The Dirty South (11 page)

‘Everton and Brenton dragged this guy out and proper banged him up. He seemed to have heard of this Brenton guy and he was begging for mercy. I'll never forget that night. They booted him down six flights of stairs and into the forecourt of the estate. People were watching. Someone called the Feds but no-one said shit 'cos he was a known woman beater. Mum always picked the wrong men…'

‘Mum told me that she was tight with your mum at school,' I said. ‘They used to go raves together.'

‘They are tighter than you would ever know, bruv. If there is one thing about the old school people, they look out for each other. When I was young I used to see your mum and you around my gates all the time with her friend Sharon. Don't you remember those days, Dennis? We was about three or four. And sometimes even your auntie Denise would come over. They helped decorate the place. Your mum hasn't been here for a while now, though.'

Noel must have had a good memory 'cos I couldn't remember any of that shit…

‘Work,' I explained. ‘Takes up all her time. Even on weekends…
But since my mum started to earn good money she's gone a little stush…'

‘I would
never
call your mum stush,' Noel raised his voice. ‘From the chats I have heard from your mum, my mum, Sharon and your auntie Denise, they all lived a grime life, bruv. Trust me, they had it tough. They were all
sufferers
.'

When Noel spoke the word
chats
I leaned forward towards Noel. ‘What else did you hear from these chats?' I wanted to know. ‘What were they talking about? Anything about my paps?'

Noel poured himself another drink and took a generous toke from his big-head. He looked at me for two seconds and then tipped his ash into an ashtray. ‘I'm not supposed to talk about that. Mum's orders.'

I was about to raise my voice but I checked myself. I didn't want to wake up Cara. ‘Don't fuck with me, Noel,' I said. ‘I'd never keep shit from you.'

The stain on the carpet caused by the ginger ale was now a magnet to Noel's eyes… He took another two tokes from his big-head before I heard his voice again. ‘Your paps, Everton, Brenton Brown, they were all serious thugs, bruv. Proper gangsters.'

‘Yeah,' I nodded. ‘I know something about that. Go on.'

Before he did go on Noel checked to see if his mother was still sparked out upon her bed… He returned with this weird excited expression on his face, as if he was about to say Al Pacino had came to visit. ‘They duppied an old school Brixton don.'

‘They what?'

‘They merked a proper G. This G was well famous back in the day and he ruled these ends like a proper Al Capone.'

‘How did they duppy him?'

‘Shot him,' Noel replied. ‘Right between his eyeballs. Like how Lee Van Cleef shot that ugly man at the start of
A Few Dollars More
.'

‘Who shot him?'

‘That's what I don't know. It was the night your paps got his legs fucked. On that night, along with your paps there were three of your paps' brethrens, Brenton Brown, Everton and this white guy
called Frank. This big-time G had kidnapped your auntie Denise and made himself her pimp. It was a fucked-up, grimy situation, bruv. Your paps and his brethrens went after him.'

‘What!' was all I could manage. ‘Auntie Denise was a ho? You're lying! What else you know?'

‘I
ain't
lying. I wouldn't make this shit up. But that's it, bruv. That's all I know.
Never
tell your paps or mum that I talked about this. Otherwise my mum would get blanked 'cos she wasn't supposed to tell me.'

My mind was spinning with different scenarios. Did Paps kill this badman? Was it uncle Everton? I couldn't see the white guy Frank killing an old time Brixton don. Frank? That name rings a bell. Could it be the Irishman who was friends with Granny? Anyway, he was probably the look-out. Did it happen on the street? Was there a massive Feds investigation? Did Mum have to put up an alibi? How did Auntie Denise became a ho? Fuck me. Auntie Denise a ho! I had to get to my feet and have another drink.

Noel went to look in on his mother. I followed him into her bedroom and Cara was fast asleep, snoring loudly. Noel pulled the duvet over her and then bent down to kiss her on the forehead while placing his hands tenderly upon her cheeks. He closed his eyes and tears appeared on his face. He soon wiped them away and then he looked at her once more, his face breaking out into a sad smile. I don't think I will ever see a sweeter show of love until the day they bury my black ass.

Noel and I were tighter than a church lady's crotch after that night. I'm not sure how to explain it but after that night of Jerry Springer shit, beefs and respect, I felt I would do anything for my best bredren, Noel Gordon. I guess there must be something deep, something so sweet between Jamaican mothers and their first-born sons. Maybe it's because of all the Jamaican sons I know, hardly any of them are close to their dads. I respected Paps to the max but wasn't close to him the way I was with Mum.

I reached home just after 3 a.m. in the morning. I was well tired and was gonna go to my bed but there was a light on in the front room. I went to see and found Paps sitting down on the leather
sofa draining a drink. It seemed like he had been thinking things through for hours. He was wearing a blue dressing-gown over a Crystal Palace football shirt and pyjama bottoms. He took a sip of his rum and coke and asked, ‘Cara told Noel about his daddy?'

‘Yes,' I nodded.

‘How did he take it?'

‘All considered, quite well.'

‘We've been telling Cara for years to tell him,' said Paps.

I sat down in an armchair facing Paps. I so much wanted to ask him about the night he and his bredrens killed a man. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I would betray Noel's confidence and Cara's. ‘Paps,' I started. ‘I know you was a shotta back in the day, selling weed on the front line. My guess is that you knew Red Eyes in that line of business back in the day?'

It took a few seconds for paps to look at me but when he did, he simply nodded. ‘Yes,' he said. ‘Your guess is right. I reckoned it would have to come out sooner or later.'

‘Why didn't you tell me before?'

‘How could I try and discipline you and bring you up right if you knew what I did to survive in the past?'

‘I would have understood.'

‘Maybe you would have, maybe you wouldn't have. But I didn't want the risk. You see, Dennis, if you knew everything about my past you would always have ammunition to fling back in my face if we had a bone of contention.'

Paps swirled the drink around in his glass a little and then took a sip. Every time we had our chats he always maintained full eye contact. I always found it a little unnerving… It's probably why that night I decided against asking him about the guy who my paps and his bredrens duppied.

‘I knew Red Eyes back in the day,' Paps revealed. ‘Before he was known as Red Eyes his nickname was Sceptic. He was one of our crew. He was doing the same thing as me, as you put it selling weed on the front line. He was a hustler, no worse, no better than I was. I think at the funeral today we all realised, well, my age group realised that it could have been one of us lowered into that grave.
It could have been one of us who had lived the way he did in the past twenty years or so. He was alright. A friend. It was just that he could never see any other life for him than the one he led.'

As Paps spoke that last sentence, I noticed he was looking down at the floor. Sadness was in his eyes and I guessed that Red Eyes was more than just another friend.

‘I'm tired and I'm going to my bed,' I said. ‘You better come up soon if you don't want Mum coming down here looking for you. Goodnight, Paps.'

‘Goodnight, Dennis.'

I left Paps sitting there with his rum and coke and his grief and as my head hit the pillow I promised myself that I must encourage Noel to try something else to earn P's than just shotting.

T
hree weeks after the funeral I kinda felt I was going through the motions. Well, maybe not going through the motions but just doing all the shit that Noel expected me to do. The fallout of Red Eyes' death was still messing up my head and I couldn't work out how Noel just adapted to his situation and got on with his life. He and his mum were closer than ever. He even started to pick her up from her workplace and we would burn big-heads together at their flat. I had to admit I was kinda jealous 'cos I didn't have any chill-out time with my mum. I couldn't ever imagine burning a big-head with her. But always at the back of my head was the merking of Red Eyes.

All this stressing led me to think how I would react if there was a death in my family and for the first time in my life, I realised that my parents might not always be there… I kinda got obsessed about Paps' near death shit. I wanted to know how Paps felt when he had his near fatal incident, what was going through his head? But I couldn't find a way of asking. He might think of me as being morbid or shit like that. I hung around him at home, hoping for the courage to come to me so I could ask him about
that
night. But courage never came. We ended up talking about third-world debt and boring shit like that. Paps thought that I was taking an interest
in world affairs. Little did he know. While all this discussion was going on I did find out one thing though and that's if you get too much knowledge it can make you too grumpy and vexed to enjoy the life you have. That was Paps.

It was one of those chill-out Sunday afternoons when I was trying to work out a way of confronting Paps about the night his legs got fucked. I considered waiting until we were alone in the house and after striking up a conversation about the World Trade Organisation, a topic he always ranted about, hit him with his own gangster shit and demand answers. As I made these plans in my head, Paps was reading a book. I was also trying to summon up the nerve to call Akeisha. I had nearly called her every day for three weeks but at the last minute I had pussied out. It was driving me nuts.

Meanwhile, Mum and Davinia were leafing through an Argos catalogue and when I wasn't observing Paps, I was watching MTV Base. Mya was performing a sexy dance routine with Beenie Man on screen and that's when I said to myself that if I don't call Akeisha now I never will. Tackling Paps was no longer my first priority.

So I prepared my game, slapped on my confidence, took in some deep breaths and I made my call sitting on the stairs. ‘Hello. What's gwarnin, Akeisha?'

‘Who is this?' came back the reply.

‘Dennis.'

‘Dennis?'

‘Yeah, the bruv you met at Red Eyes' funeral.'

‘There were quite a few young guys there at the funeral.'

‘None as good looking as me though,' I laughed nervously.

Silence… I felt my pulse gathering pace. ‘So when are we gonna link up, Akeisha? You see, I remembered your name and your buff self. When are you gonna show me some love? You know, take me on a tour around your proper buff body.'

‘Excuse me!'

‘When are we gonna connect, man, in the plug, wall socket sense. You know, to do what young people do. Aren't you feeling me? I'm not feeling any love from you right now. Why you so quiet? Akeisha?'

She cut me off. I couldn't believe it. No chick had done that to me before. My head spun. Oh my God! I fucked it up. Me and my Brixtonian macho self! I'm not Noel, I'm not Noel! Why didn't you be yourself? You dumb fucking prick!

I returned to the front room. Paps was still reading. Mum and Davinia were looking at designer handbags in another catalogue. ‘What girl is it this time, Dennis?' Davinia asked, big grin on her face.

‘How do you know it's a girl?'

‘Because every time you sit on the stairs and make a call, it's usually a girl you're talking to. Am I right or am I right?'

She was right. Burn Davinia. ‘Davinia, zip your beak, take off your Halloween mask, deal with your acne and mind your business.'

‘Don't talk to your sister like that, Dennis,' Paps reprimanded, his eyes looking over his book. ‘I keep telling you, Dennis, to show an example.
You're
the oldest.'

Burn, Paps… I gave Davinia an evil stare. She just grinned with that know-it-all face of hers. I'll deal with her when Mum and Paps have gone out.

I decided to try call Akeisha again, this time showing some politeness. I returned to the stairs to make my call and pulled the lounge door closed. ‘Hi, why did you—'

Akeisha interrupted. ‘If you wanna talk to me you talk to me with respect! You understand? I ain't no junz so don't chat to me like I am one!'

‘Yeah, that's cool,' I managed. ‘Sorry about that.'

‘Alright,' said Akeisha. Her voice was still sounding stern. ‘What can I do for you?'

‘Er, I was wondering if I could see you again.'

‘Why?'

Why? Damn, she was making it difficult. I had to think hard. ‘ 'Cos you're the kinda chick I could talk to. You seem intelligent and know what's what. I'm sick and tired of them ghetto chicks without any manners and they don't know how to behave when you're with them.'

‘Any other reason?' Akeisha asked.

‘And because you look better in black than Will Smith, Tommy Lee whassisname and Halle Berry in
Catwoman
.' It was all I could think of. Sweat was now appearing on my temples but she couldn't see that, nor the panic in my brain.

She laughed… Yes! I've got her now. I could see her wearing a skin-tight Lycra in my bedroom. I could see that wok coming my way, my hands pulling her booty towards my crotch. I'm slowly woking her and R. Kelly is providing the soundtrack… She's moaning with serious pleasure. ‘So you wanna meet me, like in a date?' she asked.