From Innocence to Arrogance

by Ezekiel King

  “Definitely a threat,” I concluded silently. I would have respected Jason a lot more if he would have said, “Cyrus, you owe me eight grand, of course I know where you fucking live.” I switched the shower on and started a leisurely morning procedure of washing, deodorising, creaming my face and getting dressed. My dad had left the house before I had woken up. He had disturbed my sleep slightly, and I had heard him pottering around before leaving while I was half-awake and half-sleep.

  “Morning, Cyrus,” my mum said as she heard me coming down the last few steps of our creaky staircase.

  “Good morning, Mum,” I replied.

  “Cyrus, I’m going to your Auntie Delma’s if you want to come?” my mum asked.

  “No, I’m going for lunch with Chris,” I lied. I turned right at the bottom of the staircase which took me straight into the kitchen. My mum was left of the bottom of the staircase in the living room, most likely polishing or doing cleaning of some sort. Getting ready as slow as possible, I had wasted half an hour; a slow walk to the shop would leave me five minutes to wait for Jason and his Uncle Jabber. Jason called as I open my front door on the side that faced Trish’s house. This was the side of my house that was closest to the shop. One thing for me about being lazy was that I always tried to ensure a minimal amount of physical labour is required to complete any given task.

  I stood outside the shop with mixed emotions, part of me wanted to meet Jabber. After all, it was him who gave the cannabis to Jason to give to me. Maybe I could negotiate a better price? The other feeling was the same resentment I had for having to do anything I didn’t want to, and standing outside the shop was not my choice. The shop car park was empty; there were only a few cars parked in the 30 or 40 spaces provided, and I felt like this made me stand out to any passing pedestrians. I leaned against a stump outside the shop in an attempt to look like a random kid waiting for some other random kid to go and do something random. I didn’t want to look like a drug-dealer waiting to go for lunch with some other drug dealers, and that’s how I felt standing outside a shop on a main road with an empty car park. To my relief, a car indicated off the main road to come towards the entrance to the car park to the shop. The driver had a big white head the size of a football that was slightly off circular. A skinny white guy was sat in the passenger seat; my suspicions were confirmed when the car pulled into the car park and flashed its headlights at me. It was a finely crafted luxury German car. I guessed Jabber’s car was six or seven years old; nothing like my Auntie Delma’s boyfriend’s car, but it was still a nice car. I walked slowly and confidently towards the car. Both Jabber and Jason gave me a smile as I walked past the front of the car to get into the back. Climbing in the back of Jabba’s car, I sat behind Jason; the immaculately clean car seemed spacious. The car looked a lot better from the inside. Everything seemed to be covered in cream leather.

  “Cyrus, this is my Uncle Jabber,” Jason said as he had flipped down the sun visor and opened the mirror, so he could see me without turning around.

  “Nice to meet you, Jabber,” I said as relaxed as I could act. I had loads of questions to ask, but I had no intention of asking them yet. I decided to let Jason and Jabber dictate how our conversation was going to go. I would only interrupt to ask questions if and when the opportunity arose.

  “So, Cyrus, you’re the young lad my nephew has been telling me about,” Jabber said finally without taking his eyes off the road.

  “I guess so,” I replied trying to hide the fact I felt slightly uncomfortable. We had been travelling about ten minutes when my phone rang—it was Chris.

  “I’m outside,” Chris said. How could I have forgotten? Chris picking me up in the morning had been routine since the day I had left school.

  “I’m not at home, mate. I’ll be home in an hour or two, so come pick me up then if that’s all right?” I explained.

  “Okay, mate. I’ll pop to John and Tom’s, and then I will come and get you later,” Chris said before putting the phone down. Jabber’s driving technique made being a passenger very comfortable. He didn’t accelerate too quickly or break too sharply. It felt like I could put a cup of coffee on the seat next to me without the worry of it spilling. The spacious German car was smooth on the road, and Jabber negotiated corners elegantly. Just short of 15 minutes after setting off, we pulled into a posh-looking restaurant with its own huge car park. The restaurant’s logo was displayed on a big red sign practically everywhere I looked.

  “Have you been here before?” Jabber asked. Still looking at the newspaper-sized menu.

  “No, I’ve never ate here,” I replied as the car came to rest in a space outside the restaurant. I watched as Jabber’s wide forearms reached for the handbrake.

  “Well, you don’t worry, Cyrus; this is my treat,” Jabber said as we all reached for our door handles to get out of the car.

  “Cyrus, I’ve got a spliff here. Smoke some of this with me outside, and my uncle will go and get us a table,” Jason said waving the white cone-shaped spliff while smiling. Jason and Jabber were both wearing designer jeans and T-shirts. As Jabber walked off towards the big brown entrance doors, I thought he must weigh at least 19 stones. He had rolls of meat on the back of his head above his neck.

  “Jason, hurry up with that crap because I want to order,” Jabber said as he turned around to face us before opening the restaurant’s door. Jason acknowledged him with a nod and a wink. The restaurant had glass windows at the side. I could see people eating inside through the large glass windows. It looked posh, and so did the people inside. They reminded me of Chris’ parents, business owners; people with money to waste. Jason and Jabber were dressed appropriately in their expensive jeans and T-shirts. I felt out of place in the grey tracksuit I was wearing. Jason and I sat on the chrome garden chairs that were on some wooden decking at the side of the restaurant. As I looked around at my surroundings, I realised that this was the other side of the tracks. This is where the crabs were that had gotten out of the barrel or had never been in the barrel. The cars in the car park were all new and shiny; the building looked like no expense had been spared on construction or design. This was why I started dealing drugs. I wanted to be part of this side of life, I thought. Jason chugged on his big spliff.

  “Here,” Jason said passing me the spliff. It was absolutely stunk, even outside. The mid-day weather was warm with almost no breeze. The air was almost stagnant, which made the smell linger in the air longer than could be expected outdoors.

  “I’ll only have two puffs. I’ve stopped smoking cannabis in the day,” I said as I took two pulls on the blazing cone. The thick potent smoke hit my lungs like a bulldozer. I had to strain not to choke as I exhaled the smoke, much to the relief of my lungs.

  “Let’s go inside,” I said to Jason as I handed him back his joint. I was eager to see the inside of the building, also I wanted to get to know Jabber a little better. In all truth, I was feeling a lot more relaxed than I had first been, I had changed my mind. Lunch was something I wanted to do. Jason threw his joint in one of the ashtrays while it was still alight. His mannerism would have led me to believe that he owned the restaurant. I smiled as I followed him over towards the entrance doors. As we stepped inside, there was music playing in the background, and a very attractive girl wearing a red and black uniform was standing at a little station, presumably to greet and seat customers.

  “My uncle has already got us a table,” Jason said to her as he walked past her without even stopping to hear a reply. Out of the entrance and into the restaurant, the place was beautiful to look at; dark wooden floors with spotlights and gold metal trim everywhere. It had red leather booths, seating couples and small families. The restaurant was all open plan, except a glass conservatory section that had been visible from where Jason and I were smoking. There was a raised area in the middle of the room which housed a big square bar. It had a motorbike suspended in the air, and spotlights running around the top of the bar. The room felt warm and alive; the atmosphere i
n the restaurant was similar to that of a Christmas morning. Jason and I found his uncle seated at a booth taking up the best part of two seats on the phone. As the two of us slid in opposite, Jabber put the phone down and extended his hand to shake my hand.

  “How do you like it here, Cyrus?” Jabber asked clearly aware I had been scanning this new and exciting environment.

  “It’s very posh in here, Jabber,” I said still taking in what was pleasing to the eye wherever I looked. Jason was clearly stoned as his eyes had glazed over. He looked through a newspaper-sized menu. His uncle peered down at his menu on the table as a beautiful girl approached wearing a short black skirt and red polo shirt tucked in at the waist.

  “Hi, guys. Are you ready to order, or do you want a few more minutes?” the waitress asked cheerfully with a bright smile. I hadn’t even realised that I was just sat staring at her.

  “Yes, I know what I’m having, are you two ready to order?” Jabber asked turning his gaze to Jason and me in turn.

  “Yes,” Jason said. I hadn’t even looked through the menu. I had spent the five minutes I had been sitting down looking around. “Do you like steak, Cyrus?” Jabber asked me realising I hadn’t a clue what I wanted.

  “Yes, that’s fine,” I replied nervously sensing the beautiful waitress was looking at me.

  “I’ll have a mixed grill, with corn and mash potato and special sweet glaze. Can I have a fillet steak medium for my friend here with special sweet glaze on the side, with chips and roast corn and three Bahama Mamas, oh, and whatever he wants,” Jabber said as he pointed to Jason while handing the oversized menu back to the waitress. I watched as she tapped away on what looked like a mini tablet device.

  “I’ll have a surf and turf with peppercorn sauce, please, and chips,” Jason added to his uncle’s order as he looked the waitress straight in her eyes and smiled at her confidently.

  She smiled back before nervously asking Jabber, “Are the three cocktails for you? I don’t care personally, but if my manager knows that I didn’t ask, he will have a go at me,” she had said it as though she had meant it. I could tell she didn’t want to ask but had to.

  “Yes, lovely, all three cocktails are for me; and could I have them all large,” Jabber replied sarcastically. I didn’t know what a ‘Bahama mamma’ was, but thinking before speaking allowed me to conclude it wasn’t worth asking as I would soon be finding out. The waitress left our table after smiling at Jabber’s blatant sarcasm. Just looking at Jabber and Jason, it was clear they were drug-dealers. Jabber was huge but well groomed. He sat with a cold look in his blue eyes that looked tiny in comparison with the size of his body and head. His hair was shaved at the side and dark on the top, like a military cut. Jabber had a presence about him that told anybody that looked at him he was his own boss. His thick gold bracelet glistened under the lighting inside the restaurant. His dark grey designer T-shirt was the size of a single bed sheet.

  “I’d definitely do her,” Jason said as we watched the waitress work the dining room floor. She had black leggings on that disappeared under her skirt and shiny black dolly shoes. She was stunning.

  “So, Cyrus, you are doing quite well selling weed, mate, considering you’ve only been doing it a month?” Jabber asked feeling totally at ease.

  “Yes, I’m pleased with how things are going, and I’m happy with the quality of the cannabis,” I replied. Jabber sat looking at me with his hands resting together on the table, like a schoolteacher.

  “Yes, the cannabis I gave you is strong; people tend to like that one. I should have a better one in the next three weeks,” Jabber said in his deep and low tone, even though he was clearly making an effort to speak softly. “Jason tells me you’re getting through 50 ounces a week. Cyrus, I’ve been in this business long enough to know potential when I see it, or in your case, hear about it, which is why I invited you to lunch,” Jabber continued as I sat listening and taking in what he was saying. “I want you to continue to work with us, Cyrus. If anyone gives you any trouble, I want you to tell me straight away, and I’ll sort it; but take my advice and save your money and box clever, stay under the radar. You are doing a good job, so just keep it up,” Jabber extended his hand to shake my hand for the second time. His hand felt at least twice the size of mine, big and fleshy, like the bones in his hands were hidden under inches of meat. He gave me a smile and leaned back relaxed as though he had finished talking for the afternoon.

  Our food arrived moments later. The same waitress brought it over swiftly, followed by three small fish-bowl-sized cocktails with small paper umbrellas on sticks in them. She listed our orders back to us as she placed the food on the table before placing all three cocktails in front of Jabber and smiling at him.

  “Enjoy your meals,” she said before turning to continue working the dining-room floor expertly.

  “Lads, try these cocktails, these are for you two for being top lads,” Jabber said sliding Jason and me each a large heavy glass. I didn’t know where to start or to look. If this is how the other half have lunch, then from this moment on, I am in the other half. I took Jabber’s advice and took a big gulp through the straw of my cocktail. It was sweet and fruity with a pungent alcoholic kick; it was a very nice alcoholic fruit cocktail—pineapple and mango with some sort of syrup and strong rum made ice-cold by the boulder-sized cubes of ice. Absolutely delicious.

  “That’s a winner,” I said smiling at Jabber in approval.

  “It is a great cocktail, but after you’ve had a few, they get you smashed. Bring a girl here, fire a few of these down her neck; when you get her home, her knickers will fall off,” Jabber said as he laughed to himself. Jason and I laughed at his suggestion equally.

  We all started to attack the large plates of tender steak, mini chrome buckets of perfectly fried chips and shrimp. “Cyrus, cut a bit of that steak and dip it in the special sweet glaze source,” Jabber suggested. I obliged by slicing my fillet steak and dipping it in the small black ramekin of sticky sweet glaze.

  “Umm,” I said as my taste buds went crazy. This is what life is about. I’d soon get to Jabber’s size if I ate like this every day, I thought to myself. We finished our food as we sat and joked mainly about the waitresses and business; we washed our food down with the Bahama Mama cocktails. I felt a little lightheaded and bloated as I sipped the last bits of alcohol from between the boulders of ice. Jabber signalled the waitress to come over by nodding and raising his hand subtly. A minute later, she re-joined us at our table and put a black leather book on the table before collecting our plates.

  “That was nice, wasn’t it, lads?” Jabber said as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash that was more suited for buying a car then lunch.

  “Let’s go then, lads,” Jabber said as he threw a series of notes into the leather book and began to get up.

  I felt ready for bed with a belly full of fillet steak and rum. If they had beds here at this restaurant, I would have definitely suggested having a nap. Jason was right; the cocktails tasted sweet and led me into a false sense of security. I definitely felt giddy as I got up and followed Jabber and Jason to the door. Jason retrieved his joint from the ashtray outside before joining his uncle and me back at the car.

  “I’m glad I got to meet you, Cyrus. You are a good kid, and we are going to make a lot of money together,” Jabber said as he fired up the car’s engine.

  “Yes, it was nice to meet you too. And I hope we do make loads of money together,” I replied, now feeling totally at ease in this monster of a man’s company.

  As I said goodbye to the two of them back in my local shops’ car park at the top of my estate, I felt like we had built a strong bond in just under two hours we had spent together. Jabber had made me feel welcome, and like I was part of their team even though I was my own boss, it was nice to know he had my back. I planned to take a nice slow walk to John and Tom’s. It was a nice day, and my full belly made me feel like I needed a nice slow walk to digest the food and alcohol; als
o, it gave me time to think. Seeing first-hand how the other half lived made me in no rush to get to John and Tom’s to carry on with the not-so-great standard of life I was living.

  Chapter 7

  A week had passed since meeting Jason’s Uncle Jabber. I had paid my debt to him on time for the batch of weed he had given me. I had sold my last batch in half the time Jason’s Uncle Jabber had expected. Also, I had picked up a new batch which I was told was going to be the last batch of the same stuff; this made me worry when I thought about it. Things were going so well, I didn’t want anything to change. The weed I was selling had everybody going crazy for it. The 50 ounces I gave Chris weekly were flying, to the points we chose who to do business with and had no worry of not being able to meet our deadline.

  The McBride’s house had become everyone’s port of call for their £10 or £20 bags of cannabis, and John’s older friends were spending £500 a week plus; practically all of the lads on the building site brought their weed from the McBride’s. I was worried that with the change of product would come the change of progress for the worst. I had called Jason on numerous occasions, telling him I want the same stuff. He fobbed me off, saying things like ‘Don’t worry. It will be as good as this stuff’ or ‘Are you still on about the change of weed, Cyrus, chill out, little man’. Jason had given me his uncle’s number, and I had called him to voice my concern.