The Dirty South Page 17

  The jacking of shottas in Bricky increased and I kept on hearing that Muslim crews like Courtney Thompson’s were trying to muscle in on the skunk and coke trade all over the Dirty South. They can call themselves whatever religion they like but at the end of the day a thug who specialises in jackings might be wearing a rasta tam or a skullcap with a fucked-up beard. Money’s the main religion in Bricky, simple as.

  Sitting in my ride I watched Gloria’s Audi sports enter the basement car park of Asda’s at 8.10 p.m. She wasn’t usually late. It was kinda windy in the car park and the shape of the place made car engines sound louder than they were. The ceiling was low and I felt a little claustrophobic. I walked over to Gloria’s ride and, spotting me, she opened the passenger side door. As I filled the seat she lit a cigarette and turned down the volume of her car stereo… Judy Garland was belting out some song and for a moment I thought of Granny.

  Gloria was wearing a navy blue trouser suit and a white blouse. Her blonde hair was wrapped up in a bun and apart from her ride, the only clue to her wealth was the expensive-looking watch that she wore around her left wrist. Her lipstick was murder-red and the fragrance she wore I couldn’t recognise but I knew it was pricey… I wasn’t in awe of her no more. Why should I be? I had Akeisha.

  ‘So how’s it going, Dennis?’ she asked without looking at me.

  ‘All good,’ I replied. ‘All good.’

  ‘That means you’re still with Akeisha.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s some girl.’

  ‘You’ll have to introduce me to her sometime, Dennis. Whenever we meet she’s all you talk about.’

  ‘Am I that bad?’

  ‘Yes,’ Gloria answered instantly, now looking at me.

  ‘What about you and Dryneck?’

  She gave me a hard stare but it soon softened. ‘We’re cool. As a matter of fact we’re getting out of this business and heading for the States. It’s getting too hot in south London.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really, Dennis. Dryneck is getting too well known. And I think those Muslim boys have their greedy eyes on him.’

  ‘They’re all front,’ I said. ‘They ain’t real Muslims, they’re wannabes. They think brothers will be more frightened if they can drop shit like I knew bin Laden’s cousin so if you don’t pay we’re gonna bomb your ends motherfucker and superglue a hand grenade on your mum’s back.’

  ‘Then if they’re not Muslims who’s doing most of the jackings, Dennis? Who’s targeting all the dealers and demanding protection money? It certainly ain’t a gang of Christian boys who wear crosses and look like fucking Charlton Heston.’

  I thought about that for a minute. I knew the answer to Gloria’s question but couldn’t bring myself to admit it. It was brothers like Courtney Thompson who had mothers who attended Christian churches. Their parents were West Indian and they probably still got brushings from their parents if they left their dirty plates in the sink. Somewhere along the line, they swapped their Bibles for Korans.

  ‘You need to be more careful than ever, Dennis,’ Gloria added. ‘You and Noel.’

  ‘We’ll be safe, Gloria. We’re careful of who we shot to. So what you gonna do in the States?’

  ‘I can do more than selling skunk to white men in grey suits and black guys who don’t wear belts in their jeans,’ Gloria answered. ‘I’m a talented girl, Dennis. I can whistle through my fingers, ride a horse, light a fire with two sticks, shoot a bird, set type and be a babysitter to my nieces… That‘s probably the hardest thing I do, babysitting.’

  ‘Babysitting?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s put me off having my own. Screw that for a walk on the boards… Those little shits fuck up a woman’s figure and take up too much time… And I really like my quality time. Dryneck won’t want any babies affecting that and I feel the same way.’

  ‘So where are you going in America?’

  ‘Los Angeles. Don’t laugh, Dennis, but I wanna be an actress. A big actress. I’ve been going drama school for the last two years. I’ve already done a few adverts, you know, a walk on, background kinda thing. Done a bit of glamour too. Now I’ve got enough saved up to have my crack in the States. If Catherine Zeta-Jones can make it on her minuscule talent, then so can I. But this chick ain’t gonna fuck a has-been actor to get there…’

  ‘Well, you’ve got the hair, Gloria.’

  What a fucked-up comment. It just kinda came out. I felt like a prick but Gloria smiled… ‘If I don’t make it in Hollywood then I’ll be the world’s most glamorous bank clerk,’ she laughed.

  ‘So what’s Dryneck gonna do while you’re chasing your dream?’

  ‘He said he’ll come out with me but that’s as far as I know. He might move on, I dunno. I never quite understand men, especially Dryneck. I can only hope that he stays around. We’ll look good on the red carpet together…’

  ‘Don’t understand men?’

  ‘Yes, Dennis. Plain women know more about men than beautiful ones do. Dryneck has a saying, a career is wonderful but you can’t curl up to it on a cold night. He’s always saying that.’

  ‘I’m gonna say the same shit to Akeisha.’

  Gloria laughed out loud. This white guy walked passed us and he offered me a fucked-up stare. Burn him!

  ‘The thing is, Dennis,’ Gloria continued, ‘our generation don’t wanna spend time building careers in administration, banking, civil service and crap like that. I fucking hate it, Dennis. Boring! That stuff was alright for our parents but not us. We spend most of our free time reading all those Z-list celebrity mags and we think the people we read about have a better life than ourselves.’

  ‘Don’t they?’

  ‘Well, yes is my answer. That is why I have to do something else. Even if it means risking all. My older sister lives in a council flat in Roehampton with three kids. Her man left her when she was pregnant with her second one. As soon as she gets home from picking up the kids from school she cooks dinner and she likes to finish that at 5.30. So she can sit down and watch her soaps. Then she puts the kids to bed and reads her celeb mags, dreaming of appearing on Footballer’s Wives. When I have a conversation with her the subject matter ends up on Big Brother. As if I really give a fuck!’

  ‘Er, Gloria, you told me to say something and stop your flow if you start ranting about shit.’

  She laughed out loud again and then kissed me on the cheek. ‘You were raised well, Dennis. You must have been a good kid. You know how to prick a balloon gently! You know what, all I remember as a kid was my freckles coming out on my face every spring and they never cleared up till Christmas. It’s funny, my big sister was always regarded more prettier than me. I was always jealous of her but look at the silly cow now.’

  She bent down and beside her feet was a Crew Clothing shopping bag. She passed it on to me. I looked inside and the merchandise was packed in kitchen foil. It gave off the same fragrance that Gloria wore. Smart chick. I had a sneaky look at her nostrils and I could tell she had been snorting some shit. Gloria always chatted too much when she was on charlie.

  ‘Five hundred for that little lot,’ she said with a grin.

  I took out a wad of P’s from my inside jacket pocket. It was bound with an elastic band. She took it from me and immediately put it in the glove compartment. Maybe she now trusted me enough not to count it, or she was pressed for time. ‘I enjoy our little talks, Dennis. Hopefully we’ll meet again before we fly out. Perhaps dinner? I’ll pay.’

  ‘Yeah, I can do that.’

  ‘Bring that girl of yours along, you got me intrigued about her.’

  I climbed out of the car as Gloria looked into the rear mirror and applied a little lipstick… Man! They should make a TV drama about her. The Shotting Blonde.

  After calling Noel I drove up to his ends ’cos he wanted to sample the skunk. Cara and Priscilla were watching The Bill when I came in with my bag of skunk… They both offered me a I know what shit you have in the bag glance as I made my way to Noel’s bedroom. Noel’s th
ree younger brothers were playing quietly in the hallway, the oldest was now twelve and the other two were eight and six. They had a Game Boy between the three of them and it was creepy how they were so silent when Cara settled down to watch her soaps. ‘Hi, Cara, Priscilla,’ I greeted. ‘Hi kids.’

  ‘Hi, Dennis,’ the oldest boy, Chris said. The other two ignored me.

  ‘What’s gwarnin?’ Priscilla greeted without looking away from the TV.

  ‘Hello, Dennis,’ Cara said, refusing to divert her gaze.

  Noel had a tiny bedroom, just big enough for his single bed and a chest of drawers. I always took the piss out of it, saying he must be careful when he puts the key in the lock ’cos he might bust the window. His expensive garms were on coat hangers, hanging from the curtain rail. Rap magazines littered the floor and DMX was getting rid of some angst about living in Yonkers from a mini-stereo upon the chest of drawers. Noel himself just had a white vest on and I had to admit he looked a lot better than Bruce Willis. He was looking out of the window, burning a fat-head in that casual way of his. White brothers would pay a lot of P’s to learn how to look as cool. Asian guys would pay even more.

  ‘What’s gwarnin, Noel?’

  He turned around. ‘Yeah, things are good.’

  I placed my bag upon his bed. ‘Well, six little green Aussies,’ I announced… ‘Get your scissors, scales and your bags.’

  For the next hour we cut up the skunk, weighed it and put it in our little button bags. After more than a few years of doing this we were quick, efficient and neat.

  ‘Just gonna give a bag to Mum,’ Noel said.

  I followed him into the front room. Cara and Priscilla were still watching TV. Noel passed on the skunk to his mother and she looked at it and scowled. ‘Can’t you ever give me high grade, baby?’ she said. ‘I’ll smoke this but it knocks me out. Don’t expect me to iron your jeans tonight, baby. Anyway, I could do with a good night’s sleep. When you go to the kitchen, baby, make Mummy her drink. Thank you, baby.’

  ‘Of course, Mum.’

  Sitting beside Cara with her arms folded was Priscilla. She offered Noel an evil look. ‘Don’t I get a bag?’

  ‘Unless you have ten pound you don’t,’ Noel replied.

  ‘That’s bad-mind, Noel.’

  ‘No it ain’t, it’s business.’

  ‘But I’m your girl.’

  ‘So. Do I ask you for a free drink when I link you at the Ritzy bar?’

  Priscilla thought about. ‘Er, no.’

  ‘Case dismissed,’ said Noel before we returned to his room.

  He sat on his bed and called Nathan on his new mobile. ‘Nathan, what’s gwarnin?’

  Noel put his phone on loudspeaker. ‘Yeah, bruv. I’m good, still. Got my food?’

  ‘Yeah, bruv. You have our dollars?’ Noel asked.

  ‘Of course, bruv. When you gonna bring the food?’

  Noel looked at me. ‘I’m doing something with Akeisha tomorrow evening,’ I revealed. ‘Can’t put it off. Tell Nathan we’ll bring his food the day after.’

  ‘We’ll bring your food the day after tomorrow,’ Noel said.

  ‘That’s all good,’ Nathan said. ‘You’ll both be coming, right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ replied Noel. ‘You know the score. When we’re dealing with more than one green Aussie the both of us are on the pitch, you get me?’

  ‘Yeah, I get you.’

  ‘So where you wanna link?’ Noel asked.

  ‘I’ll be at my girl’s sister’s gates the night after tomorrow… I’m helping her move in some furniture. Flaxman Road ends. You know the sports centre.’

  ‘Yeah, I know it.’

  ‘We’ll link in the car park there. My girl’s sister’s flat is just around the corner.’

  ‘That’s good,’ agreed Noel. ‘See you about nine. If you’re late we’ll be missing.’

  ‘Don’t worry, bruv. I’ll be there.’

  Noel killed the call. Then he remembered something. ‘Oh, shit! My mother’s drink!’

  He ran out to make Cara’s gin and tonic as I wondered what it would be like to grow in a family like Noel’s. I came to the conclusion that I’d be similar to Noel, just more cynical.

  Flaxman Road was more or less the Camberwell end of Coldharbour Lane on the ghetto side… It was in Bricky and within range so we didn’t mind driving there for the link. I did kinda protest about supplying Nathan with food ’cos I didn’t really need his money. But Noel bitched again about how he needed some quick P’s for his ride and Cara’s hair.

  ‘Can’t she wear a wig for the time being?’ I suggested.

  ‘Fuck you, Dennis! Would your mum wear a fucking wig! No, bruv. She’s gonna buy some decent hair. Simple as.’

  Two days after I bought the food. It was one of those sticky July nights that flies and shit love. Noel had his car roof open and the air conditioning on at full blast… He was wearing a white vest and I had to admit, his new thick gold chain looked good against the black skin of his neck. He had a half-smoked fat-head in the corner of his mouth and he was bopping his head to some rap by DMX, his favourite rapper… Priscilla wasn’t with us. She was babysitting while Cara went to her bingo. I was wearing my Jamaican football shirt and my Chicago Bulls baseball cap. I had the passenger-side window wound all the way down and I was proper liking the breeze licking my face.

  We headed to Flaxman Road via Angel Town and Loughborough and it was still light enough to see the buff girls on street and the rude boys on road. When it’s a hot day Bricky is always vibing and the chicks look their best wearing their multicoloured weaves, crop tops, gold studs in their bellies, hipster jeans or short denim skirts. Man! Black ghetto chicks know how to walk sexy.

  We pulled up in the Flaxman sports centre car park just after 9 p.m. There were only about seven parking bays available and we filled the last one. The sports centre itself was the kinda place where poor brothers worked out and ugly chicks did aerobics… Shottas and white people who had a decent job wouldn’t be seen dead in the place. By now the sun was casting long shadows and from the council estates that surrounded us, you could hear hip hop and bashment music blowing over from every block.

  Noel switched off the engine as I climbed into the back seat. The passenger seat was now awaiting Nathan. I began building a big-head as Noel relit his. We watched a salad-dodging white girl walk past us while towelling her head. The sweet smell of skunk filled the ride and Noel wound down his window all the way. Someone was looking at us through the large window of the sports centre but we didn’t give a fuck…

  ‘He’s late,’ said Noel. ‘Why are brothers always late?’

  He switched the car battery on and pressed play on the car stereo. DMX’s ‘Look Thru My Eyes’ spat out from the speakers. The heavy bassline vibrated the ride and I thought that one day Noel would duppy his battery doing this and he won’t be able to start his car. The track was starting to fade when we saw Nathan appear in front of the windscreen. He was all smiling and shit, as if he was just about to wok a girl. A bit of sweat was wetting his temples but it was still humid… Noel opened the door for him and he sat down in the passenger seat. He seemed very lively. Too happy? Almost anxious, looking this way and that. I put it down to the fact that he hadn’t been shotting for a while. Maybe it was just excitement that he was getting back in the game.

  ‘What’s gwarnin?’ he greeted, looking more around him than he was at Noel.

  I sensed something wrong.

  ‘Where’s the P’s?’ asked Noel.

  Nathan produced his biggest smile yet. From his jacket pocket his left hand emerged with four hundred pounds. He gave Noel the money. Nathan had this strange expression going on. I couldn’t quite read it and before I could, seven shadows suddenly darkened the front windscreen and the side windows of the ride. I looked out of my window and there was a gun pointing at my head. This brother with a messed-up beard beckoned for me to get out of the car. Noel had to do the same. Nathan got all apologetic like. He was s
haking his head, ‘They made me do it, bruv! They made me do it, bruv.’

  Nathan splurted. Fucking pussy. He disappeared around a corner. I had a body rush of fear charging through me. Courtney Thompson was looking at me with hating eyes… ‘Let Nathan go,’ Courtney said. ‘He won’t say nothing.’ A gun held by another brother was pressed against the back of my head. A similar pistol was now trained on Noel’s forehead. Noel’s face was changing into all kinds of expressions. I wondered if he could tolerate this shit. No was my answer. He was gonna switch. I had to do something. Rage was polluting him fast, it was in the eyes. I had to calm him down before he got himself shot.

  ‘Just cool, Noel. Cool.’

  ‘Peel them,’ ordered Courtney Thompson. His burning eyes never left my face and I guessed this was more about me than it was about a jacking. He was wearing this white dress thing, a brown skullcap and the hair beneath his chin was now untamed. To me it still looked fucked up to see a brother I used to go school with dress in that way. I wondered if he was the last brother I would see from my schooldays… I glanced through the window of the sports centre. No one was there. Where’s the fucking receptionist? Someone must be witnessing this shit?

  They took our P’s, our skunk and our mobile phones. They even swiped Noel’s half-smoked big-head. They pulled off my Jamaican football shirt and my head got caught in the collar. In their aggression, they ripped the seam from the collar to the right sleeve. My granny bought me it for Christmas last year.

  ‘Couldn’t do it on your own, could you, Courtney?’ Noel raged. ‘You fucking pussy.’

  Courtney still glared at me as a gun butt struck the back of Noel’s head. He fell to the ground.

  ‘Just cool, Noel,’ I said. ‘Cool!’

  Nike-clad feet began to wade into Noel’s body. ‘You fucking pussies!’ he screamed. ‘PUSSIES!’

  I moved forward but was dragged back. ‘Noel, it’ll be alright, bruv. Trust.’ I felt a gun butt strike my neck and I almost fell over. I glimpsed Noel. It wasn’t gonna be alright. The Nikes were now aimed at his face… It was sickening to watch but I couldn’t turn away. I tried to move forward again and I received a gun butt in the temple. I momentarily lost my sight and I dropped to my knees. Someone then booted my backside and I stood up again… I tried to say something to Noel with my eyes but he was no longer looking at me.