by Ezekiel King
The night air was cool and soothing on my face, but my body was hot having just run more than I had in the last two weeks at least. The odd customer would walk past me, holding carrier bags before they’d disappear around the corner on foot or into a car from the car park.
Minutes later, I spotted my auntie’s electric blue German saloon indicating to turn right. It did so and then took the immediate left into the shop’s car park. I could see a slim white figure was sitting in the passenger seat as I began to jog over to the car to get into the back seat.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon, Del?” I joked as I closed the back door and tried to make light of the situation.
“I wasn’t expecting my neighbour to knock my door for you either, Cyrus,” Delma replied in a tone that meant that she wanted an explanation from me. Jason was in the passenger seat. He hadn’t said a word.
“Jason, I’ve always been able to trust my aunty, so I’m going to explain what I spoke to you about last night if that’s okay?” I said not wanting to drop myself in any more unwanted problems. Jason swivelled in his seat to face me in between the drivers and passenger seats. He just stared at me with a cheeky mischievous smile, like we were two young kids that were about to be told off.
He didn’t give a toss; instead he just found the whole thing funny.
“Yes, of course, I don’t mind; your aunty is spot on. She brought me here to see you, didn’t she?” Jason said before turning back around in his seat to face the road.
“Del, I’ve had enough of my dad bossing me around. I’m 16 in 20 days, it’s time I started making my own money. I’m not even old enough to work; and if I do get a job, it will be a shit one. I want to make a lot of money, so I’ve decided to sell drugs. I’ve asked Jason to point me in the right direction. He told me to think about it, and I have; it’s my choice,” I said careful not to rant but let her know it was a thought-out decision.
Delma turned to face me. She had on the same valour tracksuit she’d worn to dinner earlier. Her zipper was just low enough to see her white vest top underneath and the tanned top of her huge chest which was now more visible due to her turning in her seat as Jason had.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Delma asked as she pointed at me with a face full of concern. I could see her perfectly manicured red nails that matched her red lipstick subtly.
“Yes, Del, I’m sure,” I replied as I looked her in the eye.
“I guess we better make a move now then,” Delma said as she turned to start the car by pressing the start button with the small of her index finger. I knew it was to preserve her new nails, but it looked elegant nevertheless.
We turned right out of the car park, then left.
“Cyrus, be careful please, will you?” Delma said expressing her worry.
“Don’t worry, Del, I’ll be fine,” I replied.
“And Jason, make sure you look after him, please,” Delma added.
“Don’t worry, I will,” Jason replied confidently. I sat in the back of the car, looking out into the night, wondering what would be the outcome of my venture.
“Listen, you two, if anyone ever asks, I don’t know anything about this, so I definitely didn’t give you a lift to sort this out; did I, Cyrus?” Delma asked.
“No, you never,” I replied as I laughed slightly.
“I’m being serious, you two,” Delma said as she smiled.
“I’m going to drop you two at the bottom of the road where I picked Jason up from. If Mervin knew I was doing this, he’d hit the roof; you know what he’s like,” Delma explained.
“Where did you tell him you were going, and what did you tell him Jason knocked the door for?” I quizzed.
“I told him Jason knocked the door because you left your computer game at his house when you were over his last night. Isn’t that right, Jason?” Delma said as she tried to cement her alibi. She looked at Jason as if to say ‘tell me what I want to hear’.
“Yes, that’s right; Cyrus left his computer game at mine,” Jason replied before chuckling.
Delma tutted and shook her head. She had clearly appreciated his humour.
“And I’ve drove to your house now to return your computer game, haven’t I, Cyrus?”
“Yes, you have, Del,” I replied. I had always had a cheeky nature, combined with being fairly funny, but I knew when to push my luck. Things were going well, so I toned down my playful nature as I didn’t want to unnerve my aunty.
We stopped just before the turning to my aunty and Jason’s street.
“How long are you going to be doing this?” Delma asked. I didn’t even know what we had to do, so I left Jason to answer that question.
“Fifteen minutes max,” said Jason.
“Okay, I’m going to drive to the supermarket; I need a glass of wine when I get home after all this,” Delma said as she shook her head. I could tell that our criminality had excited her, but she was still airing on the side of caution.
“My treat,” Jason replied as he put a note of some sort on the seat he had just got up from.
Jason smiled and shut the car door.
Chapter 3
I heard the low rumble of my auntie’s German saloon as Jason and I turned to walk along the road towards his house. His legs were longer than mine. I struggled to keep up as he stepped quickly, slightly ahead of me. Dusk was starting to display the change in the colour of the sky. It was around nine o’clock in the summer months.
“Open the door then!” Jason demanded as he knocked his door twice in quick succession. He acted as though he was annoyed that no one had been looking out of the window waiting for him to arrive.
I heard the lock in the door turn, making an unmistakable clunking noise before the door opened, and we entered Jason’s house.
I followed him through the living room to the kitchen. Sweet smelling marijuana lingered in the air practically as soon as the front door had opened. The blonde girl who had answered the door earlier was sat alone in the living room. Her eyes were fixed on her phone as we walked passed her through to the kitchen. The living room was well furnished and decorated. It had oak flooring with white walls covered in black swirly patterns. The girl I assumed to be Jason’s girlfriend was sitting on a big corner-piece sofa. She had her feet resting on a matching poufe, and a large flat screen TV was suspended on the wall in front of her.
“Grab a seat, we need to talk,” Jason said as we entered the kitchen, and he closed the door behind us.
The ‘nicey nice’ tone he had used in my auntie’s car had gone from his voice completely. After all, there was no attractive woman here that was concerned for my welfare.
“Cyrus, I’m going to give you four-and-a-half to start with. When you’ve sold that, we’ll do some more. I usually just help my uncle doing the odd errand; but after you saying you want to do some work, I told him to give me some weed to sell to you,” Jason explained.
“Okay,” I replied. He’d spoken quickly which had left me slightly confused.
“How much money do I have to give you for four-and-a-half?” I asked while not quite sure how much four-and-a-half was.
“It’s the same stuff I gave you last night. I’m going to let you have it for £670,” Jason answered while staring at me waiting for my reply. My instincts were screaming at me, telling me to ask questions. Things like: ‘How much does a four-and-a-half cost usually? Isn’t £670 too much for me to take on?’
What amazed me was what I actually said, “How much will I make off that?” I had said it on impulse. I couldn’t help but ask the question the second it entered my mind. My greed had overcome every other emotion in my body. Fear, contemplation, uncertainty. Fuck them all, I was involved.
I had never seen myself as a pussy. I wasn’t scared of anybody or anything. My dad had made sure he’d installed that in me. Truth be known, I consciously knew I wasn’t scared of Jason or his uncle; because when push came to shove, they were both made of flesh and bone. The same as everybody
else.
“If you think you can’t win with your fists, use a knife. If you think you can’t win with a knife, use a gun.” This had been the lesson my dad had taught me. It was around the time other kids my age were being taught to ride their pushbikes. Like their dad’s, mine had made sure I understood the lesson as clear as day.
Jason stood in front of his square wooden dining table, clicking buttons on his cheap black Nokia phone. He was muttering numbers under his breath that made no sense to me.
“Well, it’s not as simple as what you would make, because that would depend on how you sell it,” Jason explained.
“What do you mean?” I interrupted.
“Well, at £10 per gram, would bring you back £1,260, minus the £670 for me would give you a profit of £590,” Jason explained while making calculations on his phone.
“Oh, okay,” I replied. Nearly £600 profit, I thought. Jason had my full attention.
“Or…” he continued, “you could sell it in ounces at £190 per ounce. That would give you a profit of…erm… £180,” Jason explained.
“Why is there such a big difference in what I’d make?” I asked without thinking; using my lips before my brain had got me into trouble in the past. My dad had head-butted me while on holiday for doing exactly that.
“Think before you speak, you fucking idiot.” I could still hear him grunt for dropping him in it at a family meal. The lack of thinking didn’t earn me a head-butt this time; instead I just got a look from Jason that said, “Are you seriously asking such a stupid question?”
“Cyrus, if you sell it in ounces, it’s a maximum of five transactions. Ounce, ounce, ounce, ounce and then sell the half ounce. I get paid, you get paid. If you sell it in grams, it’s more transactions, more work, but you earn a lot more,” Jason explained reluctantly.
“Okay, I understand,” I replied as I nodded.
“Nobody gets weed on credit, and it has to be paid for in seven to ten days at the most, okay?” Jason said with raised eyebrows.
“Okay,” I replied.
Jason reached under the dining room table and retrieved a black bin liner. This was the source of the smell that had the air in the house to the point of saturation with the sweet odour of powerful unburned skunk. He opened the bin liner and threw one, two, three, four and a half full sandwich bags containing the potent weed he’d given me the night before. I looked at the bags sat on the table in front of me.
That’s a lot of weed, the voice inside my head said as I realised the enormity of what I had decided to do.
“Have you got scales?” Jason asked in a more relaxed tone, compared to when he’d first spoke.
“No,” I replied realising I’d made a schoolboy error.
“Have you got bags?” Jason asked. This time I thought before speaking. I was glad I did because I probably would have said yes assuming he meant plastic bags, but the extra thinking-time bought me to the conclusion he meant little re-sealable bags that most drug-dealers put the individual deals inside of.
“Nooo,” I replied, realising I was about as prepared as a skydiver with no parachute. Jason sniggered as though he found my lack of preparation slightly funny. He turned his back to me, opened one of his kitchen drawers and used both hands grabbing items in each hand before turning to face me. Jason threw two clear plastic packets containing small re-sealable bags on the table in front of me before placing a set of black digital weighing scales next to the bags.
“There’s 110-pound weed bags in each packet, and you can have the scales for free. Think of it as an early Christmas present,” Jason said while smiling.
“Where are you going to keep your weed, mate? I’m assuming that you’re not going to take it home?” Jason asked curiously. He was right to be curious. I couldn’t take the weed home; my dad would probably shoot me if I was lucky enough not to be beaten to death slowly and painfully.
“Oh, at my neighbour’s house,” I replied. I had always been smart enough to be able to think fast.
“One second, I’ll give her a call to let her know I’m coming,” I added.
I took out my phone, contacts, Trish, call.
“Helloooo,” a low hoarse female voice said as the call was accepted.
“Hiya, Trish, it’s Cyrus. I’ve got a bit of weed here with me; do you mind if I bring it to your house please?” I explained.
“What?” Trish replied.
“I’ve got a bit of weed here with me, and I can’t take it home; you know what my dad is like. Could I bring it to your house please?” I explained. I needed the answer to be yes.
I had made my best effort to disguise the fact I hadn’t prearranged this with my neighbour, but it was a poor effort. I felt nervous, and I was sure Jason could hear the desperation in my voice.
“Yes, okay, but you will have to get here quick because I’m going to bed in half an hour,” Trish replied. Jason’s facial expression told me he knew I was lucky to secure such a last-minute fix to what could have been a major problem.
“Okay, let’s go, your aunty will be back at the end of the road in a few minutes,” Jason said as he began to throw my drug-dealing kit into a carrier bag.
“Scales, resalable bags, four-and-a-half ounces of bud,” Jason said as he listed the items as he bagged them, like an inventory clerk.
Jason handed me the carrier bag before I followed him out of the kitchen and through the living room. The beautiful blonde girl sat alone on the sofa, watching what looked like some sort of reality TV Show.
“Bye, babe,” Jason said as he opened the front door. We stepped back outside into the summer night’s cool air. I could see Mervin’s shiny German coupe parked on my auntie’s driveway across the road. I could tell someone was watching TV in my auntie’s living room, as a light was illuminating the big square window at ground level.
I put my head down and followed Jason back towards the end of the street. I held the carrier bag containing my drug inventory by my side as I walked making no attempt to conceal it. The excitement that coursed through my body gave me a spring in my step to the point it blocked any paranoia that I should have been feeling, considering I was walking down a residential road holding a bag of drugs. It didn’t feel as though anybody could see me under the cover of darkness.
“Your auntie is proper cool, isn’t she, CY?” Jason asked as he broke the silence.
“Yes, she’s always been cool. I can’t believe she picked me up to do this,” I replied. I actually could believe it, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
“Yes, I didn’t know how she’d react when I spoke to her. It’s not often that you meet a woman as good-looking as her that doesn’t have their head up their own arse,” Jason stated.
The street was very tidy; it had medium-priced cars here and there outside of people’s houses as they settled in for the night. We got to the end of the road to find my auntie’s electric blue German saloon parked up waiting for us. The car looked a lot darker in colour at night, as though the lack of sunlight had taken away the brightness of the blue, leaving only the shine from the paint.
I opened the backdoor to climb into the car while Jason got back into the front passenger seat. Almost as soon as the car pulled off, the smell of potent skunk started to make its presence known.
“Cyrus, that stuff really hums,” Delma said. She was right; even I was shocked by the extent of the deep concentrated stench.
I spent the ten-minute drive back to my estate thinking about my drug-dealing journey that would start with the sale of the weed sat beside me. As I looked out of the window towards the calm night’s sky, my subconscious was telling me, this needs to go smoothly. I could not afford to fuck this up!
“Are you okay, Cyrus?” my aunty called into the back of the car as we approached the shop I’d been picked up from.
“Yes, I’m good,” I reassured.
“Cyrus, I’m going to pull into your estate and turn around at the top of the road, just in case there are people outside th
e shop. I don’t want them to smell that when you walk past,” Delma smartly added.
I hadn’t even thought about that. Delma indicated into my estate and turned left before stopping immediately.
“CY, give me your phone number, mate, and take my number,” Jason said. We exchanged numbers before I said goodbye and took my drug-dealer starter kit. Silence fell as I heard my auntie’s car pull off behind me. I walked down towards the bottom of the road.
My estate was grubby. It had the odd piece of litter on the ground. Wind or decomposition where the only two things that removed litter from my estate’s paved walkways.
In order to get to my house, I’d walk down to the bottom of the road and turn right. I didn’t do that; instead, I walked down the road and took the only other turning on the road—the first right.
Turning right, but looking to my left after doing so, were a row of houses that were directly behind my house.
I entered the gate—last but one on the row. This was Trish’s house.
Trish’s gate was flimsy, made from thin dark wooden slacks. Her garden was small with square concrete slabs on the ground. Trish’s house had single-paned glass windows which must have made the house freezing in the winter months.
I tapped on the big square piece of glass in the middle of the front door. She had a white plastic door which didn’t match the rest of the house, as this was double-glazed.
Her landlord must have needed to replace the old door and done so, neglecting the fact that the whole house needed new doors and windows.
“It’s open,” Trish shouted from the living room signalling me to come in.
In through the front door, you had a door immediately on your left which was a toilet. Just past that, the living room was on your right.
To your left would be through to the kitchen with a cupboard on your right just before the kitchen entrance. The house stunk of cigarette smoke.
“Hi, Trish,” I said innocently. My tone gave the impression that I was there to bring her a gift or check on her welfare. Not that I was there to use her house as a narcotics storage facility.