The Dirty South (8 page)

Four pinkies was four fifty pound notes and Noel loved the look of them. He would go into a post office or a bank with a wad of tens just so he could change them to pinkies… It made him feel good having them inside his wallet. But this car scam seemed too good
to be true. ‘Yeah, Noel. When I get a ride I'll deal with this Asian brother.'

Mary J. Blige was singing one of her heartfelt songs on Noel's slide-out audio system. He was humming along with the lyrics. How could he be so laid-back about everything?

‘So you're packed?' I asked.

‘Well, not packed with a gun but I've got two metal bars under my seat. At first I put a couple of my mother's kitchen shanks under the seat but the Feds could pull you up on that shit.'

‘Your mother could pull you up on that shit,' I replied. I swear I saw Noel wince.

We pulled up outside the main entrance to the estate where I was jacked. Noel switched off the engine but kept the stereo system still playing. He looked at me hard again and I nodded. ‘Shizzle me nizzle,' he laughed once again. He then torched half a big-head and passed it on to me after three tokes. ‘We'll deal with those pussies,' he added.

Half an hour later, the sun was now hidden by the tower blocks and I was getting some terrible munchies. ‘There's a chicken takeaway place just around the corner, do you want anything?'

‘I'll go,' Noel replied.

‘Why can't I go?'

‘ 'Cos you can recognise who jacked you and I can't. Say I'm in the ride now and one of your jackers went by, how the fuck would I know? The pussy would get away. Can't allow that, man. Burn that. Any of your jackers
has
to be shanked. Simple as.'

‘Yeah, yeah, I get your point. Get me two pieces of breast and fries.'

Noel seemed to be gone for ages. My eyes were checking out the entrance of the estate and I wondered what I would do if I saw all of my jackers come out from the gloom. Maybe I would just sink lower into my seat and let them pass without them noticing me. Then again, if they did spot me they might want to jack me again. I picked up one of the black metal bars that was under Noel's seat and placed it on my lap. For some reason I pictured a scene in the film
For A Few Dollars More
. Clint Eastwood and Lee Van Cleef
were loading their guns and waiting for the moment to settle the shit with the Mexican gang. They both had this impatient look on their faces and now I felt the same. Whatever happens I want to get it over with and go home.

By the time Noel returned it was dark. The chicken and chips was a sweet relief 'cos I was well hungry and by the time I was licking my fingers, a sister and a brother walked out of the estate. They were both wearing hoodies and tracksuit bottoms.

‘Dennis! Dennis!' Noel called. ‘Ain't that the bitch Ann?'

It was her. I recognised her walk instantly. She was laughing and joking with this guy… He looked like one of my attackers, the oldest one of the crew. He had those wide-faced Nigerian features. He was the one who said, ‘Peel him!' I'll never forget those two little words.
Burn him!

‘Is it the bitch yes or no?' Noel raised his voice.

‘Yeah, that's her, bruv.'

Before I had time to compose myself, Noel had leaped out of the car. I quickly followed him. Ann and this guy looked behind. I soon caught up with Noel 'cos I was always the quickest runner. Ann and the Nigerian ran back into the estate but we was only ten yards behind them. Ann couldn't run too good in her thick-soled trainers. She was frantic. Desperate. I went by her, wanting to get to the Nigerian. He glanced over his left shoulder in panic. Then he looked over his right shoulder. I was closing on him. My adrenaline was pumping. I heard a scream behind me. ‘
No! Please, no no!
'

I didn't look behind. I knew Noel would beat the shit out of her 'cos he didn't give a shit whether she was a girl or not. Noel's like that. The Nigerian made the mistake of looking behind to see what was happening to Ann. I latched onto him with my left hand and I clubbed him on the back of the head with the black metal bar with my right. He fell down face first into the concrete, scraping his cheeks. With a rush of excitement I hit him again on the head and heard this muffled whimper. ‘Fuck with a Brixtonian, would you? You piece of African shit!'

I rolled him onto his back and his nose was pouring out blood. He had cuts and grazes in his face and his eyes were rolling in his
head. He didn't know where the fuck he was. His mouth stank of some spicy African food he had just ate. Before I went through his pockets I banged him in the crotch. His knees went up in a reflex reaction and caught me in the jaw. I blammed him again upon the forehead with the metal bar. When he was still I claimed his mobile and his wallet. I even took his weekly Travelcard. I then booted him in the head. Satisfied, I then backed away. ‘Come on!' screamed Noel. ‘Come on!'

Walking slowly backwards, I looked at my victim writhing in agony. I wondered if he went shopping with his granny and if he massaged his granny's shoulders after she completed the washing-up. Would he be the kind of grandson to take out the rubbish for her? No, burn that notion. I couldn't picture it and that made me feel better. I bet he won't try and honey-trap a Brixtonian in a hurry. I stepped by Ann and she was out cold laying in a curled-up position on the concrete. Blood was spilling from the top of her head. I paused, just to check if she was breathing. She was. Fuck knows what Noel done to her but I'll bet Ann Sheridan won't fuck with Brixtonian shottas again.

‘Get your motherfucking black ass in the car!' Noel screamed again.

The ride home was quiet with both Noel and myself trying to get our breath back. We looked at each other, well satisfied. I couldn't help but grin. It's only when we reached Tulse Hill when Noel said something. ‘Shizzle me nizzle, Dennis! You proper dealt with that African. Banged him up neatly. To be honest, I didn't know you had it in you, but shit! You're up in my ratings!'

The words were sweet music to my ears but I didn't enjoy the moment for too long 'cos I was playing in my mind what had just happened. ‘We were kinda reckless,' I said. ‘Next time we do shit like that we're both gonna be wearing gloves. Did she scratch you or anything, Noel?'

‘No,' he answered. ‘She just begged me for mercy but I just booted the bitch in her head.'

‘Did you notice anybody looking down from the balconies?'

‘I dunno. I wasn't really looking up.'

‘Next time,' I said. ‘If we do a banging again then we'll pull on balaclavas. I don't want no pussy to identify us.'

Noel nodded.

When Noel dropped me off outside my home that night he stepped out of the car and hugged me tight. He'd never done that before. ‘Look after yourself, bruv,' he said.

‘Yeah, and you look after your mad self too.'

I went to my bed that night feeling as content with myself as I could remember. I had proved myself in front of Noel and he wouldn't dare call me a spoilt little rich kid again. In a corner of my mind there was this little picture of Paps, Mum and Granny wagging their fingers saying we didn't grow you like that… But it couldn't spoil the feeling I had, the feeling of being a
badman
.

I
t was a week after Ann and the African brother got a banging. I was still vibing in the glow of my badman success as Noel drove me and his latest chick, Priscilla Lane, to Red Eyes' place. Biggie was rapping on the car stereo and Priscilla was in the back seat bopping her head and chewing gum. She was a typical ghetto chick, mobile phone stuck to her ear, greasy kiss curls running down her cheeks, some piece of jewellery stuck in her nose and a council estate full of attitude…

‘Got the dollars, Dennis?' Noel asked.

‘Of course, bruv,' I replied. ‘What do you take me for?'

‘We're buying four oz you know, bruv. Not the usual two.'

‘Yeah, I'm on that. Drive on, James.'

Noel couldn't drive on because as he was just about to turn into Myatts Fields North estate, we found the familiar sight of blue and white tape all over the place and the area was polluted with Feds with their yellow Day-Glo tops.

‘Must have been a shooting,' said Priscilla. ‘There's bare shootings in this estate. I wonder who got merked this time?'

‘Tell us something we don't know,' said Noel. ‘Man! You're a stupid bitch sometimes. Always saying the obvious.'

‘Who you talking to like that, you ugly mother?'

‘You're calling me ugly?' Noel challenged. Him and Priscilla were always like this. ‘Why do you think that when you're sitting in my ride it's the back seat for you?' Noel went on. ‘And you didn't have to come. I already done said Friday night is a business night.'

‘I wanted to come for the drive, innit,' returned Priscilla. ‘And can we stop over for a Kentucky when you done your business.'

‘I might do if you're paying. I ain't your fucking boops!'

‘What? You can't even buy your girl a chicken and chips? You're proper mean like them Asian shopkeeper who refuse to give you a free cigarette so you can build a fat-head!'

‘You're my girl?' snapped Noel, now getting vex. ‘You better rephrase that before I make you get out of the ride and step. And don't think I wouldn't do it, bitch! I hope your trainers are fitting neatly.'

Noel wasn't joking and Priscilla did shut the fuck up. Sociologists or better minds than mine should research how the fuck them two ever got to have sex.

I was looking out of the car window and I noticed that the Feds had sealed off a large area. Some families were booted out from their flats and there were forensic officers in their white jumpsuits crawling on the ground. It was a sure sign that this was a murder scene. Even more worrying was the fact that they were searching right next to Red Eyes' flat.

‘Noel, don't park the ride in the estate,' I advised. ‘Park it near the church and we'll walk up. This don't look good…'

‘No, it don't,' Noel agreed. ‘It must be Red Eyes. Who else in that little block of flats is a shotta or a gunman?'

‘Little Louis, Maaga Benz,' replied Priscilla. ‘And there's Ponytail Ranger, Jamaicy Jim, Lambs Bread Larry and Chemical Collie. Then again, Chemical Collie's doing bird in the Mount. But they all at one time or other lived in these ends.'

Noel and myself looked at Priscilla with wonder. ‘How comes you know so much badman?' Noel said. ‘You better not have been woking them brothers.'

‘No! Fuck you! I have not been woking them brothers!' Priscilla shrieked in that head-moving-but-the-neck-keeps-still way of hers.
How the fuck do ghetto chicks do that shit? ‘What do you take me for?' she went on. ‘I know them shottas and badmen through my older brother, innit. He's always walking with man he shouldn't walk with.'

‘Her brother's doing bird in Glen Purva,' Noel remarked.

We climbed out of the car and after Noel had taken out his car audio set, we made steps to where the Feds were. A tonk looking brother was approaching us and Noel recognised him. This guy had He-Man muscles on his neck and probably owned an eight-pack of Madonna-like size. You see a lot of guys like that in Bricky. Tyrese wannabes… As if Coca-Cola are gonna come down to Bricky and cast a tonk Brixtonian in a fucking drinks advert. It ain't gonna happen.

‘Doosh,' Noel greeted. ‘Doosh, what's gwarnin? Untold Feds are all over the place. Something happen to Red Eyes? Has he been duppied? Did he decide to go out all
Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid
-like?'

‘Who the fuck is Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? Chi chi men?' Doosh asked.

‘No, they're not gay,' laughed Noel. ‘Don't you watch westerns? What I mean is did Red Eyes go out blazing? Was it a shoot-out?'

‘Haven't you heard? Red Eyes has been burst. Stabbed over forty times. The man's got more perforations than Tetley motherfucking teabags. Word on road say it was a crack addict looking for a hit but he didn't have any P's. He's been dead for two days but no-one knew shit 'til the gas man came to read the meter this morning. It didn't smell too good… The door was open and apparently the blood was dripping everywhere. It's proper Christopher Lee Hammer movie shit. Word on road says the Feds have found untold drugs in Red Eyes' flat and they have taken away his plasma. There's gonna be a skunk and crack party at Feds HQ tonight and they're gonna be watching
The Bill
on one big bitch plasma TV. Some people get all the luck.'

I was listening to all this with my mouth wide open. Red Eyes dead! Merked. And what the fuck is Doosh on? Some East German steroid shit? This guy has pecs in his jawbone!

I know Red Eyes was in a dangerous business but it was still very hard to imagine that someone that you used to sit with and watch kung fu films and have a laugh with is dead. Murdered in his own flat. His life taken in the very place where every week Noel and myself scored our skunk. Even Priscilla and Noel shut the fuck up for a second trying to take it all in.

‘We better find a new dealer,' said Noel after a while. ‘Anyway, I was thinking of getting our skunk from someone else for a number of weeks now… Red Eyes' inflation's as bad as London Transport.
Burn
London Transport and the price of their motherfucking Travelcards!'

‘You don't have to worry yourself about Travelcards, Noel,' I said. ‘You've got a ride now. Anyway, wasn't Red Eyes an ex of your mum?'

‘Yeah, he was. But that was a long time ago. Mum was only interested in getting her ten pound of high grade off him every week. Let's face it, he was reckless. I would never do shots from my own gates.'

We went back to the car and once Noel had started it up he didn't bother playing any music. For twenty minutes we just sat there in silence before Priscilla said something. ‘So what are we gonna do now? I'm bored.'