‘Ah, but I didn’t actually ask for the digits, did I?’
‘But you wanted to!’
‘But I didn’t and that’s what counts – what you do with your limbs.’
“Oh, Dwayne, I forgot.” Rachel was back, fishing around in her little shoulder bag. “Here.” She handed me a piece of paper. “My number in case you need me. Salaam alaikum!”
“Thanks, Rachel.”
“Oh, and you can call me Ruqayyah now, OK?”
“OK, Ruqayyah... see you around. Salaam alaikum...”
‘Eediat!’
Larkside Games
DWAYNE
Over the next few weeks, I hardly saw Jukkie. I knew that he was rolling with Trigger on the regular now and didn’t have time to come and check me. The two of them had ‘gone country’ – out to rob and push drugs in the suburbs where there was less competition.
A part of me missed Jukkie – he was my bredren at the end of the day – but another part of me was glad that he was staying away. I didn’t need his influence around, not while I was trying to go straight.
But one day, while I was on my way back from after-school maths tuition, I heard a car beep.
I turned to see who it was: it was Jukkie, in a brand new convertible. My man looked proper pleased with himself.
“Yo, Dee,” he called. “Come and roll with your boy, innit!”
I looked at the other seats: empty. I could handle Jukkie when he was on his own, so I nodded and jogged across the road to the car.
Once we were in the car, it was like old days. Jukkie was playing his favourite tune, Me against the world by Tupac. Jukkie was crazy for Tupac. Even after other rappers had come on the scene, even when everyone else started listening to grime, Jukkie stayed loyal to Tupac.
“Tupac understands my life, y’get me,” he would say. “He’s like the father I never had.”
We chewed the fat for a while, chattin’ about this and that. It was nice, man, just like old times.
“Let’s go for a drive,” he said, as he swung the car up towards Thornton Heath. “I need to burn some rubber in this baby!”
It was all good until Jukkie’s phone went off. He had received a message. He kissed his teeth and picked up the phone to look at the screen. It was a video message. It sounded nasty.
I could see Jukkie’s face grow darker as he tried to figure out what was going on on the screen. Then he swore loudly and slammed the brakes on the car. The car screeched and stopped and the car behind us beeped long and loud.
“Maniacs!” called the man as he sped past us, giving us the finger.
Jukkie ignored him and put the car in reverse. Faster and faster he went backwards down the one-way street. I looked in my sideview mirror, praying no cars would appear behind us.
“Easy, Jukkie, easy!”
With a squeal of tyres and the stink of hot rubber, Jukkie swung the car back towards Stockwell.
“What’s going on, man?” I was panting as I ran up the stairs behind him. This was where one of his girlfriends lived. I had been there before, for a house party. But Jukkie didn’t say a word.
When we got to the house, he banged on the door.
“Open up, Lachelle!”
Jukkie’s girl, Lachelle, opened the door and he barged in, pushing her inside. To my surprise, I saw that she was at least six months pregnant. So, Jukkie had a pickney on the way...
Jukkie didn’t say a word, just gave her a slap that sent her spinning.
I stepped forward. “Yo, Jukkie, easy, man. The baby...”
“What’s up with you, man?” she squealed, holding her cheek.
“You’re a dirty sket, that’s what!” Jukkie yelled, his face all twisted with rage and disgust. “I can’t believe I ever trusted you.”
“Why, Jukkie, why? What have I done? I ain’t done nothin’!” The girl was crying now, trying to grab on to his arm, trying to make him look her in the face.
“Yeah? Well then how do you explain this?” With bared teeth, Jukkie shoved his mobile phone in her face. I saw her flinch and look away from what was obviously some nasty video, a video of her.
“By now, every man on the estate will have seen it!” Jukkie spat full in her face. “You must be mad if you think I want anything to do with you!”
“Please, Jukkie, don’t go...”
“Move from me, bitch!” And he barged past me. “Let’s dust, man.”
He paused at the door to look back one last time. “And you can get rid of that baby an’ all. Probably wasn’t even mine.”
Before the door slammed shut, I saw Lachelle collapse against the kitchen counter, her fists jammed against her mouth to keep from crying out.
That was heavy.
Without Jukkie saying a word, I knew what had happened. A couple of weeks before, Lockjaw and the Larkside crew had started a new craze down their endz: they went after girls who already had boyfriends and drugged them up – sometimes with their consent, sometimes without – and made them do all kinds of nastiness, and every member of the crew got a piece. Then they would film everything and send the videos to each other, to the girls’ boyfriends, post them on the Internet.
After something like that, a girl’s name was dirt. She was known as a sket by the whole estate and then Larkside mandem could get her to do practically anything: drugs – using, pushing, carrying – videos, turning tricks.
They had got one of Jukkie’s girls this time.
Jukkie was so wound up, I asked him to drop me on the high road. I knew that he was going to go and get high now and I didn’t want to be with him when he was like that.
But I passed by Tony’s place to tell him what had happened.
Tony shook his head. “Dem mans are gettin’ worse and worse. In my day, none of this stuff used to go down.” Then he looked at me straight in the eye. “Don’t forget that you’re a Muslim now, Dee. You need to keep good company or you’ll end up off the rails again. Come with me to the mosque this Friday and chill with the brothers. There’s a talk on and a barbecue afterwards.”
“You know what, Tony, I’d love to, but this Friday ain’t gonna happen. I’m performing at Club Loco – and Misha’s coming to see me rock the mic there.”
I was so chuffed that I hardly noticed the disappointment in Tony’s face. “You’re going raving, Dee? And taking Misha with you? I thought you were leaving all that...”
“Yeah, but man has to take things one step at a time, innit. I’m praying now, masha Allah. I’ve quit smoking – and I ain’t gonna drink any alcohol while I’m there...”
Tony’s face looked pained. “It’s wrong, Dee,” he said. “You shouldn’t be there, not with all that haram around you. Can’t you take Misha somewhere else? Why not bring her to the mosque for the barbecue?”
I kissed my teeth then, growing impatient with Tony for the first time. “Nah, man, Misha ain’t interested in coming to the mosque. We asked her mum and dad if she could come to see me spit and they agreed – so we’re legit. And this could be my big chance, my one shot at the big time. Do you have any idea who’s gonna be there?” And I started listing the DJ crews and producers that the organiser had invited. “This could be it for me!”
But Tony went all quiet. “I’m worried about you, Dee. I don’t think you’re thinking straight. If you decide to change your mind, you’re welcome to join us at the masjid. You and Misha.”
It was like he hadn’t even heard a word I said.
Night On The Town
MISHA
“Does your mum know where you’re going tonight?” Effie eyed me in the mirror as she carefully blended foundation over her cheekbones.
“Yes, she does, actually. Both Mum and Dad agreed to let me see Dwayne perform – but Mum needed a bit of convincing, of course!”
“Well, you are sixteen, aren’t you?” called Victoria from the bathroom. “That has to count for something.”
“Yes, well, she said she’s trusting us this once – so let’s hope noth
ing happens, eh?”
“Yeah, I meant to ask you about that: this place we’re going to tonight, is it safe? I mean, I’m all for street art and underground music and all that cool, edgy stuff but I don’t want to get caught up in some drive-by shooting or anything!”
“Dwayne said it would be fine – I trust him.”
“OK, ladies, let’s not forget it’s the weekend,” said Victoria. “I don’t want to have to think about anything but having a good time.” And she brought out a small packet of white powder and a credit card and flashed a brilliant smile. “Daddy’s gold card, ladies – who’s in?”
The taxi ride from Ladbroke Grove to North London was long but made longer by Victoria’s too-loud voice, singing along to the silent sound of her iPod earphones. She was always a handful when she got high. She thought it made her cute and carefree but I found her loud and over-excited, difficult to get through to.
Besides, I wasn’t really in a party mood. I’d agreed to come because I really wanted to see this side of Dwayne, his creative, artistic side, his public persona – but I had a bad feeling. I couldn’t explain it. Things had been so wonderful once Mum and Dad had agreed to give me some space – but now they had become complicated again.
Why did Dwayne have to go and accept Islam – and why did he expect me to follow him? I thought we had dealt with the street stuff, with the lack of ambition, with his insensitivity towards my feelings and points of view. We worked through all that, and now this!
Deep down I knew, like I had always known, that Dee was a really great guy. But I couldn’t help feeling that his choices were dragging him down, away from me, away from achieving his full potential, away from where I wanted him to be – where I needed him to be.
“What makes Dwayne think I have the remotest interest in becoming a Muslim?” I had raged at Aalia that day at school. “If he thinks he’s going to get me hiding behind a scarf, chained to the kitchen sink with ten children, he’s got another think coming!”
Aalia’s eyes showed hurt and confusion. “Is that what you think Islam is all about, Misha?”
I mentally kicked myself – Aalia was Muslim too, wasn’t she? Talk about insensitivity!
I backtracked. “Well, no, not really. I mean, I don’t know. To be honest, he’s given me loads of books but I haven’t opened even one of them.”
“Maybe you should, Misha. You might learn something...” She sighed. “Anyway, you have to choose, Misha. You either take him as he is, accept whatever flaws he has, however he is growing and changing, or leave him for someone more like you, on your social level.”
“But I don’t want anyone else, Aalia!” I wailed. “I want Dwayne.”
“Well,” was Aalia’s response, “you’d better deal with everything that comes with that. At the end of the day, are you prepared to rethink your dreams and future plans to take into account where he is coming from? Are you prepared for the fact that he just might not get his GCSEs, may never go to uni? This is the reality, Misha, and you’re going to have to face up to it if you’re in it for the long term.”
“I’m not a snob, Aalia, I can still respect someone who hasn’t gone to uni – I’m not like my mum...”
“It’s not about being a snob, though, is it? It’s about having different aspirations, different outlooks on life. Look at my parents: with them, it’s easy. Our religion and culture are their priority. After that, education is the most important thing to them, as far as we kids are concerned. It’s yet another thing they have in common, it unites them. It may make them really tough to please but at least that is one area you know they aren’t going to budge. Imagine how Dwayne will feel when you go off to uni and leave him on his council estate. Don’t you think he’s going to feel a little jealous, a little out of his depth? What about when he meets your university-educated friends? It’s going to be awful for him!”
“I’m so afraid that you’re right...”
“I am right, Misha, and you know it. You know what I’m like: I don’t do sugar-coating! If you want that, go speak to Victoria, she’ll give you plenty of the romantic dreamer stuff. Me? I’ll tell you straight because I care about you... and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“You don’t think there is a future for us, do you?” I asked sullenly.
Effie appeared, eager to hear the latest episode of the soap opera that my life had become.
“You’re sixteen, Misha, what’s all this talk about futures?” She laughed. “I say enjoy it while it lasts. He’s hot; he’s totally into you – just enjoy the moment! You’re still young; you don’t need to be compatible like that. Trust me, in a year or so, you will have moved on and so will he – you never know, Leon Grant might have you back!”
“Oh no, I’d rather die!”
“The thing that worries me, Misha,” Aalia said, “is that you’re living this Romeo-and-Juliet fantasy – but just look at how they ended up!”
“Don’t you believe in love, Aalia?”
“I do, Misha, I really do. I just don’t know how much you can love someone at sixteen – or how real that love can be, seeing as you’re still getting to know yourself. Do you see where I’m coming from?”
And I hadn’t said any more about it. Maybe I was just being silly. Maybe Aalia, Effie, Victoria, Mum and my aunties were right: Dwayne was just a passing phase, best enjoyed before it was over.
I tried to tell myself that several times that day but, every time, my heart whispered back to me: ‘Liar’.
I peered out of the window as we drove down the high street. This side of town was a jumbled mass of kebab shops, cheap outlet stores and off-licences. Torn posters flapped against the worn brick walls and rubbish nestled in the gutters. Not somewhere I would ever have considered coming, had it not been for Dwayne’s invitation. I looked down at the ‘A to Z’ on my lap. I always followed our route in the A to Z, even when we took cabs, just to be safe.
“I think this is the road coming up, Effie,” I said. “Right at these traffic lights.”
The cabbie turned into a dingy street and Effie raised an eyebrow. “This place looks like it could use a little gentrification...” she mused. We both looked out of the window, trying to spot the name of the club. “Vee, keep it down, girl! We’re trying to find this place.”
Victoria, who had been singing along to Mariah Carey at the top of her voice, stopped suddenly and began to giggle uncontrollably.
“Girls, girls,” she laughed, “tonight is going to be fabulous, darlings, absolutely fabulous!”
Just then, I saw the line of people snaking along the pavement and the flashing neon sign above them: Club Loco. “Look, Effie, there it is!”
Effie took one look at the people in the line and burst out laughing, almost choking herself in the process. “You can’t be serious, Misha! Just look at these people!”
I peeped out of the cab window and stared at the people who were queuing up to get into Club Loco. I felt a shiver of uncertainty, of fear, run through me. Caps, braids, giant puffa jackets, baggy jeans that revealed patterned boxer shorts, Timberland boots and diamond earrings adorned the guys who stood around, looking hard, screw-face. The girls, decked out in the latest choppy hairstyles and short skirts, fake nails and huge gold hoop earrings, surveyed us as we parked up, their mouths set, arms crossed in front of them.
Not a happy crowd.
“You girls sure you’re going to be all right?” asked the cab driver, eyeing the kids in the line.
“Yeah, we’ll be fine. We’re meeting someone... but... do you mind waiting?”
The cabbie shrugged and pointed at the meter that was still ticking away.
“Where’s Dwayne?” Effie asked, looking sceptically at the huddle of people crowded around the door. “If he doesn’t come for us, we’re finished. This lot look like they eat posh West London girls for breakfast.”
I laughed nervously. “Dwayne wouldn’t ask us to come anywhere dangerous, Effie. He’s got more sense than that. He wouldn’t
let anything happen to us.”
But, if I was honest, I would admit that I felt self-conscious, embarrassed for myself and my friends – and for Dwayne. I had known that his crowd was different to mine, but this? This seemed like a totally different world, a world we didn’t belong to, could never fit into, with our Karen Millen outfits and clutch bags. These were straight-up, raw ghetto people, the kind Mum despised, the kind she had always warned me about. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here. Maybe we were better off just going home now. The taxi was still here; it wouldn’t be a problem to simply jump back in and head for home.
Then my phone rang.
“Hey, babe,” came the familiar voice. “Where are you?”
“Oh, Dwayne! We’re here, we’re just parking up. Where are you?”
“Right behind you,” came the voice from outside the window.
I looked out to find Dwayne standing there, the essence of fineness, a lazy smile on his face. All my fears melted away. Dwayne was here: everything would be all right.
“Thought you were gonna stand me up,” he said, taking my hand. Then he nodded towards Effie and Victoria. “Hey, Effie, Vee, wha’ gwan’? You ready for the show tonight?”
Effie put her head to one side and raised her eyebrow at Dwayne. “As long as you can guarantee that there won’t be any drive-bys or anything like that, we should be cool.”
“Nah, man, it’s all love. These peeps have come for a show, to have a good time, y’ get me. They ain’t looking for no beef.”
Victoria emerged from the taxi and gave a little squeal of excitement when she saw Dwayne. “Ah, here you are at last, Dwayne, darling! Now the show can begin!”
Dwayne looked over at me. “I ain’t never seen her like this before. Is she all right?”
I nodded and made a sniffing sound with my hand against my nostrils.
Dwayne’s eyes opened wide and he said, “Yeah?”
“Yeah...”
He chuckled. “Vee’s ready to party then, innit?” And he put out his hand to steady her as she careened towards us, almost twisting her ankle as she stumbled in her leopard-print platform heels. “Easy, girl, easy!” he called, laughing. “Let’s get you inside, shall we?” He grabbed me by my waist with his other arm and pulled me close. “I’m the luckiest man here tonight,” he whispered in my ear and I giggled, butterflies dancing in the pit of my stomach.
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