Chapter Text
Pete hadn’t had the Quizboys gig all that long, comparatively speaking, but it was cushy as hell. The last host had the job for like thirty years, so as long as nothing happened, Pete would have more than enough money for the rest of his life with plenty of pocket change left over to keep him well stocked with a little something to powder his nose with.
It wasn’t just working hard and partying harder though. The filming schedule was pretty intense, so some uppers to get him going and downers to get him to sleep were just what the doctor had… point blank refused to order, so he’d made other arrangements to put himself on a modified version of the Judy Garland regimen that involved a lot of cocaine and sleeping with Prince Valium. But he needed it to film five episodes a day, six days a week each season.
They filmed for 60 days out of the year, so even just having done the show for a couple of years, he’d seen a hell of a lot of contestants come and go. Even if one of them went on a winning streak, they’d usually be gone within a day or two.
Billy had been there for about a month. Cute kid, except that he’d politely but firmly told Pete he was turning 18 that year and just looked young for his age the last time he’d called him that to his face. But Pete liked him. He was smart, obviously, but not a pain in the ass precocious little darling about it. And while he was unerringly polite, he’d banter a bit back and forth with him on camera. Someone you could have a good time talking to made getting through a long day of filming a hell of a lot easier, so long may Master Billy Whalen reign as far as Pete was concerned. The kid was funny!
He was also… not exactly embraced by his fellow contestants. Any time Pete had looked in on the greenroom, Billy would be sitting on his own while the other boys would chitchat with each other and brag about their various scholastic and gaming achievements. After a while, Billy had just started bringing books to read with him and stuff. It kinda broke Pete’s heart seeing the little guy being left out in the cold like that.
It could maybe have been explained by the fact that Billy was on such a hot streak and they were all boiling alive with envy over it, but it had been that way from the start. He was also a little older than most of the other boys, but… well, if someone had tried to sell a younger Pete White some obvious crock of shit like that about why the other kids didn’t want to play with him when he was achingly lonely and unmistakably different from his peers, he would have told them to eat it.
No, it was abundantly clear to him that those little fuckers didn’t want to talk to Billy because he was different. A freak, like Pete. And, boy, did it grind their gears that a little freak like Billy Whalen was eating them alive. Which would be easier to feel smug about on Billy’s behalf if the poor kid didn’t still seem so goddamn lonely when he’d see him on the opposite side of the greenroom to some random snot-nosed brats who’d instantly become bonded by their common desire to peck a white crow to death.
When Pete stuck his head through the door, it was the same old picture he’d gotten used to seeing. This time, rather than reading, Billy was sitting on his own while he listened to a Walkman he had with him, but the key details were all the same. Just some new faces playing the familiar roles of mean little shitheads ignoring his pal. Pete waved the brats off as they jumped to their feet, looking to their mothers to see if their call time was earlier than they’d realized, to go over to Billy. Billy didn’t have his mom with him neither, nor a father or anyone else to keep an eye on him… which, sure, he was going to be old enough to leave home and enroll in college in the fall, but it still felt jarring to Pete to see him left there to fend for himself. Billy hadn’t noticed him come in, and leapt up about a mile when Pete tapped his shoulder.
“Mr. White!” he said, snatching his headphones off and jabbing at the pause button of his Walkman clumsily. “A-are we… is everything okay? I mean… um… hello, Mr. White. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Whalen, how are you?” Pete said, smiling as he sat down next to him. “Don’t worry, we haven’t changed the call sheet or nothing, just wanted to see how you were getting along. Had much of a chance to size up the competition?”
Billy followed his thumb with his eyes as he pointed over his shoulder at the other two quiz boys, whose names Pete had not bothered to learn yet. They’d be written on their podiums and he had cue cards, it didn’t matter.
“Oh, I, uh… well, you never know,” Billy said, swallowing. “All I can do is my best.”
“Well, from what I’ve seen, your best is pretty rock solid, kid,” Pete said, smiling. “They should be shaking in their boots.”
One of the moms frowned at him, but fuck ’er. She should have raised less of a shithead if she was going to get all precious about people not caring to fall over themselves to protect his ego.
“I’m not a kid, you know, not really,” Billy said, shifting his weight a little from side to side as he ducked his eyes, blushing. “Should I show you my ID again, Mr. White?”
Pete laughed and put both hands up. “Fair enough! I’m not old enough for you to have to call me ‘Mr. White’ while we’re at it. I’m just a kid myself. I’d show you my license to prove it, but they took a crummy picture of me at the DMV.”
It wasn’t a terrible photo, actually, at least by the standards of the DMV. He’d just got his braces off and a prescription for Accutane when it was taken, but he looked a… little pale in it, compared to how he looked at work. And he wouldn’t have minded Billy knowing, obviously, but it’s not like there’d been a good time to bond with him over how he was different too.
“Did you get red eye from the flash or something?” Billy said. For a second, Pete wondered if he’d figured it out on his own, but then Billy shook his head, laughing nervously. “I mean, I can’t imagine you don’t photograph well. You’re… the camera loves you on TV. Very… photogenic.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, Billy,” Pete said, smiling wide with relief. “When I was in college, folks said I had a face for radio. That’s where I got my start, you know. I had a radio show.”
“You were a DJ?” Billy asked, and boy was it hard not to feel like a lot more of a star than he was when the kid looked at him like everything about him was astonishingly cool.
“Just a college radio DJ,” Pete said, shrugging with faux-modesty. “Always was a music guy. Say, what were you listening to when I came in?”
Billy’s eyes snapped down to the Walkman in his lap as Pete pointed to it and then he looked back at him with near panic on his face. “Um, I… Golden Years? By which I mean, the controversial 1983 compilation album distributed by RCA Records after Bowie left the label, which was intended to ride the coattails of the popularity of his then-new album with EMI, Let’s Dance. Not the… well, actually, I was also listening to the song ‘Golden Years’ now that I think of it.”
Pete smiled widely. “Save some for the camera, Billy, I can’t give you any points until we start taping. Formally anyway. You like David Bowie?”
“I… um, I do, yes,” Billy said, blushing.
“What else are you into? Glam rock? New Romantics? Goth? Punk? Post punk? Synth-pop? New Wave? You listen to any Duran Duran?”
“I, I haven’t listened to a lot of…” Billy looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “I mean, I know a lot of music trivia, for like… quizzing, but most of what I’ve actually listened to with any great familiarity is stuff my mom likes. Show tunes, that kind of thing. But… I, uh, I found this cassette in a thrift store, and I… it’s good.”
“Easy, pally, it wasn’t a quiz,” Pete said, giving his shoulder a little shake. “Just tryin’ to get to know ya better. But, hey, how about this. We’re wrapping for the day after this next one, and then we’ve got tomorrow off filming. You win this next episode, and I’ll make you a mixtape of some stuff I think you might like. Deal?”
“Won’t the other quiz boys be jealous?” Billy said, eyes darting over to the other side of the room.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Pete said, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I’d like to see you wipe the freakin’ floor with the other quiz boys. You’re my favorite.”
Billy laughed, ducking his head again. “Well. Okay, then. Deal.”
“Deal.” Pete stuck his hand out to shake on it, grinning when Billy took it gingerly. “Stick with me, kid. I think we’re gonna be working together for a long time to come.”
“Why, are you gonna make me a star?” Billy said, laughing. “No offense, Mr. White, but you’re kinda weird sometimes.”
“Enormous offense taken, Billy. I’m kinda weird all the time,” Pete said, and Billy laughed again.
Billy wouldn’t need any help from him, but for a moment Pete thought that he’d burn this studio to the ground before he let any of those other little fuckers beat him. He wanted nothing but good things for Billy Whalen’s future, and nothing but sturdy kicks in the teeth for anyone who got in the way of that.