Brenton Brown (20 page)

‘It
wasn’t
a sob story, Tess.’

‘It doesn’t matter what it was,’ said Tessa. ‘You’ve got to let him go. Let him have his own space. Allow him to make his own mistakes, his own fuck-ups. That’s what grown people do, Jules.’

Juliet dropped the racquet. She sipped her energy drink again and stared vacantly ahead.

‘You won’t let it go, will you?’ said Tessa. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’

‘Yes I will,’ insisted Juliet. ‘For his sake.’

‘No you won’t,’ argued Tessa. ‘Wherever he goes you will have to follow him.’

‘You can’t read my mind, Tess.’

‘Yes I can, Jules,’ said Tessa softly. ‘I know you. I know you better than you know yourself. You’re used to getting what you want. And you
don’t
want Brenton out of your life. You have to be in control of things. You’re a control freak. You like it how it is. In fact, since I’ve known you, you have fascinated me. You’re just different. Half the reason why we’re still mates is ’cos I’m trying to work out what makes you tick. And I’ve finally got it.’

‘Now who’s talking twaddle?’ chuckled Juliet.

‘There’s a lot of twaddle been spoken but it ain’t by me,’ said Tessa, her expression serious. ‘You would like things to be the same. Brenton living nearby, you checking up on him to see if he’s OK to satisfy your guilt, your secret all tucked away. All nice and cosy …’

‘You make it sound like I’m a cynical bitch.’

‘You said it,’ nodded Tessa.

‘What’s this?’ asked Juliet, becoming angry. ‘You’re rubbishing my character now?’

‘No, just giving you a reality check. Come on, Jules, I’ve known you for well over twenty years. Listen to me. You had an affair with your half-brother. You had Breanna together. And now you’re crying to me that he’s leaving to make a new life abroad? Something is kinda wrong with that scenario, don’t you think?’

‘I wasn’t crying, Tess. Just stating a fact.’

‘No!
You wanted me to feel sorry for you. Well I ain’t gonna feel sorry for you. I ain’t gonna be all huggy with you and say how much I understand and all that twaddle. You brought this on yourself ’cos you’re spoilt.’

‘Oh! I’m spoilt now? That’s nice, Tess! Coming from my
supposedly
best friend. What else have you got? I’m already a cynical bitch.’

Tessa’s eyes wandered for a few seconds. She glanced at the ceiling, looked at the Chinese table tennis players and briefly watched the badminton game in front of her before returning her gaze to Juliet. ‘Yes,’ she finally said. ‘Most too-pretty girls are spoilt. Most of ’em don’t even know they’re spoilt.’

‘Oh and how do you work that one out?’ asked Juliet,
throwing
her racquet on the floor and crossing her arms.

‘It’s all too easy for very pretty girls,’ said Tessa. ‘At school they don’t have to work hard to make friends like us
normal-looking
kids. As for the ugly ones, well, they really have to make an effort. Why the fuck do you think they’re so many ugly
comedians
? Anyway, pretty kids are just popular ’cos of the way they look. Everyone is that little bit more polite to them ’cos of the way they look. They get jobs that bit easier ’cos of the way they look. And you know why? ’Cos male bosses think if they hire a pretty girl there might be a very slight chance of fucking them.’

‘Come on, Tess!’

‘It’s true,’ insisted Tessa. ‘Remember, Jules, your first job? I was there, remember. I looked at all the CVs. We got over
forty. And believe me, Jules; most of the girls going for your job were much better qualified than you. Some of them even had degrees.’

‘But I showed ambition and a willingness to learn.’

‘So did the other girls who came for an interview,’ said Tessa. ‘But what swung it for you was the fact Baldie fancied you. For crying out loud, Jules,
everybody
fancied you. They still do. Now, Baldie, even though he was polite, happily married an’ all, he was probably thinking in the back of his bald head, that there might, just might, be a very slight chance of fucking you. Call it male fantasy or what you like … but it’s true. He probably wanked in the toilets over you.’

‘Didn’t Baldie hit on you?’

‘Yeah, he did,’ answered Tessa. ‘Only because he reckoned he had a little bit more chance of fucking me than you. That’s how men work, Jules. Baldie didn’t want to be totally rejected by you but with me, he reckoned he had a chance. Obviously I told him to fuck himself.’

Picking up her racquet once more, she twirled it in her hands again. ‘How comes you never said anything to me about this before?’ asked Juliet.

‘I was going to when I found out you got the job,’ replied Tessa. ‘But you were alright. You weren’t stuck up. I liked you. Grief! That bank could’ve done with a bit of colour working for it. It was sooo white.’

‘So how does all this make me spoilt?’ Juliet wanted to know.

‘Because you’re so pretty you’re used to getting what you want. People give you what you want ’cos everyone wants to be next to beauty. Have you ever had to try really hard to get a job?’

‘No,’ admitted Juliet.

‘Then there you go,’ nodded Tessa. ‘You were a single mother with your brother’s baby, yet you end up marrying a fucking banker! Talk about landing on a pile of shit and somehow
coming out clean. And now you live in a house worth, I dunno? Four hundred grand? I grew up in Bermondsey and believe me, Jules, Bermondsey has its fair share of single mothers, just like Lambeth, Peckham or wherever. You’re the only one I know, Jules, who landed a husband earning a six-figure salary and is going to be a fucking MP.
Don’t
tell me your looks had nothing do with all that. Pretty people are used to getting what they want. You think some fat, ugly, single mum living in some tower block in Rotherhithe will ever end up with a banker husband? No fucking chance. Ain’t gonna happen.’

‘But I’ve worked hard for my community,’ reasoned Juliet. ‘I’ve campaigned for loads of things and got people’s support.’

‘You still don’t get it, do you?’ asked Tessa. ‘Look at when we arrived at the leisure centre. That assistant took one look at you and almost tripped himself up to set up the net for our game. He was so eager to please and he made it so obvious he was thinking of his dick. You think if you were a fat ugly slag he would’ve jumped to attention and been so helpful? Fuck no!’

‘That’s his job, Tess,’ reasoned Juliet. ‘He was just being polite.’

‘No he wasn’t!
At the back of his head he was thinking if he was really nice to you he might, just might, if he played his cards right, get to fuck a very beautiful girl. He hardly noticed me! Let me give you one more example. Newsreaders.’

‘What about newsreaders?’ asked Juliet, now holding her cheeks within her palms. ‘They’re all spoilt too?’

‘When it comes to a woman newsreader,’ said Tessa. ‘Have you ever seen a really ugly, fat one? Seriously? And not just in this country but abroad?’

‘Er, don’t think …’

‘Course you haven’t! Now you can’t tell me that somewhere out there in the wide world there ain’t some really fat bird who can’t read the fucking news. There’s gotta be at least one. But do they get a job on
News At Ten?
On Sky? Fuck no! They probably
have the right speaking voice, degrees and everything but they don’t get the job ’cos they’re too fucking fat and ugly.’

‘I get your point, Tess,’ said Juliet. She stood up to stretch her arms and legs. ‘No need to go on about it. It’s not my fault I look this way.’

Juliet sensed Tessa studying her as she performed her
warm-down
exercises. She touched her toes, stretched her hamstrings and bent her back. She then did a few knee bends before finishing by moving her head from side to side.

‘In a way,’ Tessa said. ‘I feel sorry for Brenton and Clayton. I mean, look at you! Over forty and you’re still gorgeous. Makes me sick! But seriously you have to let Brenton go. Make sure he knows there is absolutely
no
way that there’s a chance of you two ever getting together again.’

‘He knows that,’ said Juliet. ‘It has been over twenty years. We have coped with not making love on the spot every time we see each other since then, Tess.’

‘You sure? I saw the way he looked at you at your mum’s funeral. He’s a jailbird to your beauty just like the leisure centre assistant. Let him go, Jules. Maybe write the odd letter, send him a birthday card if you have to with a badge on it. But don’t visit him wherever he goes. For his own good.’

Juliet picked up her racquet and started to tap it on the floor. She stared into space and considered life without Brenton’s presence in it. Tess is right, she concluded. But never see him again? I don’t think I can do that. He’s part of me. My brother. He’s had such a shit life. If I don’t look out for him then who will? I’ll keep my distance but every now and again I’ll have to see how he is. Isn’t that what Mum would like me to do? He’s still got a few issues he needs to work on.

‘I can read you, Jules,’ said Tess. ‘I just know you. If he goes somewhere sooner or later you’re gonna have this urge to go to him.
Don’t
give in to it, Jules. Him going away to another country
could be his last chance of building his own life; and I mean the personal part of his life. Don’t mess it up for him, Jules. Stay away from him. If you don’t, you might destroy him, fuck up his mind completely. Accept that with this thing you can’t have what you want; you’ll have to deal with that guilt of yours in a different way.’

‘Don’t worry, Tess,’ said Juliet. ‘I’ll stay away from him … you’re right.’

‘Course I’m right,’ grinned Tessa. ‘I’ll hold you to this. I’m not having you come to me a few months down the line telling me you have to see him because of all that, what is it? Genetic what-you-call-it?’

‘Genetic Sexual Attraction, Tess.’

‘It’s a fancy word but it’s total fucking twaddle. Who makes up that kinda bollocks? I’m warning, you, Jules. When he goes, stay away.’

Juliet stared at the ground beneath her and nodded.

The two friends said nothing to each other for the next few minutes. Instead they finished their drinks and watched the
badminton
game taking place to their left.

‘You should’ve played one of them, Jules,’ remarked Tessa.

‘They’re miles better than me.’

‘I ain’t that good.’

‘Jules,’ Tessa called, her eyes now closed.

‘What is it, Tess?’

‘The kids … the kids really miss their dad … what am I gonna do? I … I miss him too.’

Juliet embraced Tessa and Tessa’s eyes started to water. ‘Take it day by day,’ said Juliet.

‘I’ve been trying to,’ said Tessa. ‘But I feel so …
ugly.’

Juliet gave Tessa a reassuring squeeze. ‘You’re not ugly, Tess.’ She wondered who would hug her and reassure her when Brenton finally left. Her tears for him would have to be in isolation, just like they always were. Alone with her torment.

‘Come on, Tess,’ Juliet said. ‘Let’s get out of here and cheer ourselves up with something that bubbles in a glass.’

‘Yeah, OK,’ laughed Tessa. ‘Get your arms off me! Don’t want the guys around here thinking I’m a lesbo! Might harm my chances.’

LYING IN BREANNA’S BED,
Malakai watched her sitting in front of her dressing table mirror in just her red bra and red panties. She was carefully applying her eye make-up and she spotted Malakai staring at her. She smiled. Finished with her eyes, Breanna applied a touch of lavender oil onto her hands and arms. She sniffed at it and grinned again as she caught Malakai’s gaze in the mirror. ‘What sweet you?’ she asked.

‘You do,’ Malakai replied.

‘Come on, man,’ Breanna urged. ‘Get your shower. We’re s’posed to be meeting Sean and Jazz in what? Forty-five minutes. It’s quarter past eight.’

‘Do we have to go?’ asked Malakai. He got out of bed and went to Breanna. ‘Can’t we set up base camp for the night?’

She looked at his naked body in the mirror and couldn’t help giggling.

‘What’s so funny?’ he asked. ‘Man is kinda feeling inadequate when you’re laughing like that.’

‘Nothing,’ chuckled Breanna.

Wrapping his arms around Breanna’s neck, Malakai kissed her on her left cheek and they both looked at their reflections in the mirror. He helped Breanna to her feet. He kissed her throat then worked his way down to her breasts. He unclipped her bra and slid his right hand under her panties to squeeze her backside. ‘Let me call Sean and tell him I’m sick. Or I’ll tell him that you’re sick and you need some TLC. Toe-knocking lovemaking and cuddling.’

‘Malakai!’ protested Breanna. ‘He’s your bredren! Besides, I can’t let Jazz down. She just texted me half an hour ago. She wanted to know what I was wearing.’

Dropping down to his knees, Malakai started to kiss Breanna’s navel. He turned her around and gave her lower back the same treatment.

‘Malakai!’

‘Say you’re not feeling it,’ said Malakai as he continued to kiss Breanna all over. ‘Say you’re not feeling it.’

Grabbing his manhood and twisting it, Breanna laughed. ‘Are you feeling that? Go and get your shower before I pull this
inadequate
thing off!’

‘What? Naked? You want me to go out into your hallway like this?’

‘Malakai!’

‘Alright, I’m going … you sure your paps and mum ain’t here?’

‘Yes, I’m sure. Did you hear the door open and close?’

‘No … but we were kinda … knocking toes and kneecaps. I wasn’t exactly concentrating on the front door.’

‘They’re not here,’ said Breanna. ‘As I said they went down to some local Labour party meeting; they’re welcoming new members or something, well boring. So grab a towel from the top of my wardrobe and get your damn shower.’

Breanna started to fix her hair and Malakai found a purple towel and wrapped it around himself.

‘Are you serious about the holiday?’ Breanna asked, a tub of hair oil poised in her left hand. She watched Malakai’s body language in the mirror.

‘Blatantly!’ replied Malakai. ‘It’ll be all nice. Waking up in the morning and not having to worry about your paps slicing my t’ings when I’m having my toast and Coco Pops. Yeah, man. Let’s go somewhere hot and quiet. The sea is a
must
. And the hotel has to have a seriously sturdy bed so we can get medieval
with each other and knock toes till they get bruised.
Blatantly!
You know that!’

Breanna couldn’t stop smiling. ‘So where? Where do you wanna go?’

‘Like I said, somewhere quiet by the sea … an island.’

‘An island?’ Breanna repeated. ‘I’m feeling that. Somewhere in the Med.’

‘Yeah, one of the Greek islands,
blatantly
. Where man could just go down to the beach, step into one of them wooden boats, give his girl the paddles, whip her so she starts rowing, catch two fish, drink two glass of local wine, nibble nuff olives, swallow untold grapes, burn a spliff and have medieval sex like a gladiator before he has a fight to the death.’

‘
You
can do the paddling!’

‘And we can sing that Bob Marley tune.
We’ll be together, with a roof right over our head, we’ll share the shelter, of our single bed, is this love, is this love, is this love that I’m feeling!’

‘Malakai,’ called Breanna.

‘Yeah, Bree. You feeling what I’m feeling? My mum’s always singing this;
I want to love you! Every day and every night, we’ll be together …’

‘No … just please
don’t
sing. You make the tune sound bad.’

Twenty minute later, Malakai was pulling on his jeans. Breanna was styling a kiss-curl over her right cheek. She had chosen to wear black slacks, a white top and a brown half-sleeve leather jacket. A variety of wooden bangles were on her wrists and she wore wooden Nefertiti earrings.

‘I’m gonna have to use your deodorant, Bree,’ said Malakai. ‘Mine’s at home. Hope peeps who sniff me don’t think I’m going on like a girl.’

‘Stop being stupid! Most people can’t tell the difference.’

‘So Sean’s twenty-two today,’ said Malakai. ‘To tell you the
truth he needs a night out.
Blatantly
. I wouldn’t like to be stuck up in his flat with his mum. She can go on a bit.’

‘He hasn’t invited too many peeps, has he?’ asked Breanna. ‘It should be a low-profile t’ing. Considering his situation.’

‘No, but I saw him yesterday and Jazz was texting nuff people about this t’ing at the White House. And Sean told one of the DJs so they can send out a special request for him.’

‘Jazz is Miss Gossip,’ laughed Breanna. ‘Last night she called me and told me that Sean made a move on her.
Lord!
She went into so much detail I thought he was making a move on me!’

‘Ha ha, yeah,’ laughed Malakai. ‘She can chat.’

Patting down her hair, Breanna gazed into the mirror and asked, ‘So? What do you think?’

‘I think it’s gonna be a
sick
evening,’ replied Malakai. ‘Don’t wanna stay too long though. I got my return ticket for here.’

‘Not
about the evening, about the way I look?’

‘You’re alright.’

‘Alright?’ Breanna turned around. Her hands were on her hips. She glared at Malakai. ‘Just alright? You know how long I’ve been sitting here nicing up my face and you say I’m only
alright?’

Pulling on his denim top, Malakai walked over to Breanna. He bent down on both knees and held her face within his palms. He kissed her on the forehead then kissed her delicately on her mouth. Breanna smiled.

‘What’s that tune your mum was playing the other day?’ Malakai asked.

‘Last Sunday afternoon when she was playing her old-school disco while she was cooking?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Barry White?’

‘Yeah. What was it called?
My First, My Last, My Everything.
Yeah, that’s it. Says it all.
Blatantly.’

Breanna grinned again and returned the kisses with interest.

‘After the holiday,’ said Breanna, ‘if we both start saving, we could have our own place in a couple of years’ time? What do you say?’

‘I feel that,’ replied Malakai as he laced up his white trainers. ‘Can’t wait to get out of my place. It might buck up Mum’s ideas and force her to get a job. Yeah, I’m feeling that. Can you cook though? And a washing machine is not like an alien to you? You know where the
on
button is?’

‘Malakai!’

It was twenty past nine when Breanna was driving west along Acre Lane. Brandy’s
It’s Not Worth It
shrieked from the car stereo. Malakai was nodding his head. Breanna was concentrating on the road ahead but when she stopped at traffic lights she was checking her face in the rear-view mirror.

‘Do you think Jazz is pretty?’ she asked.

‘What?’

‘Do you think Jazz is pretty?’ Breanna repeated.

‘Why you asking me that?’

‘Just wondered,’ replied Breanna shrugging her shoulders.

‘She’s alright,’ Malakai answered. ‘What do you expect me to say?’

Breanna turned into Clapham Park Road. ‘Just wondered that’s all.’

‘Yeah, she’s kinda pretty,’ Malakai said.

‘Prettier than me?’ Breanna wanted to know. She glanced at Malakai, expecting an answer.

‘Bree, I shouldn’t even have to answer that,
blatantly!
Remember
, you’re the first, last,
everyt’ing!
What more do I have to do to show you? We got somet’ing good going on. And I’m not going anywhere and I ain’t looking at anyone else. You get me?’

‘Sorry, Malakai,’ apologised Breanna shaking her head. ‘It’s just that … sometimes … sometimes I feel that someone really good looking is gonna take you away. You know, someone with
breasts up to her throat, a backside you can roll a spliff on and wearing a weave as long as the red carpet outside the Oscars.’

‘Turn left into Notre Dame estate,’ said Malakai pointing a finger. ‘You’ll find parking space in there; you can’t be too careful with those wardens about. Them bastards work well late.’

Breanna did as she was told. Did that come across too needy? she thought. Is he gonna think I’m really insecure now? He must’ve noticed it already. Get a hold of yourself, girl! Why you messing up a good night? But isn’t it best to tell him how you feel? ’Cos maybe one day some better looking bitch than myself
will
take him away.
Stop
going on negative, Bree! Why can’t you just enjoy the night?
Stop
bringing up your issues! Wish I was as good looking as Mum.
Stop
thinking that! You’re OK. And Malakai’s sitting beside you. He’s
not
sitting beside any other girl but
you!
Maybe we shoulda stayed at my place and chill in bed? He might take a fancy to one of the girls at this White House place tonight? If he does I’m gonna maul his fucking balls like a fucked-off lion!

Climbing out of the car, Breanna saw some boys playing
football
under the streetlights. Two teenage girls were watching from a second-floor window. Somewhere on the third floor, a child was laughing out loud. Below, a white vest-wearing teenager was straining to hold on to the leash of his bull terrier and two black guys were talking to each other in their parked cars. A black cat was watching over everything from a wall overlooking the large communal dustbins.

Malakai walked around the front of Breanna’s car and reached out to her. He interlocked his fingers with hers and gazed at her. ‘Bree, I ain’t going nowhere and I ain’t looking at no one. There’s just you and your skills in paddling and in the kitchen.
Blatantly!
So stop fretting.’

Holding hands, Breanna and Malakai walked out of the estate.

It was a mild night and they could hear rap music from
somewhere above back-dropped by the hum of traffic on Clapham Park Road. They crossed the road at the lights and could see late-evening shoppers emerging out of the supermarket car park. They felt the wind of a passing number 37 bus. About thirty yards away many young people were queuing up to gain entry to the White House nightclub. Two boys on small bicycles were performing wheelies and spins on the pavement. Three white kids were sitting on a nearby low wall smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. Two bouncers at the nightclub door were keeping the queue in order. Breanna heard the
thump, thump, thump
of an R&B track she couldn’t quite name. She squeezed Malakai’s hand. He kissed her on her left cheek.

‘Bree!’ Jazz called. ‘Bree!’

Joining the queue from a bus stop was Sean and Jazz.
Performing
a strut, Sean bounced up to Malakai and touched fists. ‘Yes, bredren,’ Sean greeted. ‘You reach. We’re both kinda late though but I’m ready to get my Clap Town dance on.’

‘Hi, sis,’ Jazz greeted Breanna. ‘Sophie’s inside already, she just texted me. Cerise is on her way and Joanna just texted me a few minutes ago telling me she can’t reach. She’s lame, man, always letting me down at the last minute. Fuck knows where Venetia is. Tried to call her but her phone’s on voicemail.’

‘Joanna has got Jerome to look after,’ said Breanna. ‘Maybe she couldn’t get a babysitter? As for Venetia, she’s got issues with Cerise.’

The bouncers were checking and patting everybody as they entered the club.

‘It’s gonna be ram, man,’ said Sean. He performed a dance step. ‘Yeah, bredren, I’m gonna get my Clap Town dance on.’

Suddenly, a shot was fired. Heads turned in the direction of the bang. People screamed. Some dropped to the floor. One girl looked to the road, thinking she heard an exploding tyre. Three guys and one girl ran in different directions. The bullet grazed
Sean’s left arm. The boys on the bikes pedalled away keeping their heads as low as possible. Seven people ran into the club. The bouncers closed the doors. Malakai shoved Breanna to the ground. He turned around. He saw a man with a gun. He was wearing a balaclava and black leather gloves. His jeans seemed to be falling from his waist. His arm, shaking slightly, was
outstretched
. The gun was smoking from the first shot. He was aiming at Sean. Sean held on to a screaming Jazz. He shoved her between the gunman and himself. People were still running. The music inside stopped. Someone was banging the inside of the club’s doors. Malakai moved towards the gunman. The gunman was trying to get a fix on Sean’s head. Jazz wriggled and squirmed out of Sean’s hold. She tried to run but tripped over in her heels. She fell over and scraped her head on the
pavement
. Malakai was only a few feet away from the gunman. The gunman turned around. He saw Malakai. He closed his eyes. He squeezed the trigger. Sean ran towards Acre Lane. Screams rang out again. Malakai was shot in the head. The bullet entered just below his right ear. He was dead before he dropped to the ground. A number 35 bus braked sharply. A man came out of his car to have a look. The gunman hot-stepped it towards Clapham Common tube station. Girls were still shrieking. Men were panicking. Malakai’s blood stained the pavement. Breanna opened her eyes. She turned her head this way and that. She saw Malakai. She saw he wasn’t moving. She saw the gaping exit wound that had exploded his right cheek. She saw his blood. She crawled over to him. She heard people crying and
shrieking
. She reached Malakai. She held his head. Blood seeped onto her hands. She could feel her heartbeat vibrate in her throat. Malakai’s eyes were closed. She gently placed her forehead on top of his. Her palms supported the back of his head. She heard people shouting and cursing. She paid them no mind. She could only look at Malakai. His peaceful face.