From Innocence to Arrogance

by Ezekiel King

  I joined the overweight 50-year-old woman in her living room.

  She was sat in front of the TV, watching something that looked like it would bore any sane person to death. I stood staring at her for a few seconds to make sure I had her full attention.

  “Trish, I’ve got some weed here. I’ve got to pay almost £700 for it, so it has to be kept safe. I’ll come and pick it up tomorrow after school if that’s okay?” Nothing much seemed to bother Trish. I had seen her with bruises or black eyes over the years. She’d been given them by various men she had been in brief volatile relationships with. Years of alcohol-abuse combined with her ADHD-suffering son being in care had long since taken Trish past breaking point. Trish wasn’t living. She was ‘existing’.

  Her short, badly bleached blonde hair looked thin and brittle and poorly maintained—she had given up. To me, Trish was perfect—a loner that lived almost directly behind my house. My bedroom window gave me a direct view of Trish’s house, but on the opposite side, I had entered it. If I had looked out of my window, her house was one house to the right, directly opposite.

  “You said you had a little bag of weed, not a bloody carrier bag full, Cyrus,” Trish said lethargically. Her voice was hoarse and dry, clearly the effects of excessive smoking.

  “Trish, it’s not a carrier bag full, it a carrier bag half-full,” I replied while giving her my very best cheeky smile.

  Manipulation was a trait I’d had to learn early growing up in my household, and I knew just how to take advantage whenever possible.

  “Put it in the cupboard near the kitchen,” Trish replied as she smiled and shook her head.

  “Thank you, Trish… Is everything okay with you though?” And how’s your day been?" I asked. I didn’t care how her day had been. It was purely common courtesy.

  “I’m okay. I’ve been at the hospital this morning to see my mum. She’s getting better slowly. She’s just old,” Trish explained.

  “That’s good. I’m glad she’s on the mend,” I replied again out of courtesy. I turned around to leave the living room. Walking through the open living-room door, I opened the cupboard door on my right, just before the entrance to the kitchen. The cupboard was cluttered with bin-liners full of old clothes and boxes containing general household junk. I moved a few things out of my way to allow access to the back of the cupboard. I opened a box towards the back of the cupboard and carefully hid my bag of weed under the contents. Once hidden, I threw one of the bin-liners on top of the box before stepping back over the jumbled mess and closing the door.

  Job done, I thought to myself as I felt the relief of weight being lifted from my shoulders. I now had drugs to sell, and I had then stashed in as safe a place as I could have wished for. The only people that knew about my illegal venture was Jason, Delma and Trish. I was happy.

  “Trish, I’m going to go to mine now, but I’ll be back just before four o’clock tomorrow to pick my carrier bag up, okay?” I said in a meaningful tone. I couldn’t afford for Trish to be back at the hospital when I needed my weed to sell, so it was crucial for me to tell her when I expected her to be home.

  “Okay, Cyrus, say hello to your mum when you get home for me,” Trish replied as she took her eyes off the TV to say goodbye.

  I left Trish’s house using the same door I had used to enter. I could have used the door on the other side of her house, but that would run the risk of my dad seeing me come out of her house. The excuse of needing to get a computer game would have been dead in the water completely if my dad saw me leave Trish’s.

  There was two ways to get back to my house from Trish’s using the door I left through. I could turn right and walk back to the road, and then right and right again, using the same route a car would take. Or I could come out of the gate, turn left and left again. This route would take me walking along a small footpath. The footpath route would take less than a minute. The route towards the road would take roughly two minutes, give or take a few seconds. I chose the longer route. I needed the time to consider my next moves. Jason had told me that the £670 I now owed him needed to be paid in a maximum of ten days. I worked out if I sold £70 worth of weed in a day, I would be well on target. I had school in the daytime though. I wished I hadn’t. My time needed to be spent selling drugs from now on. Our school would break up for the summer holidays on the following Friday. It would give me six weeks to run around the streets doing as I pleased.

  My estate was quiet as I walked slowly towards my house. In my neighbours’ windows, I could see lights shining through the various window coverings they had used as curtains.

  As I got nearer to my house, I could hear our next-door neighbour’s dogs clanging the empty metal container around that they received their food in; it was like they were pleading with their owners to put food in them

  The gardens on my estate were no bigger than a small garage; my next-door neighbours’ garden must have had at least 60 pieces of dog faeces on the floor. That, combined with the ammonia in the dogs’ urine let off a smell that I was sure was toxic. It would take your breath away as the putrid smell would hit your sense of smell like a train.

  I opened my gate and knocked the back door, it couldn’t have been later than 10:00, so I wasn’t late home. No nagging for being late, I thought to myself, as I was expecting my dad to open the door. Anybody other than my dad would have been a bonus.

  Life had taught me to always expect the worst outcome in everything, to always expect disappointment. Always expect the person you are relying on to let you down. With that mentality, there was never any shock, pain or disappointment. Alternatively, if somebody did keep to here word, then this was joyous on the rare occurrence it happened. I had long since become accustomed to applying this to my everyday life.

  My dad answered the door and stood looking me square in the eye. He was giving me an on the spot drug and alcohol test visually. I stared back at him deep into his eyes as I let him study my pupil dilation for long, silent seconds. I hadn’t even walked through my door without being criticised.

  My dad turned and walked back to join my mother in the living room. I locked the back door and walked through the kitchen towards the stairs and living room. Before going upstairs, I peered into the cosy-lit living room to find my mother and father sharing the big sofa watching a film.

  “You’s okay?” I asked.

  “Have some food before you go up,” my dad replied.

  “Okay I will,” I said. I wasn’t hungry; my appetite for food had been taken away by the excitement of starting my drug-dealing venture.

  I went into the kitchen to get a snack rather than a meal before going upstairs to my room. I placed crisps, chocolate and a drink on my bedside table. My brain was moving at 100 miles an hour as I sat down to think things through. If I’m going to make a substantial amount of money, I’m going to need help. My dad is not going to allow me to be in and out of my house every five minutes to serve customers. Likewise, he would never allow people to knock my door to buy weed either, but who could I trust? I contemplated. My brother had more freedom than me. Although he had his own friends, he was my brother, and he loved me. I could trust him to an extent, I concluded. Also, I had a few trustworthy friends I could ask, but involving more people would mean I’d have to share my profits, wouldn’t it? Then again, if more people were helping, I’d be making more money, wouldn’t I? I could have sat on my bed and asked myself questions all night.

  “Time will tell,” I told myself.

  “It always did.”

  Chapter 4

  I woke up the next morning at 8:00 a.m. sharp. The high-pitched beeping of my little digital alarm clock pierced the morning silence violently. I hated being woken up, but still set the alarm religiously.

  My mum would only start shouting at me to get me up if I didn’t. I got up and turned my annoying alarm off. I had no intention of going to school though, my plans were to get the ball rolling as soon as possible. In fact, I wanted to collect my weed from Trish�
��s house before she went out, not at 4:00 p.m.

  My dad was at work, so I’d get no hassle from him until late in the evening. My mum wouldn’t wake up until 10:30.

  I put my shorts on to go and check if my brother was in his bedroom. He had his own key to the house, so he’d come in late most nights. I found him in his room wrapped up in his quilt like a cocoon.

  “You want to make some money, Daniel?” I said softly as I rocked him gently by his shoulder to wake him up. He moved and opened his eyes sluggishly, looking annoyed at the fact I had woke him. “Do you want to make some money?” I asked again. Now he was half-awake.

  “What? What you on about?” Daniel asked. Now looking at me puzzled.

  “I’ve got some weed I need to sell. I’d like you to help me, and I’ll pay you,” I whispered, not to alert my mum in the next room. Danny’s eyes widened as his brain interpreted the information I had given him.

  “What do you mean? How much weed have you got?” he asked. I took my dad’s advice and thought before I answered.

  “I’ve got about £600 worth in ten-pound deals.” This was just under half of what I actually had; and in the event of something going wrong, it would still leave me enough to pay Jason.

  “Where did you get it from, and is it any good?” Danny asked looking surprised.

  Daniel was taller than me and had a darker complexion. He was slimmer than me; Daniel was six feet tall and known to be reserved and quiet, unlike me, but also that he wouldn’t take any shit from anyone.

  “I got it from one of my mate’s uncles. I’ve got to pay for it in seven days though…it’s potent. I’m not going to school today, so come with me to sort it out if you want.”

  Daniel had always tried to keep me doing the right thing and behaving; so under normal circumstances, he would have had a problem with me saying I was going to truant or wag it, but this wasn’t normal circumstances.

  Daniel earned about £60 a week. He had a job cleaning the car park of a shop at the top of our estate. He also had a paper round that he did in the afternoons in our area; however, I was proposing a far more lucrative offer.

  “Cyrus, I’ll help you when we get out of the house; we’ll talk more. If it’s as good as you’re saying, then I’ll be able to sell it.” Daniel was wide awake and as on board as I could have hoped for.

  “Meet me in Trish’s back garden in ten minutes,” I told him before going back to my room to throw on a tracksuit. I brushed my teeth, washed my face and was at Trish’s front door in five minutes.

  “It’s me, Trish,” I said as I knocked on the big piece of glass in the back door impatiently. She opened the door in her dressing gown—it was grubby and worn. Her face was wrinkled with loose skin that was discoloured. “I’ve come to get most of that stuff. I’ll take the rest in a day or two if that’s okay?”

  I was bubbly and cheerful. She was slow and drowsy as if she was still feeling the effects of the sleeping tablets she had probably taken the night before.

  “Yes, okay, it’s where you left it,” Trish told me as she returned to the kitchen.

  In through Trish’s front door, I turned left and then opened the cupboard on my right. As soon as I did, I could smell the skunk that had saturated the air in the cupboard with the same potent stench it seemed to leave wherever it went. I rummaged through the clutter, moved the box on top and retrieved my bag. I counted out two-and-a-half ounces of Skunk, leaving two ounces of weed left in the bag. I took a packet of little plastic seal bags containing one hundred clear bags and my brand new digital scales. Then I hid the bag back where I had put it the night before.

  “Have you got an empty plastic bag, Trish?” I asked with both my hands full of my illegal contraband. Trish opened the drawer in the kitchen and handed me a carrier bag. “Thanks,” I said as I put the weed, drug bags and scales inside the plastic bag. I asked Trish about her plans for the day, purely to pass time while waiting for Daniel. I said goodbye to Trish and went back into the garden to wait for my brother.

  As I stood in the cold morning air, the best idea hit me. I needed my own shop that I would sell my weed from. The idea I had was to go to Tom and John’s house who lived about a ten-minute walk away from my house in a nicer newer estate. I would turn Tom and John’s house into my shop.

  I took my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my contacts to call Tom, hit the call button and waited. No answer, so I repeated the call twice more. “Hello,” a male voice said on the other end of the phone. “Hi, it’s Cyrus, is Tom there?” I said pleasantly.

  “Hi, mate, it’s me, John. Tom is in bed, but he’ll be up soon, Cyrus; what’s up?”

  John was Tom’s older brother. Tom was 16, and John was 18. They came from Irish background and had the most relaxed household I had ever seen. Their mum was a nurse, and their father worked for some company that had him out the house from seven in the morning until seven in the evening. Tom and John had absolutely no rules at all apart from the obvious, like don’t ‘burn the house down’. John and Tom were very similar in nature and appearance. They both had soft dark hair, they both were very slim and loved to smoke weed. They were also two of the few friends I had that were allowed to smoke weed in their house.

  “John, can my brother and I pop ’round for a joint? I’ve got some strong weed. I also need to talk to you and Tom,” I asked. I thought it best to save my business proposition for a face-to-face talk.

  “Yes, we’re both at home, I’ll see you in a minute,” John replied. I hung up as my brother joined me in Trish’s garden.

  “Yes, Cyrus, you little bastard, what have you been up to? You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” Danny said as he gave me a fist pump in acceptance. I smiled back at my brother and told him we would walk and talk.

  As I started to lead the way to John and Tom’s house, I explained the thoughts I had been having about our dad and about money and freedom. I explained how that thought process had led me onto my decision to start selling drugs. I told my brother how I had spoken to a friend to source the weed that I now had in my hand. I decided to leave Jason’s name out. I chose to keep my contact to myself exclusively.

  Daniel knew who Jason was, but he had no clue he was who I had done business with. He didn’t need to know, so I didn’t tell him.

  We decided to talk profit after we had sat down, and Daniel had seen the quality of the product I had.

  The roads were busy, parents walking children to school, buses filled with spotty kids going to school, and hundreds of cars containing people on the way to start a fresh week of work.

  We blended in; two mixed-race kids walking down a busy road with a carrier bag in the direction of my school. I didn’t feel as though anybody expected or suspected the carrier bag I was holding to be half-filled with drugs and scales.

  All the morning, commuters had made me feel hidden, just like the darkness of night had previously when Jason and I had walked to meet my aunty.

  ‘Morning’, the odd person would say to either of us, or both of us as they walked by completely oblivious.

  We arrived at John and Tom’s house ten minutes after setting off. I knocked the door to be let in by John. He was topless as he was halfway through getting dressed.

  The McBride’s house was made of brick, unlike my family house. My house was very ‘lived in’, not dirty so to speak, just untidy, with clothes piled in a corner, waiting to be ironed on a sofa and in need of a ‘spring clean’. As soon as you walked through John’s front door, it brought you straight into the living room. The McBride’s had a big, black three-piece leather sofa with two single matching sofas, a small black coffee table and a TV on a stand in the corner of the room. The McBride’s had an open-plan dining room behind the living room that had a big brown table heavily varnished to the point it seemed to have a thick shiny layer on top of it, with about six dining chairs. The kitchen was to the left of the dining room. Their carpet was thin, green and looked grubby, like it had been walked on a thousand times an
d had spent years having drinks and ashtrays spilt on it.

  As soon as you enter the house, the stairs were in front of you. Their living room to the right and a small second sitting room through a door immediately to the left.

  This second small sitting room was John and Tom’s ‘chill out room’ in the years that would follow, it would become one of the area’s most successful drug dens. The McBride brothers would always have people at their house, either skipping school in the day, or just chilling out at night, but almost certainly smoking weed. They had the coolest parents any kid like me could wish to have.

  “Yes, mate,” I said to John as I sat down on the single-seated leather sofa.

  “How come you aren’t going to school, Cyrus?” John asked after saying hello to my brother.

  “Because I’ve got this, mate,” I replied as I opened up the carrier bag to take out the smallest bag I had, containing the big nuggets of buds the size of the top half of a big thumb. I gave one to Daniel, and another to John. The mini boulders of lime green buds were perfectly trimmed, bone dry and absolutely stinking.

  “It’s Big Buddha Cheese,” I said remembering what Jason had told me.

  “It’s absolutely killer weed,” said Danny.

  “This looks banging,” John said.

  “Go and show Tom,” I said feeling proud of my endeavour. John started to walk up the stairs, leaving my brother and me in the living room. Everyone seemed happy, so now it was time for me to be happy. The only way I could be happy was to pay Jason and have my profit in my pocket, so my attention had switched almost instinctively back to the job at hand.

  I had done some calculations before I went to sleep the night before, so I called John and Tom downstairs to discuss my plans with them and my brother at the same time. That way, it would prevent me repeating myself. I asked them all to come to the big, brown, shiny dining table, which they did. I sat at the head of the table with the three of them sitting around me, like a business meeting with the managing director of a large company. I explained to them, “I’ll give you all two ten-pound bags each for free, I’ll give John and Tom £60 each cash, and I’ll give my brother £100.”