Respect (Mandasue Heller)

by Mandasue Heller

  ‘It’s none of your business,’ Leon cried, still fighting to get at the bag.

  ‘STOP IT!’ Chantelle squawked, wincing with pain when he kicked her in the shin. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, but if you carry on, I’m gonna leather you.’

  ‘Do it, then,’ he challenged, his eyes wild. ‘I’m gonna die anyway, so take your best shot.’

  ‘What are you talking about? Chantelle grabbed him by the front of his jumper and shook him. ‘Tell me what’s going on, or I swear to God I’m going to call the police. Where did you get this? Did Big T give it to you?’

  Leon’s face drained of colour, and his mouth fell open. ‘How d’you know about him?’

  ‘Oh, God, it’s true.’ Chantelle stared worriedly down into his eyes. ‘What have you got yourself messed up in, Leon? This is really serious.’

  ‘You don’t know nothing,’ he spat, baring his teeth at her. ‘You’re just a stupid ho who thinks she’s in control of everything. But you ain’t in control of me and my bros, so keep your nose out before you get hurt.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’ Chantelle gasped, wondering who this aggressive creature was. She and Leon had always bickered like normal siblings, but this boy was a complete stranger to her. His eyes were filled with hate, and the disrespectful way he was talking to her was shocking. ‘What are you on?’ she demanded.

  ‘Stupid bitch!’ Leon sneered, pushing her so hard that she almost fell back onto the bed. Then, snatching his knife off the floor, he flicked the blade out and jabbed it at her. ‘Give me my fuckin’ gun, or I’ll cut your throat. I mean it.’

  Chantelle was too shocked to speak, and too scared to breathe. Gaze riveted to the blade, she didn’t resist when Leon snatched the bag out of her hand and ran from the room. When the front door slammed shut behind him, her legs gave way and she slumped down heavily on the edge of his bed. He’d been so far out of control just then that it was terrifying, but what was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t let him run around with a gun, but she also couldn’t report him to the police because he wouldn’t just get put into care over this, he’d end up in serious trouble. And once he got started on that path, his life would be ruined.

  Aware that she needed urgent help, Chantelle ran into her room and snatched up her phone. She’d put it on silent before going into the restaurant last night, and she saw that she’d missed several calls from Rob. He’d also sent a few texts, and the last one was still showing on the screen: a picture of a bunch of red roses, with a message telling her that he was sorry for upsetting her and would have sent the real thing if he’d known her address; and would she please call him so he could explain himself.

  Disgusted with herself all over again, she cleared the image from the screen and rang her mum’s number. When it went straight to answerphone, she grabbed her keys and rushed over to Tracey’s place. Getting no answer after several minutes of knocking and calling through the letter box, she gazed helplessly out over the balcony.

  Anton.

  The name shot into Chantelle’s head like a bullet, and she seized it with both hands. He would know what to do. Even if he’d never dealt with anything quite like this before, he knew a damn sight more about gangs and guns than she did.

  Anton folded his arms when he answered his door and saw Chantelle standing there. After the look she’d given him last night, he had vowed to play it cool with her when he saw her again. He’d gone out of his way to be nice to her these last few weeks, but she had completely rebuffed him at every turn, and he was done with mugging himself off. Yeah, she was hot, but that didn’t give her the right to look at him like he was some piece of shit she had stepped in.

  ‘’S up?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m sorry for coming to you with this,’ Chantelle murmured, her voice cracking as tears of despair immediately flooded her eyes. ‘But I need help, and I didn’t know who else to turn to.’

  Anton dropped the act when he saw the tears and stepped back. ‘Come in.’

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ she sniffled, following him into the living room. ‘I just don’t know what to do.’

  ‘What’s up?’ Anton asked again, waving her to take a seat on one of the beanbags.

  ‘It’s Leon,’ she cried. ‘He’s been hanging out with a gang, and he’s been acting weird for days, so I thought they might be bullying him. He wouldn’t talk to me, so I asked his friend, and he said he’d heard they’ve been dealing …’

  Anton had been listening intently as she poured out her story, but when she reached the part about finding the gun, he drew his head back in disbelief. ‘Say what?’

  ‘I didn’t believe it, either,’ she said, terror in her eyes as she stared at him. ‘But it’s true. And now he’s running round with it, and I’m scared he’s going to shoot someone, or accidentally shoot himself. He’s only ten,’ she added, her face crumpling. ‘This shouldn’t be happening.’

  ‘All right, calm down,’ Anton said quietly. ‘Tell me what you know about this gang.’

  Chantelle took a deep breath and told him the little she knew, starting with the run-in she’d had with the boys down by the canal that night.

  ‘I knew they were trouble as soon as I saw them,’ she said, ‘and I couldn’t get why they’d be letting a little kid hang out with them. But Leon’s friend reckons they’ve been using him as a joey.’

  ‘Probably,’ Anton said, lighting a cigarette. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, his friend said he’d heard they were dealing for someone called Big T, and—’

  ‘Say again?’ Anton interrupted, narrowing his eyes.

  ‘Big T,’ Chantelle repeated, giving him a questioning look. ‘Do you know him?’

  Anton didn’t answer. Cheek muscles jumping as he chewed this information over, he took a pull on his cigarette and stared at the floor.

  His bedroom door opened just then, and Chantelle was shocked to see a girl peering out at her. The girl had obviously just woken up, judging by her messy hair and smeared make-up, and she was clearly naked beneath the sheet that was wrapped around her.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Chantelle apologised, pushing herself up to her feet. ‘I’d never have disturbed you if I’d known you had company.’

  ‘It’s cool,’ Anton said, also rising to his feet. ‘Look, go back to yours. If your bro comes home before I get back, keep him there. I’m going to talk to some people; see if I can find out what’s what.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Chantelle murmured. Then, glancing at the girl, she gave her an apologetic smile and hurried out.

  ‘Who was that?’ the girl asked as Anton walked into his bedroom.

  ‘A friend,’ he said, picking up his keys.

  ‘Just a friend?’ She gave him a teasing smile. ‘She’s very pretty.’

  ‘Yeah, she is,’ Anton agreed, sighing as he reached for his jacket. ‘But she’s not interested, so that’s that.’

  ‘More fool her,’ the girl said softly. Then, yawning, she said, ‘Suppose I’d better get dressed. Thanks for letting me stay; I really didn’t fancy walking home on my own.’

  ‘Any time.’ Anton gave her a sheepish smile. ‘Sorry about – you know. Guess I was too far gone.’

  ‘More like you had other things on your mind,’ she said, giving him a knowing smile. ‘But you can’t blame a girl for trying. Anyway, you go and do whatever you’ve got to do. I’ll let myself out.’

  Anton winked at her, and then headed out.

  20

  Several youths in hoodies and low-slung jeans were gathered in the small front yard outside Big T’s house on the Alexandra Park estate. Some were sitting on the wall, and some were standing, while a couple of others were doing wheelies on the pavement on their mountain bikes. They all stopped what they were doing when they spotted Anton, and eyeballed him as he walked towards them.

  Jacko had been sitting on the step, but he stood up now and blocked Anton’s path as he made to come through the gate. ‘’S up, bro?’ He jerked his chin up aggressively.
<
br />   ‘Where’s Trey?’ Anton maintained a cool façade, but he was on high alert for any signs of movement from the crew. He had been one of them once, but now they considered him an enemy.

  The youth motioned with a jerk of his head back towards the door, but when Anton stepped forward he put a hand on his chest. ‘Nah, man, them days is over. You need an appointment to see the man now.’

  ‘For real?’ Anton looked down at Jacko’s hand, then up into his eyes. ‘You really wanna go there?’

  They stood like this for several tense moments, eye to eye, toe to toe. Then, pushing out his lips, Jacko reached back and pushed open the door an inch, calling over his shoulder, ‘Yo, T – someone to see ya.’

  There was movement in the narrow hallway and, seconds later, Trey Berkley’s imposing twenty-stone frame filled the doorway. A ripple of anticipation passed between the watching youths when the man saw Anton and something unreadable flashed through his dark eyes. But then a slow smile came onto his lips and he held out a meaty hand.

  ‘Long time no see, blud,’ he said, pulling Anton towards him and clapping him on the back. ‘Wha’pp’n?’

  ‘We need to talk,’ Anton said. ‘Alone,’ he added pointedly, in case any of the crew decided to try and muscle in.

  ‘What you got?’ Big T stepped back and peered down at him.

  Anton raised his arms and held his jacket open to let the man see that he wasn’t carrying a weapon. Then, snapping his head around when mouthpiece Jacko made to pat him down, he hissed, ‘Touch me again, I’ll rip your fucking head off with my bare hands. This is between me and him; it’s got nothing to do with you.’

  Big T shook his head at Jacko. Then, jerking his chin at Anton, he retreated back into the shadows of the hallway.

  Anton flashed Jacko one last cold stare before following Trey inside. Respect was everything in their world and, even though he no longer wanted to be a part of it, he couldn’t let Jacko get away with dissing him in front of the crew or his life wouldn’t be worth living.

  ‘So, where you been hiding?’ Big T asked, leading Anton into the back room and sitting down heavily on an enormous leather recliner armchair. He reached for a spliff that was smouldering in the ashtray on the table and took a deep pull on it. ‘How come you ain’t checked me since you been out?’

  ‘I’ve been keeping my head down,’ Anton told him, perching on the couch and resting his elbows on his knees. ‘No offence, but you wasn’t top of my list for catch-ups.’

  ‘Weren’t my doing, for real, bro,’ Big T said quietly. ‘I had your back; it was you stopped having mine.’

  ‘I’m the one who did time,’ Anton reminded him. ‘If I’d stopped having your back, I’ve have taken you and your cuz down with me.’

  ‘True say.’ Big T tipped his head in a conceding gesture. ‘Still ain’t no excuse for the way you been avoiding me since you been out. If you had beef, you shoulda fronted, ’steada dissing me by blanking me.’

  ‘I haven’t got beef,’ Anton informed him calmly. ‘I dealt with all that shit while I was away, and saw no point in stirring it up again when I got free. You say you wasn’t involved, I know different.’

  Big T took another pull on his spliff and squinted as he blew the smoke out into the air. ‘So, what you after? Compensation?’

  ‘Nah, man.’ Anton shook his head. ‘I’m staying straight. I just need a favour.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘I hear you set up some little white boys to sell bags, and now they got grief with another crew.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, they’ve dragged a kid I know into it, and I want him out. Intact.’

  ‘Don’t know nutt’n about that.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Anton conceded. ‘But I’m betting you know about the gun they’ve had him holding for them?’

  Big T’s eyes became so tightly slitted when he heard this that Anton could barely see them amongst the folds of his fat cheeks.

  ‘He’s ten,’ he went on quietly. ‘And right now he’s running round with that piece, scared shitless ’cos your boys have been heavying him. If I know you, it’ll have history,’ he said now, pausing to let his meaning sink in before adding, ‘You need to get it back, and I need the kid home safe.’

  Big T stared at Anton for several long moments. Then, taking another suck on his spliff, he reached for his phone.

  ‘Yo!’ he barked when his call was answered. ‘Where’s my t’ing at?’ His nostrils flared when the boy on the other end said it was safe, and he slammed a massive fist down on the arm of his chair. ‘What you lyin’ for, you lickle cunt? Y’ t’ink I don’t know nutt’n about nutt’n? Fetch it,’ he ordered now, a murderous edge to his voice. Then, glancing at Anton, he added, ‘And that kid you been toyin’ with … cut ’im loose. An’ if you lay a finger on him, I’ll be layin’ ten on you. You gets me?’

  ‘Thanks,’ Anton said when the call was done. ‘I appreciate it.’

  ‘You owe me,’ Big T said.

  ‘Nah, I reckon this makes us straight.’ Anton stood up.

  Big T squinted up at him. ‘You’re wrong about all that shit, man. On my nan’s eyes, I didn’t know.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now.’ Anton shrugged. ‘Just do yourself a favour and quit messin’ with them kids before you end up where I’ve just been. They ain’t like us; they don’t know the meaning of loyalty.’

  ‘I ain’t worried,’ Big T said. Then, dropping the patois to let Anton know he was talking to him as a mate, he said, ‘Come back to the crew, bro. We was only just starting out before you left, but things have changed since you’ve been gone. I’m the don now, and I need my general by my side. Me and you could be running this shit like it should be run. I’ve got the bees, the cars, the soldiers, the girls – you’d never want for nothing.’

  ‘I can’t.’ Anton shook his head. ‘Too much has happened, and I’m done with it.’ Then, smiling regretfully, he held out his fist. ‘Stay cool, bro.’

  ‘You’ll be back,’ Big T predicted as his old friend headed for the door. ‘Straight life ain’t nothing but the poor life. You and me, we need the buzz of rockin’ with the crew.’

  Anton carried on walking. He had known Trey all his life, and had spent the majority of his teens as his partner in petty crime. He’d have trusted Big T with his life back in the day, but the man had chosen blood over loyalty and had allowed Anton to take the rap for a stabbing that they both knew Trey’s cousin had done. That couldn’t be forgotten or forgiven.

  Chantelle had gone home after leaving Anton’s, and she’d been pacing the floor ever since; chewing on her nails, and rushing to the door every time she heard a noise. When she heard a knock now, she hurtled out into the hall and yanked it open.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked when Anton stepped inside. ‘Did you find anything out?’

  ‘I’ve sorted it,’ he told her. ‘Your bro should be home any time.’

  ‘Oh, thank God!’ she gasped, bursting into tears. ‘I’ve been so worried.’

  ‘Hey, come on.’ Anton took her in his arms. ‘It’s gonna be cool.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Chantelle suppressed her tears and took a step back. ‘I’m not usually this hysterical, but I’ve been thinking all sorts.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Unsure what to do with his hands now, Anton shoved them into his pockets. ‘Look, is it all right if I hang around till he gets back?’

  ‘Yeah, course.’ Chantelle waved him into the living room. ‘Would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee?’

  ‘Tea, please. White, one sugar.’

  Chantelle left him to make himself comfortable and rushed into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She felt awkward now – grateful, but awkward. Theirs was such a strange relationship, forever bouncing between friendly and spiky, but never quite settling in either.

  It was another fifteen minutes before they heard a key in the door. Chantelle jumped up and ran out into the hall, and gasped in horror when she saw the blood on Leon’s face. ‘Oh God,
what’s happened?’ she cried, running to him.

  ‘Get off me,’ he sobbed, pushing her away when she ran to him.

  ‘Leave it,’ Anton said, touching Chantelle’s arm. ‘This your room?’ he asked Leon then, nodding towards the door they were standing outside. When Leon wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded, he gave him a rough push. ‘Inside.’

  Chantelle had desperately wanted to comfort Leon, and tend to his wounds, but she was out of her depth, so she left Anton to deal with him and went into the living room.

  Anton ordered Leon to stop crying and pushed him towards the bed. When they were both seated, he looked at the boy’s cut lip and the swelling around his eye. He’d obviously taken a beating, and would be in pain for a few days.

  ‘I take it your crew did this?’ he asked. ‘So, what happened? And I want to know everything.’

  ‘D-Damo was going to sh-shoot me,’ Leon sobbed, struggling to bring his tears under control. ‘He was m-mad at me for getting caught with the gun. He rang this morning and said we was gonna do the job this afternoon, but he went crazy when I told him my sister had seen it. Acky said they was going to kill me, then kill her to stop her from grassing. And he … he said they were going to rape her first,’ he added, wailing again.

  ‘Ain’t gonna happen, so quit worrying about it,’ Anton said angrily, his jaw tightly clenched. ‘What else?’

  ‘They laid into me,’ Leon whimpered, rubbing at the sore spots on his arms as he spoke. ‘But then Damo got a call off Big T and told the others to stop. He t-told me to get lost, and said he’d best not ever see me again or he’d let Acky cut me up bad.’

  ‘And you think these are your boys?’ Anton asked when he’d finished. ‘Can you see now that they ain’t?’

  Leon’s little face crumpled and he swiped at his tears with his sleeve. ‘I thought they liked me.’

  ‘That’s what they wanted you to think,’ Anton told him bluntly. ‘They don’t give a shit about you; they were just using you to keep their own hands clean. What do you think would have happened if your sis had called the police and told them about that gun? You think they’d have owned up that it was theirs? No, they’d have said they don’t know you and left you to carry the can. And if you’d grassed, they’d have gone after Chantelle in revenge. That what you want?’