《HAZE》 Chapter 1 HAZE Chapter 1 Three years ago, Justin would already be out on his feet, with another by his side, they¡¯d step out of a car with fake plates and real tools. A bloody plan set, dangerous hands and deadly minds ready to go. He wouldn¡¯t be watching, patiently waiting for one of the customers to exit their already broken UPVC door, he¡¯d boot it in again. They must¡¯ve a habit of owing money he thinks as he peers over the steering wheel, the only people kicking nitty doors in is for owed, because surely isn¡¯t to rob the empty TV stand. Sometimes, messages needed to be sent instead. He hasn¡¯t decided what he¡¯ll send today, calmer as he¡¯s aged and thinks these events through now. Consequences you see don¡¯t appreciate the sob story of looking after his sister. No one gives a fuck and no one gives a fuck if his sister eats. Calm, stay calm. He says to himself as he rings for the fourth time and cancelled, again. He grips the black leather with his bitten nails. It¡¯s messy, a temper is always messy. It¡¯s taken a few years locked up but he got there. So, he waits and dismisses lesser instincts. It¡¯s boys that react, it¡¯s the men that calculate. Wisdom from prison, nuggets from men that never read a book until they got ten years. This is England, black tarmac and grey slabs on the pavement, mirroring the sky and the eyes of boys in disguise of men, washes away all violence better. Wait for the sun to go down and it¡¯s a coagulated stain of mud in the morning. Better that, do them in their house and make them wash blood off the floor and look at the void where rotten teeth used to be. Make them relive the message every single time they make a cuppa. No, not today. A few years sleeping next to his shit stains and that of his cellmates have calmed him down. He¡¯ll wait, be patient. A naughty reputation has already been established in his teens, he¡¯s a man now, surrogate father and some. It¡¯s about getting paid off the back of all those problems already dealt with. Remember Justin, it¡¯s about the money, not pride. It¡¯s easy to say, not so when that¡¯s all you start life with. He can¡¯t remember the guy who used to say this on remand, it¡¯s been a few years, maybe Robert he thinks. He didn¡¯t listen to these guys at first, too much brag mixed in, so ended up back in for another stretch of wasted potential-lost customers. Those words only jumped out when his cellmates midnight dump brought him senses. Then again he can feel the rage building as he watches his customer put his hand up as he exits his broken front door. An unearned smile across his withdrawn cheeks and not enough fear in sunken eyes he thinks. Justin flashes his lights, calling him over. ¡®Alright Justin, I¡¯ve got some bad news and really good news.¡¯ He said shuffling in the seat nervously. ¡®Another fucking time man, I think I¡¯m too nice. It¡¯s been weeks, too nice I am. Am I too nice?¡¯ Said Justin smiling. He wasn¡¯t smiling with his eyes, just a rigid mouth, eyes penetrating right into his customers. ¡®I¡¯ve got good news.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯ve got empty hands, I don¡¯t like empty hands Dale. Am I too fucking nice?¡¯ Said Justin raising his voice at nice. ¡®Today.¡¯ ¡®Where¡¯s the notes?¡¯ ¡®Today, good news I swear.¡¯ ¡®Notes, where¡¯s my notes? Am I too nice, I must be.¡¯ Said Justin like he was being shaken with every word. He only heard bad news, empty hands after a month is always bad news. Dale is lucky the memory of shit stains are still fresh in the nostrils, as he looks down to Justin twitching his hands violently. He wonders, his eyes react but his body doesn¡¯t as he sits there, just wondering what those unsmiling eyes and violent twitching hands are going to do. ¡®I¡¯m just waiting for my pay to come through, month in hand, it won¡¯t be long.¡¯ Said Dale swallowing. He knows he¡¯s made him wait long enough, four paylips later he should¡¯ve known this day would come. ¡®I¡¯ve been waiting for three, four weeks now, I don¡¯t know, long enough for me to forget. I¡¯m trying to stay calm here Dale, stay calm Justin, give this little prick a chance.¡¯ Said Justin and he was all of sudden very still. Dale swallows. ¡®Today, it¡¯s just payroll taking the biscuit.¡¯ ¡®I am not joking, you¡¯re taking the jaffa. I¡¯ll cut you, I¡¯m not nice, I know I¡¯m not. You know me, what I¡¯m about, I¡¯ve calmed down a lot but, but, but I¡¯m not a mug, and I won¡¯t be taken for one by a little rat like you.¡¯ ¡®Today man.¡¯ ¡®Where¡¯s my money at?¡¯ Said Justin as he flicks a knife out, plunged to Dale¡¯s throat and grips his ear before shouting, ¡®notes, many notes, I want my fucking notes.¡¯ The barely legal tint of the Audi didn¡¯t dull the shine of the blade, though black, the edge was sharpened to a mirroring glint. A small lock knife, under three inches and still legal. A multi-use knife with a glass breaker on the handle with a seatbelt cutter. If he was ever stopped, it¡¯s a defence in court. Can¡¯t swallow or plug a blade like his product. Gone are the days of rolling around with a twelve-inch serrated machete. He had no defence, lost years for a ¡®might need it¡¯. ¡®Today¡­Justin, I swear.¡¯ Said Dale looking to a council maintenance van parked ahead, a tradie unloading his tools, blissfully unaware of how invoices get paid around here. Dale thinks about running, looking down to the handle. He¡¯s been smoking twenty years; knows he wouldn¡¯t make it to his front door. Puffing since he was eleven, bottom in PE until he left school for a reason. ¡®Notes!¡¯ Screamed Justin. He flipped the knife, gripping with his left hand, before Dale had a chance to react, the glass breaker is off his forehead. Dale knew something was coming, would¡¯ve preferred a punch. ¡®Today, I swear, I swear today man.¡¯ Said Dale putting his hands to his bloody face. It was a small cut but was thick down his cheek. ¡®Shut up, I¡¯m thinking.¡¯ Said Justin opening the knife once again. He was tempted, too tempted to just cut him now and forget the money. Nearly a month, justified he thinks. People need to know. Nearly a month, he keeps repeating like a silent prayer. Then he remembers, he¡¯s a good customer, at least usually. He got credit because he¡¯s a good customer, at least usually has the money. Think of the money he tells himself. Justin knows he¡¯s lost him for a bit, then he¡¯s racked up a debt with the new guys and he¡¯ll come crawling back eventually. He made his point. The last time he didn¡¯t think about his actions, he spent too long sleeping next to those shit stains and not earning. Line gone, picked over by the police while his customers get picked off by rivals. It¡¯s taken months to get this line working like last time. He¡¯s got too much to lose and if he plans longer than six months might have his dream S3. ¡®Today.¡¯ Said Dale massaging the crown of a dented skull, wiping blood onto his t-shirt. Smooth brain throbbing and Dale could think of was thankful it¡¯s just the once, at least for now. He had it coming, it¡¯s been about six weeks Justin had forgotten. Little burners don¡¯t hold the memory and they¡¯re used for a reason. Dale wonders if Justin will remember how long it¡¯s been and just stab him. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time. Holes in his nose have led to more than a few on his skin. He¡¯s already added another to his growing nitty collection of stupidity. He thinks about snitching, if he cuts me I¡¯ll snitch he says to himself. He¡¯s done it before, use the law when it suited and hasn¡¯t been found out. It¡¯s only a few quid, few grams, not worth the risk. He¡¯ll save that avenue for a debt he can¡¯t pay like last time. Nine years for firearms and class A to supply on the news. Don¡¯t be pistol whipping a man and expecting to keep the shooter in your breadbox. ¡®Dale man, don¡¯t force me to come heavy man.¡¯ ¡®Today, I swear today, I swear.¡¯ Said Dale, all the while thinking your line is gone if you cut me. He deserves a slap, even that sharp end, but not a slice. Dale knew however, the law doesn¡¯t matter sitting on this leather seat. There¡¯s no guarantees the police would even react to his tip. It certainly doesn¡¯t matter right now as he contemplates every single line that resulted in sitting here, with another trickle of blood running down his face, in another dealers car. ¡®You lie to me, lie to me again Dale and it¡¯s just going off, I¡¯m coming into your house and it¡¯s party time. When I mean into house, I mean I¡¯m coming into your house, with your kids there, or not, that¡¯s on you.¡¯ Said Justin poking Dale in the temple. ¡®I¡¯m not.¡¯ Said Dale, thinking through all this how he¡¯d love a bump right now. It¡¯ll take the edge off the stress. ¡®Don¡¯t make a bad decision lead to even more bad decisions.¡¯ ¡®I swear Justin, it¡¯s today.¡¯ Bad decisions leading to even more. It started in the toilet of his local back in Walsall and very long time later, he¡¯s here, another back to the wall situation with a sore head and an empty fridge for the kids. ¡®Cheeky fucking bastard.¡¯ Said Justin punching the steering wheel. ¡®Chill out Justin, my pay hasn¡¯t come through yet¡­..it will man, I swear. I just got the week wrong.¡¯ Said Dale looking around, knowing he can¡¯t be seen behind the darkened glass he swallows again hoping the ground would instead. A young boy about nine cycles in the street and doesn¡¯t even notice the hidden violence. Dale¡¯s happy his kids are at his moms, time to clean up before they get back. They could¡¯ve been out the street today too, but he sent them away knowing something was coming. At least they¡¯ll come back fed and none the wiser. He doesn¡¯t like scaring the kids and his youngest can¡¯t stand the sight of blood, especially on her daddy. She¡¯s seen enough blood, tears and burning spoons and has never gotten used to it. Some cuts are impossible to plaster over. Dale winces as the blade is closer to his face than it is in length. Justin¡¯s eyes are unmoving and blank, saying everything without his mouth needing to, not even drawing a breath. Not the first time he¡¯s had one out and pressed to his throat, this time the well-earned reputation of the young man on the other end leaves trickles of cold sweat under his arms that begin to shake. He¡¯s ¡®unpredictable and ¡®a fucking loon¡¯ reverberates, a warning he didn¡¯t listen to. Those lines of coke dulled every sense of reason in his high mind. Four in the morning he¡¯s spending the last of his money, only two hours later he¡¯s trying to sleep picking boogies from his bloody nose and eating them hoping for a nugget of relief. The morning after he¡¯s blowing his blocked nose into the sink with trickles of wasted cash down the plughole, after which he pries his sore jaw open to brush fucked up grinded down teeth with eyes closed as he can¡¯t handle the sight of his weathered face. ¡®You lying fuck, you said last Friday and haven¡¯t answered a call since. A lot of lies, many fucking lies, I ain¡¯t being taken for a mug, especially from a little prat like you.¡¯ Said Justin pulling the knife away and for the first time smiling. Dale takes a moment. ¡®Fucking hell, how long have you been sorting me out mate?¡¯ I never get on credit, it¡¯s just this new job is monthly, I get it all today, it¡¯s just payroll mate¡­.errr, I didn¡¯t know, I swear mate.¡¯ ¡®I ain¡¯t your fucking mate.¡¯ Said Justin snarling and without warning and fast like he was trained to as a kid boxing slaps Dale to the side of the head. Dale covers up using his elbow and waits for another, looks above the cruck of his sleeve and Justin is sitting back smiling, somewhat relaxed. ¡®What time is it?¡¯ Said Justin watching the street from the darkened glass he isn¡¯t fazed by a return strike. He wouldn¡¯t dare, no bottle or power he needs to worry about. He sits in this seat for a reason, and he knows it. He¡¯s the predator, Dale¡¯s the prey. ¡®It¡¯s only like three, they¡¯re probably sorting it out now, I phoned, and they said any time before five. I swear man, I ain¡¯t going to start playing games.¡¯ Said Dale looking down to the knife still in a dangerous hand. A fucking loon his cousin said, who knows a few being an addict like himself for nearly ten years. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. ¡®I¡¯m going to call you later and I¡¯m going only call once. I expect you to pick up, or call me back very fucking quickly if I was you because I¡¯ll be heading straight to that door. I won¡¯t be playing, I¡¯m not playing.¡¯ Said Justin putting the knife away and smiling. He raises his hand and Dale flinches. ¡®I get ye man, sorted before five.¡¯ ¡®Don¡¯t force me to come into your house, get out my car I need to call a mate.¡¯ Said Justin and Dale takes his moment and scuttles away. Justin speeds off down the street just as fast circling around he pulls up to a quiet street he knows doesn¡¯t get much traffic from the police. They¡¯ve been around a lot lately due to the Asian gangwar over the heroin market. He only drops until ten for now, too many undercovers hovering taking notes. He doesn¡¯t fancy a chase or a bullet for a few grams of coke. He¡¯s got enough to keep him going and his line on weed keeps everything on the up during the day. He turns his phone on silent at around nine and send outs the multi texts after his first joint in the morning, or usually, afternoon. That¡¯s his life and he chose it without much hesitation when he seen his cards laid out. He thinks he loves it, doesn¡¯t know much better. It¡¯s his ego being stroked in the only way it ever has been. He takes out his personal little bag of ninety percent pure and keys a bump. Straight off the block and up his nose. He bashes his source to pay for his habit. All in a day, paid for and powered by the line while waiting for a call from the next nitty on his. He takes out his real phone and finds a number that¡¯s been in every single handset since his first and calls. * I always expect a call on a Friday, usually happy to answer after five but it¡¯s my lunch and he knows it. If I don¡¯t answer he¡¯ll get lemon and won¡¯t answer mine when I ask for a drop. Sappy little fuck I want to eat my lunch in peace. He¡¯s probably had a bump and wants to chew my ear off over nothing like last week. This guy hasn¡¯t changed in years. I love him though, always had my back and he might need me. ¡®Easy Smithy, how¡¯s your Friday going?¡¯ Said Justin playing with his knife, looking to the little bit of Dale left on the glass breaker and smirking. ¡®You can¡¯t be wasting my lunch to ask me that¡­.i¡¯m at work eating, haven¡¯t got long what you want?¡¯ I said taking a bite of my sandwich. He¡¯s had a bump and is wasting my time I can tell from the tone of his hoarse voice. I sit alone and prefer not talking to my colleagues for a reason. I like to eat in peace. ¡®Haven¡¯t even got time to talk to your pal at lunch? Working the dream.¡¯ He said and I nearly threw the phone down and cancelled. ¡®It¡¯s living the dream you idiot and no, I¡¯m not, glad it¡¯s Friday and I¡¯m done in a few hours. What do you actually want lad?¡¯ ¡®Oh, time is precious for the working man. Do you want some work?¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m at work and you¡¯re definitely not working.¡¯ I said to a man that¡¯s probably earned more money before noon then I¡¯ll earn by the end of this full week. ¡®My line of work, got something big on lad and need a lift from someone I can trust, you know really fucking trust. I haven¡¯t got many of those around me, what you reckon?¡¯ ¡®I reckon you¡¯ve known me long enough to know the answer to that question and having me on. How many times have I got to tell you mate, I¡¯ve got a squeaky-clean job paying taxes right here. It¡¯s shit but it¡¯ll do.¡¯ I said and I didn¡¯t even believe a word. ¡®Squeaky bum time when it comes to buying new trainers man¡­..some job.¡¯ He said and I couldn¡¯t argue. I¡¯ve got the money, sort of, but I¡¯ve worked too many hours to pay out a ton on a pair of new ones more than twice a year. I¡¯m due an upgrade and he¡¯s reminding me as usual. ¡®I¡¯m happy enough here.¡¯ I said and Ben the resident machinist bursts out in laughter as he walks by. He mouths ¡®run¡¯ as he skips to the kitchen. I hovered over the red phone to end the call as Justin laughs. Ben still chuckles as he empties leftovers in the bin. I wasn¡¯t sure Ben heard me until he turned around and looked me dead in the eye, while laughing, wipes a figurative tear from his sleepy eyes. He¡¯s lit, just smoked a joint behind the factory like he does every lunch. If I could afford it, I would join him. Might enjoy the boring job for once but I just about get paid enough to smoke on the evening. ¡®You do make me howl lad, I needed that after the sad clown I had in the motor. Can still smell the rat, these guys linger like a granny fart. I wipe the seats down daily save catching Hep C from the gremlins.¡¯ ¡®I want to finish my sandwich, hurry up.¡¯ ¡®Alright, love the job you do man. You need to understand something my guy, it will get you out that bullshit dead-end factory to nowhere, you know, put some real cheese in your pocket instead of those manky cathedral shit you eat every day on you smart price bread.¡¯ Said Justin looking down to his Prada man bag hidden in the side door, the zip undone with tens and twenties filling it about halfway. ¡®I¡¯m stacking now.¡¯ I said looking to my cheese sandwich on the smart price bread. The guy knows me well enough. ¡®Filling penny jars don¡¯t count lad, if you¡¯re going ASDA to exchange shrapnel for a few notes in a machine once a year, sorry to break it to you, that¡¯s slacking, not stacking.¡¯ ¡®You¡¯re slacking showers, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s for me mate. Anyway, I¡¯ve got to finish this cheese sandwich, with pickle you will approve and get to work paying your moms rent. We¡¯ll talk later.¡¯ I said and Justin just ends the call without a goodbye. I shouldn¡¯t have mentioned his mom, I¡¯ve known her long enough. Not the first call I¡¯ve had like that. I¡¯ve had maybe one or two a year since about fifteen when Justin was kicked out of school. At first the sell would be face-to-face and persistent over a joint or three. He doesn¡¯t like no but he¡¯s grown to respect my choices. Even if his words don¡¯t say it I can feel it. I look to the clock high up on the wall above the kitchen, I¡¯ve haven¡¯t got long, less than ten minutes until I finish the last bit of this vile week. Nothing worse than rushing lunch talking to people, I need my time to relax and prepare mentally for this shit. I take a bite of my sandwich, always tastes better on a Friday, even more than my Wetherspoons lunch because how long it is until Monday. I¡¯m dreading starting next week and I haven¡¯t finished this one. * I only touch people at work when shaking hands and even then, it¡¯s just to be polite. I wouldn¡¯t offer my clean hands willingly, preferring an autistic nod after sitting in the stall next to half these grots doing their business and most don¡¯t even turn on the tap. I put just a finger on the handle and pry the door open with my boots. I don¡¯t even use the kitchen. So, when I feel a pinch on my shoulder, followed by the sweat of a man who washes his clothes on a cold cycle engulf my personal space, I was nearly repelled out my seat. One minute I¡¯m tasting the last of my cheese sandwich, next I¡¯m smelling a cheesy feet cycle mixed with too much surf. ¡®What you think you¡¯re playing at? The bell went five minutes ago.¡¯ Said Mark and he pumps with excitement and his frown breaks into an unnatural smirk. The lines on his brow can¡¯t hide his natural state of being. I could feel his energy like I could smell his dirty laundry. He enjoyed this moment standing over me. I¡¯ve been here ten weeks and done well to stay under the radar. Not anymore, I can almost sense his excitement, I¡¯ve given this guy an excuse. ¡®Didn¡¯t hear it, I¡¯ll put my stuff away and get back out there.¡¯ I said standing quickly and gathering up my lunchbox. I didn¡¯t say sorry, I made that mistake before and shows weakness to these guys. It¡¯s only five minutes, at least I thought. Mark was already standing over me and didn¡¯t even step back, instead shuffled forward as I pulled my chair out. He steps closer and outside of work he would¡¯ve had my clean hands on his jaw, or most likely Justin stepping in before I had a chance to react. In my first week I had my warnings about Mark. Mark the shark or Mark the little cunt was on the end of every lip. The shark didn¡¯t keep his beady little eyes off me for a second. I look away meekly. I know then I dropped blood in the water and this guy was loving it. I could feel his cold heart through his moobs he was standing so close. ¡®What¡¯s your name?¡¯ He said looking down to my feet and then straight up to me. I¡¯m young and in good shape, this guys got ten years on me and from his reddened face most of them years haven¡¯t been kind to him, only to the local off license and kebab takeaway. ¡®Dan Smith.¡¯ I said looking him dead in the eye. I tried not be worried but my heart was racing. ¡®So, do you think it¡¯s acceptable to steal company time? You know the policy, it¡¯s in the handbook and is a sackable offence.¡¯ ¡®Like I said I didn¡¯t know, I¡¯m on my way now.¡¯ I said turning away from Mark and putting my phone in my pocket. He might have been sensing blood but I was starting to see red. I¡¯m nearly over the line, the week is nearly done and I¡¯ve got this shit. It¡¯s been a long week, Friday afternoon for fuck sake is all I was thinking. ¡®Not even an apology, not the attitude that gets you far around here, is it?¡¯ Said Mark walking away. I thought that was it until he turned around and joyfully raising his voice. ¡®I¡¯ll be writing you up, management pay me to keep you losers in check and get rid of the deadwood.¡¯ Said with a wave walking to a door signed ¡®office/authorised personal¡¯ that leads to the mezzanine level. ¡®What?¡¯ I said walking after him. The red mist was blurring my vision. The taste of my mothers red wine was in my mouth. ¡®What are you chatting? Only sitting here a few minutes, can¡¯t be fucking a man over for a few minutes.¡¯ I continued into a run before he reached the door and leaves the canteen. The door has digital keypad lock and once it¡¯s closed I won¡¯t get to him. It¡¯s nearly empty, everyone¡¯s gone back to their shift and only the cleaner is left taking out some rubbish. The older lady with a limp and forever smile doesn¡¯t seem to notice as she exits with a full bin bag that drips her route behind. ¡®No time here for wasters. I suggest you know your place and be grateful if you¡¯re back on Monday. Always got a few lined up for a quick replacement, don¡¯t you worry about that.¡¯ He said punching in the code and opening the door. ¡®Enjoy it don¡¯t you? Jobsworth cunt.¡¯ I said and he turns to me. I¡¯ve had a few dramas at work, usually older and not in management. Forty something blokes who¡¯ve just realised this it for them and they¡¯re bring the young ones down to their level with their nasty mouths. Mark was different, he doesn¡¯t back down and walks to me. Through all his kebab moobs thought he was something, challenging me even to hit him, goading with his hands in pockets and smirking. I really wanted to. He presses forward, forcing me back. The family men with mouths to feed must take it and this bastard knew how far to push a desperate man. I take a step back, with every inch is another drop of blood to this shark. ¡®Now fuck off back to your line, you little waste of space prick.¡¯ Said Mark pointing to the factory door. The machines have started, their vibrations can be felt through the concrete floor. The vibrating anger I feel tingling in my hands itching to react is all I feel consume me. I should¡¯ve took a moment, I should¡¯ve thought about my options. ¡®You¡¯re the prick, you fuck off.¡¯ I said picking up the nearest chair, I hold it above my head with two hands and throw towards the kitchen and off the cabinet doors. ¡®Fucked it now.¡¯ He said laughing and punching in the code, opening the door and quickly shutting behind him. He then gleefully watches from the glass window. ¡®You better run.¡¯ I said picking up another chair and throwing it at the door smashing the glass. Well, Mark was right. I had done it now. I succumbed to the red mist. Years of close calls and biting my tongue gone in an instant. It was a switch that went off. Maybe it was the morning vision of my mom sitting there, the stench being remembered from only a few hours ago that done it. There were no fucks given, the mask of sanity slipped and every vestige of normality with it. I threw every table, all chairs displaced. It was a relief, bottled up grief out in the moment of madness mourning my former self in rage and gritted teeth. I walk away and through the mess I raise my finger to the camera watching over everything and swivelling around in my direction. Two security guards race in, nice blokes who work the gate for the whole industrial park. They look to the tables and then to each other, they recognise me and I can see I sigh. They scratch their heads at a seen only created by a man going through an episode. They step aside cautiously, they know me, at least sort of. They¡¯re not getting paid enough to put hand on me or get a black eye, they raise theirs and offer the door behind them. They looked sorry for me, I was ashamed by their pity. ¡®Don¡¯t touch me, I¡¯m going.¡¯ I said as I step through them. The second I pass I hear laughing. Marks smirk is now a wide beamed grin across his face showing teeth as dirty as the personality. He stands there with a confused manager, the same one I was interviewed with assessing the scene. ¡®Well done little boy, payroll isn¡¯t until Monday, we¡¯ll see how losing a months pay feels, or better that a night in the cells this weekend. I bet you¡¯re used to that though, aren¡¯t ye?¡¯ Said Mark slapping his hands on his thighs and turning to the manager who says something quietly that shuts him up. I check my phone and it¡¯s the 24th and it¡¯s just before payroll this month. The shark was right. I¡¯m walking out the door with all my penny jar savings for this year gone. Broken chairs, shattered glass. Broken spirit and a shattered reference. I walk to the electric gates and usually they¡¯d be a delay but they were opening before I got near them. They wanted me out, I wanted away and to be gone. They¡¯ve got all the evidence they need and no point trying to contain me. I look to the company Mercedes and back to the management who fidget nervously as I look to them. They have phones to their ears. It happened so quickly I didn¡¯t remember the journey out and towards the train station. I¡¯ve never felt adrenaline like it, guiding my feet as if the boots weren¡¯t even touching the tarmac. It was like walking on a cloud of cuddly tunnel rage comforting me out the industrial estate and I didn¡¯t look back. I take my phone out and find my friend. ¡®I¡¯m open to chat mate.¡¯ I said and I meant it. ¡®What? You¡¯ve just bombed me off.¡¯ Said Justin sniffing down the phone as if he¡¯s got a cold. It¡¯s mid-summer in Birmingham and there¡¯s only one type of snow around right now. ¡®Things fucking change, don¡¯t they?¡¯ ¡®Not that quick, you sound different man, you alright?¡¯ ¡®Ye, things fucking change.¡¯ I said shouting down the phone. My mouth is dry but my palms are sweaty. ¡®Odd man, I¡¯ll head over and drop the cheese I¡¯ve got, sound like you need to chill.¡¯ ¡®I need it, my heads going to explode.¡¯ ¡®What¡¯s up?¡¯ ¡®Nothing man, need a joint. Make it lemon haze if you¡¯ve got any left.¡¯ ¡®You¡¯re a fucking lemon alright, one second bitter next you¡¯re all sweet on me. I¡¯ve got a few wrapped up, I¡¯ll sort you out.¡¯ ¡®Cheers, I¡¯ll be back in an hour or so.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯ll be busy doing drops for a few hours so can¡¯t chill, I¡¯ll drop to you about seven.¡¯ ¡®Fuck sake I want a joint now man, I¡¯ve just thrown a fucking chair at one of the shift leaders Mark the fucking shark.¡¯ ¡®You¡¯re usually the calm one how you manage that? Hold on, Mark the fucking what? This coke is getting to me thought you said Mark the fucking shark. I¡¯ll drop one through your letterbox if you¡¯re not in when I get there, can¡¯t chill though. I will pop over later, I wanna hear this story.¡¯ Said Justin laughing. ¡®Shit story, absolute shitshow, might end up getting nicked. Nah man, I¡¯ll wait mate, I¡¯ll chill and wait until later I want to talk properly when you get here not spaced out.¡¯ I said starting to calm down. He isn¡¯t there but just his voice, knowing he¡¯s there calmed me. ¡®Chill out man, it¡¯s done and a mugs job. They¡¯re not going through the drama of police unless you hit someone, no one gives a fuck about a broken chair.¡¯ ¡®Broke the glass on the window too.¡¯ ¡®Still not police man, they might call but they¡¯re not doing the paperwork when they can just take your wages and forget about it.¡¯ ¡®What the fuck do you know?¡¯ ¡®Plenty of convictions mate, no where near as many as I should have though.¡¯ ¡®Lost a months pay.¡¯ I shouted down the phone. ¡®It¡¯s alright man, I¡¯ve got something for you, I¡¯ll bring over a pizza and we¡¯ll talk it over.¡¯ ¡®Ok man.¡¯ ¡®Got to go, I won¡¯t be long. Calm down it¡¯s a shit job.¡¯ He said ending the call. I didn¡¯t look back in anger at the factory. I could see the top of the roof from the station. I could still see the shark swimming through my memories living in my head. I refused to allow the bastard to stay, I took a deep lungful of air and blew it out and away. I wouldn¡¯t be begging for a job like this anytime soon, I knew it was over. I had a fork in the road moment, I just didn¡¯t know then how far the path would bend. If only I knew. Chapter 2 Chapter 2 ¡®Windows open, your neighbours alright smoking here? Light up in the motor.¡¯ Said Justin settling into the white plastic chair I found in the park about three years ago. I forget how long it¡¯s been since he¡¯s smoked here with me, usually it¡¯s in a park during the summer or in his motor. Too young to smoke with our mothers around, a few years with him locked up we¡¯re both men who don¡¯t give a fuck. ¡®I wouldn¡¯t worry, the old boy died to left and the old gal died to the right, council threw some characters in. Stoner to the left who only smokes stardog and is basically a plant and a spice head to the right on a level, usually with the floor. Already fucked by now fella, I can assure ye.¡¯ I said pulling my chair to the matching table. It¡¯s dirty with tea stains, ash and bleached by the sun. My chair, his chair and the table all found in different years but you¡¯d never tell. They fit the council backgarden like the uncut grass and the wafting sound of screaming kids in the distance. I take my seat and even with the hard plastic digging into my spine I¡¯m relaxed. I throw down my little box I keep my gear in, a metal Hugo Boss case that used to hold socks from four Christmas¡¯ ago and open it. Pouch of tobacco, rizla, grinder and lots of little empty baggies from previous smokes. I save them for Justin, but I think he¡¯s progressed from using my leftover bags to repackage because he never asks for them. He¡¯s old enough to buy without any trouble now. You wouldn¡¯t have guessed the day I¡¯ve had. I¡¯m actually happy, not getting up on Monday, no thoughts of five am wake up for minimum wage stupidity. ¡®You must see some mad shit with a spice head next door, he shit himself yet?¡¯ Said Justin sniffing heavily and wiping a nose that begins to drip. He must be still bumping, he¡¯s always bumping. ¡®Not yet, that shit is poison, you wanna see the bloke, walking around the garden like an extra for the walking dead.¡¯ ¡®Sounds fun that, had a few tokes in prison but wouldn¡¯t touch it with the cheese I¡¯ve got out here.¡¯ ¡®Get you going?¡¯ I said and I knew the only thing getting him out of bed in the morning is what he¡¯s putting up his fucking nose. ¡®Sometimes being a zombie for a day keeps the insanity at bay.¡¯ ¡®Fuck that obviously doesn¡¯t work very well, I¡¯ll stick to haze and throw chairs instead.¡¯ I said wondering about the spice. I knew I would enjoy it, it scared me the most. It¡¯s one thing having a joint and shutting the brain off for a few hours, I didn¡¯t want to get used to that shit and be out all day. I think I¡¯d enjoy it too much and never escape. I¡¯m addicted but functional. This guy next door is one step away from a needle. ¡®Oi, you¡¯re the clown throwing chairs on a Friday afternoon. Here¡¯s your lemon shit, barely get you high.¡¯ Said Justin taking his little baggie from his Prada manbag, he takes a repulsive sniff and throws it over. ¡®Oh I¡¯m happy with this, just what I need, in a literal haze and not a rabid dog foaming on the floor.¡¯ ¡®Rabid dog? My man is walking out of a job after throwing chairs all over the gaff, I think a few days foaming on the floor would do you some good.¡¯ ¡®Fuck off, I did lose my shit but he was pushing me hard. You would be in prison now, I was calm man, very calm considering. He was a grade A prick.¡¯ ¡®Got to be I suppose supervising a bunch of wetwipes.¡¯ He said laughing. ¡®Bullshit, don¡¯t need to bully to get shit done.¡¯ ¡®In my business you need to wipe the floor with wetwpies, it¡¯s just business with different rules. They run their mouths and I drag my knuckles through muck to get some brass.¡¯ He said holding up his deformed knuckles. He¡¯s always had a decent left and right hook. Few years training when his dad was still around set him up well for his life. He didn¡¯t do much, but he taught him how to use those hands. ¡®We don¡¯t get paid enough to deal with pricks.¡¯ ¡®Ye, you don¡¯t get paid at all and doubt you¡¯ll get the last brown envelope. Heard from them?¡¯ Said Justin trying to contain a smile. I was trying not to laugh myself. If I had the joint in me, I think I would be gallows humouring my way through this because even the thought of that months pay going is making me want to cry. Minimum wage isn¡¯t much but adds to a lot over four weeks. It hurts, a lot. ¡®One week before payday, payroll Monday, ye, I fucking heard alright.¡¯ I said shaking my head while shaking some haze into my grinder. ¡®I¡¯ve already worked it out from that face, can I guess?¡¯ he said jumping in, far too excited for my likening. ¡®Knock yourself out, like you¡¯re letting me finish after a bump of beak.¡¯ ¡®A beak, hear this guy bump and beak. I do a line before I take a piss in the morning and beak as I go.¡¯ Said Justin pressing a finger to his nose and sniffing. I believe him, he¡¯s had the form for a long time I don¡¯t know how he makes any money. I have a glass of water and he¡¯ll have a can of fanta and a bag of coke on his bedside table. Wakes his sister up and off to mcdonalds or greggs. Don¡¯t know how he functions. ¡®You going to tell me my story, or what?¡¯ ¡®Easy, lose your pay and that¡¯s the end of it, or you keep your pay and they send the police round your house.¡¯ Said Justin shrugging his shoulders. ¡®Ye and some. Said something about plan my finances if I wanted it but they¡¯d recoup it anyway after conviction for damages. No choice, ended it there and then, the bastards. Your brain works faster on that shit, doesn¡¯t it?¡¯ ¡®It does, so does my dick.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯ve heard different.¡¯ ¡®Mate, I¡¯ve got dollar an answer to no one. No fucker owes me money, ever. You need to worry about paying your phone bill next month. What some random bike says about me means shit mate.¡¯ ¡®Hit a nerve there, going straight for the low blow.¡¯ ¡®You started it man. How¡¯s the smoke?¡¯ He said and I¡¯ve just lit up and taken the first puff. I get excited with just the process of rolling knowing what¡¯s coming. The deep state of relaxing I can¡¯t get any other way. My mind washed of all negativity with one hot lungful. ¡®What I needed. How¡¯s life out? Haven¡¯t seen you much.¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s good, can have a wank in peace.¡¯ ¡®I don¡¯t want to hear about your prison beat the meat sessions, or soggy biscuits with your pad mate.¡¯ ¡®Rather have a danger wank at silly o¡¯clock listening to a cunt snore than work for minimum wage and take a wankers lip all day.¡¯ He said sticking his tongue out and lighting his own joint. I don¡¯t think he was joking. ¡®You were complaining about your pad mate¡¯s midnight dumps not long ago stinking out the cell, so you¡¯re having a scat wank man, fucking hell lad.¡¯ I said and Justin looked me dead in the eye and started howling. It hit both of us, the natural state of being, two stoner friends having a moment. ¡®It¡¯s easy bro, little holiday park that occasionally smells like tinned mackerel curry shits, spice, b.o and cum socks. Still better than dealing with Mark the fucking shark. At least inside you slap those pricks and nothing happens.¡¯ ¡®Slapping someone¡¯s prick more like with an audience and natural essential oils, sounds like hell.¡¯ ¡®None of that shit, more chance of getting sliced up than sucked off.¡¯ Said Justin sucking on his joint. ¡®Some holiday park, a cross between Butlins and blade runner.¡¯ ¡®More like razor melted onto a toothbrush or boiling sugar water park. You got to have your wits man, fools on the spice will do anything for a hit and go nuts with or without the shit. I had a close call getting hooked, robbed a lad for some weed and sorted myself out.¡¯ ¡®One minute you love it, next you¡¯re having close calls on being a nitty.¡¯ ¡®Close man, I felt my respect start to wander with the lust for it. It scared me, wouldn¡¯t touch the shit again.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯ve seen enough of that mong next door to stay away from it. Couldn¡¯t imagine a whole prison on it, or worse a pad mate.¡¯ I said and all I could think of was two weekends ago and Luke next door has jeans around his ankles and his cock poking through a hole in boxers. I thought about calling an ambulance but before a second thought I see the blue lights outside. The two girls who came to see him didn¡¯t look impressed or shocked. ¡®Not all, just enough to make life interesting playing with idiots. Load up a spliff and fuck them up and half your day in tears watching them shit their pants.¡¯ ¡®No TV? Where¡¯s the screws?¡¯ ¡®They go hiding after they bring it in and leave the place to fester. Too many birds with lipstick and deep pussy bring it in for the fellas. Too busy taking gang members member to watch out for anyone. Some right fit ones, they don¡¯t last long, all desperate for some badboy. They get used and abused and then found out, if they don¡¯t run on their own they¡¯re caught eventually.¡¯ ¡®Holiday park with a view.¡¯ ¡®Nah, not for me, kept my head down. I wouldn¡¯t get close to the screws, too many lads act like they own them, own their pussy for fun and business. If you¡¯re not either they think you¡¯re a snitch.¡¯ ¡®No wonder you were wanking silly with that going on and not partaking.¡¯ I said. ¡®It¡¯s history now, not going back, need to be smarter and think of the money. Rather freedom of my own line and not sharing some scatty screw.¡¯ ¡®That¡¯s why you¡¯re here, what¡¯s that job?¡¯ ¡®Can we talk here, isn¡¯t your mom inside?¡¯ ¡®She¡¯s on nights wiping arses for a change, save her chugging the bottles.¡¯ ¡®Shame she¡¯s still on it, I wouldn¡¯t ask about mine man.¡¯ ¡®I know not to. What¡¯s that job?¡¯ I said and Justin looks away and down to his joint. His mood changed and didn¡¯t want to catch my eye. All these years of begging me for a lift and now he sits here cautiously thinking. ¡®I¡¯ll take a slash and fill you in.¡¯ Said Justin standing up and heading inside. ¡®Use the brush you scrub.¡¯ I shouted through. I knew he wouldn¡¯t. I relight the joint and pass it under my nose. It wasn¡¯t the green I was smelling this time, it was money. I think he was surprised I wasn¡¯t apprehensive. In another week and a new job I probably would be. I¡¯m angry, I want more and if I need to get nasty for it, so be it. I couldn¡¯t care less right then. I finish the last of my joint and head to the living room. * ¡®Serious now, how the fuck you wash in there? Need to sort that mould out I feel like the place is crawling over me just washing my hands.¡¯ Said Justin brushing himself down and sits on the sofa opposite. He¡¯s spent years sleeping next to his own shitter but I knew what he was saying. I used to get cellulitis until a few years ago from the penetrating mould into my skin. The walls would grow day by day and within a week the once white wall would be black and toxic. ¡®I clean it every week and that wall just comes back the same, moms been on to the council for years and they don¡¯t give a fuck.¡¯ I said and I wondered if I would ever shower without looking at mould spores floating around and into my lungs. The less time spent in there the better, I go for colder now to save the condensation, probably saved me getting those infections every few months with the opening pores. I never feel clean unless I use the shower at the gym. I¡¯ll use the bike for fifteen minutes sometimes just for the excuse for when I can¡¯t be arsed to clean it. 24hour gyms have saved me a lot on antibiotic prescriptions. ¡®Potholes, rubbish all over the gaff and you think they¡¯ll ever help you out without a fight? It¡¯s not how it works around here man, thought you figured that out already. On your own in these ends, on your lonesome, learn to tile or something.¡¯ ¡®Looked into the trade route man, nothing going with this fucking recession. I can¡¯t be living on an apprentice wage now anyway, can¡¯t buy a Q a week on a hundred a week. I wouldn¡¯t make it.¡¯ ¡®Loose plans and no direction, throwing chairs like a fucking toddler. Wasn¡¯t your dad a bricky?¡¯ ¡®Throw you out in a minute. Ye, shame he liked the booze like the old dear the daft prick.¡¯ I said and I would be upset bringing him up if I remembered him. Great bricklayer, according to an old mate I bumped into with my mom when I was a kid. He gave me all his old tools that he left on site. I liked the fact he kept them, they¡¯re in the loft and I sometimes jump up there and play around with them. Shame the daft prick drank his wages over the weekend when I was two and choked on it all on a Sunday morning. My mom found him in this very house, destroyed her. Never had a fella since, rarely sober herself after. If it wasn¡¯t for me, she¡¯d be long gone. I always wondered how the last twenty years would¡¯ve gone if he was still around. I doubt they¡¯d be mould in that fucking bathroom. ¡®At least you know where yours is, fuck knows where mine went.¡¯ ¡®Still ain¡¯t found him?¡¯ ¡®He¡¯d be in a shallow grave, don¡¯t owe the yardies man. I don¡¯t know, mystery the police don¡¯t give a fuck about. I told ye lad, dead cunt in pieces somewhere.¡¯ ¡®I remember you mentioned it, thought you were joking.¡¯ ¡®Nah man, no idea really, could have a family in Scarborough for all I know. I know he owned money and had to leave. If he was alive he¡¯d at least get in contact.¡¯ ¡®Never know man, never know.¡¯ ¡®Anyway, look lad, my sister had a rash from the last place we were in, you remember that flat in Yardley? Fuck, make your shithole look like the Ritz. I got my sister down the doctors, shown some pictures of the place and made a report. Helped us out Dr Khan, had his brother-in-law, some lawyer write up some legal bollocks and we were out in a few months. The council condemned the place I think.¡¯ ¡®Ye, that shithole, didn¡¯t say you moved.¡¯ ¡®Dereliction of duty got us the move, don¡¯t even know what it means, sounds like a movie but it got us a new place.¡¯ ¡®You¡¯re a special one, I don¡¯t think I could convince my mom to move even if I won the lottery.¡¯ I said. ¡®Don¡¯t ask, you don¡¯t get. Probably won¡¯t get but worth getting on that never ending list.¡¯ If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡®Where you now?¡¯ ¡®Nothing to shout about man, not much better but at least Lucy can wash properly. Seven stories up in Stechford. I have to hold my breath in the lift because the grots use it as a toilet but at least I can wash my hands when I get back.¡¯ ¡®Life at the bottom is rough. I¡¯m not planning on staying here forever, get some funds together and find my own little flat. I¡¯m ready to go, can¡¯t be looking at that shit forever.¡¯ I said pointing to a half filled glass of red wine on the fireplace. I point to Justins side and there¡¯s two empty bottles of cheap red to the side of the sofa. She must¡¯ve forgotten to hide those. I don¡¯t spend much time in here, it¡¯s her space, I stink out my room and pretend she isn¡¯t here. ¡®No my guy, three back here.¡¯ He said picking one up and sloshing around a glasses worth. ¡®At least she ain¡¯t on the brown man, woman hasn¡¯t worked my whole life.¡¯ He said throwing it back down. ¡®Stick to green and a dark brown tea me.¡¯ I said as I slapped my lips together and the dryness was painful. ¡®I¡¯ll stick the kettle on, good shout.¡¯ Said Justin jumping up to the kitchen. ¡®Oi, those flats, didn¡¯t some lad get fucked up there last week?¡¯ ¡®Which one?¡¯ Said Justin laughing. ¡®Someone got thrown out a window, dealer I heard, broke a few bones and is in intensive care.¡¯ ¡®Danny, not a fucking dealer man, silly fucker got into debt with the Pakistani crew from Ward-End, he had it coming.¡¯ Said Justin sitting back down. ¡®Danny the lanky smack head who used to drive that yellow fiat with those noncey stickers. A poundshop inbetweener?¡¯ ¡®Ye, lanky prick. Used to date my mom when I was younger, belted me once and I stabbed him with a fork and nearly took his eye out.¡¯ ¡®And you ended up in the same flat?¡¯ ¡®Oh, he got told I have a long memory when I caught him in the lift, used the stairs from then on, until he took a great leap.¡¯ Said Justin belly laughing and making airplane noises. ¡®Wouldn¡¯t surprise me if you threw him out.¡¯ I said and I wasn¡¯t joking. He¡¯s capable of anything if you pushed him. He¡¯s been almost a liability knowing him, especially when he was younger. I was tempted to take a step back in my mid-teens but some friends, however damaged can¡¯t be let go easily. You don¡¯t meet guys like him, with his loyalty, unless you¡¯ve been dragged up in the same gutter. I¡¯ve got other pals but none of them have the connection. We¡¯ve been through the wars together, in the house and sometimes the street. He¡¯s always had my back. Like now, just to chew the fat after a long day. He¡¯s probably losing money being here. His phone vibrates a sale and he doesn¡¯t even look at it. ¡®Fuck that, leave that to the heroin shotters, crazy bastards would do anything if you disrespect them. Dead people don¡¯t pay, I keep my mom sorted out with people I know off manor so those loons don¡¯t come in my house around Lucy.¡¯ Said Justin shaking his head. ¡®Smart enough, looks like a suicide, sure I read he¡¯s saying he fell out accidently in the Birmingham mail.¡¯ ¡®He¡¯s in the mail? What a prat, take the loss man and go hide, lucky he¡¯s alive.¡¯ ¡®Ye, got pictures of him in bed with pins in his limbs. Looks fucked.¡¯ ¡®He is, still owes a debt too I heard. Nothing smart about throwing a guy out a window for a few notes, lucky he isn¡¯t a snitch, that¡¯s a life sentence.¡¯ ¡®Probably don¡¯t remember it.¡¯ ¡®You wouldn¡¯t want to.¡¯ ¡®Just stay off their radar and you¡¯re good, don¡¯t sell heroin and they don¡¯t bother ye. If you do, you¡¯ll be shot at before you know it, got loads of youth with itchy fingers on skorpians.¡¯ ¡®I hear the shots sometimes.¡¯ I said and I do. Leave the window open during summer and I¡¯m wondering if its fireworks or a shooter. I haven¡¯t shot one myself so never sure. Always fireworks going off, starting to think they set them off to mask the shootings. If that¡¯s the case, it¡¯s working on me. ¡®It¡¯s bandit country around here after dark, stabbings or a shooting nearly every week. I¡¯ve got a good line that delivers during the day, no need to get shot.¡¯ ¡®I heard about one round yours, last week was it?¡¯ I said and all I could think of was my own stabbing. A kitchen knife rammed into my thigh in Shard-End park. One minute I¡¯m being asked the time, next I¡¯m dragging my leg to my nans to call an ambulance thinking I¡¯m dying. My leg saturated with blood, trickled down and filled my trainers. Didn¡¯t hit anything, just fat and muscle that started clotting quickly. Two hours later I have six stitches and three months walking with a limp. Still got a lump of muscle missing and a nasty scar. Never seen the lad again. ¡®Always a merry-go-round of bullshit, everyday drama. I¡¯m all about the money now, anyway, stabbing a day keeps the grot away man.¡¯ Said Justin stabbing his hand out and twisting. ¡®I haven¡¯t heard that one.¡¯ I said looking away and thinking of how quickly he can change, seems like he¡¯s maturing and then like a flash the old Justin pops right back showing why he¡¯s done more time in than out since leaving school. I didn¡¯t care though, he¡¯s the gatekeeper, holding the keys to get out of this cage. ¡®Prison lingo, had to be there.¡¯ ¡®Nothing to be proud of lad, whispering sweet nothings to your pad mate while he takes a shit.¡¯ ¡®True, fucking so true.¡¯ ¡®Enough man, what¡¯s this job you¡¯ve got?¡¯ ¡®Need a brew first, mouth¡¯s dry, like your unused dick.¡¯ Said Justin jumping up again and running to the kitchen. He must have good coke because he¡¯d usually demand I act the host. I don¡¯t mind he can¡¯t make tea for shit. More sugar than water and too much milk. ¡®Like trying to bleed a stone, go easy on everything and leave the bag in.¡¯ I said knowing he wouldn¡¯t bother. The cups bang and the fridge opens. I close my heavy eyes and when I open them, he¡¯s standing there with a cup in his hand. I noticed it was shaking, I¡¯d never seen that before. It¡¯s been a while since we smoked together but not that long. I didn¡¯t know coke could do that only rock the jaw side to side. ¡®Here you go lad, I think I managed to make it properly this time. I got used to the lack of sugar myself now, prison rationing for ye.¡¯ He said sitting down and taking a sip. I look down and I think he cracked it. I took a sip and I could¡¯ve made it myself. He learnt something inside then, not a complete waste of time. He didn¡¯t take the offer of courses, but he certainly learnt how to make use of Yorkshires best. ¡®Now fella, you going to start talking or am I going outside to roll another joint?¡¯ ¡®To the point? Ok my guy, fancy earning some real money and robbing a drug dealer with me? Said Justin and taking a hearty swill, setting his cup down and locking eyes with me. I thought he was joking but he wasn¡¯t laughing. I thought I¡¯d be in his motor doing drops. He dropped a surprise on me and for a minute I just stared at him unable to respond. He knows I¡¯m not about that. He¡¯d shoplift and I would be the unwitting distraction at the till. ¡®You having a laugh? You¡¯ve just finished a stint inside and you want me to be your new pad mate? Or get done in?¡¯ I said and then he cracked and started laughing at me. He then went silent. The scar from his top lip curled like a cleft pallet and he stretches his thick neck that¡¯s had a couple of years of collective prison weight training. It¡¯s amazing how big a man can get when all he does is train, eat and sleep for a few years. He owns his look and the scars, owns it like some people own a suit. I remember when he got that scar, both of us out on the town as the banks imploded and the energy went from happy to raging within a few months. Rather smoke a joint now, too much bother on a night out, too many angry lads with nothing to lose looking for a fight. ¡®Have you got a point? You take another mugs job, or you get your hands dirty for a change. There¡¯s no fucking handouts on the road, you¡¯ll be putting a shift in if you want anywhere near my line. You don¡¯t piggy bank without investing first.¡¯ He said and the smiles were gone. He wasn¡¯t joking and right now he wasn¡¯t my friend. This is business, it¡¯s his business and I¡¯ll have to operate to his rules if I wanted in. I couldn¡¯t argue, I did try. ¡®Mugs job?¡¯ I said and I felt like a bigger mug stating the obvious. ¡®Ye, I didn¡¯t stutter, a fucking mugs job. How many times I got to tell you man, how many times do I need to repeat the same shit to you? If you can¡¯t rent a house and raise a little family it¡¯s a fucking mugs job. No argument man, just a slave with what, a fucking twelve grand tax threshold to make you think you¡¯re earning? I know the score my guy and I ain¡¯t interested.¡¯ ¡®I walked out on my last mugs job, I¡¯m here, ears clear. Run me through your job, I¡¯m ready.¡¯ I said coldly. His words hit and they put me in my place. The guy has never paid taxes but he knows I barely paid any either. ¡®I¡¯m not sure man, you¡¯re a bit soft and always have been. Throw a few shapes after a beer and a line but sober and with a bally on? It¡¯s a different game, there¡¯s no bouncers to save you. Are you sure you¡¯re ready? This isn¡¯t a game, you ready to get those clean hands dirty?¡¯ ¡®Nothing¡¯s changing other than my hairline. Who¡¯s this guy?¡¯ I said and rubbing my thinning hair. I think it¡¯s been the stress over the last few years. The struggle and the never-ending grind that¡¯s worn me down resulting in disappearing follicles. ¡®He¡¯s a dealer like I said, my cousin sorted him out in prison and owes. He hasn¡¯t sorted him back, no payments at all. He said he¡¯s fair game, insisted he¡¯s fair game actually. It¡¯s a lone guy, simple job.¡¯ ¡®Simple? That¡¯s pushing it, what he sell?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯ll be like a sweet shop, man sells everything. I heard a grow was on the go a few months back too, probably got another ready to be taken, it¡¯s been a few months since he offloaded.¡¯ ¡®Waiting until it¡¯s done?¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m not sitting on a house when I don¡¯t know when it¡¯s ready, be lucky if it¡¯s full of green, probably at another venue anyway unless he¡¯s fucking stupid. He owes my cousin, so you never know, only foolish people don¡¯t pay him, that¡¯s why he¡¯s sitting where he is, man don¡¯t give a fuck.¡¯ ¡®Fairs, so coke?¡¯ ¡®Coke and rocks, stays away from heroin I heard, he ain¡¯t that stupid.¡¯ ¡®He got anyone with him?¡¯ ¡®Few youngers but I know they¡¯re never in his house. He spends most of his time drinking, too pissed to drive his S3, a nice white one with blacked out windows and tyres, just what I want.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯m interested but sounds dangerous, risky without even knowing what¡¯s in there.¡¯ I said but I couldn¡¯t contain my excitement. I wanted nothing more than to smash a pisshead in the face. It wasn¡¯t just the money, I felt a lifetime of rage building and he was the target. ¡®Everything worth doing is a risk. Take a mugs job, no risk. No risk, no reward. It¡¯s easy being a slave.¡¯ ¡®You wouldn¡¯t be sitting there if I hadn¡¯t figured that out.¡¯ I said and it wasn¡¯t like walking out that factory I just had an epiphany. Reality didn¡¯t just come at me in the tunnel of rage over the tarmac to the station. It was years of getting wet walking to the station with my bus pass. It was years looking on Autotrader at motors I couldn¡¯t afford. I passed my test but couldn¡¯t pass the financial threshold of owning one. It was painful, no support, all on my lonesome. The only helping hand sitting in-front of me, hand broken by the road but holding more money than I ever had. The key to my own engine. I didn¡¯t care for anything flash. Fiesta would do but the insurance would destroy me in Birmingham anyway. ¡®Look, I¡¯ve done a few of these jobs when my cousin was out, it¡¯s always interesting, you always get a surprise. I found a butt plug under a bed next to three grand once.¡¯ He said. ¡®I wouldn¡¯t know what one looks like.¡¯ ¡®Sure you wouldn¡¯t, well my guy, it looks fucking painful. Lost three bags and all his gear and got a hammer off his jaw. That¡¯s pain, I couldn¡¯t imagine his state when he woke up. The snap still rings in my ears.¡¯ He said rubbing his jaw and smiling. ¡®I don¡¯t fancy getting shafted myself going in there for a few hundred man.¡¯ ¡®Numbers my guy, you wanna talk numbers. Is it worth it?¡¯ ¡®Ye, give me numbers.¡¯ I said and he just said three bags, I¡¯ve never seen even one longer than a week in my bank. ¡®Give me the numbers on your last brown envelope.¡¯ ¡®Two hundred and sixty-four pound per full week, after tax.¡¯ I said and I took out my wallet. It¡¯s stacked full of useless cards and shrapnel. ¡®Wow, full week? You¡¯re a mug for taking this long lad, never getting anywhere on that.¡¯ ¡®I get reminded weekly, or monthly, depending on the jobs payroll. Breaking my back to break my spirit.¡¯ ¡®You call me a criminal? That¡¯s theft man, real robbery.¡¯ He said and he just shaked his head in disbelief. I thought he¡¯d laugh but looked at me with pity and continued. ¡®Like I said a mugs job, you know it, sick of repeating myself. Look at this place, you¡¯re never getting out this shithole and standing on your own by playing by the rules, slaves play rules, slaves stay in their fucking lane for life.¡¯ He said and he took another sip. ¡®Rules for one, another set for them.¡¯ I said throwing the payslip I left in my wallet down on the coffee table. ¡®You get it, make your own rules.¡¯ He said picking it up. ¡®A friend In need, is a friend indeed.¡¯ I said and I was the friend in need. I needed a leg up and if it meant picking my own up and kicking it through a door, then so be it. ¡®And the clown with weed is better.¡¯ ¡®You always provide man, no joking around with your smoke.¡¯ ¡®Best weed my guy, you know I get the best stuff. My cousin, even being a nutter has a saying.¡¯ He said picking up the payslip and tearing it in half and putting it back down. ¡®Go on.¡¯ ¡®He talks a lot of shit but he says the best route to poverty is honesty, the best way to go in circles is to stay in your lane.¡¯ ¡®I met your cousin a few times, that never come out his mouth.¡¯ I said frowning. ¡®He didn¡¯t think of it himself for fuck sake, I know that. He said a few things, politicians take a backhander with their cards, we take a bat when we see ours. Look man, if the crops there, you are talking twenty bags at least, then you¡¯re having a year off wanking and playing the playstation.¡¯ ¡®Twenty bags is a lot of weed and days of wanking.¡¯ ¡®Twenty thousand, split between the two of us, you could buy a Brazilian escort once a week for that and give your hand a rest lad.¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s been a while.¡¯ I said and it has been. So long I forgot what it felt like to have a bird. Not bringing them back here and dealing with that fucking mould for starters, let alone the mother¡¯s bullshit. ¡®Treat your mom and yourself to a new bathroom and a new kitchen. New car, wardrobe and still have some leftover to take your new bird to nandos.¡¯ Said Justin emptying the manbag, all the notes fall out and cover the ripped-up payslip and then he continued. ¡®That¡¯s just today, two thirds profit, if you want you could always set your own line up and start earning in no time. Set your own hours, work for no one, be a team.¡¯ Spreading them out and it was more than my wage for the entire week. He¡¯d probably only worked half the day too, an hour in the gym, Greggs making his lunch and still got the energy to keep going if he needed to. I¡¯m always sore. If it isn¡¯t my back, it¡¯s my feet, not my feet it¡¯ll be my callused unskilled hands. ¡®She always cries when she¡¯s in the bath, probably looking at that fucking wall.¡¯ I said looking around the living room that hasn¡¯t changed in years other than new stains on the rug from spilt wine and yellowing tobacco on the ceiling. ¡®I¡¯m in man, fuck this. What¡¯s your plan?¡¯ I said already making my own, looking to the battered sofa and how much it¡¯ll cost to get one that I wanted to sit on. ¡®All we need to do is knock the door with a sledgehammer and walk right in, smash him if needs be, it¡¯s that simple man, lot¡¯s of problems solved.¡¯ He said turning away at problems solved. I could sense he was hiding something, but I wasn¡¯t sure. It wasn¡¯t the words, it was his shifty energy and the fact he occasionally wouldn¡¯t even look me in the eye. I couldn¡¯t care less though at this point, the cash on the table was advertising a different life. ¡®Then what?¡¯ ¡®Your brain gone to mush in that factory?¡¯ ¡®You¡¯re hiding something, what you thinking?¡¯ I said and I couldn¡¯t help but pry. My intuition is the reason I never had handcuffs on or spent a night in the cells. I tried to fight it, but my gut spoke for me. ¡®Oh, there¡¯s more, I want to get on the cropping man, I just need someone with a legit history I trust for the venue.¡¯ ¡®Growing one? I smoke the shit not a clue how to start.¡¯ ¡®Mush man, it¡¯s not hard it¡¯s just a fucking plant. Just need you and some of those payslips to give a landlord. I¡¯d probably tape that shit back up actually.¡¯ He said laughing grabbing handfuls of notes and stuffing his manbag. ¡®We¡¯ll talk after, right now I just want the coin.¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s not how this works. You don¡¯t come and take an easy share, a pretty large share without investing something for me, like rent and bills and that. Decide man, I don¡¯t need to split this fifty-fifty, I could find someone a lot cheaper out of town and risk it. I need a partner.¡¯ ¡®Bump this lad and start a crop with some of the profits? You want me to front the venue?¡¯ ¡®It¡¯s the way it is man, you need me and I need you. You want to start, take some risks.¡¯ ¡®And a fucking sentence when the police raid the place?¡¯ ¡®Less than fifty plants and you get a few months, probably suspended being a first offender. They¡¯d throw the book at me, you though, not so much. Done the maths yet?¡¯ ¡®Fifty plants in one house? Lot of money in a few months.¡¯ ¡®A good earner and low risk, know load of lads that¡¯ll take it in parts or the lot.¡¯ ¡®You done many of these crops? Know what you¡¯re doing? I know you¡¯ve chopped a few large ones down but growing, you don¡¯t strike me as having green fingers.¡¯ I said thinking of the lads I know who¡¯ve had a few plants. Half of them were half plant when it come to an IQ test. When he said anyone could do it, i believed him. The casual nature of making that much money in a little room always intrigued me. I just didn¡¯t know where to start. One room, full of plants, water and feed with some lights and you¡¯ve got a house deposit out of a council shithole within a few months. I would smoke a Q every two weeks on average for a good price, on my own I¡¯m doing a hundred a month just smoking on the evening. It can always be sold, there¡¯s always lads like me wanting to wish away their lives in a haze. I could never start anyway, not with my mom here. I couldn¡¯t leave a tenner out, let alone take a room and fill it with twenty bags of green. ¡®I haven¡¯t done one myself, chopped a few ye with my cousins contacts.¡¯ ¡®I swear you said he had plants in his house.¡¯ ¡®He had a couple, three at the most, had some banging kush for a while and used it as a mother plant for his lads. He taught me the basics but mainly for his personal use, the man¡¯s fussy, doesn¡¯t smoke anything like you. One minute it¡¯s raining.¡¯ He said and he ran outside. ¡®Why didn¡¯t he get on it proper?¡¯ I said and I watched on as Justin started preparing another joint, he must¡¯ve ran out of cheese because he¡¯d grabbed my bag of haze and loaded up the grinder. I thought I ain¡¯t rolling my own I¡¯ll take twos on that, always want one to myself once he¡¯s gone. ¡®Not enough money for that man, he likes his money now and hasn¡¯t got the patience to manage all those plants. His life¡¯s a bit hectic when out, doesn¡¯t mind losing a plant or two when he¡¯s off shotting in another city or on the rob, he¡¯s never about long enough to get it over the line. Plus, enjoys robbing people, gets a kick out of letting someone else do all the work, said so himself.¡¯ ¡®Done him no favours, never out of prison is he?¡¯ ¡®He can¡¯t keep his hands off his missus, put her In a state man.¡¯ He said and I could see shame in his brow. For all his violence I never heard Justin laying a hand on a bird. He wouldn¡¯t have the patience for the mouthy ones and just get rid. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised though. I suppose you learn some patience living with a smackhead for a mother all your life and raising your sister yourself. ¡®I seen he was a bit wild, he had that eye.¡¯ I said watching Justin concentrate and roll his joint seamlessly. ¡®He¡¯s got his demons alright.¡¯ ¡®We all have, no excuse.¡¯ ¡®I know, alright to smoke this in here? Fucking cold now and starting to rain.¡¯ He said and he already had the joint in one hand, clipper the other. ¡®I¡¯ll open the windows when you¡¯ve gone, moms not back until about seven I think.¡¯ ¡®So, we¡¯re on?¡¯ He said lighting the joint. ¡®Ye, I¡¯m committed.¡¯ ¡®All good man, I¡¯ve got to shoot and get Lucy some food before she needs to get ready for bed.¡¯ ¡®You forgot the pizza.¡¯ I said rubbing my stomach. I could¡¯ve killed off a dominoes meat feast and those soft warm cookies. ¡®Oh shit ye, my bad man, busy day another time. Good shout on the pizza actually, I¡¯ll let you know how it tastes.¡¯ ¡®I¡¯ll be getting one on Uber. When we looking at this job then?¡¯ ¡®Very soon, I¡¯ll pick you up in the morning to look at it.¡¯ ¡®Soon, no messing about.¡¯ ¡®Nah man, I¡¯ll call you in the morning and let you know when I¡¯m heading over. Leave your phone at home, understand?¡¯ ¡®Ye, see ye fella.¡¯ I said and he¡¯s gone. I had a lot to think about over my dominoes and a joint. I said I was committed, however I knew I wasn¡¯t until I was through the door. Right then, all I wanted was a pizza through mine. Introduction Haze Introduction You¡¯d think I¡¯d get used to it by now. I close the living room door and slowly turn the knob. Was she breathing? Is all I thought as I waited patiently for the kettle to boil in the kitchen. The steam rising to the ceiling like my internal rage does up my neck. You couldn¡¯t tell. I was worried. I¡¯ve only been up two minutes, i haven¡¯t even woken up. ¡®Friday, all week nothing and Friday.¡¯ I muttered to myself. I¡¯ve had a week off from this. I almost forgot the reality of what happens in this house when I¡¯ve had the last joint of the night. I rub my temples, the gangover is strong, I must¡¯ve had at least three fat ones. The state of that vision, she must¡¯ve had at least three large bottles. Her choice is red, mine is green. One legal with a wide choice in Tesco, the other gets doors booted in. I scan the kitchen and it¡¯s just as I left it. Half a joint in the ashtray, next to half a cuppa of Yorkshires best. No bottles. They¡¯d be in the washing machine. I open the glass door, move the towel I threw In their last night and I was right, two are hiding right there. Not a drop left in either. I couldn¡¯t enjoy my strong sweet gangover cure without at least checking properly. Two bottles cleanly finished wouldn¡¯t put my mother where she is. It was always the third. Third times the charm, or can¡¯t get passed the third tread on the stairs so stumbles back to the living room. She¡¯s had a few falls over the years, and laminate floor is unforgiving on a middle aged lady with a decade on the drink. I open the door and step inside. I take a sip of my sweet tea and watch my mother slowly take a breath and exhale. An empty bottle sits upright on the marble hearth. A half-filled wine glass with a dozen cigarettes in a plate ashtray are next to it. She lays there with just her dressing gown sitting in her own piss. Check over, she¡¯s alive. The vision leaves me as I shut the door, the smells follow up to my bedroom. Cuppa in a firmly clenched hand, I look to the clock and it has gone five. By the time I finish this cuppa, I would perform some mental gymnastics and forget it happened. You couldn¡¯t tell how I started my morning, I made sure of it. It¡¯s got the point of being so familiar with this routine that I know at least the next hour will be peaceful. Just stay quiet and don¡¯t wake her and you¡¯ll walk out the door like nothing happened. Always be worse, I could be Justin. * Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ¡®Wake up Lucy, it¡¯s time for school.¡¯ Said Justin quietly, rocking his little sister until she lifts her chin above her cocoon and winces. ¡®No, can¡¯t be.¡¯ ¡®Come on, you don¡¯t want to be late, I might have to drop you off.¡¯ ¡®No, rather catch the bus with my friends.¡¯ Said Lucy in a huff. ¡®Hurry up then, I¡¯ve made your cereal.¡¯ ¡®It will get soggy.¡¯ Muttered Lucy, whining. ¡®You¡¯ve got a minute before they get soggy.¡¯ Said Justin leaving his sisters room to the kitchen. He takes two bowls and puts cornflakes in each. He hears his sister moving. He needs to be quick, otherwise his tactic of forcing Lucy out of bed without dragging won¡¯t work again. He finishes pouring milk into one and starts the second as Lucy bounces through the door. ¡®Oi, you didn¡¯t even put milk in?¡¯ ¡®I did, I¡¯m just topping mine off now, now shhhh.¡¯ Said Justin putting his fingers to his lips. Lucy jolts with fear and snaps out of her excitement. She was always chirpy in the morning, it was the long day at school and a longer evening at home that¡¯ll break her strong spirit. She¡¯d hide in her cocoon, leave tears on her sheets and emerge every morning fresh to start it all over again. ¡®Your bus leaves in twenty so don¡¯t be shy, eat up.¡¯ Said Justin leaving the kitchen and opening an adjacent door to the living room. He opens it slightly. ¡®Oi, you, give me some money.¡¯ Screeched a voice and Justin slams the door, followed by something hitting the door. It was usually a slipper, always the slipper. ¡®Sorry, I¡¯m sorry.¡¯ Said Lucy sulking into her breakfast. ¡®Not your fault, hurry up before she starts wondering about.¡¯ Said Justin putting his hand on Lucys shoulder. She looks up and smiles. ¡®Ok.¡¯ Said Lucy taking a spoonful and crunching. It was her fault. She¡¯s old enough to know thinks Justin. He can¡¯t be hard on her though, she has enough of that when he¡¯s not around. He checks his back pocket and feels for a small wrap of foil. It¡¯s the emergency foil blanket to shield his little sister from his mother¡¯s nitty fire. He can hear her stirring. She wants her fix and knows if she wants it for free all she has to do is get to Justin before Lucy leaves for school. ¡®Fuck sake.¡¯ Said Justin hearing his mother¡¯s footsteps on the laminated floor. He knows what she wants, and he knows she¡¯d want to cook up in the kitchen with the hob. She wouldn¡¯t care about Lucy¡¯s breakfast and would probably take the spoon from her bowl, use it and then give it back. ¡®Open the door you bastard.¡¯ Screeched his mother. Justin holds the door handle and pulls the door close to the jam. ¡®Finish your breakfast and get changed, I¡¯ll take you mcdonalds instead.¡¯ Said Justin and Lucy jumps up and runs to her room, closing the door behind her. ¡®Give us five minutes and I¡¯ll leave it on the table, Lucy¡¯s just getting changed.¡¯ ¡®Fuck off, open the door you bastard.¡¯ ¡®Hurry up lucy and head downstairs.¡¯ ¡®Just putting my shoes on.¡¯ Screamed Lucy almost out of breath. ¡®Wait.¡¯ Said Justin banging on the door. There was just silence returned. He decries another day of this shit. He¡¯d leave, would¡¯ve left years ago if it wasn¡¯t for lucy. He was gone for two years and his sister must¡¯ve lost two stone. He¡¯s been out three months and just managed to put it back on her. He¡¯s a carer for one and a supplier the other. He¡¯s stuck. Takes his sister out and his mom would phone the police, again. He has no rights, only right to return, on conditions of supply as demanded. It¡¯s his life, a life he chose to at least give his sister a better chance than him.