Rise and Fall (13 page)

“Fucking great,” Reagan yelled at the car. He bet the arsehole that was driving the car had soaked him on purpose. Still, not even wet clothes could wipe his smile from his face today. He trudged on.

Reagan had been fuming when he found out what Jerell had done. He was sure that it would fuck things up. He should have guessed that something like this would happen, though; Jerell had anger issues and needed to get a handle on his temper. Reagan had been shit-scared that the old bill would come knocking and they would get found out for what they had been up to. The idea of being in prison with a load of nonces terrified him. He imagined his flat being upended by some jobsworth police officer snooping through all his personal stuff. He was glad now that he had always listened to Jerell and that they had never kept anything of importance in the flat. Jerell’s passport and fake IDs was in the safe at Louise’s house, along with his guns and most of their cash. The only drugs they ever had in Reagan’s flat were a couple of spliffs; Jerell had remained strict about that so the police wouldn’t find anything there. 

Reagan had been staying with Louise. This was another thing Jerell had insisted upon. This, as it turned out, hadn’t been such a bad thing; Louise was a good girl, and the fucked-up situation that Jerell had caused had worked in Reagan’s favour. As Reagan neared the cafe where he had arranged to meet Jerell, he had to use his willpower to stop himself from getting a boner from his memories of last night’s bedroom antics. Louise was something else, and from the very first time they had slept together, they had been at it morning, noon and night. Reagan couldn’t think of a better way to spend the time that he now had on his hands. Thinking back to the first night that they had spent together, when Louise had allowed Reagan into her bed, he smiled at how lucky he was. She had said: “You can share my bed, but don’t get any ideas. It’s just somewhere to sleep, yeah? Save you kipping on the floor.” She had insisted if he couldn't keep his hands to himself, she didn’t care how uncomfortable the floor was he’d be hitting it. Reagan had laid there for what seemed like hours, listening to the sound of Louise’s soft breathing. He hadn’t expected that lying in bed with the girl and not doing anything would be a problem, seeing as he had never even slept with a girl before.

Reagan’s only sexual experience had been the abuse he had suffered at the children’s home, which had been enough to make him want to avoid any type of sexual experience like the plague. He had never breathed a word about what the care home manager, Mr Bell, had done to him night after night. After the encounters that had been forced upon him back then, Reagan had often wondered when he was much younger, if doing ‘those things’ to Mr Bell made him gay. He had been so confused for so long that it had been easier just make sure that he never let himself get physical with anyone; sex became a taboo for him.

As Reagan had got older, he was pleased to find that he did find girls attractive, but he had always remained too scared to do anything sexually, as it only stirred up the buried emotions inside him that he wasn’t capable of dealing with. 

Lying in the bed next to Louise that first night, though, something inside him had stirred. It had shocked him that he was able to feel such strong, intense feelings. 

Hearing her soft breathing, just inches from him, and smelling her delicate musky scent, he had been shocked by his thoughts, as he wondered what she would be like to touch and to taste. He felt himself get aroused, to the point he had been unable to sleep. Lying there frustrated, his feelings tormented him.

After what seemed like ages, he must have drifted off. His dreams were erotic, and in his sleep he continued to feel aroused, envisaging Louise’s hot skin all over him as she straddled him and pressed her small pert breasts against his naked chest; he could smell her hair as it fell around him and again, even in his sleep, he felt his cock stiffen.

Opening his eyes, still half-asleep, Reagan woke to find that he wasn’t dreaming; Louise was wide awake and draped over him. 

Feeling his cock throb for her, Louise had taken her time to drive him wild. Her mouth pressed gently against his skin, grazing his stomach, as it moved lower down his body. She teased him with her mouth until he couldn’t control himself any longer, any thoughts of being scared about sex disappearing. He wanted her. After she had worked him into a frenzied state, he pulled her up towards him and rolled over on top of her, taking her quickly with a force that he hadn’t known he possessed. 

Afterwards, as she lay next to him in silence, Reagan had been worried that he had hurt her or done it wrong. It had felt amazing to him, but then he didn’t have anything to compare it to. Louise had reassured him that it had been perfect, and within minutes they were all over each other again, the second time slower and more intense.   

Reagan hadn’t been able to get enough of Louise after that, and she had said that she felt the same about him. She had taken his virginity, although this was something that he would keep quiet about. He had a reputation to uphold. Nor did he want anyone finding out what had happened to him in the past. 

Now that Reagan had heard the news about the guy whom Jerell had shot, he knew that it wouldn’t be long until the two of them were back doing their thing, and life could get back to normal again, but this time he would have Louise. All in all, things were looking good.

Reaching the cafe, Reagan pushed open the door. Jerell was already seated at a table in the far corner, a very pale Tyler next to him. 

Reagan had tried to erase any thoughts of what Jerell might have done to the boy on the evening that he had left them together. He knew that it hadn’t been long after that that the shooting had taken place, so Jerell couldn’t have had much time alone with Tyler. Maybe nothing had happened. Reagan hoped that his suspicions were paranoia after everything he had been through. 

As well as his pallor, Tyler had grey shadows under his eyes and a vacant expression on his face. Reagan guessed that having Jerell staying with him was difficult for the poor kid. Reagan knew that Jerell was bored of waiting around for things to cool down, and he was a nuisance when he was bored and agitated at the best of times. The boy was probably just sick to death of his company.

“What you want to drink, Reagan? Tyler will get it.” Jerell kicked the chair out opposite him, indicating to Reagan to sit down. 

“I’ll just have a coke, Tyler,” Reagan said. 

“Make it two, Tyler, and get yourself another one.” Jerell placed a note on the table and turned his attention to Reagan. “So what’s dis news? Why you not tell me over the phone? Why you make me sit here and wait, huh, I’m going stir crazy.” Jerell was annoyed that Reagan had insisted they meet. Jerell wasn’t sure if the news would be good or bad, but he had figured maybe it was bad as Reagan hadn’t just come out with it.

“I wanted to tell you in person, Jerell.” Seeing how tense Jerell was, Reagan realised he had added to the man’s anxieties. “The police were looking for me. The council have my name on the tenancy, it didn’t take the coppers long to find out who lived there. Anyway, this is it. The guy you shot, his name’s Gary West. He owns West’s Garage, off the High Street.”

Jerell raised his eyebrows. He remembered the dodgy motors with which he had shafted the man with a few months back; he had done the same to a few firms around the borough. 

“Well, he’s alive, Jerell. That’s the main thing.” Reagan watched the relief spread across Jerell’s face. “He came up a blinder for us an’ all... told the police he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He made up some story about seeing someone trying to break into the flat. He told the coppers he tried to stop some burglar and was shot at close range before the guy did a runner empty-handed.”

Jerell was glad that the man was okay; it would keep the heat off him. His thoughts of getting sent to prison could be put to bed. He couldn’t believe the man had survived that bullet, though, God only knew how he had done.

“The fucking funniest thing ever though…” Reagan laughed, still as chuffed at this last bit as when he had first heard it. “This Gary bloke threw them off your scent. He only bloody told the coppers that the gunman was about five foot tall, oh and this will tickle ya...” Reagan paused for effect, enjoying leaving Jerell hanging, even if it was only for a few seconds. “He only went and told ‘em the gunman was Chinese. A fucking Chinese midget the pigs are looking for, how fucking funny is that, huh?” Reagan waited for Jerell to join in his laughter, but Jerell was staring into space.

Jerell didn't know why Gary West would have thrown the police off his scent. He remembered meeting him. Jerell had put the guy well and truly in his place with shit cars, it was a move that had enabled Jerell to then take over the big contract that West had with the Ugandans. Jerell had a few of his boys pick up some nice luxury motors at almost thirty percent cheaper than West’s price. 

The bloke could have served Jerell up to the police on a platter with fucking garnish if he had wanted. So why hadn’t he; what was the man up to? He was probably trying to keep himself and his own men out of the firing line. Gary wouldn’t want the police snooping around his yard any more than Jerell would, he guessed; everyone had dodgy shit to conceal. Jerell must have an army of enemies out there by now; he had stepped on more than a few toes to get where he was today. He would have to step his security up when all this was dealt with, you couldn’t start fires in this game without occasionally getting your fingers burnt. Next time he wouldn’t be such an easy target.

Tyler came back with a tray of drinks and sat at the end of the table. Reagan noticed that the boy looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his small shoulders, and that his eyes were full of pain. He hung his head as he drank his coke through a straw. Tyler was normally the most cheerful kid Reagan knew, and usually he was so busy spouting his exaggerated stories that short of gagging him you had no chance of shutting him up. Tyler seemed like a shadow of his former self, but he hoped the boy was just growing up.

Jerell was glad that Reagan had come up trumps and found out the information, but the boy could have told him the news over the phone. Instead, he had made Jerell sweat. It irritated him that Reagan kept acting like they were a team, when it was Jerell who was in charge; the boy should remember that.

“So what happen when you spoke to the police, you allowed back to the flat?” Jerell asked.

“Yeah, I went to the station after I heard that West had kept us out of it. Told ‘em I’d been away, seeing my bird; made out I didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on. They believed me on the spot, it was quite funny, they took me into the side room and broke it to me gently that I had been a victim of an attempted burglary.” Reagan laughed again, this time mockingly. “Just goes to show, those pigs don’t know their arses from their fucking elbows.”

As Reagan spoke, Jerell’s mind was whirling. He needed to get back to supplying the gear and, if the police weren’t looking for him, he could start getting things sorted. You couldn’t keep off the streets for too long, the druggies would find somewhere else to get their gear.

“Okay, this is what we gunna do,” Jerell decided. “We find a new flat; even better a house. We got more than enough money coming in. We ain’t going back to your place, Reagan; there’s too much heat there. You go and get your shit together and see whoever it is you need to, and make sure that you get rid of the flat. I’m sure the council have enough pregnant schoolgirls that need housing that they won’t bat an eyelid at you giving your place up.”

This was an unexpected blow from Jerell; Reagan hadn’t thought he would have to give up his flat. He had never owned anything before. 

“Yeah, I want a big house, we need more room.” Jerell would take no prisoners. There was serious money to be made and soon everything would be back in place to do it. “It’ll be somewhere more private. We gunna get back out there and make some money.”

Reagan left the café with a list longer than his arm of things to sort out within seven days. Jerell would continue to stay at Tyler’s place until Reagan had found the new house. 

“Fancy some breakfast, Gary: eggs and bacon alright?” Jamie popped his head around Gary’s bedroom door.

Gary was sitting up in bed. He had already read a newspaper from cover to cover and boredom was setting in at the thought of another day sitting around and twiddling his thumbs. The only good thing was that his appetite was gradually starting to come back, and the offer of another of Jamie’s perfect fry-ups made his mouth water; he was famished. Slowly but surely Gary was improving; he had been told to have lots of rest, and on the condition that he would have someone to help look after him twenty-four-seven, he had been discharged from the hospital. 

“Oh, go on then.” Gary smiled, pretending he had had his arm twisted. He was so grateful to have Jamie staying with him. His body was still weak, even after a fortnight of resting, but he was recovering well. He still needed help walking, though, and hadn’t even been able to make it to the bathroom for the first few days that he was at home without Jamie supporting him. “But I want to come out to the kitchen this morning, Jamie, and eat at the table with you. Staring at these four bleeding walls is sending me bloody bonkers,” Gary insisted, needing to get out of his bedroom if only for an hour. It may only be to another room, but it was still a much needed change of scenery as far as Gary was concerned.

“Okay,” Jamie agreed, “but this is your last cooked brekkie, so you’d better make the most of it, okay? The doctors will string me up by my bits if they find out that I’ve been filling you up on this greasy slop every morning. As of tomorrow, it’s going to be fruit smoothies, and if you’re lucky, I’ll throw in a bit of muesli. Doctor’s orders, so no arguing!” Jamie had been spoiling Gary by cooking him a fry up, each morning, knowing that he couldn't resist a full-on English breakfast, and his plan had worked: Gary had started to regain his appetite.