by Ricky Black
Tuesday 21 May 2002
Lamont drove home, switching lanes as the sky slowly turned from amber to black. The day had been a busy one of running around making sure that everything continued running smoothly. Louie though, had been silent.
Since Lamont began working with Bill and his brother, he hadn’t seen Louie as much. He still supplied him, and had even sent Shorty to have a word with the kids working for him, making sure they didn’t take liberties. Dialling Louie’s number while stopping at some lights, the phone rang but there was no answer. As the light turned green, Lamont called Shorty.
‘Send someone to see the old man.’
‘For what?’ scoffed Shorty. Lamont could hear voices and loud music in the background.
‘We haven’t heard from him or his team. They should be done with their work by now.’
Shorty kissed his teeth. ‘I’ll send one of my gunners round. You better hope he’s not in there watching Quincy, because I’ll smack him up personally if he is.’
Laughing, Lamont hung up and headed home. Inside, he checked his phone for messages and changed out of his clothing. After a quick shower, he made himself a cup of coffee and plopped down on the sofa, picking up the book he’d started reading earlier. His mind was too wired though. It was common nowadays.
Even when Lamont was at home, away from all the drama, it was difficult to switch off from the streets. He put the book to one side, watching the end of a football match while he finished the coffee. He made food, then just picked at it for a while until he finally put it to one side.
Lamont was antsy and didn’t know why. He was insulated, and he had a good team working for him. Financially, he was fantastic.
Lamont could have laughed. He had money and respect. Mostly, people left him alone, but it felt hollow sometimes. Lamont thought back to the second-hand clothes and the constant ridicule. Now, he had the world at his feet. Maybe it was time to act like it.
Heading upstairs, Lamont put on a new pair of jeans and a black designer t-shirt. He looked down at his dad’s old watch for a moment, feeling strangely confident, as if the old man’s strength was flowing through him. Spraying on some aftershave, Lamont headed outside to the taxi he had pre-ordered.
As always, the town centre was heaving with people out on the prowl. Lamont slipped through the crowds into a bar, ordering a glass of whisky. He sipped it quickly and ordered another, his eyes flitting around the bar looking for a distraction. He caught the eye of a few girls and thought of Rochelle for a moment. He wondered if he had done the right thing in dismissing her, resolving that he had. A girl that had been watching him since he walked in, again caught his eye, motioning for him to walk over. Shrugging, Lamont did.
‘Lamont,’ he said straight away. She smiled, appreciating his forwardness.
‘Kari.’
‘What are you drinking?’ Lamont led her to the bar. She was nearly as tall as him, with a lithe frame and short, dark hair. She ordered a glass of white wine, sipping it as she met Lamont’s eyes.
‘Who are you with?’ Lamont asked. Kari giggled.
‘I’m by myself tonight. I just wanted to do something different.’
‘I can sort of relate,’ admitted Lamont. They sat in a corner of the room by now, the pulsating House music slightly muffled.
‘Are you in here with anyone?’
Lamont shook his head. ‘This was very spur of the moment. It’s not like me.’
Kari made a face, ‘Are you one of those people that plans out every moment of their life?’
‘I can be. Last thing I want is to end up slipping.’
‘How’s it working out for you?’ Kari surveyed him over the rim of her glass.
‘It feels weird,’ Lamont shook his head again. ‘Forget it. We don’t need to get this deep.’
‘I want to.’ Kari sidled closer to Lamont. She smelled amazing. Some women just had a naturally adult scent that made him think of rough sex rather than flowers.
‘Everything in my life is going well. In terms of financial security and job security, I’m set. I’ve made some big moves that have put me in a good position.’
‘And what? Now you’re waiting for the other shoe to fall?’
Lamont nodded.
‘Maybe you just need to relax.’
‘Why do people always give that generic advice? It means nothing,’ snapped Lamont. Kari made a face.
‘Sorry, I wasn’t trying to annoy you.’
‘Nah, I’m sorry. Wigging out on the prettiest girl in this place won’t make me feel better.’
Kari was all smiles now.
‘I’m glad you realised it.’
‘Realised what?’
‘That I’m the prettiest girl in this place.’
They locked eyes. Lamont felt the pull, two parts of his brain arguing with each other. One side was telling him to put the moves on Kari. The other told him to go home and get his thoughts in order. Lamont didn’t know which side to listen to.
Kari continued staring. She had a pretty face. Thick, luscious lips, the sort Lamont hated in his younger days but cherished now. He was definitely a mouth man; he realised.
She wore a dark shade of lipstick that seemed to shine under the club lights. He was going for it. Lamont moved towards her, only to be cock-blocked by his vibrating Motorola. Mumbling a swear word, he pulled out the phone and answered.
‘L, where you at?’ Shorty’s voice boomed over the speaker, causing Lamont to move the phone from his ear for a moment.
‘You don’t need to talk so damn loud. I can hear you.’
‘Where are you? This ain’t a drill.’
Lamont stood.
‘What’s going on?’
Kari looked up at Lamont, confused.
‘It’s Louie. Meet me at your place. We need to talk.’
Shorty was pacing up and down outside Lamont’s house as he climbed from the taxi. He glared at Lamont, Blakey hovering nearby. The pair blended in with the night sky around them in their dark attire. Blakey nodded at Lamont, who returned the gesture.
‘Did you find him?’ asked Lamont.
‘Yeah, we found him all right,’ Shorty’s tone was sulky.
‘If you think I took the piss in the taxi, I—’
‘Fuck the taxi. He’s dead.’
Lamont blinked foolishly, ‘Who’s dead.’
‘Louie.’
‘What?’
Shorty rubbed his face.
‘Sent Blakey and one of my other dudes, like you said. They banged on the door for a bit, shouted through the letter box, but no one answered.’ Shorty shot a look to Blakey, who took it as his cue.
‘We were about to jet, but Larrie thought he heard the TV. We kinda broke in, and—’
‘You broke into his house?’ interjected Lamont.
‘We wore gloves. Don’t worry. Anyway, when we were inside, it smelt funky. We went into the living room and there he was.’
‘How did he look?’
Blakey made a face. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Did he look like he died by himself?’
‘There was no one else there,’ said Blakey, completely misunderstanding.
‘He means, did someone else kill him, you fucking prat,’ sniped Shorty. Blakey hung his head.
‘Nah. He looked like he was sleeping. We couldn’t see nothing out of the ordinary, but we didn’t stand around having a look.’
‘Did you call an ambulance?’ Lamont continued his questioning.
‘We just kicked out. He was dead, so we just hurried out of there.’
Lamont held Blakey’s stare for a moment, then motioned for them to come inside. He strode into the living room, reaching for his phone. He stared at it for a second, mumbled something, then picked up his keys, passing them to Shorty.
‘Drive to a phone box. Can’t make this call from the house.’
Shorty started Lamont’s engine and flew down the street, ignoring Lamont’s request to slow down. A few minutes lat
er they found a phone. Lamont rummaged around in his pocket, then looked at his companions.
‘Either of you two got any change?’
‘I don’t carry copper,’ said Shorty, as if this were an adequate response.
‘Here,’ Blakey reached into his pocket and pressed a damp fifty pence piece into Lamont’s outstretched hand. Lamont thanked him and hurried towards the phone box. He spoke for less than a minute and then went back in the car. Shorty drove them back to Lamont’s.
‘Marcus is gonna tell one of his guys to make the call. He’s gonna check first, make sure there’s nothing connecting him to us.’
‘Bloody hell, I didn’t even think of that,’ said Blakey.
‘Shut the fuck up. We’re talking now,’ Shorty snapped. Blakey’s mouth immediately shut.
When they were back at Lamont’s, he took out a bottle of brandy and poured three shots, handing the other glasses to Blakey and Shorty. Without a word, they held them aloft a moment, paying silent respect to Louie, then drank as one. Wiping his mouth, Lamont poured another.
‘You’re driving us back, B,’ said Shorty, holding out his glass. Lamont topped him up, and they repeated the procedure.
‘When was the last time you saw him?’ Lamont asked Shorty.
‘A month ago. I didn’t even deal with him direct anymore. I left his people to K-Bar and Maka. My man was just collecting his money, really.’
‘I haven’t seen him since the last time we were there,’ admitted Lamont, wondering why he felt guilty. He thought back to the first conversation he and Louie shared; where they admitted they were there because of women. Lamont wondered if it would upset Auntie when she heard the news about her ex.
Kari flitted into his mind then. She’d gone out looking for a good time and he’d ducked her without even getting her number. Some lucky guy was probably with her now.
‘No reason for you to, I guess. He was a nobody. Everybody knows that.’
‘Still, he got us started. Who knows where we’d be if it wasn’t for him.’
‘We’d have got somewhere regardless, fam. You can’t keep hungry dudes like us down.’
‘Damn right,’ said Blakey.
‘Shut the fuck up. We’re talking here. In fact, go wait in the car. I don’t need you repeating shit to impress little girls in town.’
Abashed, Blakey slunk out to the car without protest.
‘Why do you talk to him like that?’
‘Who? Blakey? He likes it. Do you think Louie will have anything connecting us?’
Lamont shrugged. ‘My instincts tell me no, but it’s worth it to double check. You just never know.’
Shorty nodded. ‘I get you.’ He again topped himself up. Lamont wasn’t sure if it was Shorty’s third or fourth glass, but he still clutched the bottle.
‘What’s up with you?’
‘What do you mean?’ Shorty made a face as he guzzled down the liquor.
‘I mean if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were grieving.’
‘Grieving for who? Louie?’
Lamont said nothing. Shorty kissed his teeth.
‘Fuck him. Yeah, he started us off, but so what? We were running him by the end.’
‘Then, why are you upset?’
‘I’m not fucking upset!’ bellowed Shorty. Lamont glanced at him, his eyebrow slightly arched. A second later, Shorty took a deep breath. ‘It’s just . . . That was how it ended for him. Dead on a mouldy sofa in a piece-of-shit house.’
‘So?’
‘So, that’s not how I wanna go out. I ain’t saying I wanna live forever, but I wanna leave in style,’ Shorty poured yet another drink, topping up Lamont after. They both drank in silence, no more words needing to be said.
Chapter Twenty Four
Friday 7 June 2002
It was a poor turnout.
That was the main thought on Lamont’s mind as he hung around after the service for Louie ended. He was with Shorty. No-one else from the team bothered to show. None of the kids Louie dealt with had turned up. Just a few old people probably looking to get drunk now that the service was over.
Louie had a sister who had organised everything. Lamont offered to help, but she hadn’t let him, saying it was something she needed to do. He hadn’t even known Louie had siblings. Lamont had learned Louie’s parents were also dead. The similarities between the pair were uncanny, and Lamont was trying not to look too deeply into it.
Shorty had been subdued throughout the service, not speaking to anyone and even now that the service was over, remaining by Lamont’s side. After they had found Louie’s body, Shorty had admitted to Lamont that they’d found money at Louie’s place. Thousands of pounds, which appeared to be profits from the drugs sold. He’d done nothing with the money. By the sounds of it, he’d stopped doing anything, no longer wanting to take care of himself. Lamont had initially suspected foul play, but no-one else had a hand in Louie’s death.
‘Are you all right?’ Lamont asked.
‘I don’t like funerals,’ said Shorty.
‘Who does?’ Lamont recalled his parent’s funeral. He and Marika had sat stiffly up front with Auntie as the service had gone on. Everyone looked sympathetic but mostly it seemed staged, like the so-called mourners were just acting for non-existent cameras. They told him how sorry they were, patting him on the head.
Lamont had told himself he wouldn’t cry during the service and he kept his word. Even when Marika had cried, shouting mummy when she heard her mother’s name mentioned. Lamont had held her, feeling her tears soak his suit.
The after-party was full of debauchery. Some of the same faces that had told Lamont how sorry they were, now drank liquor and danced like they were at a party.
Auntie had been right in the middle of it, shimmying away to catcalls and wolf-whistles. Lamont had been relegated to the corner to watch as she lapped up all the attention. He had seen a gleam in her eyes that night that he hadn’t understood.
‘This though . . . this is pathetic. There’s about twelve people here if you don’t count the alcoholic crowd that are just waiting to get drunk. Look at them.’
Lamont spotted them. The laggers. Shuffling around in borrowed suits. They looked shaky, eyes darting all over place, constantly licking their lips. This little service would be the highlight of their week, and the chance to get a nice drink.
‘I know. It’s sad.’
‘Damn right it is. Don’t let me go out like this, L. When you bury me, make sure there’s music and people dancing and shit. Tupac or summat.’
‘When? Are you planning on going somewhere?’
‘You never know.’ Shorty shrugged. Lamont was about to question this, when a car pulled up outside the church and three men climbed out. Lamont recognised one of them. It was the same man he had seen looking at him at Shorty’s party last year.
The men glanced in Lamont’s direction, then made a beeline for Louie’s sister. The man at the front spoke to her for a few minutes, his face full of concern. Lamont was too far away to hear, but she was sniffing and nodding. The front man gave her a brief hug, then headed in Lamont’s direction.
He was surefooted, his back straight, wearing a white shirt, khaki trousers and boots. His dreads were even longer than K-Bar’s and his face was thinner than his frame, his cheekbones almost jutting out at sharp angles. He glanced balefully at Lamont, then shook hands with Shorty, his goons following suit.
‘Nice to see you here, Shorty.’
‘You too, Leader. Didn’t know you and Louie were cool like that.’
At the mention of the name, Lamont stiffened. He was looking at the man who had murdered Craig and destroyed Levi’s life. He fought to keep his face neutral as Leader turned now, his hand outstretched.
‘You must be the one they call Teflon,’ he said in his heavily accented voice. His eyes glittered.
‘That’s me.’
‘I’ve heard a lot about you. Heard you’re a good person to know.’
�
��I don’t know about that,’ Lamont replied, not breaking eye contact.
‘He’s chatting shit,’ Shorty interrupted. ‘Teflon is the man out here. Get to know.’
Leader nodded at Shorty’s words, a look passing between his men.
‘Maybe we can all do some business. I knew your people. Years back. You probably don’t even remember.’
‘I remember.’ Lamont hadn’t taken his eyes from Leader.
‘Sometimes you have to put people in their place, make sure they don’t step out of line,’ Leader smirked. ‘I’m sure you understand that.’
‘I’m sure I do.’
Leader nodded.
‘I’ll see you both around. Give my love to Levi when you see him.’ Leader strolled away, laughing with his goons in tow.
‘What was that about?’
‘You tell me,’ snapped Lamont. ‘Since when did you get so pally with him?’
‘Leader? I wouldn’t call it pally saying hello to the dude at a funeral.’
‘Do you remember what he did?’
Shorty kissed his teeth. ‘You still crying over that shit that happened years ago? L, this is the game we’re in. Craig was a fool, and so was Levi.’
‘So they deserved what happened to them?’
‘They rolled the dice and fucked up. You can beat yourself up about it, but they knew what they were doing. We all play this game. You need to realise that, because you can’t pick and choose. Leader gets that. That’s why he’s around and they’re not.’ Shorty moved from Lamont, leaving him standing alone.
Shorty had accumulated a few different hideouts over the years. He had a main spot where stayed most of the time though. It was a mess, with a computer games, pirated DVD’s and CD’s everywhere, along with the lingering smell of weed.
As if on cue, Shorty lit his spliff when he took a seat, sighing loudly. With his freehand, he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his funeral shirt, dumping the suit jacket on the sofa next to him.
‘You need to hit this. It’s better than the shit we used to put out.’