From Innocence to Arrogance

by Ezekiel King

  The girls looked like card girls from a boxing match, both wearing short dresses. The blonde girl wore a black dress, and the brunette had a silver sparkly dress on; they were both gorgeous. The Asian guy had put his champagne glass down and was lighting something to smoke, while the white guy was doing something on his phone. The two girls were just hovering around them. “Chris who are they?” I asked as we both sat staring at the people outside the clubs and bars.

  “Who are you on about, Cyrus?” Chris asked as I pointed out the Asian guy and his stocky white mate with the two girls. They looked like celebrities I hadn’t seen them before.

  “Them two in the smoking area with the sexy girls?” Chris asked, not quite sure who I was looking at.

  “Yes, in the black. Asian guy standing next to that stocky white lad in the white T-shirt with the girls,” I said making it crystal clear who I was referring.

  “I don’t know, Cyrus, they look like drug dealers to me, mate,” Chris replied as he dismissed the conversation and started to look elsewhere.

  “You know what, Chris… That is exactly what I thought,” I said while eyes still fixed on the group of four. Chris didn’t reply; he was too busy looking at girls and had no interest in some smartly dressed Asian man with his mate standing with two girls that we had absolutely no chance of pulling. But I did.

  “I’m going to talk to them,” I said while still studying the group.

  “What?” Chris asked in surprise.

  “I’m going over there,” I said again.

  “Why, you don’t know them, Cyrus,” Chris replied as if it was a stupid idea.

  “You just wait here,” I said as I opened the rally cars passenger side door, took a deep breath and walked towards the group trying to remain composed and confident—inside I felt nervous. Chris was right I didn’t know them. I didn’t even know what to say to the group. I decided not to walk directly to the entrance because I had seen the doormen turn people away from the club and the smoking area, so I didn’t want to look stupid by not even making it past the red security rope. I chose to go to the rope nearest to the Asian guy but remain on public property. I figured that way we would be standing right next to each other with only the red rope separating us below our waist. As I got closer to the Asian man, he turned and looked at me in the eyes; he was obviously very aware of his surroundings. After making eye contact with me, he turned to face the white guy to speak to him. It wasn’t until I got very close to the red security rope that the Asian man realised I was actually coming to see him, and he turned to face me before I was too close. His chain had been sparkling so much because it was a diamond chain, and it was the first thing I noticed now that I was close enough to see him properly.

  “Are you okay, little man?” the Asian man asked. He had an accent that wasn’t from our city. I had met a lot of Asian people from our city, and this guy spoke differently.

  “Are you all right mate, my name is Cyrus,” I said as I put my hand out to shake the Asian man’s hand. The man looked at me for a moment and was slightly puzzled as to why I was talking to him; but by looking at his face, you couldn’t tell he was puzzled as he gave nothing away. After a few seconds of thinking time, the man extended his hand and shook my hand. As the Asian male extended his hand, his rectangular-faced watch became visible; its bezel displaying all of the colours of the rainbow at once, flashing orange and pink and blue—it was beautiful. The chain and watch this guy was wearing were flashing like a crowd of paparazzi but with an array of different colours.

  “Hi Cyrus, how can I help you?” the Asian man asked. The way the man had asked the question had an underlying question; ‘what the fuck do you want?’ was what the Asian man had really meant.

  “Well, mate, basically I’m from Coventry, and I don’t come to town much at night, but I’m going to start soon. I just brought a new car so I told my mate to drive it here, so I’ve been looking around at all the girls and what’s going on. You look like you have a lot of respect here, so I wanted to come and introduce myself,” I said trying not to ramble on too much but at the same time convey the information I wanted to share.

  I hadn’t planned what I was going to say, it had just come out from the heart. The Asian man with the expensive chain and watch and perfectly gelled hair just looked at me as his brain digested what I had said. “How old are you, Cyrus?” the Asian man asked still no facial expression to speak of.

  “I’m 16 and a half,” I replied.

  “And that’s your rally car?” the Asian man asked.

  “Yes, I brought it yesterday,” I said calmly and confidently. The Asian man’s facial expression finally changed as he began to smile in disbelief; he had found my reply funny.

  “You brought that rally car, yesterday?” the Asian man asked still smiling.

  “Yes, from Northampton.” I replied trying to stay calm and composed.

  “That’s not your mate’s car? The guy who is in the driver seat?” the Asian man asked; he had stopped smiling.

  “No. It’s mine, he is driving it because I told him to drive me around in it, and he’s got a cheaper and smaller car,” I replied starting to wonder where he was going with all these questions. I was happy to answer anything this man wanted to ask within reason. I was actually answering truthfully and with respect.

  “Who is the guy driving then?” the Asian man asked.

  “Oh, that’s my mate Chris…he works for me,” I answered.

  The Asian man started smiling again once more. “He works for you? Doing what?” the Asian man asked.

  “He sells ounces of weed for me,” I answered.

  “So, Cyrus, that’s your rally car and not your mate Chris’. Chris works for you and has a shit car,” the Asian man summarised.

  “Yes. That exactly right,” I concluded. The stocky white man started listening to our conversation halfway through and had been smiling as he looked at me finding what I had said funny, just as his Asian friend had.

  The two girls were just standing there bored and talking amongst themselves. “Luke, wait here for a second. Cyrus and I are going to go for a walk; I will be back in two minutes,” the Asian man said to his stocky white friend, as he started to walk towards the gap in the security rope. I watched as the Asian man walked out of the bars private area onto the pedestrian’s pavement where I waited.

  “Cyrus, I hear a lot of bullshit in the job I do, but if you’re being truthful about what you have just told me, you’ll have my respect,” the Asian man explained. At hearing this, I smiled at the thought of this man respecting me.

  “How can I prove it is true right now?”

  No sooner had I thought this than the Asian said, “And here is how we are going to prove the truth. You and I are going to walk over to that rally car, and I’m going to get in the passenger seat; and you are going to get in the back behind the driver, so the driver cannot see you. I am going to ask your friend Chris some questions, after you tell Chris to answer every question I ask truthfully? Okay?” The Asian man said in a way that told me instantly this guy was on the ball. I just gave the Asian man a cheeky smile and thought, that’s perfect.

  “Yes, okay, that’s fine,” I said.

  “Unless what you have said to me is a lie, and we will just forget all about it. I will go back in the club with my friends, and you and your friend can continue whatever you lot are doing,” the Asian man said giving me the option to back out.

  “No, come over to my car; you seem like the type of person I need to know,” I said confidently.

  “Okay, let’s go, you just get in to the back seat and tell Chris to tell this man the truth and don’t lie about anything,” the Asian man said sternly.

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  We walked over to the waiting car, and I got into the back. Chris looked to his left into the passenger seat as the Asian man got in beside Chris, presumably confused Chris was about to turn around to face me in the back seat. “Stay looking forward,” the Asian man said
in a firm and serious tone. It was an order, not a request.

  “Chris, this guy is going to ask you some questions. I want you to answer his questions truthfully, okay?” I said in a firm tone.

  “Chris, who owns this car?” the Asian man asked.

  “Cyrus,” Chris replied.

  “Chris, when did Cyrus buy this car?” the Asian man asked.

  “Yesterday,” Chris answered.

  “Where did he buy this car from?” the Asian man asked.

  “Northampton,” Chris answered.

  “What car do you have, Chris?” the Asian man asked.

  “A small shit car, nothing like this,” Chris answered.

  “And what do you do for money?” the Asian man asked.

  “I sell weed,” Chris answered sounding intimidated.

  “Who do you sell weed for, Chris?”

  “I sell weed for Cyrus,” Chris answered.

  “Have you got any weed on you now?” the Asian man asked.

  “Yes, I’ve got two 20 bags,” Chris said.

  “Let me see them,” the Asian man asked. Chris put his hand in his pocket to take out the two £20 bags of light green ‘lemon haze’ and handed them to the Asian man, covered in diamonds, sitting in the passenger seat. “Here Chris, take this back,” the Asian man said as he opened one bag to smell it. “Is this the weed that you two sell? It’s lemon haze,” the Asian man asked.

  “Yes, it is,” Chris replied.

  “You can stop answering questions now; and Chris, here, take this weed back and roll a joint for Cyrus and me. We are going to have a chat,” the Asian man said as he put his hand out to shake Chris’ hand. They shook hands before the Asian guy grabbed the door handle to open the door. “Come on, Cyrus, let’s have a chat,” he said, as we got out of the car and stood at the back behind the boot. The Asian man was smiling at me and shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Nice to meet you, Cyrus, I’m B,” B said as he put his hand out to shake my hand.

  “Nice to meet you too, B,” I replied as I smiled back. “Can I ask you a question? Well actually, can I ask you two questions?” I asked.

  “Yes, go on. What’s up?” B replied.

  “The first question is what kind of watch have you got on, and the second is where did you go to pull girls like them two?” I asked. B looked puzzled.

  “The watch is an AP, and the girls are strippers who work in my mate’s club in Birmingham—we go there sometimes. Because they have heard about us, they want to spend time with us,” B explained before smiling and glancing over at the waiting girls at the bar.

  “Oh okay,” I replied as I made a mental note.

  “Cyrus, how much weed do you sell in a week; it must be a lot to buy a car like that?” B asked, still coming to terms with the fact that the car was mine.

  “Well, Chris sells 50 ounces a week for me, and my other friend sells between nine and 13 ounces a week, but he sells them in 10 and 20 bags for me, so about 60 ounces a week,” I explained as I worked through the figures out loud.

  “How long did it take you to save the money for the car?” B asked.

  “I didn’t. I robbed a garage full of cigarettes and sold them,” I explained.

  “What, robbed a garage? Like a petrol station, you mean?” B asked looking even more confused.

  “No… I mean a house garage with £80,000 worth of cigarettes in. I had enough money to buy the car already though,” I explained.

  “Okay, I understand,” B said as he opened the car door to get the spliff that Chris had rolled for us. B closed the door, so Chris could not hear our conversation. B put the cone-shape joint in his mouth and lit it and took two big pulls that created a giant cloud of smoke in the dark night air. “So what can I do for you, Cyrus; because you obviously want something, or you wouldn’t have approached me?” B asked. Truth be known I hadn’t thought that far ahead, so I thought it best just to be honest.

  “B if I’m going to be perfectly honest, I want to make more money. I make £2,000 a week now, but when I had stolen the cigarettes, I made £30,000 in one day. After making that in a day, £2,000 a week doesn’t do it for me anymore. I need help to make more,” I explained. B just puffed on his joint while staring at me with no facial expression to speak of.

  “Twenty thousand pounds is a lot of money to make every week, and you should be happy; you are only 16,” B said as he gave me a look that people gave me when I was being unreasonable; and they wanted me to see sense. It never worked before, and it wasn’t going to work now.

  “B, it’s just… You look like a man that could definitely help me get closer to the £30,000 a day I want to make. I’m not expecting to make that much in a day. I’d be happy with £10,000 a week after paying all my workers,” I compromised and rationalised.

  “Here I’ve got to go back inside now. I said I’d only be two minutes, and I’ve been out here nearly 15 minutes. Take my number and call me tomorrow at 2:00 in the afternoon, and we will sort something out. You’re a good kid though, Cyrus; don’t give this number to anybody. And whatever you and I speak about, do not even tell your best friend. Do that, and I’ll make you £10,000 a week if you fly straight,” B said as he keyed his phone number into my phone and gave me the half-smoked joint back.

  Chapter 13

  I watched B walk all the way back through the glass doors of the club we were parked outside of. I had feelings of contentment and hope. I didn’t know what I had hoped for as I had no clue what the future had in store for me. All I knew was my gut feeling was telling me that things were going to be okay. B had disappeared back into the loud music of the lowly lit bar. His stocky white friend, Luke, and the two sexy girls had gone back in when he had been sitting in my car. I stood and looked at the busy pavement for a minute full of clubbers wearing their ‘glad rags’. Gelled hair and short dresses and tight jeans everywhere I looked. Turning around, I opened the passenger side door to get back into my car. “What the fuck was that about, Cyrus?” Chris asked as I sat in the car next to him. He seemed more disgruntled than scared or angry.

  “That’s my new mate, B,” I replied as I grinned psychotically while looking through the windscreen; my imagination running wild with possibilities.

  “What do you mean, you nutter? What did you say to him, Cyrus?” Chris asked as if I had lost my mind.

  “Chris, that guy is going to be my friend, and we’re going to do some work with him,” I replied as I thought about the future results of mine and B’s new friendship.

  Earlier in the day, I had been thinking about expansion, or what I could do to make more money. Something about meeting B and having a talk with him felt right in my heart of hearts. The sequence of events meant ‘dots were being connected’. After all, I didn’t want to talk to the Asian guy with the diamond watch and chain because I wanted to meet him to play football on Sundays. I had approached B because I could tell he must make a lot of money, and I want to make a lot of money; that was our ‘common ground’, and it was this common ground I wanted us to walk on together. “What work?” Chris asked with a confused facial expression on his big, round face full of chub.

  “I don’t know that yet, I’m going to see him tomorrow,” I said hoping I would get to see B the following day.

  The clock on the dashboard read 12:16 after midnight as I realised I had lost all interest in staring at drunk clubbers any longer. “Chris, let’s grab some food from somewhere,” I suggested feeling as though I had already achieved as much as I could hope for parked outside a bunch of bars and clubs I couldn’t go inside.

  “Come on then,” Chris said as he turned the key in the ignition, always willing to eat at any given opportunity. I felt good inside as the car turned around in the car park. I looked at the club, wondering if I could get one more glance at my new friend B. One thing about Chris was that he always knew where to get good food from at any time of the day or night.

  The city centre was surprisingly busy, considering it was after midnight. We
stopped outside what looked like a type of Turkish-style grill place. Memories of my mum coming home after a night out with chicken or lamb kebabs from places like these came to mind as we walked in. I ordered a lamb kofti with salad on the side and some toasted Pitta bread. Chris ordered the same as me but chose to order a double portion of lamb. As we sat down to eat our food, my mind started to wander, and I didn’t really have much to talk about as I didn’t know where things stood in terms of what we were going to do yet. It was hard for me to have a proper open conversation with Chris about business. I couldn’t say to him ‘do you think is possible to earn £10,000 a week’ because he only earned £750 a week because he thought I paid more for the weed than I actually did. So every time I made £1,250 profit, Chris only made £750 profit, so I really had to guard myself in conversation with Chris.

  Even though Chris was probably my best friend, I could not be 100 percent honest with him. My brain was tired during the drive home. The thinking I had been doing all day had left me mentally drained. The roads on my way home were deserted; all the people that weren’t sleeping off a long week of work were in town drinking, and the rest of the city seemed to be tucked up in their beds.

  My housing estate was desolate and empty as we pulled into the dark dead end. Chris parked my car outside the garage next to my dad’s Volvo and switched the car off. We said goodbye to one another and made plans to meet the following afternoon. I didn’t have any worry of having to wake anybody in my house to get in, as the £5,000 I had given my mother and father for helping me sell the cigarettes had earnt me my own house key. Using it, I quietly crept into my house and up the stairs to bed. I folded my jeans and T-shirt up and placed them in a tidy pile after taking out my £500 pocket money and cheap work phone. As I did, I scrolled through my contacts until I reached the name B. I stood staring at the phonebook contact for a moment while wondering what he was doing, and whether he would even remember me in the morning. Chris had said as we sat eating kebabs that he looked like ‘a big drug-dealer’, as he had the finest Italian designer clothes on, shoes and jeans and leather jacket, Chris continued, “He was wearing about £10,000 worth of clothes and about £60,000 worth of jewellery.” I wondered what B did for a living to be able to afford stuff like that. I sat on my bed with the hope that when B had found me to be truthful, I had gone as far up in his estimations as I had hoped. Well, one thing life had taught me was ‘time will tell’; it always does, and it always will. The quicker I go to sleep, the quicker I will be awake, the quicker I will know if B is going to help me break the £2,000 a week wage’s barrier.