The Dirty South (22 page)

One look at Gloria and there's no way that dopeheads won't agree to pay the set price because as most of her customers were men, they thought they might get a wok out of it. Pussies! For whatever reason, Dryneck had Gloria under one piece of heavy lock and 'cos he was ugly as shit I never worked that one out.

Noel and myself were now careful of who we sold our weed to. Noel worked the snooker halls of south London, the rave clubs, wine bars where they played loud R&B music, gigs at venues like
the Bricky Academy; he was bold enough to walk up and down the queue outside. He sold mostly to white brothers. They didn't sweat you about the prices and offered you less grief than black brothers. As for me I had a sweet customer base at my college. White girls mainly who were studying shit like administration, media, IT and how to be a legal secretary. I guess they bought the skunk 'cos they wanted to impress their cousins who lived in boring fucked-up places like Leatherhead and Sutton. I could just imagine them saying
This is Brixton skunk, girlfriend. From Brixton!

Again, no negotiations on price, no arguments, they just bought my shit without so much as a peep to check my merchandise. My skunk
was
proper good though. Students are always bitching that they're broke but they always had enough dollars to buy my food. Easy money.

Now and again I would get invited to the odd white people party but burn that shit. White people love to sit down, get drunk, dance badly and pass their fat-heads around where untold acne-fucked-up mouths pollute the spliff. Well fuck that! No one was gonna put their lips around my big-head.

Also, I done a bit of trade with some of the white chicks who brought their rides to the garage. I'm not sure if my boss, Everton, knew what was going on but I could have handed out invoices for skunk as well as six-month car services. There were only a few black brothers who we sold to and Noel and myself knew them since school days. Nathan was an example of that. Selling blatantly at youth clubs, on road and other places where the brothers hung out was even too dangerous for Noel. We left that shit for the young pups coming up.

The jacking of shottas in Bricky increased and I kept on hearing that Muslim crews like Courtney Thompson's were trying to muscle in on the skunk and coke trade all over the Dirty South. They can call themselves whatever religion they like but at the end of the day a thug who specialises in jackings might be wearing a rasta tam or a skullcap with a fucked-up beard. Money's the main religion in Bricky, simple as.

Sitting in my ride I watched Gloria's Audi sports enter the
basement car park of Asda's at 8.10 p.m. She wasn't usually late. It was kinda windy in the car park and the shape of the place made car engines sound louder than they were. The ceiling was low and I felt a little claustrophobic. I walked over to Gloria's ride and, spotting me, she opened the passenger side door. As I filled the seat she lit a cigarette and turned down the volume of her car stereo… Judy Garland was belting out some song and for a moment I thought of Granny.

Gloria was wearing a navy blue trouser suit and a white blouse. Her blonde hair was wrapped up in a bun and apart from her ride, the only clue to her wealth was the expensive-looking watch that she wore around her left wrist. Her lipstick was murder-red and the fragrance she wore I couldn't recognise but I knew it was pricey… I wasn't in awe of her no more. Why should I be? I had Akeisha.

‘So how's it going, Dennis?' she asked without looking at me.

‘All good,' I replied. ‘All good.'

‘That means you're still with Akeisha.'

‘Yeah, she's some girl.'

‘You'll have to introduce me to her sometime, Dennis. Whenever we meet she's all you talk about.'

‘Am I that bad?'

‘Yes,' Gloria answered instantly, now looking at me.

‘What about you and Dryneck?'

She gave me a hard stare but it soon softened. ‘We're cool. As a matter of fact we're getting out of this business and heading for the States. It's getting too hot in south London.'

‘Really?'

‘Really, Dennis. Dryneck is getting too well known. And I think those Muslim boys have their greedy eyes on him.'

‘They're all front,' I said. ‘They ain't real Muslims, they're wannabes. They think brothers will be more frightened if they can drop shit like
I knew bin Laden's cousin so if you don't pay we're gonna bomb your ends motherfucker and superglue a hand grenade on your mum's back
.'

‘Then if they're not Muslims who's doing most of the jackings, Dennis? Who's targeting all the dealers and demanding protection
money? It certainly ain't a gang of Christian boys who wear crosses and look like fucking Charlton Heston.'

I thought about that for a minute. I knew the answer to Gloria's question but couldn't bring myself to admit it. It was brothers like Courtney Thompson who had mothers who attended Christian churches. Their parents were West Indian and they probably still got brushings from their parents if they left their dirty plates in the sink. Somewhere along the line, they swapped their Bibles for Korans.

‘You need to be more careful than ever, Dennis,' Gloria added. ‘You and Noel.'

‘We'll be safe, Gloria. We're careful of who we shot to. So what you gonna do in the States?'

‘I can do more than selling skunk to white men in grey suits and black guys who don't wear belts in their jeans,' Gloria answered. ‘I'm a talented girl, Dennis. I can whistle through my fingers, ride a horse, light a fire with two sticks, shoot a bird, set type and be a babysitter to my nieces… That‘s probably the hardest thing I do, babysitting.'

‘Babysitting?'

‘Yeah, it's put me off having my own. Screw that for a walk on the boards… Those little shits fuck up a woman's figure and take up too much time… And I really like my quality time. Dryneck won't want any babies affecting that and I feel the same way.'

‘So where are you going in America?'

‘Los Angeles. Don't laugh, Dennis, but I wanna be an actress. A
big
actress. I've been going drama school for the last two years. I've already done a few adverts, you know, a walk on, background kinda thing. Done a bit of glamour too. Now I've got enough saved up to have my crack in the States. If Catherine Zeta-Jones can make it on her minuscule talent, then so can I. But this chick ain't gonna fuck a has-been actor to get there…'

‘Well, you've got the hair, Gloria.'

What a fucked-up comment. It just kinda came out. I felt like a prick but Gloria smiled… ‘If I don't make it in Hollywood then I'll be the world's most glamorous bank clerk,' she laughed.

‘So what's Dryneck gonna do while you're chasing your dream?'

‘He said he'll come out with me but that's as far as I know. He might move on, I dunno. I never quite understand men, especially Dryneck. I can only hope that he stays around. We'll look good on the red carpet together…'

‘Don't understand men?'

‘Yes, Dennis. Plain women know more about men than beautiful ones do. Dryneck has a saying, a career is wonderful but you can't curl up to it on a cold night. He's always saying that.'

‘I'm gonna say the same shit to Akeisha.'

Gloria laughed out loud. This white guy walked passed us and he offered me a fucked-up stare. Burn him!

‘The thing is, Dennis,' Gloria continued, ‘our generation don't wanna spend time building careers in administration, banking, civil service and crap like that. I fucking hate it, Dennis.
Boring!
That stuff was alright for our parents but
not
us. We spend most of our free time reading all those Z-list celebrity mags and we think the people we read about have a better life than ourselves.'

‘Don't they?'

‘Well, yes is my answer. That is why I
have
to do something else. Even if it means risking all. My older sister lives in a council flat in Roehampton with three kids. Her man left her when she was pregnant with her second one. As soon as she gets home from picking up the kids from school she cooks dinner and she likes to finish that at 5.30. So she can sit down and watch her soaps. Then she puts the kids to bed and reads her celeb mags, dreaming of appearing on
Footballer's Wives
. When I have a conversation with her the subject matter ends up on
Big Brother
. As if I really give a fuck!'

‘Er, Gloria, you told me to say something and stop your flow if you start ranting about shit.'

She laughed out loud again and then kissed me on the cheek. ‘You were raised well, Dennis. You must have been a good kid. You know how to prick a balloon gently! You know what, all I remember as a kid was my freckles coming out on my face every spring and
they never cleared up till Christmas. It's funny, my big sister was always regarded more prettier than me. I was always jealous of her but look at the silly cow now.'

She bent down and beside her feet was a Crew Clothing shopping bag. She passed it on to me. I looked inside and the merchandise was packed in kitchen foil. It gave off the same fragrance that Gloria wore. Smart chick. I had a sneaky look at her nostrils and I could tell she had been snorting some shit. Gloria always chatted too much when she was on charlie.

‘Five hundred for that little lot,' she said with a grin.

I took out a wad of P's from my inside jacket pocket. It was bound with an elastic band. She took it from me and immediately put it in the glove compartment. Maybe she now trusted me enough not to count it, or she was pressed for time. ‘I enjoy our little talks, Dennis. Hopefully we'll meet again before we fly out. Perhaps dinner? I'll pay.'

‘Yeah, I can do that.'

‘Bring that girl of yours along, you got me intrigued about her.'

I climbed out of the car as Gloria looked into the rear mirror and applied a little lipstick… Man! They should make a TV drama about her.
The Shotting Blonde
.

After calling Noel I drove up to his ends 'cos he wanted to sample the skunk. Cara and Priscilla were watching
The Bill
when I came in with my bag of skunk… They both offered me a
I know what shit you have in the bag
glance as I made my way to Noel's bedroom. Noel's three younger brothers were playing quietly in the hallway, the oldest was now twelve and the other two were eight and six. They had a Game Boy between the three of them and it was creepy how they were so silent when Cara settled down to watch her soaps. ‘Hi, Cara, Priscilla,' I greeted. ‘Hi kids.'

‘Hi, Dennis,' the oldest boy, Chris said. The other two ignored me.

‘What's gwarnin?' Priscilla greeted without looking away from the TV.

‘Hello, Dennis,' Cara said, refusing to divert her gaze.

Noel had a tiny bedroom, just big enough for his single bed
and a chest of drawers. I always took the piss out of it, saying he must be careful when he puts the key in the lock 'cos he might bust the window. His expensive garms were on coat hangers, hanging from the curtain rail. Rap magazines littered the floor and DMX was getting rid of some angst about living in Yonkers from a mini-stereo upon the chest of drawers. Noel himself just had a white vest on and I had to admit he looked a lot better than Bruce Willis. He was looking out of the window, burning a fat-head in that casual way of his. White brothers would pay a lot of P's to learn how to look as cool. Asian guys would pay even more.

‘What's gwarnin, Noel?'

He turned around. ‘Yeah, things are good.'

I placed my bag upon his bed. ‘Well, six little green Aussies,' I announced… ‘Get your scissors, scales and your bags.'

For the next hour we cut up the skunk, weighed it and put it in our little button bags. After more than a few years of doing this we were quick, efficient and neat.

‘Just gonna give a bag to Mum,' Noel said.

I followed him into the front room. Cara and Priscilla were still watching TV. Noel passed on the skunk to his mother and she looked at it and scowled. ‘Can't you ever give me high grade, baby?' she said. ‘I'll smoke this but it knocks me out. Don't expect me to iron your jeans tonight, baby. Anyway, I could do with a good night's sleep. When you go to the kitchen, baby, make Mummy her drink. Thank you, baby.'

‘Of course, Mum.'

Sitting beside Cara with her arms folded was Priscilla. She offered Noel an evil look. ‘Don't I get a bag?'

‘Unless you have ten pound you don't,' Noel replied.

‘That's bad-mind, Noel.'

‘No it ain't, it's business.'

‘But I'm your girl.'

‘So. Do I ask you for a free drink when I link you at the Ritzy bar?'

Priscilla thought about. ‘Er, no.'

‘Case dismissed,' said Noel before we returned to his room.

He sat on his bed and called Nathan on his new mobile. ‘Nathan, what's gwarnin?'

Noel put his phone on loudspeaker. ‘Yeah, bruv. I'm good, still. Got my food?'

‘Yeah, bruv. You have our dollars?' Noel asked.

‘Of course, bruv. When you gonna bring the food?'

Noel looked at me. ‘I'm doing something with Akeisha tomorrow evening,' I revealed. ‘Can't put it off. Tell Nathan we'll bring his food the day after.'

‘We'll bring your food the day after tomorrow,' Noel said.

‘That's all good,' Nathan said. ‘You'll both be coming, right?'

‘Yeah,' replied Noel. ‘You know the score. When we're dealing with more than one green Aussie the both of us are on the pitch, you get me?'

‘Yeah, I get you.'

‘So where you wanna link?' Noel asked.

‘I'll be at my girl's sister's gates the night after tomorrow… I'm helping her move in some furniture. Flaxman Road ends. You know the sports centre.'

‘Yeah, I know it.'

‘We'll link in the car park there. My girl's sister's flat is just around the corner.'