with a look of keen interest. "I race too, in New Coventry, but I've never seen you there."
"Oh I don't race there," Gord said without thinking. "I only race in the Vale."
"Oh." Vance looked down at his nearly empty plate and poked at the potato skin with his fork. "I guess I wouldn't see you around, in that case."
Gord felt guilty once more. "You ought to come race with us one weekend. I'm sure the boys wouldn't mind--"
"No thanks. I feel weird enough coming to the bike shop over here on your turf."
Gord leaned towards him across the table. "And I feel weird getting anywhere near your 'turf,' as you call it. Maybe. . . maybe you and I could race sometime, just the two of us. Then neither of us would have to feel too odd about it."
Vance looked at him thoughtfully, then smiled. "Maybe."
When the waiter brought the check, Gord signed his dad's name to it without even looking at the total cost of the meal, then laid it on the edge of the table for the waiter to pick up. He didn't even notice Vance sneaking a look at it until the greaser swore rather loudly.
"Dammit, you didn't tell me a steak cost that much!"
Flushing, Gord snatched the bill away from him. "You weren't supposed to see that!"
"But it's more than the new wheel cost, even with labor!" Vance protested.
"Don't worry about it," Gord said firmly as he stood up.
"But. . . ." Vance followed him over to the bike rack. "But now I owe you!"
"No, you don't."
Vance plucked Gord's hand off the bike lock. "I'm not gonna be indebted to no one. Look, I got some cash on me. You wanna hit a movie and let me pay for it? Then we'll be even. Uh, if you're not doing anything else tonight."
By God, this is turning into a regular date! Gord thought, pleased. "All right," he said aloud, "if that will convince you that you don't owe me anything."
Vance bought two tickets to what appeared to be some abominable action flick, the proceeded to get the biggest bag of M&Ms Gord had ever seen at the concession counter. Gord had no idea how Vance could possibly eat anything else after the huge meal, but the greaser already had the bag open by the time they sat down to wait for the movie to start.
"Want some?" he asked Gord around a mouthful of candy, holding out the bag to him.
"Uh, no, that’s all right." As the previews started, Gord watched Vance out of the corner of his eye. Vance laughed loudly during the comedy previews, then complained just as loudly ten minutes later when the actual movie hadn’t started. In short, he was everything Gord usually avoided in a date-- yet this time he didn’t mind.
It’s not like it really is a date, he told himself. Then he thought guiltily, No matter how much I wish it were.
The movie was as bad as Gord had feared it would be, but Vance seemed to be enjoying it for all its car chases and gun fights. Gord took the opportunity to study the engrossed greaser in the dim light cast by the screen. He had taken off his jacket to reveal a muscular chest in a tight white t-shirt, which Gord duly admired. He had an indecipherable tattoo up near his left shoulder; Gord couldn’t tell what it was in the poor light, but it was probably something tasteless. Vance’s ragged, dirty jeans were as tight as his shirt, pulled taut over his thighs. Gord had to force himself to look away.
Why didn’t I ever notice him before? Gord wondered. Just because he’s a greaser? He’s gorgeous, no matter who he hangs out with. He tried to concentrate on the movie, but it wouldn’t have held his interest even without Vance less than a foot away from him. Gord reached for the M&Ms without looking-- anything to distract himself-- and his hand collided with Vance’s.
"Oh, s-sorry," Vance stammered. He held the bag out to Gord. "Here, you can take it." Gord took the bag from him, deliberately rubbing his fingers against Vance’s. The greaser bit his lip and smiled at him shyly. Gord felt his own cheeks flush as he turned back to the movie screen. Normally he would have taken the smile for encouragement-- hell, normally he would have already put the moves on Vance. But Gord still didn't entirely trust him. He was a greaser, hot or not, and for all Gord knew this might all be an elaborate set up. Hopkins might even be in on it. Gord had a frightful mental image of trying to kiss Vance and getting a fist in the face instead-- or worse, getting his picture snapped by Jimmy, just like the last time he had tried to make it with a hot brunette in a leather jacket.
The movie finally ended, and the boys emerged from the theater with the rest of the crowd.
"Guess I'll take the bus back to campus," Vance muttered as Gord unlocked his bike from the rack. "Unless. . . unless you want me to walk back with you. It's kinda late to be out by yourself."
Gord knew he should tell Vance to take the bus-- and really, it wasn't like he couldn't take care of himself for the short distance between the Vale and Bullworth Academy. But when he glanced up at Vance and found the greaser looking back at him hopefully, Gord couldn't resist.
"Thank you, I'd appreciate it."
They walked back towards the school in silence, Gord pushing his repaired bicycle along with Vance at his side. As they neared the side entrance to Bullworth Academy, Gord groped for something to say.
"Vance?"
"Yeah?"
"I never thanked you properly for taking care of my bicycle. So. . . uh, thank you."
"Yeah, well. I can't let a pretty bike like that suffer." Vance grinned at him. "And thanks for dinner." He stopped by the broken-down school bus near the auto shop's back entrance. "If you run into any more bike trouble, let me know." He patted the seat of Gord's bicycle lovingly. "I'd love to get to do some real work on her."
"I'll come straight to you," Gord promised. He fidgeted with the handlebars a moment, trying to think of an excuse to stick around, then gave up and turned towards the school.
"Hey, uh, you still up for that race? One on one?" Vance called after him.
Gord smirked at him over his shoulder. "Oh yes, you're on."
"Just let me know when. I'll be around."
By the time Gord got back to Harrington House, it was almost eleven o'clock. He made it inside just before curfew and was on his way up to his room when Derby cornered him.
"Where were you?" Derby sulked. "You missed an excellent match at the boxing club. I made quite a bit of money off of Bif tonight," he added with a smug smile.
"I was getting my bicycle repaired at the Vale shop," Gord replied, a bit jealous of Derby's winnings. As soon as he got his allowance, he decided, he'd get Jimmy Hopkins to go fight and bet on him. Hopkins was a sure win.
"It took that peon that long to fix it? You've been gone all evening!"
"There was quite a lot of damage," Gord sniffed. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get to bed. I've had a long day."
"Of course, carry on." Derby dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Relieved to have escaped without further questioning, Gord hurried up to his room and locked the door behind him. After he got into bed, he lay awake, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Vance.
I should avoid him from now on, Gord told himself. In fact, I shouldn't even have taken him to dinner in the first place. I can't get involved with a greaser! And who's to say he even wants to get involved with me? Just because he looked at me like that. . . like he wanted to spend time with me. . . . It's probably all just a trick. He'll probably go tell Johnny Vincent all about how he got one over on me, just like Lola did.
Yet despite all of the warnings he gave himself, Gord couldn't believe that Vance was anything like Lola. By the time Gord fell asleep, he was already thinking up excuses to give the other preps on Saturday, so he could go race Vance alone.