The Takedown

by Ricky Black

  ‘Maka was worried about you getting out.’

  ‘Why?’

  Maka was one of Lamont’s lieutenants. He worked with his friend Manson, making good money for the team. He and Shorty had always been cool.

  ‘The Timmy situation. He was worried that you might have something to say about it.’ Lamont was being careful with his words. He watched as Shorty’s face sagged, the devastation palpable.

  Timmy Turner was Shorty’s younger cousin. Desperate to walk a mile in Shorty’s shoes, he had allowed himself to be manipulated into turning on them. He set up Shorty to be murdered by Marrion’s shooters and had held a gun on Lamont. He was afraid to pull the trigger though and had been murdered by Maka in the aftermath.

  ‘Maka did what he had to do. Timmy made his choice. I just should have shown him a better way,’ Shorty mumbled. They continued to eat, listening to the low lounge music playing in the background. They were surrounded mostly by families enjoying their meals, laughing and joking. Shorty wondered why the atmosphere between them was so strained. He and Lamont had been friends since they were five-years-old, yet they were making stilted conversation, as if they didn’t know how to be around each other anymore.

  ‘Why are you still here?’

  Lamont glanced at Shorty.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Why are you still doing this? Why are you still in the life when you said you were walking away?’

  Lamont looked at his friend for a long moment before he replied.

  ‘Things change.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  Lamont reached for his wallet. ‘Let’s just pay the bill. You can stay the night, and we’ll sort everything tomorrow.’

  Shorty’s brow furrowed. He wiped his mouth, watching Lamont hand a black card to the waitress, genially making small talk. Shorty wondered if it was all an act. The waitress giggled, tossing her hair back as Lamont spoke. Shorty needed to work out what was going on. There was something he wasn’t being told.

  A red Mercedes was parked in the driveway when they arrived home. Lamont parked next to it, and the pair made their way inside. Lamont flicked a switch and the pitch-black hallway filled with light. Shorty followed Lamont to the living room, watching his friend go straight to the drinks cabinet. He took out the cognac from earlier, pouring some into a glass as Shorty observed.

  ‘You can sleep in the room where you found your clothes. We’ll talk in the morning.’

  Lamont slapped hands with Shorty. As Shorty headed up the stairs, he watched Lamont heading towards another room, clutching the bottle, his shoulders slumped.

  Chapter Two

  Tuesday 13 January 2015

  Shorty rubbed his eyes as he clambered from bed the next morning. He audibly yawned and stretched, feeling his bones creak. His nights sleep had been poor. The bed was comfortable, but his mind had refused to shut down.

  Shorty was nervous about seeing Grace, and about what to do next. His talk with Lamont had been brief, and his friend was vague about what was going on in the streets. He hoped Lamont would have a plan.

  Shorty had wanted to write to Grace when he was on remand, but shame kept him from putting pen to paper. He couldn’t explain where he had been. There was so much to work on, and he needed to be on point.

  Lamont’s behaviour worried him. He’d always liked a drink, but Shorty couldn’t recall seeing him indulge with such abandon. There was a sadness that Shorty couldn’t put his finger on, but he would get to the bottom of it.

  After a shower, Shorty dressed and headed downstairs, his stomach rumbling. He made his way to the kitchen, pausing when he saw Jenny already sat at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. She glanced up.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hi. Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. L mentioned you might stay a few days,’ Jenny appraised Shorty and signalled to her cup. ‘Do you want one?’

  Shorty nodded.

  ‘Sit down and I’ll make it for you.’

  Shorty slid into a wooden chair, watching Jenny pouring coffee from a fancy-looking coffee maker. She checked how he took it, adding milk and sugar.

  ‘It must be weird for you, being out and about,’ she remarked.

  ‘Yeah, it is.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. L’s still sleeping. I’m guessing you made a night of it?’

  ‘We went for dinner then came home.’

  Jenny’s brow furrowed. ‘Oh, I just thought . . . He didn’t come to bed until . . .’ She shrugged. Shorty took the cup with thanks, unsure how to prolong the conversation.

  ‘How is he doing?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jenny blinked.

  ‘L. Is he okay?’

  Jenny smiled.

  ‘It’s hard to tell sometimes. He keeps a lot to himself. I don’t think he’s sleeping well. Ever since,’ Jenny paused. ‘Ever since the accident, I think he sees things differently. Like he’s trying to find his place.’

  ‘I know how that feels,’ Shorty admitted. He sipped the coffee, nourishing the spike of energy the caffeine gave him.

  ‘You know it’s his birthday tomorrow, right?’

  Shorty had forgotten.

  ‘Is he doing anything?’

  ‘I wanted to throw him a party, but he refused. I was going to take him to dinner. You should come.’

  ‘Nah, you two go. You don’t need me around.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. L will want you there. I’ll make the arrangements.’ Jenny made to leave the room.

  ‘Jenny?’

  She turned.

  ‘Are you alright?’

  Jenny stared for a moment before nodding.

  ‘I’m fine, Shorty. I’m going to work, so I’ll talk to you later. Help yourself to whatever you need.’ She lingered for a moment, then left.

  Lamont’s eyes shifted open, and he immediately stifled a groan. Sitting up, he massaged his temples and checked the time. It was after ten. Jenny’s side was empty. She would already be at work.

  Showering, Lamont dressed in a black shirt, jeans and boots. He reached for his phone and headed downstairs to hunt for caffeine. To his surprise, Shorty sat in the kitchen, an empty cup of coffee resting in front of him.

  ‘Hey,’ said Lamont, not wanting to disturb him.

  ‘You good?’

  ‘Yeah. Did you find everything alright?’

  Shorty nodded. ‘Jen went to work.’

  ‘She leaves early. I’m surprised you’re up. I thought I’d have to fling water at you to get you up.’

  Shorty grinned. ‘I didn’t sleep well.’

  ‘Wasn’t the bed comfortable?’

  ‘Course it was. I just couldn’t settle. Guess I’m nervous.’

  ‘It’s fine to be nervous.’

  ‘Not for me it isn’t.’

  Lamont grabbed a cup from a cupboard.

  ‘Nor me.’

  Lamont made some coffee, Shorty declining a second cup. He remained standing, holding the steaming mug with both hands.

  ‘We need to talk about your future.’

  ‘There’s a lot we need to talk about.’

  ‘Like?’ Lamont was watching Shorty again.

  ‘Like, why you’re up drinking at all hours of the night. What happened to the L that used to wake up at 5am every morning, rain or shine?’

  ‘You’re looking for problems where there aren’t any.’ Lamont ignored Shorty’s question.

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Yes, you are. Think about Grace and Grace only. She needs you.’

  Shorty had nothing to say to that. He would re-address it another time.

  ‘Do you think I need to bring her a present?’

  Lamont shook his head. ‘I think she’ll just be glad to see you. You could always take her shopping.’

  When they were ready, Lamont called Akeem, and they piled into a black Mercedes 4x4. Shorty settled into the leather seating, Lamont next to him. Akeem started the engine, and they rumbled to
wards Chapeltown.

  Lamont stared ahead, but Shorty glanced out of the window all the way to Chapeltown like a child on a school trip, taking in all the changes. For the longest time, he had lived and breathed the streets, but now he felt out of touch. As they drove up Chapeltown Road though, he saw a few old faces, still posted up, doing the same thing.

  Akeem parked near the barbers. He stuck close to Lamont, his eyes flitting in all directions. Shorty admired his skills. He was sharp.

  The door clanged to announce their entrance. There were a few people sat around waiting for cuts. Loud reggae music blared from the system, a loud argument about football competing with the track. The oldest man in the room broke into a smile when he saw the trio. Turning the shaver he held off, he put it down and wiped his hands, then firmly shook Lamont’s hand.

  ‘Good to see you, L.’

  ‘You too, Trinidad.’

  ‘Shorty, it’s good to see you out, son,’ Trinidad shook Shorty’s hand next before greeting Akeem.

  ‘Thanks, Trinidad. How’s tricks?’

  Trinidad scratched the back of his neck. ‘Old age, man. Joints are stiff with all that arthritis and that there settling in. I’m still living though, so I cannot complain.’

  Shorty grinned. He’d known Trinidad since he was a kid. A lot of the youths chilled at Trinidad’s barber shop back in the day. He would give out free haircuts if he knew you didn’t have the money, more concerned with helping people than making a profit. This generosity led to him nearly losing his shop.

  Lamont stepped in, lent him the money to pay his debts, then invested money into dragging the barbers into the 21st Century. All of a sudden, Lamont owned the barbers, but kept everything the same and made sure Trinidad felt important, which he was.

  They settled into their seats, and Shorty spoke with a few faces that he recognised. Their words were friendly, but he could see from their eyes they didn’t trust him.

  ‘Oi, Trinidad,’ One of them started. ‘Any word on the next meeting?’

  Trinidad shook his head. ‘Should find out in the next few days. Stop by here and I’ll let you know.’

  ‘What meeting is this?’ Shorty asked.

  ‘Ask L. He’ll tell you all about it.’

  Shorty frowned, unsure why Trinidad was being cagey. Shorty let it go and told the man what he wanted. After Trinidad trimmed his hair, Shorty cleaned himself in the bathroom, then they said their goodbyes.

  The sky was darkening as they packed into the ride. Shorty ran his hands through his shortened hair, clicking his seatbelt into place.

  ‘Does Amy know that I’m getting out?’

  Lamont hesitated. Shorty sighed.

  ‘This is gonna be fun.’

  Shorty took a deep breath as they pulled onto the familiar Oakwood Street. The same cars were parked as if he’d never been away. He climbed from the ride, wishing he’d consumed more liquor. This visit would have been easier if he was drunk.

  The last time Shorty had been on this street, he’d clutched a bloody gun. He’d demanded to see Grace, knowing the police were after him for the murders of the Manchester contingent. He’d argued with Amy, his daughter’s mother. She’d almost let him in, but her boyfriend called the police. They came for Shorty, but not before he’d clocked her boyfriend in the head with his gun. He’d evaded them long enough to ditch both the gun and his gloves.

  The police caught him, but hadn’t found the incriminating weapon. Shorty would make sure they never did.

  Lamont hung back, letting Shorty take the lead. Akeem watched from the car as Shorty knocked on the front door.

  ‘Shorty?’

  Shorty’s breath caught in his throat. Many a night in his cell, he’d fantasised about the fiery redhead currently staring open-mouthed. Her misty green eyes still entranced him, her figure as trim as it had always been. He forced himself to meet her gaze.

  ‘Hey, Ames. Is Grace in?’

  ‘When did you get out?’ Amy ignored his question.

  ‘The other day. Is she in?’

  ‘You couldn’t have given me some warning? You can’t just—’ Amy was talking to Lamont now.

  Tutting, Shorty manoeuvred around her and went to the living room. Amy called after him, but Shorty ignored her. The channel was set to the news. The heating was on, and the room had a toasty feel. In the corner, writing at a desk, sat Grace Turner.

  Shorty stared at his little girl, his heart about to explode. Feeling eyes on her, Grace looked up, gazing at her father. For the longest moment, they both stared. Amy and Lamont paused in the doorway, tentatively watching the moment. Shorty felt his eyes blur, but he didn’t wipe the tears away. Grace’s lip trembled. Then, she ran out of the room.

  ‘Grace!’ Amy hurried after her. Lamont watched as Shorty stood, crestfallen.

  ‘Give her some time, bro. It’ll still be raw.’

  Shorty nodded dumbly, wanting to burst into tears. He yearned to hold Grace and tell her everything would be okay. She didn’t even want to be around him though, and that was tough to stomach.

  After a few minutes, Amy came back into the living room.

  ‘Is she okay?’

  ‘She will be,’ Amy’s voice was cold. ‘You’re out then? For good?’

  ‘They dropped The charges. Can I see her?’

  ‘She needs to adjust.’

  ‘I just wanna see her. Please, Ames,’ said Shorty, hating the pleading tone in his voice.

  ‘Shorty, she needs time. You have to understand that she hasn’t seen you in over a year. You know what she has seen though? The papers calling you a murderer. She’s seen the police searching the house; for drugs, for guns. You need to give her time.’

  Shorty swallowed, the sadness emanating from him. Lamont bowed his head, knowing his friend wouldn’t want to look weak.

  ‘Can we talk, Ames?’

  ‘I’ll never keep you from having a relationship with your daughter, but we have nothing else to say to each other. I think you need to leave,’ Amy’s eyes flickered to Lamont. ‘Both of you.’

  Shorty didn’t speak as they made their way back from Amy’s. He had expected resistance from Grace, but he hadn’t expected her to run away. Lamont had patted him on the shoulder as they climbed into the car, but that was it. He hadn’t tried to counsel Shorty, and Shorty appreciated that.

  ‘L, K-Bar called. He wants a meet.’

  Lamont flicked his eyes to Shorty. ‘Are you up for it?’

  Shorty nodded, hoping his old friend could distract him.

  K-Bar waited outside a house on Leopold Street. He climbed into the ride.

  ‘Fucking hell, Shorty. I knew you were getting out, but not so soon! What’s going on?’

  Shorty grinned at K-Bar’s excitement. He had known Lamont longer, but he and K-Bar had struggled together, pitching weed out of a dirty flat, desperate to make money when no one else would give them a shot.

  When they’d began running with Lamont, K-Bar played his position, working under Shorty and keeping the streets in line by any means necessary. He looked to have put on size since the last time Shorty had seen him, judging by the ways his biceps bulged against the navy blue hooded top he wore.

  ‘You know what L’s like about keeping secrets. I missed you, fam.’

  It was K-Bar’s turn to smile. ‘I missed you too. Where are you staying? We need to go out tonight and show everyone you’re back.’

  Shorty looked to Lamont, expecting him to veto the idea, but his friend’s face was blank.

  ‘Yeah, we can go out. You down, L?’

  Lamont shrugged. ‘I’ll go for a few.’

  ‘Won’t Jenny mind?’ Shorty asked. K-Bar shot him a confused look. Lamont’s face remained the same.

  ‘I doubt it. She wants to do something tomorrow night. I don’t think she’ll begrudge me having a few drinks. K, what’s the situation?’

  K-Bar’s smile vanished, ‘Hughesy came to see me. He doesn’t want to buy from us anymore.’

  �
�Did he say why?’

  K-Bar shook his head. ‘Just said he’d had a better offer. Summat’s up though. He looked nervous.’

  ‘We can’t force people to buy from us, K. We’re not that kind of operation.’

  ‘He’s not the first, L. Three people alone in the past two weeks have stopped doing business with us.’

  ‘We’re still the best party in town. If we have to raise the price on the people dealing with us, we’ll do that.’

  K-Bar ran his hands through his dreadlocked hair.

  ‘Is that the right thing to do?’

  ‘Unless you know who they’re all copping from, there isn’t much to be done about it. It’s not a problem at the moment. We have the best stuff on the market. Don’t forget that.’

  ‘Those fucking do-gooders, man. They’re not making things any easier with their damn meetings,’ K-Bar mumbled.

  ‘What meetings?’ Shorty asked, remembering Trinidad’s words at the barbers.

  K-Bar scowled, ‘There’s this new community thing. They call themselves the OurHood Initiative. They formed last year and started preaching about making changes on the streets.’

  ‘Those dickheads have always been around though.’

  ‘Not like this, bro. They’re growing all the time, proper well-funded and organised. Some poet prick is at the head of it. Can’t remember his name, but people are acting like he’s some future leader.’

  Shorty mulled over that. He’d known people over the years who claimed to have the best intentions for Chapeltown. They started collecting money, saying they would keep kids off the street and in youth clubs, but they never seemed to go anywhere.

  ‘Do you really think that’s a smart idea?’

  Lamont watched Akeem as the bodyguard paced the hardwood floor of the safe house. Mindful of conducting business in the home, Lamont had a spot he went to whenever he needed to talk. It was scanned for listening devices every day and closely monitored to prevent surveillance.

  After they had left K-Bar, Shorty decided to stay at his own place. Lamont knew Shorty was upset over Grace’s reaction, but he needed to wait it out. Once the shock wore off, Lamont believed Grace would want to spend time with Shorty again.