Skewered

by Jones, Benedict J

  “What do you think then?”

  I shrugged in response. Not much I could discern from such a brief conversation. Mazza nodded at the look I gave him and instead of answering his question I threw him one of my own.

  “How do you reckon the drop will go down?”

  “I think they’ll try and give us the run around. You got one of them fags?”

  I passed him the box of Bensons and lit one for him before I spoke.

  “What do you mean – them? How can we be sure it isn’t just one bloke?”

  “That’s the feeling I’m getting. Kidnappers tend to move in packs. That’s my experience. Just like I get the feeling that you’re going to get the run around before you can deliver the cash. This guy, Big Time, sounds like he’s got a point to prove. Doesn’t just want the money, I reckon he wants to yank our strings for a bit before he gets paid.”

  I nodded but it didn’t sound good to me.

  “Khan wants me to sit around and hammer out the details of the money. You okay getting back or do you want to wait?”

  “Nah, I’ll walk down to Greenwich and get the bus. Get something to eat while I’m down there.”

  “Good lad.” He said and then passed me a white envelope from inside his coat, well it was different to a brown one. I raised my eyebrow as a question.

  “Five hundred. The rest after the drop, that alright?”

  “Of course it is, mate.”

  I slipped the money into my pocket, shook Mazza’s hand and felt a bounce in my step I hadn’t felt for a long time.

  I walked across the heath and down the hill into the centre of Greenwich. Desperados looked empty so I sat down and ordered up enchiladas plus a couple of Coronas to keep me company until it arrived. While I waited I started doodling on a napkin and by the time the food arrived I’d created a pretty good likeness of Jaz Kaur in Biro. It was the first time I’d drawn anything in months. Since I took the job with Uncle Kris it seemed like my brain had rewired itself and I hadn’t been able to finish any drawing or painting which I started, either that or I was so unhappy with the results that I tore them to shreds. I stared at the face and ordered another beer. The picture pleased me.

  Six

  The morning brought the usual; I woke up suddenly and kicked my way through a few empty cans, prayed in front of my porcelain god and then collapsed back onto the bed. I knew I had to fix up.

  There were two messages on my phone. I hadn’t even heard it ring, or maybe I had and I’d just ignored it. The first was from Uncle Kris asking where the fuck I was and who the fuck did I think I was. He could be big on the F-word could Uncle Kris. I think it was then I realised why he didn’t like me; his own kids had always worked for him as did a couple of my other cousins whereas I’d never had to rely on him, until recently. The fact that I now shaved doner meat into pitas for the peanuts he paid me pissed him right off, even more than the fact his nephew was a convicted criminal – I’d become just like the rest of them. I called him back and told him that I thought I had a line on a possible job. The line went silent for a moment and then he told me to ring him back after the weekend. He didn’t wish me luck and didn’t ask me if it was legal, but then he was never that kind of man. While I spoke to him I flicked through the pile of pencil sketches I had knocked out when I got home from Greenwich. They were all of the same thing, or rather the same person – no prizes for guessing who.

  The second message was from Mazza asking me to call him. I rang back but got his voicemail. I left a message and then looked around my flat through tired eyes. The boozing would have to stop or at least calm down for a while. I tossed the empty Stella cans into a bin bag and tried to straighten up a little. Mazza still hadn’t called back so I climbed into the shower and tried to rinse away my hangover. If this went well Mazza might have had more work for me. I had a chance to get some kind of life back and I knew better than to throw this one away with last night’s beer cans – I might not get another chance like this.

  The buzzer went as I was drying my hair. I thought it was Mazza and just buzzed the caller up and left the door open. It wasn’t Mazza, it was my landlord. Gerry Donegan was a small man with a head of white hair, red drinker’s cheeks and a granddad’s smile. He wasn’t smiling today and the lad in the parka with him wasn’t a small man, he looked like Gerry had shipped him straight in off the potato farm in County Tipper-wherever-the-fuck.

  “Alright, Gerry.”

  “Not really, Charlie, my wallet feels a bit light and it’s been two weeks.”

  I sighed and fished around in the pockets of the jacket I had thrown on the sofa last night.

  “Two hundred?” I asked knowing full well how much I owed him.

  He nodded and I passed him three hundred in twenties.

  “Next weeks as well, yeah. No need to let your dog off his chain.”

  The muscle puffed his self up and Gerry looked sheepish.

  “You know how it is, Charlie.”

  I did.

  The phone rang.

  “I’d ask you to hang around for a tea party but I’ve got to get that.”

  Gerry smiled and headed for the door. The muscle stood staring at me.

  “Go on, boy, get.”

  He growled and followed Gerry. I grabbed up the phone.

  “Yeah?”

  It was Mazza, he was outside.

  “Give me two minutes and I’m there.”

  I dressed quickly and headed down to the waiting car.

  Mazza dropped me on Blackheath and I walked the rest of the way to the house. We’d decided that I’d have a look around and see if I could spot anyone watching the house. I kept my eyes open but didn’t see anyone hanging around. I don’t know whether I expected to see a car with blacked out windows idling at the kerb but the only people I saw were a postman and a young woman pushing a stroller, one of those two could’ve been watching but it didn’t look like that to me. I cut along the back of the houses and checked the bushes – I felt like a right prick. Who did I think I was? As I trudged back towards the front of the house the rain started and I felt myself getting as wet as a wannabe WAG in a Premiership dressing room. Mazza opened the door for me.

  “Anything?”

  I shook my head in response and stepped into the hall.

  “That came on sudden.”

  He said gesturing at my soaked jeans.

  “Yeah...” I said and felt like a proper mug.

  Seven

  Eamon watched Stanton out the corner of his eye. Stanton sat staring at a spot on the balding carpet. He’d been like that for nearly an hour. At least it would be over soon, thought Eamon, and then he could try and get away from Stanton. He wished he had never met them; Mook was cool and Elissa was cute but Stanton was a fucking psycho. He had heard the noises that came from the bedroom where they kept the man they had snatched when Stanton went in there. Eamon thought about the first time Stanton had nodded to him outside the shops, he’d seen him a couple of times before. The next time he saw him he had said “Alright?” and Stanton had nodded. Maybe it would have stayed at that if it hadn’t been for that night at the bus stop. Eamon had been on his way home, late, and had to take the bus as his mum had needed to borrow his car because hers was in for a service. With his head phones in Eamon hadn’t heard the three kids approaching. They had their hoods up and the pushing started straight off. They snatched the New Era cap off of his head and threw him against the plexi-glass window of the bus shelter. One of them was patting him down muttering the mantra he knew so well after years of similar “Lend us a pound bruv, you got a phone?”

  He saw one of them pull a Stanley knife and he saw the blade slide out of the handle but he never saw Stanton coming till one of the boys lay on the ground clutching his face. Stanton was grinning, eyes wild in the orange glow from the street lights. He swung his fist and the knuckle duster he wore caught the second boy in the eye. The guy who was pinning Eamon to the bus stop turned and ran. Eamon remembered Stanton standing
there for a moment breathing like a horse that had just run the Derby before he turned his attentions to the two would-be-muggers he had laid out. Eamon had joined in and with every kick he put into the prone bodies he had felt a little better about himself. After that he saw a lot of Stanton.

  But know he was scared and he knew it. If it weren’t for Stanton needing his car then Eamon would have already slipped away. Stanton looked up suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” replied Eamon as he looked away. He didn’t want to get on the wrong side of his friend.

  “It’s nearly done, man.”

  Eamon looked up at Stanton.

  “I know. Just gotta get through tomorrow night, init.”

  Stanton nodded.

  “Yeah...Get through tomorrow and we’re set.”

  At that moment Eamon would have happily given up his share of the money to just go home and see his mum.

  Eight

  Jaz arrived just before nine. She was unsteady when she walked in and as she stepped into the lounge she turned her ankle on her high heel. Jimmy Khan caught her before she hit the ground.

  “Get your fucking hands off me! Save your touches for my dear step mother.”

  “Jazmina!”

  She pushed Jimmy off her and stumbled back.

  “Did you drive here?”

  The cop asked going to the window. He pulled back the curtain and then turned back to Jaz.

  “You stupid little cow. Give me your keys.”

  She laughed.

  “Why don’t you come and take them?”

  Khan started towards her and Mazza stood up. I followed suit and stood beside him. It was Khan’s turn to laugh.

  “Well, let your pet thugs take care of you then.”

  Mazza looked at me. I knew he was still sorting the money out with Jimmy and the stepmother. I looked at Jaz.

  “Keys?”

  She raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Are you going to try and take them as well?”

  I shook my head.

  “I’m not going to try anything, you give them to me or I take them - that simple.” She pouted for a second and then handed me the keys. I saw the Audi logo on the key fob. I looked at Mazza.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Ring me if anything happens, alright?”

  He nodded back at me.

  “Get her home safe, mate.”

  Outside the rain had stopped but the ground was slick with wet leaves and I held her up as we walked to the gun metal Audi roadster parked up, half on half off, the kerb. Alright, I enjoyed the warmth of her under my hands and the smell of her scent mixed with the cloying aroma of wine, but I aimed to be a gentleman. I got her into the passenger seat and put her belt on.

  “You want to tell me the address?”

  “Just drive towards North Greenwich station and I’ll direct you.”

  She didn’t look as drunk as she had inside. The roads were empty and I felt the Audi straining to be released. I had my eyes on the road when Jaz’s hand slid across my lap. I jumped up in my seat like someone had touched a cattle prod to my arsehole.

  “Take it easy Char-lie. Haven’t you caught on yet that I’m a bad girl? And the devil loves bad girls, Charlie, are you feeling devilish?”

  I tried to wriggle free of her hand, like I said I was trying to be a gentleman, but as her rubbing became more insistent my resolve was eroded more and more with each stroke. She laughed and unzipped me. The steering wheel wobbled in my hands and the Audi wobbled with it. Her left hand pressed down onto my knee as her right freed me from the confines of my jeans. As her hand pressed down the speedometer jumped and the car leapt with it. Just before she ducked her head she spoke.

  “You stop, I stop. Got it?”

  I nodded like the Churchill dog and her head dropped into my lap. Her head moved up and down as though in time to a heavy hip-hop beat and with every movement the car picked up more speed. The streets were residential, double parked. I kept my eyes locked on the road and my head pressed back. I was panting hard as I took a corner too hard and felt the rear of the Audi clip one of the parked cars. She must have felt the collision but if anything she just moved faster and with more rhythm. My body was trembling when the girl stepped out from between two parked cars. I twisted the wheel and swerved around her, she leapt back between the cars. I looked in the mirror and just before we turned the next corner I saw the girl cross the road looking both ways. Finally Jaz sat up just in time to avoid the conclusion of what she had started. I braked hard as I came and the car slammed to a stop jolting us against our seat belts. Her head bumped off the glove box and that wiped the smile off her face for a moment. I burst out laughing. She looked at me; cock out, come growing cold over the front of my jeans and I couldn’t fathom the feelings I saw in her eyes. Then she laughed with me.

  “Shit, girl...”

  She shrugged and sat back in the passenger seat wiping her mouth.

  “Take me somewhere, Charlie. I need another drink.”

  I threw her a sideways look and tried to read what was going on in her messed up head. I found some tissues in the glove box and tried to clean the front of my jeans. Jaz pulled a folded up lottery ticket from her handbag and I watched as she slid her nail into the chang and sniffed it up; lottery wrap. A curtain twitched in the window of one of the houses, I started the car and drove off at a more sedate speed.

  Nine

  Stanton paced around the flat like a caged beast. The waiting was beginning to take its toll upon him. The money was so close he could taste it. Mook and Eamon had gone out to grab the SIM cards and Stanton had sent Elissa out for food. He stood outside of the cell he had created and then unlocked the door and went in.

  “You awake?”

  “Yes.”

  Stanton yanked the hood off of the man’s head. He had left the gag off and promised the man the iron again if he made any noise.

  “It’s getting near the time.”

  “How long to go?”

  “Just tonight and then the drop’ll be tomorrow. You’ll get home late but you’ll be in your own room tomorrow night, Mr Singh.”

  Jaz Kaur’s father nodded.

  “You missing your family?”

  “Of course.”

  “What d’you mean ‘of course’? I don’t miss mine.”

  Singh stayed quiet, he didn’t want to provoke the young man and the burns on his back felt as fresh as when they had first been inflicted on him. For a moment he closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain.

  “You alright?”

  “My back.”

  “Oh. Listen I’ve got some pills in the other room – you want some?”

  “What are they, painkillers?”

  “Fuck if I know. Some shit that my boy has been selling, from what he says they’ll make you forget about your back for a while.”

  Singh nodded.

  “Please.”

  And Stanton turned to the door. A few minutes later he arrived back with a plastic baggie stuffed with pills of various colours and designs and two bottles of beer. He handed a bottle to Singh and then shook some pills loose into his other hand.

  “Get them down your neck. You’d need a doctor to tell you the difference between them all but I reckon a cocktail is what you need. Liven you up like.”

  Singh threw the pills into his mouth and chased them with a slug of the lager.

  “What’s your family like then?” asked Stanton as he sat down on the mattress next to Mr Singh.

  “I’ve only got one child – from my first marriage...”

  “You walk out on them?”

  Singh saw Stanton’s hand tighten around the neck of his bottle.

  “No. My first wife died.”

  Stanton nodded as if that was okay, it was alright for a man if his wife died - just part of the natural way of things.

  “What’s the kids name?”

  “Jazmina.”

  “You love her?”

  “Of co..
.” Singh stopped himself.

  “Yes, I love her. We’ve had a lot of problems but she seems better now.”

  Stanton nodded and grabbed a few pills from the bag. He swallowed them down with a hit from his beer.

  “You got yourself a new wife?”

  “Yes and I love her too. I have a good life.”

  Stanton threw a sideway glance at him.

  “Not so hot right now though is it?”

  Singh shook his head.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “As long as it isn’t my name then yeah, go for it.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why me?”

  Stanton laughed.

  “Why not? Maybe because your life is good. Some of us never had it good like that. You’ve got your daughter and she’s got you. I see my old man again and I’ll shank the cunt. Then I’ll cut his dick off and stuff it in his mouth.”

  Stanton rose and stared down at Singh.

  “Prick!”

  “I’m sorry.” said Singh the moment before Stanton bounced his bottle off the chained man’s temple and then took a step back. Singh raised his hand in submission. For a moment Stanton considered kicking him in the face but settled for pulling the hood back over Singh’s head. He stood back breathing heavily and tossed a few more pills down his throat.

  “You’d better pray that money turns up or me and you are going to have another little chat and I’ll do shit that’ll make you beg me to pull out the iron again.”

  Ten

  I was laid back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. My body ached. I’d been with Jaz last night and it felt like I’d pulled muscles I didn’t even know I had, she had slammed herself against me like she was trying to grind my bones to make her bread – my pretty little ogre. The bite mark she’d left in my shoulder throbbed like a brand. Jaz was in the bathroom of my flat taking a shower before we headed for her father’s house on Blackheath. I was thinking about my own father. He told me two things the night he died; never go against the house with a low pair and don’t fill up on the bread. What kind of father leaves his son with axioms like that? I wondered what Jaz would remember of her father if he didn’t come back. I rolled off the bed and lit another cigarette. A drink would have been good about then but I was trying to keep my mind clear for the work that lay ahead. Still, there was half a bottle of Stoli in the freezer that seemed to be whispering my name. The door to the bathroom opened and Jaz strutted out – she had the string of pearls back at her throat and a pair of heels on but nothing else. My eyes were transfixed on the dark strip of thatch between her legs. The whole situation felt unreal. Jaz wasn’t the kind of woman I got with. I’m not saying I’m ugly, I’ve got all the features to be considered good looking but they just seem to have been put together a little oddly, something a little off. Don’t get me wrong, I do alright, but I know my level. When someone like Jaz falls into your lap what are you going to do – keep asking her what she’s doing with you? Fuck that, so I had dived straight in. I can’t lie and say I just wanted a couple of sweaty salsa sessions between the sheets – I was thinking beyond the moment.