by Ricky Black
When K-Bar arrived at the meeting, he greeted both men and slid into a seat. Akeem remained standing near the door, ensuring he could see anyone approaching.
‘What’s up then?’ K-Bar rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know what the meeting was about, hoping Lamont hadn’t found out about him and Marika. He eyed Akeem for a second. He knew the man had a reputation down in London and wondered if he could move fast enough to take him if it came to it.
Lamont stared at K-Bar unflinchingly, as if he knew exactly what was going through his mind. He cleared his throat.
‘Things need to change.’
‘Which things?’
‘The streets. Things have been in limbo for a while, and it’s messing everything up.’
K-Bar bit back the words on his tongue. Ever since he’d taken over, everyone had a sad story to sing about K-Bar and how he was perceived to be running things.
The money wasn’t the same as it was when Lamont was in charge, but the times had changed. The police were everywhere, more people wanted to do their own thing, and K-Bar couldn’t take things in any direction because he didn’t know what the intentions were. He was a soldier who watched over drugs and people, then dealt with anyone who stepped out of line. K-Bar wasn’t ready for the big seat and when it was thrust at him, he had to deal with things the best he could.
‘I don’t blame you, K. You were dealt a shitty hand after I was hurt, and you didn’t know if I was even gonna survive. You were still loyal though, and you dealt with the people involved, and I’ll never forget that. We need to establish ourselves all over again now.’
‘How?’ K-Bar leaned forward in his seat.
‘First things first, I need to you find all the people still owing us money, and get it back. There’s too much leeway, and it stops now. People are far too comfortable, and that’s affecting our name.’
‘I’m down with doing that, L, but I need more people. We’re running low on solid personnel. People moved on and some got locked up. I’m working with what I’ve got but if you’re wanting to make moves, it won’t be enough.’
‘Make a list of capable people, and we’ll bring them into the team if they can fit. Darren Lyles, he’s still down with us, isn’t he?’
‘Yeah,’ replied K-Bar, wondering how Lamont even remembered him. Darren had been a kid when Lamont was last running the crew, and Lamont wouldn’t have known him if he’d tripped over him in the street.
‘I’ve heard he’s a solid worker; would you agree?’
‘He’s one of the best we’ve got, that’s for damn sure.’
‘Let’s do more with him then. Switch things up, get the money in line, and let’s show people why we’re the best team in town.’
Lamont headed back towards Chapeltown after the meeting with K-Bar. The killer seemed more buoyant upon leaving, which Lamont viewed as a success. He knew how much hassle K-Bar had put up with, simply because he wasn’t meant to be in charge. They would get the ball rolling, replenish their funds and armies, and spread themselves out as they always did.
With a stronger, more focused team, Akhan would grow complacent, and Lamont would be ready and waiting.
As Akeem approached the barbers, Lamont noted a large crowd of people, some looking angry, others upset. The flashing lights of several police vehicles dominated the road, and there were scores of brightly clad officers trying to maintain the peace.
‘What’s happened here?’ Akeem murmured. Lamont didn’t answer, his eyes searching the crowd. When they parked, Lamont hurried towards the barbers, searching for Trinidad. Lamont’s stomach soared when he saw Trinidad standing in the middle of the barbers, consoling a woman Lamont didn’t recognise. She was sobbing loudly, her head buried into Trinidad’s bony chest.
‘Trinidad, are you okay?’ Lamont asked, Akeem at his back. Trinidad looked at Lamont, every bit his advanced years in that moment. He stared at Lamont, the weariness resonating.
‘I’m fine, L.’
‘What’s happened then?’
‘Marilyn’s son,’ Trinidad motioned to the sobbing woman, who didn’t appear to have noticed Lamont and Akeem standing there. ‘The police badly attacked her son, and now he’s in hospital.’
Chapter Five
Thursday 12 February 2015
The streets were tense after more details of the violent incident came to light.
The situation transpired when a fourteen-year-old boy named Diego was stopped by the police. Diego was allegedly known to them. When they stopped him, they tried to pat him down for drugs or money. Diego resisted, claiming he knew his rights. The police overpowered him, found nothing incriminating, and began hitting him, claiming he was struggling.
Locals hurried from their houses, some recording the incident, others shouting at the police to stop. More people arrived and the police quickly called for backup, several of the younger officers losing their heads and attempting to fight with the crowds. It was many hours later before they diffused the situation.
Even now, the tension continued to linger.
Lamont sat at the kitchen table, reading about the incident in the Evening Post. He’d heard most of the story from Trinidad, but didn’t know Diego or which crew he was affiliated with.
Even after several weeks, there had been organised protests and demands for the police officers involved to be sacked. The videos of the police violence had gone viral on social media, and the OurHood Initiative had been the most outspoken, spending money on advertising and highlighting the issue.
A man named Malcolm Powell in particular had been vehement in his demands for action. Lamont had read an article the man had penned on the OurHood website:
We had an incident recently, with police storming into our streets once again without impunity, doing what they wanted and attacking our people without the threat of punishment. It’s not the first time, and unless steps are taken, it won’t be the last.
Whatever Diego Northwood may or may not have done, at this time he was innocent. He knew his rights, and that police had no right to profile him while he was walking through his own streets and doing nothing wrong. Even after the police found no evidence of wrongdoing, they still assaulted him.
I’d like to ask those officers involved if they feared for their safety to the point it took multiple officers to overpower a skinny teenager? Does it seem acceptable, because to me, it is galling. When did the lines become so blurred that police brutality was viewed as acceptable? When did we begin to question why wrongdoing was done, rather than condemn it happening in the first place?
Let’s go back to Diego, because I refuse to let this incident rest. There has been much talk about him being a local drug dealer. Whether or not he was selling drugs, he likely wasn’t working for himself.
Chapeltown has been synonymous with drugs for years and the increased presence stems from tit-for-tat violence. This is not a rare issue, people! Over the past three years alone, there have been scores of murders, robberies, even public violent attacks, all stemming from drugs and illegal activity.
I’m not saying anything most of us are unaware of. The money these criminals make is astounding, and with that amount of money on the line, guns and knives are used to increase the share of the market. So many good people in Chapeltown and other areas are suffering, scared to speak up for fear of being targeted.
We’ve allowed it to happen for too long, and to all the above, I say no more.
Lamont had read the article several times. It was well written, and the community had absorbed the message. He’d even heard from Akeem that their workers were openly discussing the article. Closing the paper with a sigh, Lamont went to make himself another drink.
Jenny was handing a customer their change when the door opened and Malcolm Powell stepped in. His eyes twinkled as he surveyed Jenny, but he waited for her to finish serving the customer before he spoke.
‘Nice to see you again.’
‘You too, Malcolm. Did your mum like the flowers
?’
Malcolm grinned. He had a presence, Jenny realised. He appeared well-built beneath the expensive clothing, and his eyes resonated with a power Jenny had only seen in a few people.
‘She loved them. She asked me to pass along her compliments. I’m actually here to discuss a larger audience. I’m hosting an event in two week’s time, and I’d like you to help set it up.’
Jenny hid her surprise. ‘There are people who can do a better job helping with that than me.’
‘We’ll have to agree to disagree. I think you’ll be perfect for the role, and the money is good.’
‘What’s the event?’
‘It’s a community meeting to discuss the violent attacks in Chapeltown, and what we can do to prevent them in the future.’
‘I heard about that. The young kid that was beaten by the police?’ Jenny recalled Lamont reading an article on the internet that called out the police for the attack. She had read a few lines, and they gripped her, but hadn’t read the rest.
‘Diego spent time in hospital and as of yet, nothing has been done. Me and my organisation will keep up the pressure and ensure that he’s not forgotten, like so many other victims.’
‘How?’ Jenny found herself intrigued. Malcolm spoke with passion, and the situation clearly meant a lot to him. She wondered if he had a personal relationship with the boy involved.
‘We organise protests against the police, but we also look into the root of the cause, which is the stigma of drugs and crime that has plagued Chapeltown and other surrounding areas for decades. It’s an infection passed on from generation to generation.
‘I grew up in Chapeltown, and when I was in school, I was ostracised because other parents didn’t want their kids playing with me, because of where I came from.’
‘That’s disgusting,’ said Jenny, openmouthed. She wondered if Lamont had experienced this. She recalled their conversation when he spoke of his upbringing, and why he started selling drugs. Malcolm’s passion reminded her of him.
‘How did you avoid the streets?’
‘I wanted more. There’s no magical tale. Growing up, I was beaten up a few times by the local kids, because they thought I was a victim. I learned to fight back with my mind and skills, and I applied those to education and furthering myself.’
‘That’s amazing.’ Jenny had grown up with the best of everything, and the financial support to do whatever she wanted. She’d rarely considered the opposite end of the spectrum; the need to fight and survive every day. Lamont had even called her out on it when she’d tried to lecture him, reminding her that she grew up in comfort.
‘Look, whether or not you want to be involved, come along to the meeting. It’s in two day’s time, and you can get a feel for how people are reacting to the situation. Check out the OurHood Initiative. The website is on here,’ Malcolm handed a gold and black business card to Jenny, who pocketed it. ‘Hopefully I’ll see you there. Take care, Ms Campbell.’
Malcolm swept from the shop then, leaving a thoughtful Jenny in his wake.
Lamont drove to the barbershop after leaving his house. He parked around the corner from the barbers, nodding at a few local people. To his surprise, an older woman pulled her jacket tighter, giving him a foul look as she stalked past him.
Lamont frowned. Normally, she was full of smiles and always asked about his family. Shrugging it off, Lamont approached the barbers. The shutter was up, but the closed sign was still on the door. Curious, Lamont tried the handle, finding the door locked. Worried now, he quickly unlocked it and hurried inside.
Trinidad was sat in his chair, smoking a cigarette, staring at the walls. He didn’t even look up when Lamont entered.
‘Trinidad? Everything okay?’
‘Haven’t seen you around lately.’ Trinidad ignored Lamont’s question.
‘I didn’t want the publicity. People see me close to the scene of an incident, they start thinking I’m involved,’ Lamont said darkly, thinking about the woman outside.
‘You’re part of Chapeltown, aren’t you?’ Trinidad asked. His blunt tone surprised Lamont.
‘I grew up around here. You know that.’
‘Then that means taking the good with the bad. You should have been here, giving people hope, showing that you care.’
‘I care, Trinidad. Never assume otherwise. Chapeltown will always be in my heart, but for me, caring doesn’t extend to protesting, or sitting around talking.’
‘Take action then!’ Trinidad roared, startling Lamont. ‘Tell people what they should do, listen to their problems and their issues. Help them. Don’t just sit around while your workers take their money. That’s foul, Lamont and I expect better from you.’
‘I don’t know why you’re coming at me like this. I didn’t hurt that boy. He doesn’t work for me and I didn’t tell the police to target him. You’re mad at me for keeping my head down? Do I have to remind you what happened to me?’
Trinidad’s face softened. ‘I remember what happened. It broke my heart. I care about you. I believe you’re a force for good. Always have. You have a lot of power and if you just used it in the right way, you could help so many people.’
Lamont was growing tired of Trinidad’s tone.
‘I’ve helped many people. I’ve given people money, funded ventures. Most of the time there was nothing to show for it. I never made a big deal about it, so don’t you dare talk about me not helping people.’
‘Help now then. Chapeltown made you rich, so stand with us. There’s a community meeting and if you’re there; if you speak and show people you care about what happened to Diego, about what is happening to so many of our kids, it will go a long way.’
‘That’s not how I do things, and I need you to respect that.’ Lamont had no intention of going to the meeting. It was being held by the OurHood Initiative, and he would not sit silently while they made him a scapegoat. There was too much going on at the moment to be distracted, and he needed to be Teflon now more than ever.
Trinidad shook his head, extinguishing Lamont’s attempts to stand up for himself.
‘I know that you’re dealing with your own things. You were shot, but you have to realise that the community needs you! This community made you a millionaire, and don’t give me that shit about not being that rich, because I know differently. I may not know everything, but I know that about you. Help them, the way we helped you sling that poison.’
Lamont clutched his water bottle tightly, his jaw clenched.
‘Don’t try to give me some speech about morality, Trinidad, because it will not fly. I’ve made money in Chapeltown, but I wasn’t the first, and I won’t be the last.
‘You wanna talk about what I’ve gained from these streets? Well, let’s talk about what I lost too. I lost my parents, and I was sent to live with a monster. I lost friends to pointless squabbles right here in these streets.
‘You think the money makes all that welcome? You think it excuses the pain I feel when I cry at my parents graves, wishing I could give up this money just to see them again? I came from nothing. You know that. I told myself that I wouldn’t bend and scrape. I was going to do whatever I could to get what I wanted. I love this community, but before I started doing what I did, who even gave a fuck?’
‘And that gives you the right to be selfish?’
‘Not at all! I have things going on at the moment that you couldn’t even fathom. I’m trying my hardest to navigate through, for me, for everyone else. Do I want what’s best for Chapeltown? Course I do. But, I need to fix me too.’
There was silence. The old friends glared. Trinidad again shook his head, disgusted.
‘I never thought I would see you as a sellout, L. A man that cannot get behind his people, is no real man.’
Before Lamont could reply, there was a sharp tap on the front door. Both men looked, seeing a young woman and her son. She pointed at her son’s nappy head with a shy smile. Trinidad shuffled over and let them in.
Lamont smiled, then hurr
ied to his office, shutting the door behind him. He took several breaths, trying to calm down. He knew why Trinidad was angry, but to blame Lamont was out of line. Lamont wondered if there was more he could be doing. He downed the drink, dropping the empty bottle on the table, staring at his desk.
Maybe he needed to be more involved. It was just another thing on his list, he supposed.
Taking another deep breath, he reached for some papers, switched on some Charles Mingus, and tried to lose himself in the soothing music.
There was something about a white Mercedes that made K-Bar envision success. Whenever he saw one, he had to stare, reminded of his childhood. He saw many a player driving them back in the day, rich-for-a-day fools with whatever young girl they could coerce into the passenger seat.
K-Bar had grown up. Life had been good to him to where even now, stuck in traffic, he could still appreciate the beauty as he sat in one himself, Cadell pumping from the speaker.
‘Do you have to play that so loud?’ his passenger complained. She was a slight woman, brown skinned with poise and tired beauty. K-Bar ignored her, still looking at the car, an older version of his. The kid driving was younger, nodding his head to some track K-Bar had never heard of. He had his own girl in the car. Mixed raced with big breasts barely contained in a sleeveless top. She noticed K-Bar, glaring at first, then taking in the jewels and the ride.
Fiona noticed her looking at K-Bar and shook her head.
‘If only she knew.’
‘Knew what?’ K-Bar sped up, driving down Harrogate Road.