by Ricky Black
In front of the dirty house, a group of guys were laughing and cracking jokes, one talking on a mobile phone almost the size of his head. Marcus didn’t hesitate. Assessing the biggest man first, he caught him flush with a blow, sending the man sailing through the air. Two of the others turned and ran, the last man frozen on the spot. Marcus grabbed him around the throat, lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing.
‘You need to get off this strip, you little punk. You’re not man enough to be out here. Look how quickly your people dusted and left you?’
Marcus flung the man to the floor and kicked him in the ribs. Looking around, he took his money and drugs, then walked away.
Marcus and Victor repeated the same tactic on half a dozen different independent dealers over the next few weeks, beating them senseless, robbing their product, and leaving them for dead. After a while, Shorty or K-Bar would pass through, feigning concern and promising safety if they started buying from Lamont directly.
The plan was a success, and every affected person began indirectly working for Lamont. Marcus received five thousand pounds and was impressed with Lamont’s cunning in manipulating a situation to get paid. With Lamont’s help, he devised a similar strategy, and waded into the protection market, quickly swelling his profits.
‘You’re a crafty guy, L,’ Shorty later remarked, as the pair sipped drinks in a club in town. ‘How did you know that would work?’
‘I took a shot,’ said Lamont shrugging and lifting the drink to his lips.
In August, Lamont and Layla left the cinema, both grinning as they navigated through the city centre. They had been to see The Negotiator, and both enjoyed the film immensely.
‘Do you want to go for food, or do you fancy something to drink?’ Lamont asked, looking around him as they walked. It was early evening, and still warm enough for Lamont to be in a white t-shirt, and Layla to be wearing a blouse and skirt. They were an attractive couple, and men and women alike were checking out the pair as they strolled.
‘Let’s go for food. I don’t need to be getting drunk around you,’ said Layla, grinning.
‘What do you mean by that?’ Lamont replied, laughing, but Layla refused to answer until they’d settled down for food at a Chinese restaurant near the market. After they placed their orders, she spoke.
‘You knew exactly what I meant; I don’t even know why you asked.’
She was right. As always. Ever since running into Layla on Chapeltown Road, Lamont had spent a lot of time with her. She was fun, and he found talking to her simple. Rochelle had damaged him though, and Lamont was fully aware of that fact. As much as he enjoyed spending time with Layla, he knew that he often backed away at crucial moments. If Layla realised, she’d never commented on it.
‘You think I need you to be drunk to take advantage of you?’
Layla shrugged, tucking into her food when it arrived.
‘Maybe you would. I don’t know; as long as I’ve been spending time with you, you’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman.’
‘I thought that would be seen as a good thing.’
‘It’s strange. I mean, you’re a good-looking guy. You’re smart and you dress nice; the dirty looks I was receiving from other women are proof of that. I guess I just don’t know what your game is.’
Lamont mulled that one over, deciding exactly how he would answer.
‘When we were in high school, I started juggling weed, as you know.’
Layla nodded, eating her food as he spoke. Lamont took a bite of his chow mein before he continued.
‘I met a girl. You saw me in school; I was a complete loser, spending all my time chasing after a girl who wasn’t worthy. I met one who seemed to understand me, who had similar interests, who seemed to want the best for me.’
‘I’m guessing it didn’t turn out that way.’ Layla met Lamont’s eyes.
‘We grew closer, I let her know how I felt, and we had sex,’ Lamont’s stomach churned, remembering seeing Reagan in the doorway, Rochelle’s face as she closed the door on him. He willed the images away, taking a deep breath. ‘She destroyed me.’
That was it. Lamont didn’t need to say anymore. Layla reached over and squeezed his hand, then went back to her food. They spoke after that about regular topics, speaking about the movie, their plans for the rest of the year. They left town and Lamont ordered a taxi. Outside Layla’s house, he asked the driver to wait as he climbed out. They stood in the street for an awkward moment.
‘I’m sorry if I ruined the mood. I don’t want you to think I don’t like you, because I do. The way I am though; the life I’m in. I don’t want to ruin you.’
Layla smiled, pulling Lamont in for a hug and feeling him stiffen. She kissed him on the cheek and let him go.
‘Thank you for being honest, L. I can tell it wasn’t easy. When you want to spend more time together, call me.’
With that, she grinned and headed inside, Lamont watching her every step of the way.
Lamont, Shorty and K-Bar continued to plod along. They were becoming more known to the fiends and were making good money.
As months passed, Louie was finding it difficult to keep up with them. He was making more money than before but still he wasn’t happy. When Shorty took Lamont with him to reload one day in September, he made his feelings clear.
‘I’m glad you’re here, Lamont,’ he said, jerking his thumb at Shorty. ‘He never wants to listen to me.’
‘Because you talk shit, that’s why. I swear, the more money we make, the more you complain.’
‘Oi, don’t forget who got you started. You’d still be scratching your ass if it wasn’t for me.’
‘Guys, we don’t need this,’ Lamont interjected, when Shorty opened his mouth to reply. ‘What’s the problem, Louie?’
‘The bloody problem is I’m too old to be running all over the place. I need to keep you lot happy, but now my other youngsters are complaining. They need product too.’
‘Fuck them little pricks. We’re getting through ten times as much as them. Cut them loose,’ Shorty said.
Louie bristled, ‘Hang on a—’
‘—Guys,’ there was more bite in Lamont’s tone now. Both men heeded this. ‘We’re all working together, and we’re all getting paid. There’s a way around this.’
‘What ways that then?’
‘You sit back and let us make the money for you.’
‘I thought that was what I was doing now?’
‘What I mean is, introduce us to your guy. We supply you, and you supply your regulars with no fuss.’
‘So you wanna cut me out?’
‘No, not cut you out. Make it easier for you.’ Lamont said.
‘Sounds like you’re trying to cut me out.’
Shorty narrowed his eyes at Louie’s petulant tone. Lamont smiled though, like he’d expected this response.
‘Cutting you out makes little sense, and it’s not productive. We want to continue making money but our demand is higher, Lou. If you have a better suggestion, let’s hear it.’
Shorty and Louie both stared at Lamont, mouths agape. Lamont could be so quiet and unassuming that it was easy to overlook the dominance he showed. Shorty coughed inaudibly, Louie shifting slightly in his seat.
‘Look, take a quarter for now. Gimme time to have a think.’
‘That motherfucker is getting too cheeky for his own good,’ Shorty grumbled as they left.
‘Louie’s grouchy, but he’s just used to being ripped off.’
‘Why you always taking his side?’ Shorty stopped and glared at Lamont.
‘It’s not about taking sides. If we keep Louie comfortable, he’ll be easy to control. He’s on the way out; he just doesn’t wanna admit it.’
‘You think?’
‘Louie’s lazy. The game has left him behind and he doesn’t want to chase after it. We need his supplier so we can keep growing.’
‘Okay. I get you.’ Shorty was starting to understand now. Lamont jokingly nud
ged him.
‘Let’s turn up the pressure and get rich, Shortstuff.’
Grinning, Shorty slapped hands with Lamont. He didn’t know who Lamont had caught feelings over, but he’d never seen his friend looking so focused. He liked it.
Lamont slouched over the kitchen table at Auntie’s. Nowadays, he spent most of his time chilling at Shorty’s or out and about, meeting links and selling.
The life had hold of him, and Lamont was obsessed with making money. His team was growing, and Lamont’s portion at the end of each week was increasing. It wasn’t enough. The streets were wide open, and Lamont wanted to be one of the established cliques making big money. It was possible, but he needed to keep pushing and continue watching the angles.
Raising his tea to his lips, Lamont’s eyes narrowed as Auntie hovered next to him. He forced himself to meet her eyes, lowering his cup.
‘Yes?’
‘I need more money.’
‘I gave you your money yesterday.’
‘I used it. I need more. You definitely have it.’
Lamont gave his Auntie another look. He’d done his best to keep the peace. They argued, but he never crossed the line, comfortable having a place to stay near Marika.
‘Where does your money go?’
The reaction was immediate. Auntie stepped back, her mouth wide open, but no words coming out. Calmly, Lamont waited.
‘What do you mean? I’ve never had any money because I spent half my life looking after you and your little sister. Don’t you remember any of that?’
‘Are you serious?’ Lamont’s eyebrows rose. He shouldn’t have been shocked at Auntie’s complete white-washing of the facts, but he was.
‘You lot never wanted for anything. I fed and clothed you, made sure you were both looked after, and you’ve never been grateful for any of it. Marika always was. You never were.’
Lamont laughed in her face, the sound chillingly devoid of mirth.
‘You profited from my parent’s death. You received a live-in slave, and never once did you show me anything that resembled love. You treated Marika well, but you taught her nothing but your disgusting bad habits. For you to stand there and talk about us being looked after is nothing but a joke.’
‘You’re nothing but a little lia—’
‘What happened to my parent’s money?’
Auntie visibly paled at Lamont’s question, running a hand through her hair.
‘What do you mean?’
Lamont rose to his feet, noting that he towered over his Auntie. After her years of bullying, it was indescribable to see her on the back foot, unable to hit him or think of a decent comeback. The years of fear were over.
‘My parents worked all their lives. They paid off the house we lived in when they were still alive, which everyone in our family knows. Where did the money from the sale of that same house go?’
‘Are you crazy! Do you know how expensive it was to take care of everything? That money was eaten up by legal costs, inheritance fees, all of that stuff. I took care of you lot out of my pocket, with no help from family, and no gratitude. You’d have gone to a home if it wasn’t for me.’
‘I’d have preferred that to growing up around you,’ retorted Lamont, his words calm despite the utter rage he felt toward this woman. ‘Do you think I’m stupid? I was ten years old when I came to live with you. I remember the drink and drugs, and your little parties, the expensive clothing. I know about you falsifying details to become a foster mother, even though you were claiming benefits and living off my dead parents blood and sweat. You have no idea of what it means to struggle. You’re nothing but a bitter, out-of-touch lush who never wanted to earn any money for herself. No wonder everyone hates you.’
‘That’s it!’ Auntie screamed. ‘Get out of my house. I’ve put up with you and your ways long enough. I want you out!’
Lamont smiled, shocked at how free he felt.
‘I’m leaving, don’t worry. I won’t spend another night in this house.’
‘Good! You drug dealing piece of shit. I should call the police and let them know what you’re doing.’
‘I’d rather be a dealer than a user,’ Lamont tilted his head, staring at the vile woman. ‘A question; how did you keep paying for all of those drugs after your money ran out?’ Not even waiting for her to answer, he made a face. ‘On second thoughts, I don’t want to know.’
‘You piece of shi—’ Auntie went to strike Lamont, but he grabbed her wrist, overpowering her with ease.
‘You’ll never lay a hand on me again,’ he said, enunciating each word as Auntie struggled against his grip. ‘You have no power anymore. I’m leaving, and you get nothing from me. Not a single penny. Any money I give Rika from now on is hers. If I hear you’ve taken any of it, or you’ve mistreated her, you’ll regret it. That I can promise you. If you know I’m dealing, you know what I can do to you. Do not push me.’
Shoving Auntie to the side, Lamont finished his drink and left the room, Auntie cowed into silence behind him. He went to his room and packed his belongings, then left without another word.
Chapter Thirteen
Wednesday 10 February 1999
Financially, Lamont was doing well. After abruptly leaving Auntie’s, he’d stayed with Shorty and K-Bar for a few weeks, before getting his own place nearby on Cowper Street. It was enough. For now.
The streets remained steady, and their crew continued to hold its own against others. Everything hummed. The cash came in fast and everyone did as instructed. Lamont ran a tight ship and Shorty was on hand to ensure discipline was maintained. That was the smart thing Lamont did. He managed Shorty correctly, allowing him to do what he needed, keeping him sharp, knowing that Shorty would then do the same for the guys below. Lamont had hit a snag now though: He had too much money.
At first, Lamont saved his money in shoe boxes like a lot of guys he knew. He gave money to his sister, put some in the bank, and had even started hiding money outside, wrapping it well.
It wasn’t sustainable. Lamont was wary of the police. He needed to set himself up. Just because things were going well, didn’t mean they would continue. Lamont made a black coffee, staring into space and holding the piping porcelain mug in his hands. He thought about investing the money and buying more drugs, but that would just lead to more cash lying around.
As Lamont thought about what he could do, an idea came to him. With a grin he reached for his phone and dialled a number.
‘It’s L. Where are you? We need to talk.’
Lamont took a taxi into town, heading for a pub near the university. Outside, scores of drunk, boisterous students ran around making noise. Lamont made his way through the masses. Inside, the pub was stuffy and full almost to capacity. Pushing his way to the bar, Lamont ordered a pint and scanned the room, finally spotting him in the corner, whispering in the ear of a giggling girl. Making his way over, Lamont plopped on the seat opposite them.
‘How’s it going, Xiyu?’
‘L! What the hell man, where have you been?’ Xiyu Manderson’s eyes twinkled. The pair were old friends and had spent a lot of time together before Lamont started selling weed.
Xiyu was fair skinned, with straight jet black hair and piercing almond eyes that he’d received from his Chinese mother.
‘Busy working. Same as you.’ Lamont smiled at the girl Xiyu was entertaining. She smiled back.
‘Uni man . . . It’s crazy. You should start going. You’d love it.’
‘Maybe I will. I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.’
Xiyu nodded, rubbing his hands through his hair.
‘Babe, go sit with the others. I’ll come and get you after.’
The girl didn’t like it, but she forced a smile on her face and moved.
‘What’s the drill then? How can I help?’ Xiyu asked.
‘You’re studying business at Uni aren’t you?’
‘You already know I am.’ Xiyu rolled his eyes.
‘I want to invest some
money.’
‘Into what?’ Xiyu sipped his drink. Lamont didn’t know what it was, but it smelt fruity.
‘Something legitimate. I was hoping you could help.’
Xiyu scratched his chest. He was dressed like the other guys in the pub; white t-shirt, jeans and canvas shoes. His clothes seemed to be in better condition though which didn’t surprise Lamont. Xiyu had always been finicky about his outfits. Lamont assumed it came from growing up poor; trying to look your best when you didn’t have the resources to do it.
As they sat, people kept approaching Xiyu, slapping him on the back, offering to get him another drink. It surprised Lamont just how popular he was.
‘I work in an office to pay for Uni, mate. Barely earning above minimum wage. I dunno what I could tell you,’ Xiyu said a few minutes later, after his fan club dispersed.
‘You know business though. I want to know it too. Money isn’t an issue. I’ll pay you for the information.’
Xiyu shook his head. ‘I don’t need you to pay me. You’re my friend and I want to help you. I’m just . . .’ Xiyu trailed off, staring intently at the table. Lamont didn’t interrupt. He had seen Xiyu’s thinking face before, distracting himself by scanning the bar.
A couple of girls were scantily clad, several glancing in Lamont’s direction. He smiled, but didn’t make a move. He was on the clock tonight. Pleasure would have to wait. He wondered how many of the students in the pub had lectures first thing, and if they would even show up. Lamont’s phone rang, but he ignored it. He needed to get this sorted.
‘There’s a guy I know. He’s older and works in the same building as me. He’s called Martin. Trust fund kid who got cut off by his parents. He’s doing well for himself, and he’s always looking for investors. I could speak to him.’
Lamont beamed. ‘That would be great. While you’re ringing him, I’ll go to the bar. What are you drinking?’