by Ricky Black
‘Yes. What’s the plan?’
‘We’re gonna test his greed, learn who his boss keeps around him, and see what he says about the people he works for. Akeem will handle it all. He’ll give you the information we have and then it’s up to you. He’ll also give you some money so you can act the part, and you’ll have access to whatever resources you need. Don’t take the piss. Eyes will still be on you. Understand?’
Darren fought to hide the grin on his face. This was what he had waited for; the opportunity to prove himself.
‘You’ll report to Akeem. One more thing; you’re going to get a driver. He used to work with Marcus. He’s trustworthy, but don’t say more around him than necessary.’
‘Marcus as in Tall-Man?’
Lamont nodded.
‘Which guy? Vic’s still locked up. Is it Sharma?’
Lamont again nodded. Darren remembered Sharma driving Marcus around the streets. He hadn’t seen the man in months, correctly assuming he was keeping a low profile after Marcus’s death.
‘Any more questions?’
‘Nah. Thank you though. For giving me this chance.’
‘I didn’t give it to you. You earned it. If you pull this off, we will talk about something better for you. Okay?’
It was Darren’s turn to nod.
Shorty rose from the barber chair and wiped the leftover hair from the back of his neck. He checked out his new trim in the mirror, satisfied with how the barber lined him up. Handing the man a twenty pound note, he instructed him to keep the change.
‘You keep tipping these kids like you are, they’re gonna be fighting over who does your hair.’ Trinidad patted Shorty on the back. They laughed as he walked with Shorty to the door.
‘You spoken to L?’ Shorty asked, noting Trinidad’s face sag. He sighed.
‘Not since we argued. I kinda miss seeing him around here. He kept to himself, but it was still comforting.’
‘Me and L argue all the time, Trinidad. I wouldn’t even overthink it. L likes people to challenge him, and I think he’s just getting used to being in the public eye again.’
Trinidad nodded, his eyes slightly brighter. ‘You might be right. Did you hear about the police involved in attacking Diego?’
‘I heard they got suspended pending investigation or something. Wasn’t one of them in an accident?’
‘He’s in critical condition. He was in a car crash a few days after his suspension. Wrapped his car around a tree late one night.’
‘Good, I hope he dies. I ain’t got no sympathy for those devils, especially after what they did to the kid,’ said Shorty.
‘It’s dangerous though. You know the police as well as I do; they’ll come back stronger and make everyone suffer. There’s got to be another way to deal with this mess.’
Shorty shrugged. ‘I get where you’re coming from, but I’m on that other side, old man. I’m in those streets doing what I need to. It ain’t for guys like me to dictate where we go. No one’s gonna take me seriously.’
‘People know what you’ve been through, and you’re still out here. You speaking up could help change the minds of some of these young kids that wanna be like you.’
Shorty mulled over Trinidad’s words. He’d never seen himself as a role model, but he liked the fact Trinidad believed he could do it. Shorty had always gotten along with the old man, and while they weren’t as close as he and Lamont, there was a mutual respect.
‘I’m not trying to force you into anything, but there’s a community meeting tonight down at Roscoe Church.’
‘Is this to do with that OurHood shit?’
‘They’ll definitely be involved.’
Shorty scratched his jaw, the rubbing alcohol applied after his haircut beginning to itch. Going to the meeting wouldn’t hurt and if he didn’t like what he heard, no one could stop him from leaving.
‘What time does it start?’
Lennox Thompson’s face was unreadable as he strode into a room, several of his people waiting. They surrounded a man who was sprawled on the floor. The room itself was formerly a living room, now bereft of any furniture. The carpet had been torn away, leaving a grey flooring currently covered with plastic.
Nikkolo greeted Lennox with a nod.
‘It was easy getting him, Len. He thought he had the drop.’
Lennox allowed a small smile, then approached the man, signalling for him to be turned over. Despite the livid bruising around his left eye and cheek, he was still recognisable.
‘Spinks, how have my people been treating you?’
Spinks mumbled an inaudible reply. He had been stripped of his clothing and was trying to protect his modesty.
‘You’re the one they sent? They thought an idiot like you would catch me slipping? Delroy must be losing his marbles.’
The room filled with laughter and jeers as they humiliated Spinks. He tried to get to his feet, but was forced down.
‘You haven’t been the same since Marcus and Shorty nearly killed you. Your brain doesn’t work right anymore. Hold him down,’ Lennox ordered, laying into Spinks with deliberate, slow right hands, impacting the face and body of the beaten man. ‘Gimme the bat.’
Nikkolo handed Lennox a baseball bat, which Lennox brought down repeatedly on Spinks’s ribs, savouring the screams.
‘You know how it goes. Slow . . . quick . . . it’s all the same to me. I wanna know all about Winston and Eddie Williams. I want hangout spots, safe houses, where they get their pussy, what brand of baked beans they like. I want all of it.
‘You’re gonna give it to me, and if you don’t, then after I’ve torn you apart, I’m gonna do the same to your family. Everyone you love. Anyone you’ve said hello to on the street. I’ll destroy them all. Start talking. Now.’
Shorty slipped into the back of the church just as the meeting was starting. The cramped main room was almost full, with most of the attendees standing. As Shorty pushed his way forward, he was surprised when an arm brushed against his.
Jenny Campbell smiled at Shorty, but before they could speak, a man at the front cleared his throat. His name was Calvin Newton.
‘I’m glad to see so many of us here tonight,’ Calvin was a squat man with glasses and a quizzical expression, but he had a presence that reminded Shorty of Lamont. Looking around, he could already see people leaning forward in their seats, not wanting to miss a single word. ‘I understand it’s hard to get out to these meetings, and your support is invaluable,’ Calvin waited for the applause that had started up to disperse before he continued. ‘I know that we have several crucial issues to discuss, and I feel that we need to tackle the biggest one of all, which are the police, and their behaviours in our town.’
‘They’re damn-well out of control!’ Ken barked. He was another man Shorty recognised; a regular in Lamont’s barber shop who often took on Lamont in games of chess.
Shorty had seen the old man argue over football or one of Lamont’s moves, but he’d never heard him speak with so much anger. ‘They put Claudette’s grandson in hospital, then tried to charge him with assault when the hospital released him.’
Calvin shook his head as the crowd began talking amongst themselves again. He looked pained and gave them their chance to speak before holding up his hands again.
‘I believe they are out of control, but the police are nothing but a private army, bought and paid for. They’ve always come into Chapeltown with impunity, bringing drugs and drama with them, trying to arrest your brothers and sleep with your sisters. I want to clarify why though? Why are they suddenly coming in and terrorising people? What is their agenda?’
No one had an answer. Shorty watched Calvin, and he noticed the man stare intently at him for a second.
‘We have had some terrible events take place that have rocked our community, and a lot of bad press that has people again vilifying Chapeltown, just as they did in the olden days. I feel that the police and their paymasters are using this situation to their advantage, and I believ
e it ties into funding. The police force across the country are facing heavy cutbacks. If you can justify certain areas appearing to be dangerous or even on the verge of rioting, you can justify your budget.’
‘So, what do we do to stop them?’ a man called out. Calvin looked that man in his eye, picking his words carefully.
‘We all need to come up with that plan together. In light of that, I would like to welcome Malcolm Powell, who will share a few words. For those of you that don’t know, Malcolm is a key member of the OurHood Initiative, and has organised several of the recent demonstrations that have taken place in and around Chapeltown. Malcolm, come on up.’
Shorty watched Malcolm approach the podium, people already clapping and shouting words of encouragement. Shorty felt he looked familiar and was sure he’d seen him around back in the day. He had a refined look similar to Lamont, but was broader, his facial features more accentuated.
Malcolm greeted the crowd with a smile as he adjusted the microphone.
‘Good evening and thank you all for coming. Calvin asked me to say a few words, but honestly, he touched on most of it already. A lot of the recent events have been the catalyst for the agenda of those in authority, which is to subjugate by any means necessary. It goes beyond that though, and if you’ve listened to any of my recent podcasts or read my articles, the fault clearly lies with the criminal element that has dominated Chapeltown for decades.’
A hush fell over the room. Shorty felt several people looking at him, but willed himself to stay calm, keeping his eyes on Malcolm. Malcolm surveyed the room, giving Shorty the briefest look and nod before he continued.
‘Many criminals in and around Chapeltown profit from the sale of drugs. People have made excuses for them in the past; anything from a lack of education, to being unable to find work. I can’t refute any of that, other than to say that I’m from Chapeltown; I grew up around the corner in a house that didn’t have much money. What it had was plenty of love and support, and I used that as fuel to succeed.
‘I went to college. I worked, I put myself out there and helped people establish themselves. I wanted it. The fact is, some of these criminals are lazy. It’s easy money selling drugs, and they’re making a lot, so why not continue? And if someone comes along trying to take your spot, why not murder and maim them? After all, the community will protect you, right?’
‘It’s not as easy as you’re making it sound, brother,’ a man stood. He looked to be in his late thirties, stout, dressed in a sweater and faded jeans. ‘We have families to consider, and speaking out just puts a target on our backs.’
There were murmurs of agreement. Malcolm nodded along with them.
‘Thank you for speaking up, sir. Again, you’re not wrong. These people have the means to reach out and silence people. Since I stepped up my work, I’ve had death threats. I’ve had people approach me, giving me messages warning to shut all of this down. I’m in the same boat as you guys; I have family and friends at risk too.
‘But, you know what keeps me in the game?’ Malcolm waited a beat, aware all eyes were on him, waiting anxiously for his next words. ‘I’m doing the right thing. It’s as simple as that. For as long as we can remember and beyond, there have been people who have been oppressed and ostracised, while trying to make things easier for those around them. Without people stepping up. Without people doing the right thing despite the odds, we’d be nowhere.
‘That is why I’ll never give up, and you can’t either. We succeed as one, or we suffer as one. No matter the consequences, I’m in this until the end. Thank you for listening.’
The applause that followed Malcolm’s words was deafening, and even Shorty clapped. It went on for minutes, growing louder as the man stood on stage and smiled.
Shorty appreciated the guts it took to stand there and say the things Malcolm had. It was puzzling to him at the same time. Malcolm was walking around with no fear, saying what he wanted, and no one was stopping him.
Shorty appreciated his words, but he wasn’t as invested as some others. He was a hustler. It was all he knew, and he understood the mind of people like Lamont and Natty Deeds. They were champion strategists, used to thinking on their feet and tearing apart plots and ideals that worked against them. If Malcolm thought he would unseat them, he would need to try harder.
Before Shorty could speak to Jenny, Trinidad hailed him, and they spoke for a few moments. Most people had cleared out of the church by then. Shorty saw Jenny approach Malcolm, and they exchanged words before she gave the man a brief hug and walked away.
Shorty’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring. He wanted to attack Malcolm for violating, but the hug had been so brief, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Jenny noticed him and walked over.
‘I didn’t know you knew Malcolm like that,’ Shorty said, hoping his voice didn’t sound accusatory. Jenny grinned.
‘Looking out for L’s interests, are we?’
The comment was perfect for defusing the tension, and Shorty laughed, Jenny giggling at his reaction.
‘Summat like that.’
‘He bought some flowers from me, and I’ve been checking out his website. He talks a lot of sense. Are you walking out?’
Shorty followed Jenny outside, nodding at a few people he knew. He noted several others were avoiding his eye, and a brazen pair of women glared at him, mumbling under their breaths as he passed. Shorty and Jenny stood near the main road, illuminated by nearby streetlights.
‘I haven’t seen you around lately.’ Jenny stuck her hands in her pockets to stay warm.
Shorty rubbed his forehead. ‘Me and L kinda got into it the night of that little dinner we had.’
Jenny studied Shorty for a moment.
‘I’m not going to ask what you argued about, but L needs you, so make up.’
Shorty grinned again despite himself.
‘Just like that?’
‘How long have you two known each other? You’re closer than brothers, Like I said, you need each other.’
Shorty shrugged, knowing Jenny was right, but not wanting to admit it.
‘How’s Grace doing?’
‘I’ve been to see her, but its early days.’
‘And your son?’
Shorty sighed and closed his eyes.
‘I acted like a complete prick the last time I saw him.’
‘In what way?’
Shorty filled Jenny in on the circumstances of his last trip to Huddersfield. Timmy had been present, and Shorty had expected Dionte to be happy to see him. The lack of contact had made Dionte unapproachable though, and Shorty nearly attacked him out of anger. Since then, he’d heard nothing from either Dionte or his mother, Stacey.
‘You should go and see him.’
‘I thought about it, but I assumed he wouldn’t wanna see me again. I decided to stay away.’
Jenny impaled Shorty with a sudden glare he was sure Lamont had been on the receiving end of.
‘He’s a child, Shorty, just like Grace. Personally, you seem a lot more centred than you did two years ago. Don’t give up. Deal with your children, and your brother, because they all need you.’
Shorty felt uplifted by Jenny’s words. She’d hit the nail on the head, and he was done with moping around and waiting for things to get better.
‘Thanks, Jen.’
‘Don’t mention it. You can walk me to my car now. It’s freezing out here.’
Chapter Ten
Saturday 7 March 2015
Buoyed from the conversation with Jenny, Shorty hit the motorway early one morning.
After a while, he entered Huddersfield, driving through the Fixby area. It didn’t escape Shorty’s attention that the last time he had driven through, he’d had Timmy with him. After his visit with his son imploded, Shorty had lost his temper with Timmy shortly after.
Shaking away the negative thoughts, Shorty drove up a long driveway, stopping in front of a neat, white-bricked stately home. There was a Mercedes parked up. Shorty parke
d alongside it.
Stacey waited in the doorway, hawk-like eyes watching Shorty’s every move. She’d put on weight since they last saw one another, but it was well distributed. Her skin was a dark brown shade, and she wore her age elegantly the way some women seemed to.
‘Hey, Stace.’
Stacey nodded. ‘Are you okay Shorty?’
‘Yeah. Thought I’d get here in quicker time, but the motorway was rammed.’
‘I think there was an accident. Traffic probably got diverted.’
That was the extent of their conversation. They awkwardly looked at one another, then away. They were young when they’d gotten together. Shorty was on the streets building a reputation. Stacey was in the clubs taking drugs with her friends, trying to meet a big-timer. She wasn’t prepared for Shorty though, and their tenure was rocky, filled with accusations of cheating — most of which were true — and violence.
Shorty was more volatile back then and had beaten up at least two men he believed were making eyes at Stacey. Finally, this culminated with Shorty being arrested for assaulting a taxi driver whilst under the influence of drink and drugs. He’d been sentenced, and a pregnant Stacey had seen the writing on the wall and moved away.
Shorty reached out to Lamont from behind bars, wanting to make sure his kid was provided for. Despite Lamont’s objections, Shorty used most his stash getting Stacey the very house they stood in. He’d assumed that after his release, he would move out there with her. This backfired when Stacey made it clear that they didn’t have a future and began dating a businessman. Shorty had wanted to blow the house up and kill the man, but Lamont talked him around, and Shorty had left Stacey alone.
‘So . . . Is he in?’
Stacey smiled tightly, ‘I told you he was. He’s watching television in the front room. Can I get you a drink?’
‘I’m good,’ Shorty started towards the front room. He paused when he realised Stacey wasn’t following. ‘Aren’t you coming?’