on the long way down || ezra

So take it in don't hold your breath
The bottom's all I've found
We can't get higher than we get
On the Long Way Down

July 2004

Wednesday wasn't the best night for tips working for the Zip-Zap apparition services, but it was one of the safest. Madelyn knew better than to work on the weekends or too late into the night. The fares were shit, everyone was pissed drunk, and it was dangerous. The idea of zipping some bloke halfway across England to the front step of his tenement sounded like an excellent way to get murdered. So Madelyn worked Wednesdays and never past nine-thirty. On this night, at precisely two minutes after nine, Susy from the zip-zap offices sent Madelyn's last job through the magical messaging system. It was at a hole-in-the-wall sort of pub that doubled as a comedy club, and Madelyn had been in attendance for more than one of the amateur nights, so she knew where to go.

Popping into the bookstore that was safe for magic down the street, Madelyn resisted the overwhelming urge to browse for a minute before heading to the comedy club. More than a few titles caught her eye as she passed and she brushed her fingers along the spines. Make sickles spend sickles, she reminded herself and exited the shop. Madelyn walked quickly and found herself out front of the club as the sun started to set. Once inside, she found the bar, looked for a wizard that looked like an Ezra, and took deep breaths of the smoke filling the air.

Tapping the first lad who looked drunk enough to need a sober-apparator, Madelyn began the search. "Owamya, you Ezra?" He shook his head, and she scrunched her nose. "Anyone here knows an Ezra Cohen?" She asked a group, and the name sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place why.

@Ezra Cohen

Ezra was absolutely, 100% trashed. He had smoked a little before he drove to the club and then topped up a bit more before his set just to make sure he would be funny enough. He was a little pathetic in this regard, nervous and shy when it really came down to it. Without his crutch, he worried about other people’s reactions to him. Would they think he was cool and funny, or just a stupid loser? At least when he was a little high things just popped out of his mouth and he didn’t care what people thought of him. He felt cool, so he was cool. It was that simple. Of course, he had been a riot. He was proud that he had gotten the most applause of any amateurs that night, and he was eager to keep doing this whenever his friends weren’t around to watch and judge him.


Afterwards, he went up to the bar where about ten different people invited him to shots of tequila, and who exactly could say no to having a drink with the fans? By the time it was nine, he realized there was no way he could drive Honey home safely, despite being a very unsafe driver in the first place. He would need to call a service, and he was a little embarrassed by it. He hadn’t been thrown out of the bar this time, but he was waiting outside with someone’s stolen tobacco cigarette in hand taking a few puffs to calm himself down and try to sober up a bit.


He heard his name from inside of the pub, and turned around. A few people raised brows at him, and he blushed as he put out the cigarette and went back in to find his ride. He came up behind her and cleared his throat. “Ahhhh, Hi.” He offered, smiling a bit. He was a little unsteady on his feet. “You’re from zip-zap?” He asked carefully. “I’m Ezra…” She didn’t look all the familiar to him, but that didn’t mean much.


“Soooo….. I know this is an apparition service and that’s totally cool, but you can’t like... drive cars, can you? I drove here in my Mustang and I don’t want it towed overnight.”

Madelyn tried to ignore the number of people surrounding the bar and the fact that none of them seemed to be who she was looking for, but it made her anxious. Eventually, a man spoke from behind her, and she spun around to see him. “I am,” she said as she realized she’d forgotten to button the flashing Zip-Zap pin to the front of her windbreaker. Pulling the pin from her pocket, it flashed teal and purple, and she clipped it near the zipper. “You look right kaylied,” she said with a smile, noticing how the drunken man seemed to sway as he spoke to her.

And then he asked something she would never have expected, and Madelyn’s eyebrow ran up her forehead in confusion. “Your what?” He’d said drive cars, but he mentioned a horse, and it took a moment before it clicked. Mustang was a brand – an American brand –  her eyes ran up and down him unashamed. How did this bloke afford an import? she thought and then shrugged. “Ar, sure,” Madelyn was a muggle-born, and she’d grown up in Birmingham, which had been affectionately referred to as the Detroit of England, so of course, she knew how to drive a car.

The only hitch was that it had been a while – it wasn’t like she had enough money to afford one – and if it was a stick, they were both screwed.

Ezra laughed as she mentioned how messed up he was. “Yeahhhhh….” He admitted. “I... well, you know, I’m sure most of your clients are pretty bad.” He admitted with an awkward laugh. “I was performing here tonight, actually.” He managed.  â€œI came over and let a few fans buy me shots and suddenly it was like tequila was coming out my ears.” He told her, pulling off his jacket. “I.. fuck, it’s hot in here? Or is it just me?” It was summer, and a little warm, but Ezra was warmed from the inside more than anything else. 
 
“And... that’s great! I’ll make sure to tip you extra if you can get Honey and I home in one piece each.” He smiled. “I hate leaving her, even if I could easily pick her up in the morning. I’m just worried they’ll tow her if I’m not careful.” He had Honey towed from there before, actually, and it had been really hard getting her back. “She’s got a personality, you know.” He laughed. “…but she’s a good car. No problems with her, even. I get her oil changed and stuff, but haven’t ever really needed a good mechanic for anything major.” Even the a/c blew ice cold. 
 
He led the way around the back, where the performers parked when they had vehicles. “Here she is. The love of my life.” He teased, showing off his 1993 Canary-yellow Mustang. He had bought her used, in 2003, from some muggle who had gotten her imported new in 1993. He had paid decently for her, but she wasn’t exorbitantly expensive, really. Maybe a few thousand? He unlocked the driver’s door, crawled into the driver’s seat and unlocked the door on the passenger’s side before crawling out. She did not have power locks. 
 
“Sorry. She doesn’t do the ‘unlock doors’ thing, and I don’t think I could manage a charm without making sparks fly out of my wand.” He confessed with a laugh. He slid into the passenger’s seat and let her slide into the driver’s seat. She was absolutely a stick, though, and it took him a moment to think about it and realize this could be an issue. 
 
“You drive stick, right?” He asked after a moment. He realized he never gave her his keys, and had put them back in his pocket. He fished around for them, pulling out a little bit of weed, a glass pipe, and a pack of nondescript bar-shaped pills in a baggie by accident. “Ah, oops.” He shifted, grabbed the keys, and stuffed the drugs back into his pocket. “Don’t tell.” He teased. He was already well beyond buzzed, but the drugs still seemed to call to him. He ignored it. 
 
“If not, you know, I can explain it.” He promised. “I once taught my friend how to drive.” He admitted, thinking of Gene. “He really got the hang of it, after a while.” He laughed. “And then he got such a cute look on his face that I thought about kissing him and then I was like wait—no, that’s my bud.” He was rambling on and on now, casually outing himself (which he never, ever did). “You know, he and I have been friends for ages, and I know he’s into dudes, but I think we’d make a weird couple—you know? I am waaay too much of a fuckboy.” He knew it, and would only mention it when he was trashed, like this. “He deserves someone nice. Like my ex-girlfriend does. I keep telling her mean shit, but really I was the asshole…” She deserved way more than she was getting paid to put up with this mouthy, whiny baby.