by Ricky Black
Despite the fear gnawing at Lamont, he felt uplifted to hear Shorty state they were ready. Ever since he’d spoken to Louie, Lamont had flip-flopped so many times between wanting to sell drugs and wanting to get out and get a real job before it was too late. When he sat down and gave the subject some thought though, he realised there was nothing else he wanted to do.
Lamont stood near Spencer Place in the Hood, doing his best to remain inconspicuous. He rubbed his hands on his trousers, glancing around, his heart racing. Every time he saw someone he recognised, he would keep his head down, praying they wouldn’t guess what he was doing. Every person who looked at him from a passing car was an undercover officer, determined to lock him up.
Lamont kept his hands in his pockets, the wraps stored there burning a hole in his palm. He had refused to store the drugs in his mouth the way the others did. He couldn’t believe people did this every day. Selling weed had been easy by comparison. Lamont dealt with people he knew, and everything was lovely. Crack was a whole different game. It presented much more risk. Lamont’s stomach twisted nervously the longer he stood there.
After a while, a dusty-looking man shuffled towards him, dirty faced and limping. As he drew closer, Lamont scanned his face, trying to gauge if he the man was legit, or an undercover officer.
‘Have you got owt?’ the man mumbled. His heart pounding, Lamont remembered Shorty’s teachings, and signalled for the man to walk down a nearby alley. With a quick glance around, Lamont followed him.
‘What are you after?’ his voice shook slightly. Clearing his throat, Lamont tried getting it under control. ‘What do you want?’
The sale watched Lamont intently. Lamont met the look, the beating of his heart more frenzied. He was sweating, but willed himself not to look away first. Finally, the sale began coughing profusely, ‘Gimme three please.’ He scratched his neck.
‘Got you.’ Lamont scrambled in his pockets for the wraps. The sale took them with sweaty fingers, gave Lamont the money, then hurried away as fast as his limp would allow. Letting out a deep breath, Lamont stuck the money in his sock, glanced around again, then slowly walked back out to Spencer Place.
After the initial selling of his first wraps, it took almost a week for Lamont, Shorty and K-Bar to move both ounces. For a few days, they clipped fiends where they could, before deciding to try working shifts. Lamont worked the day, K-Bar the evening, and Shorty overnight. After they sold out, Shorty brought Louie his profit, and took another two ounces.
Some days were slower, but they slowly built up a rhythm. Shorty helped when he went to town one day and purchased some pay-as-you-go mobile phones. These phones were cumbersome, but would help the trio build up their drug line, and become more known.
A few weeks later, Lamont was at Shorty’s eating when the mobile phone rang. Hastily swallowing his food, Lamont answered.
‘Yeah?’
‘You got owt? I need eight.’ A scratchy voice asked. Lamont was pleased. The morning had been dry so far. If this sale was serious, Lamont would be closer to selling out for the day.
‘Meet me at Spencer’s. Two minutes.’ Lamont waited for the sale to confirm, then hung up. Wolfing down the rest of the sandwich, Lamont guzzled a glass of water and hit the roads.
The sale was waiting in the alleyway by Spencer Place. He looked shifty, but that was becoming more normal to Lamont. What struck him as strange was that he didn’t recognise the sale. Assuming he had got the number from another customer, Lamont approached him.
‘You got that?’ he asked, referring to the money. The sale didn’t move though. Lamont was about to repeat himself when he heard scuffling from behind. Lamont had no time to react before he was barrelled to the floor, a flurry of feet repeatedly kicking him.
There were three men, stinking and tattered. Surging to his feet, Lamont hit one man, sending him reeling. The other attackers dragged him back to the floor, desperation lending them strength as they rained hits on him. When Lamont stopped moving, one of them rummaged through Lamont’s jacket pocket, relieving him of his wraps.
‘Check his pockets! Get his money!’
Luckily, Lamont had left the rest of his money at Shorty’s. Hitting him twice more, the trio scampered away, leaving Lamont moaning on the ground in pain.
‘L! What the fuck happened?’ Shorty leapt to his feet when Lamont staggered inside. His jacket was torn, his mouth bleeding.
‘Got jumped by some fiends.’ Lamont collapsed into a chair and massaged his ribs.
‘Did they get anything?’
‘Eight shots.’ Lamont moaned.
‘Motherfuckers!’ Shorty growled. ‘What did they look like?’
Lamont gave the best description he could, but everything had been a blur, and he’d struggled to see his attackers. Shouting for K-Bar, who was resting upstairs, Shorty hit the roads to look for the thieves, K-Bar following. Once the door had slammed, Lamont closed his eyes, shaking slightly.
Shorty and K-Bar searched all over for the thieves, but they had gone to ground. Eventually, they had to take the loss, and let it go.
Lamont spent the next few days in deep thought. Being attacked by people he believed to be the lowest of the low was degrading. It made him wonder if he had the heart to be a drug dealer. Everyone in the game was out to win. Lamont played out in his mind all the different ways the situation could have gone. If the fiends had knives, he might be dead. The thought of Marika being alone scared Lamont as much as being shot or stabbed.
Lamont was nearly eighteen. He was smart enough to get a legitimate job if he put his mind to it. When it came down to it though, he refused to fail. He had goals, and a group of decaying smack-heads would not determine his destiny.
Lamont’s robbery was glossed over fairly quickly, and he decided he would not be a victim. He stepped up his training, sparring with Marcus and Shorty, ensuring he was in peak physical condition and ready for any conflict.
The goal for the team was to make as much money as possible, and Lamont made sure they did that. He, K-Bar and Shorty would pitch around the Hood, serving as many fiends as possible and making sure Louie got his return.
In no time, they were his best customers, and though Shorty and K-Bar would drop off the money and collect the drugs, Lamont made sure they treated Louie right, forever grateful to the man for giving him his start.
They hit the streets with a vengeance, working hard, letting the crack heads know who they were and where to find them. When they disagreed with other teams, Shorty and K-Bar would handle it, and their reputations were enough to keep people at bay.
The money was improving, but not quickly enough for Lamont’s liking. One day, he sat down with Shorty. They were at his spot, Lamont pacing the boxy living room while Shorty relaxed with a beer.
‘Why are you so worried, L? We’re smashing it.’
Lamont paused, scratching his chin, weighing up his words and debating what to say.
‘I want more.’
‘We all want more, but we need to keep moving carefully. Isn’t that what you’re always saying?’
‘I am, and we are, but we also need to step our game up, or we’ll be like everyone else, hustling every day to stay ahead. We need people working for us.’
Shorty nodded. ‘I feel you on that. I’ve got a couple dudes that would work for us if the money was right. We need to keep making links though, plus we need to move on from Louie, bro. The man is dead weight. His own people rip him off, for fuck’s sake.’
‘That’s them. We do our own thing, and for now, Louie’s supply will do. When we’ve grown, we’ll look to other suppliers. I want you to reach out to any who you think can work with us. Speak to K-Bar, make sure we’re all in agreement.’
‘K-Bar will be down with whatever makes us more money, L. I’ll speak to him, but he’s cool.’
Lamont agreed. K-Bar didn’t like to weigh in on many of the big decisions. He was an asset though, and like Shorty, had a vibe that warned against messing with
him.
‘We need to trim the fat too.’
‘What the hell does that mean?’ Shorty frowned.
‘It means there are a lot of dealers in similar positions to us. We need to be above them, and we need them working for us, so that we grow. We’re seen as the bottom of the barrel, and I don’t like that.’
Shorty yawned. ‘I get what you’re saying, but like you said, we’re at the bottom, so there’s no reason for any of them to come and work with us.’
Lamont grinned, but there was no joy in it. It was bloodless, full of menace, and made Shorty feel uneasy.
‘This is where we get creative. We need to meet Marcus, and I’ll fill you both in on the plan.’
Days later, Lamont was on the streets, wanting to get inside so he could eat and chill. He had a few wraps left to sell, but he wasn’t seeing as many fiends around, and no one was calling the phone boxes he hung around, nor were they calling the mobile phone he carried.
Lamont was exhausted after a long night and day, but he also had a rule about finishing his shift with product on his person, so he would stay outside until he’d sold out. The longer he stayed, the more risk of running into police or stick-up dudes who preyed on dealers.
Dipping down a side-street with his hands jammed into his pockets, Lamont noticed a prostitute he’d sold drugs to in the past. She was tottering along, trying to light a cigarette.
‘Daisy, how are you doing?’ He asked, startling the woman. She was shorter than he was, with bedraggled blonde hair, pale blue eyes and truckloads of makeup. Once upon a time she’d been a looker, but life and drugs had worn her down. She was good-natured though, and Lamont didn’t avoid her.
‘I’m knackered, L,’ she said, finally lighting her cigarette. She offered Lamont one from the battered pack, but he declined.
‘I know how you feel. I’m looking to get inside and get some food.’ He reached into his pockets for the wraps, showing them to her. ‘I’ll sell you these three for forty quid.’
Daisy sighed, shaking her head.
‘I’ve barely made anything, L. My man will kill me if I go home with no money.’
L would have walked away, but he could tell by the gleam in Daisy’s eyes that she was interested.
‘Daisy, baby. We both know it’s only a matter of time until you get scooped up and paid. When the punters come cruising, you’ll be the first port of call. I’d have a go myself, if I thought I could keep up,’ he said, smiling widely at Daisy, watching her grin.
‘I’m sure you’d do fine, L. You can have a go for half-price,’ she offered, leering at Lamont. He resisted the urge to shudder, forcing the grin to remain on his face.
‘Maybe next time. Gimme thirty five and they’re yours. You know no one else will do you a better deal, and you can go home and get merry.’
Daisy considered it for all of two seconds before she fumbled in her pockets and gave Lamont his money. He gave her the wraps, then watched her totter back down the alley. Deep down, Lamont knew she’d likely not make anymore money, which would infuriate her pimp, but he couldn’t find it within him to care. Turning on his heel, he hurried away, keeping his eyes open for any activity.
Chapter Twelve
Monday 15 June 1998
Lamont left the park, beaming. He’d gone to hang with some old football friends. Since he stopped training with Nigel, he had seen little of them. They’d had an impromptu football game. Lamont had held his own, scoring multiple times against his skilled friends. It was a boost to his confidence and even as he walked home covered in sweat, he just couldn’t stop smiling. For nearly a year he had allowed the darkness to overwhelm his thoughts. Now, he was thinking clearly. He hoped.
As Lamont approached Auntie’s place, thinking about where to watch the Germany vs USA World Cup match that night, he noticed Marcus waiting, leaning against a car smoking a joint. He eyed Lamont carefully, touching his fist.
‘Where are you coming from all sweaty like that? I hope it’s a woman.’
‘I was kicking ball with some friends. What you doing round here?’
‘Come to see you obviously.’
‘How’s independent life?’ Lamont asked. He hadn’t seen much of Marcus since he moved out. The times they had spoken were mainly in passing, so he was surprised that he was waiting for him.
‘You know me, I’ve always been independent. Forget that for now though,’ Marcus motioned to the ride. ‘Let’s go for a drive.’
‘Have I got time to get a shower first?’
Marcus raised an eyebrow. ‘We’re not going on a date, blood. You don’t need to freshen up.’
‘I’ve been playing football for hours, bro. Gimme twenty minutes to get a shower and then we can go wherever.’
Lamont hurried inside, quickly showering and dressing in a sweater and jeans. He shrugged his feet into some black Nike trainers and headed out the door, grabbing his wallet and keys. Marcus was already sitting in the car. When Lamont climbed in, he drove away.
‘How’s things?’ Marcus asked after they’d been driving for a while.
‘Can’t complain. Just trying to make things happen.’
‘Drugs?’
Lamont turned to Marcus, wondering who he had been talking to. He immediately ruled out Louie, as he couldn’t imagine Marcus making time with the small-fry.
‘Shorty?’
Marcus nodded. ‘He told me you secured a connect so you can start slanging Class A.’
‘What else did Shorty tell you?’
‘He said you spoke to Louie, and that you were sharing stories. Said you caught feelings.’
‘Did he also say that I told him I never wanted to discuss it?’ Lamont’s voice was cold. If Marcus noticed, he didn’t comment.
‘Maybe you didn’t wanna discuss it with him, but I know who you were talking about. Guess it explains a few things too.’
Lamont tried to control his breathing, but he could feel himself growing angry. He had tried for so long to put his feelings behind him where Rochelle was concerned. What she had done to him had shattered his core, and the hardest thing at the time had been to go on as if nothing was wrong.
The pressure had nearly broken Lamont, and he never wanted to go through anything like it again. Marcus wouldn’t listen though, Lamont knew that. He had sought him out for a reason, and nothing would prevent them from having the conversation, as painful as it would be for Lamont.
‘Are you hungry?’ Marcus asked after a while. Lamont shook his head, but was betrayed by his rumbling stomach. Marcus laughed but didn’t say anything.
They stopped at a West Indian spot near Roundhay Road. Marcus practically ordered the whole menu, whereas Lamont settled for oxtail with rice and stewed peas. They sat inside the crowded restaurant to eat. Marcus nodded and greeted a few people, some of whom Lamont was familiar with. They ate in silence for a while and then Marcus began talking again.
‘She was fucked up, you know.’
Lamont wanted to pretend he didn’t know who Marcus was talking about, but it wasn’t worth it.
‘I tried asking about it. Mia did too. She wouldn’t speak though. It was obvious she was hurting. Just like you.’
‘How do you know something happened if she didn’t speak on it?’
Marcus paused. ‘I saw Ricky.’
Lamont’s fingers tightened around the fork he was holding. Everything about Ricky Reagan made him want to kill the man, and that was a dangerous mindset to have. If Lamont wanted to survive the drugs game, he needed to keep his emotions in check.
‘What did he say?’
‘He wanted to know about you. Said you came by the place, and that he’d heard about you sexing Rochelle. He wanted it to stop.’
‘Did you know about him?’ Lamont looked his friend in the eye. Some of his anger must have slipped out, because Marcus looked startled for a minute.
‘Yeah.’
Lamont grit his teeth, his breathing intensifying for a moment.
�
�Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because . . .’ Marcus blew out a breath.
‘Because what?’
‘Because I didn’t know, okay?’
‘Didn’t know what? Stop skating around it and just answer me.’ Lamont’s voice rose, and people glanced over at them. He took a deep breath, calming down.
‘I didn’t know how you felt for her.’
‘What are you talking about? Course you kn—’
‘I just thought you wanted to have sex with her. I didn’t know you were caught up. Whatever happened though, it fucked her up. She hasn’t been the same since.’
Lamont didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure how he even felt about that. He didn’t want Rochelle to be hurt but, he couldn’t deny feeling a certain relish that her decision had affected her that day. They ate again without speaking, but Lamont enjoyed the comfort. He knew that Marcus had his best interests at heart, as annoying as it was that he’d held information from him.
‘So, you’re stepping your game up then?’
Lamont looked up, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he finished his food.
‘Do you think I should?’
Marcus shrugged. ‘You’ll have thought it all through. The streets are rough, but I know what you’re like, and I definitely know what Shorty is like. You’ll be stacking in no time, no doubt.’
Lamont scratched his chin, secretly pleased at Marcus’s words.
‘Did he say anything about the other thing?’
Marcus frowned. ‘What other thing?’
‘I need your help with something. I’ll pay well.’
Marcus stopped his car down the road from an unkempt terraced house. Pulling on a pair of leather gloves, he tugged his hood tighter over his head, and climbed from the car, keeping his head down.