Satellite-Sequel to God Save My King (Steve Jones FanFic)

Steve-Escape Route

Thankfully, on the walk home, I stumbled upon a gas station. It was a fairly high end place being right next to the extravagant countryside and all, so I got some dirty looks when I shoved passed a few pedestrians looking shabby and acting rude. Why were they glaring? I was doing them all a favor by trying to make it to the privy before I razzed all over the floor.

After emptying the entire contents of my stomach into the toilet, I headed back out to the phone booth to make some calls. First, I called a taxi service, as there was no way in Hell I was about to walk the remaining 16 kilometers back to my place, especially not in the state that I was in. Next, I called Billy, who answered sounding awfully groggy. I nearly forgot that it was still only about nine in the morning, and Billy-unlike myself-was still very much the big, popular rockstar. He was always either staying up for days on end while high on speed, or sleeping in until odd hours of the day. Apparently, I'd caught him at a time when he wasn't ready to be waking up this early.

"Hello?" His voice was raspy and faded, and I could only assume that he hadn't even sat up in bed yet.

"Oi, ya' prick," I tried to sound carefree and calm, but my words were trembling with the rest of my body. I hopped from one foot to the next, trying to contain my bodily fluids.

"Steve? Is it...is it nine o'clock in the bloody morning, mate?" He sounded more shocked than genuinely upset.

I nodded my head, even if he couldn't see me. "That's right, old boy. I'm up at the arse crack of dawn, how 'bout that?"

"Why the fuck would you wake me up at this hour?"

It was funny, in a way. Most people might have said the same thing if I had been calling them at three in the morning rather than nine. Most people would have been up by now and would have welcomed a phone call at this time. Hell, maybe they'd have called me rather than the other way around. But not Billy. Billy was completely backwards, thinking night was day and vice versa. I had been that way too once, before I'd had a probation officer to answer to.

"I thought I'd invite you over to, uh...to spike the horse," I was painfully aware of just how desperate I sounded, but I didn't care. I was desperate. I just wanted everything to go away. I didn't want to remember how good it felt to finally have Kimmy cuddled up beside me, or how exhilarating it had been to finally kiss her. I just wanted to get away from it all, and smack was my quickest escape route.

Billy sighed heavily, and I envisioned him shaking his head at me. "I don't know, mate."

What did he mean 'I don't know, mate'? When you're a junkie, you always know! You always want it. So why was he suddenly acting so unsure of his desires? He should be jumping at any chance to shoot up.

"You don't know?" It came out more enraged than I had intended. More vicious.

"Look, we're friends, Jonesy. You know that. 'Have been for years. But I'm not looking to go out like Sid. I'm not looking to be like any of you."

What the Hell was that supposed to mean?

"So, what?" I demanded, ignoring the taxi as it pulled up beside the phone booth and honked. "You think you're better than us? 'That it? Billy Idol, too posh to be seen with us peasants? Only shooting up with the Queen Herself now, are we?"

Billy snorted. "Oh, sod off. You know what I mean, Jones. I'm trying to wean myself off of the stuff."

"Right, that's why you shot up with me a few weeks back. Because you're just so much stronger than the rest of us useless junkies. You're an inspiration, William, truly you are."

He hated the use of his real name, and I hoped that using it would spur him into having a row with me. Oddly enough, it only seemed to make him sound more sympathetic towards me. As if I had just proved whatever point it was that he was trying to make.