by Ricky Black
‘Gosh, you’re so moody sometimes, L.’ Erica linked arms with him and kissed him on the cheek. Lamont felt his face burn, his jeans tightening. Erica smelled amazing. Like apricots.
‘Shut up,’ He said good-naturedly, enjoying the contact. They crossed the road and trudged up the steps to the park. Lamont spotted Leon and his friends sitting on the swings. They were all hard-faced, towering over Lamont. Leon, a bullet-headed eighteen-year-old with facial hair and a sneer, looked Lamont up and down. Lamont disentangled himself from Erica.
‘I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at school then,’ he said, not liking the way Leon and his friends were staring.
‘Why don’t you stay and hang out? Leon won’t mind. His friends are cool,’ Erica said. Lamont shook his head.
‘Nah. Auntie will flip. I’ll see you later.’
Lamont hurried away. Washing his hands and face as soon as he got in, he headed to the kitchen. Raucous laughter greeted him. Auntie and two of her friends sat around the table, smoking, drinking and laughing almost manically at some joke. They all looked up as Lamont entered.
‘Good afternoon, Auntie,’ The practised words rolled from Lamont’s tongue with passable conviction. Auntie stopped laughing.
‘Don’t stand around talking. Grab the dustpan and brush and sweep the stairs. Come back when you’re done. I’ve got more for you to do.’
Lamont did as instructed. Getting the dustpan and brush from the cupboard under the stairs, he began to sweep. It was tedious work, bending over to sweep the stairs causing him a backache. He didn’t know why he couldn’t use the big brush but the last time he had asked, Auntie had hit him in the head with it.
When Lamont finished, he looked into Marika’s room, where she draped on her bed reading a magazine. She looked at Lamont haughtily when she saw him.
‘What do you want?’
‘Where did you get that magazine from?’
‘Auntie bought me it. For being so good today.’ Marika grinned. Lamont clenched his fists.
‘You little faker. You could’ve at least swept the stairs for me.’
‘Nah. That’s your job.’
‘Whatever. Is Marcus in?’
‘He’s in his room. Think he’s sleeping,’ Marika replied, turning back to her magazine.
Lamont left, picking up the dustpan and brush. Emptying the dirt into the bin downstairs, he washed his hands again, put the dustpan away and went back to Auntie for further instructions.
When all his chores were finished, Lamont flopped onto his bed, spent. He was sure that Auntie made up jobs for him to do. She seemed to get a kick out of watching him sweat. Lamont had homework, but before he started, he needed to relax. Yawning, he stared up at the ceiling, gathering his thoughts.
Lamont dreamed of a time when he would be on his own. He would be a working man, free to live his life any way he wanted. The thought was daunting, yet something he did for himself now. Other than the roof over his head, Auntie provided nothing for Lamont. He did everything. Lamont had tried making money getting part-time jobs in the past, but Auntie always seemed to scupper his hustle.
Not for much longer though. School was nearly finished. If all went well, he would not have to suffer much longer.
‘L?’ There was a heavy knocking at the door.
‘Come in, Marcus,’ Lamont called out. Marcus sauntered into the room, smirking when he saw Lamont lying down.
‘The fuck are you doing, thinking and strategising and shit!’ he laughed.
‘Just trying to get my mind right,’ replied Lamont.
‘Get money, you get your mind right. Money opens doors,’ Marcus said matter-of-factly. To him it was that simple.
‘When I finish school, I’ll get money,’ Lamont assured his friend. Marcus made a face.
‘When? Any job you get, it’s gonna take time to make real cash,’ Marcus pointed out. Lamont didn’t respond. Marcus had touched upon the flaw in his life plan. Whatever job Lamont ended up in, it would take time to build up. He would need to be patient.
‘Forget that anyway,’ Marcus scratched his head. ‘Me and you are going out.’
‘Nah, I’m tired,’ Lamont replied, stifling another yawn.
‘I’m not asking. I’m tired of seeing you sitting up here, night in, night out. Throw on some aftershave too; we’re gonna be around women.’
Chapter Two
Monday 10 March 1997
Mia greeted Marcus with a long kiss at the door. Lamont averted his eyes when Marcus started feeling her up. Eventually, they broke apart.
‘L, this is Mia. Mia, this is my brother, L,’ Marcus introduced them. Mia was curvy and caramel skinned, with a round baby face and slightly slanted hazel eyes. She kept her hair in neat crotchet braids and wore light pink lipstick.
‘Nice to finally meet you, L. Marcus’s mentioned you before,’ Mia’s tone was friendly, but Lamont saw the way she looked at his clothing. He forced himself to stay respectful.
‘Same, Mia. He talks about you all the time.’
Marcus chuckled, disguising it as a cough when Mia shot him a glance. They all headed into the main room. Lamont expected a mess, but the room gleamed. The TV alone was bigger than Auntie’s, and the sofa looked to be top of the range. An older girl who Lamont guessed was Mia’s sister glanced at them, wearing a jumper and a pair of cut-off shorts. Her gaze lingered on Lamont for a second, then she went back to reading.
‘This is my older sister, Rochelle. Shelle, this is Lamont. He’s Marcus’s friend,’ Mia said.
‘Nice to meet you, Rochelle,’ Lamont said politely. Rochelle gave him another glance, dismissing him without a word.
‘Ignore her; Rochelle’s always on her period,’ Marcus put his arm around Lamont. ‘C’mon, what do you want to drink?’
‘Just some juice or some water please,’ Lamont replied. Marcus and Mia shared a look and sniggered. Even Rochelle seemed to hide a smile.
‘A real drink. You think we came here to sip Kia Ora?’ Marcus was still laughing. Lamont wet his dry lips. He’d never tried alcohol before. Marcus strode into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of Courvoisier and four large glasses.
‘Come, Shelly. Have a drink with us.’ Marcus poured a liberal amount into one glass.
‘I don’t want a drink.’
‘Have one or I will take your little magazine and rip it up,’ said Marcus. Tutting, Rochelle held out her hand and took the glass. She downed it and handed it back.
‘Happy?’
‘Over the moon,’ Marcus shook his head at Rochelle, then turned to Lamont and Mia. ‘Come on.’
Mia took her glass. Lamont picked up his, trying to not make a face. He sniffed the glass, his nose curling from the strength alone.
‘Just down it in one, L,’ said Marcus. They toasted, and both poured it back. Lamont swallowed the alcohol, then launched into a huge coughing fit. His chest and throat felt like they were on fire. Marcus laughed at him.
‘Lightweight. Here, the second one will go down nicely.’
By the time Lamont finished the second drink, he was leaning big time. The room swayed around him, and he was struggling to focus. He heard Marcus and Mia giggling; the sound distorted. His head pounded, and he could feel the liquor in his belly. He felt free of the usual woes he seemed to carry around. Lamont wished Erica was nearby so he could tell her the truth about his feelings. Somewhere amid his thinking, Mia and Marcus had disappeared. Only Rochelle remained, now watching the television.
‘Do you mind me watching with you?’ Lamont cringed at how foreign and magnified his voice sounded. Rochelle shrugged.
‘Tell me about yourself,’ Lamont said, wanting to make conversation with Rochelle. She glared, turning back to the TV.
‘There’s no need to be rude,’ the liquor made Lamont confident. ‘I’m trying to get to know you, that’s all.’
Rochelle gave Lamont another look, this one seemed devoid of aggression or attitude. It was deeply speculative.
�
�You’re much more attractive when you’re quiet,’ she said flatly. Her words punctured Lamont’s vibe. He closed his eyes and rubbed his head, suddenly wishing he’d declined the liquor.
‘Do you mind if I have some water?’
They didn’t stay long. Marcus and Mia came downstairs a while later with rumpled clothing. Marcus counted out some money and threw it on the coffee table, then he and Lamont left.
The chilly night air removed whatever vestiges of alcoholic influence remained for Lamont. He swayed slightly for a few steps, then became steadier on his feet. Marcus prowled alongside him, tense, eyes flitting in every direction. The Hood was his jungle, and he always had to be on point.
‘Where did you disappear to?’ Lamont asked. Marcus laughed.
‘Where do you think? I went to see my girl, not to sit around watching London’s Burning.’
‘So what did you bring me for?’ Lamont was curious.
‘Because, you sit in that house all day reading books and cleaning up after your Auntie like Cinderella. I just wanted you to loosen up.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘What did you think of Rochelle?’ Marcus surprised Lamont with this question.
‘She seemed nice.’ Lamont picked his words carefully.
‘I’d love to hit that,’ admitted Marcus, rubbing his hands together.
Lamont paused. ‘Wait, I thought—’
‘I know what you thought. I let people believe it. Truth is, Mia’s always watching me. I would though. Rochelle’s sexier than Mia,’ Marcus went on. ‘Still, Mia knows her role. She lets me store shit in the yard, and she gives a blowjob that’ll curl your toes.’
Lamont was quiet. He was happy to walk along and let Marcus ramble about blowjobs.
‘You should bang Rochelle. Get her to take your cherry,’ Marcus said offhandedly. Lamont stopped in the middle of the street.
‘What are you talking about?’
Marcus laughed, ‘I know you’re a virgin. Doesn’t matter. Just lose it ASAP. You do that and you might develop some game.’
Lamont stuck a finger up at his friend, and they began walking again. He didn’t know how Marcus had worked it out. He had never confided in his friend about anything to do with girls, but Marcus was more perceptive than Lamont gave him credit for.
They had almost reached home when Lamont’s stomach churned worse than ever.
‘Oh shit!’ he groaned, doubling over and throwing up. Marcus laughed in the background as Lamont retched two more times, holding his stomach, groaning like someone had hit him.
‘C’mon, lightweight. Let’s get you inside and get you some water.’ Marcus was still laughing like a madman. He held out his hand. Lamont grabbed it and Marcus helped him. They walked the rest of the way in silence.
The next day, Lamont was still messed up from the alcohol. Shaking it off, he traipsed to play football as he did several times a week. A man named Nigel Worthington held the sessions. Nigel was a broad-shouldered man who had always been around the Hood. He’d had a promising football career until a bad tackle had put an end to that. Undeterred, Nigel refused to sit around. He started his own business and began coaching some local kids for free on the side. Most disliked him and his methods, but respected his desire to get the best out of them.
Lamont changed into the provided uniform and dutifully completed the rigorous callisthenics that Nigel had everyone perform at the beginning of the session. They were forced to complete press-ups, sit-ups, sprints and a whole other medley of exercises. Lamont loved it though. He loved the discipline, and he loved pushing himself. It was the also the only time Auntie allowed him to have any fun. By the time they finished, everyone was sucking in air.
Nigel allowed them to drink some water, then laid out a succession of football drills for them to complete. The rules were simple. He expected everyone to take part and if one person didn’t, then all the kids were banned from playing the end-of-session match. As the kids came down hard on anyone who didn’t take part, this rarely happened.
Once the drills were over, Nigel selected two captains and they picked the teams. Once done, Nigel blew his whistle, and the match was up and running.
Lamont received the ball and went past two players like they weren’t even there. He wanted to go all the way, but forced himself to pass to another player, who scored. It was a one-sided match after that. Lamont got two goals and set up three more. Playing football was the only time he felt accepted. Everyone knew his background but on the football pitch it didn’t matter that he wore cheap clothing. All that mattered was his performance.
Once they had tidied up and the other kids had gone, Lamont was alone with Nigel. He was about to leave when Nigel called him back.
‘I’ll give you a lift, Lamont. You don’t need to walk.’
‘It’s not far,’ Lamont quickly said.
‘I don’t mind. Give me two minutes to put these cones away and we’ll set off.’
Lamont was quiet as he sat in Nigel’s Volvo listening to Phil Collins. He only recognised the particular song because he’d heard it on the radio countless times. It surprised him that Nigel was a fan.
‘How are you doing, Lamont?’ Nigel asked.
‘I’m doing fine,’ Lamont replied. Nigel had never offered him a lift before, nor had he ever asked how Lamont was doing. He wasn’t rude, but his focus was teaching them to play football, not trying to pry into their lives.
‘You played well today. You’ve taken on board everything I’ve taught you. You were really implementing some good one-touch football and your movement off the ball is amazing.’
‘Thanks.’ Lamont didn’t know what to say. He had joined the football sessions with an inflated ego, believing he was the best. When he began playing for Nigel, he was determined to show everyone. Nigel refused to start him for any matches, but Lamont never complained. When given the opportunity, Lamont scored hatfuls of goals, before being dropped again. Lamont almost quit, but finally realised the point Nigel was trying to make.
During the next match, Lamont waited to start and when he came on, set up two goals and kept the ball moving with some tight passing. After that his relationship with Nigel improved.
‘Have you ever thought about taking it further?’ Nigel asked.
‘Taking what further?’
‘Football. You could go far. Seriously,’ Nigel continued. ‘You have the traits teams look for when selecting young talent. You could get to the top.’
Lamont’s eyebrow rose. He was good, but didn’t think he had anywhere near the talent needed to play professionally.
‘What do you think? I know it’s daunting. I’d be there to help you out though. I have good contacts and I’m certain I could get you a trial. What do you say?’
Lamont sensed Nigel meant well, but he didn’t like the fact he was pressuring him into a decision. Auntie would never agree to it anyway, and she was still his legal guardian.
‘I’d need to have a think about it.’
Nigel frowned, slowly nodding.
‘No problem. That’s no problem at all. Let me know when you’ve decided. I’ll set everything up. You won’t need to worry.’
Lamont wondered about Nigel’s angle. Was he offering to be his agent? Was Lamont his ticket to the big time?
‘How are things with your Auntie?’ Nigel glanced at Lamont as they stopped at a red light.
‘Fine,’ Lamont mechanically replied. He had shut down now. Occasionally he had given the same answer to teachers when they had enquired about Auntie.
‘Good. That’s excellent,’ Nigel said. ‘I’ll shut up and get you home now.’
The next night, Lamont was reading a book when there was a loud knock at the front door. Auntie and Marika were out. Lamont smiled when he saw his friend standing there.
‘Yes, L!’ Levi Parker greeted Lamont. Auntie didn’t allow his friends in the house, so Lamont shut the door and they sat outside.
‘Easy, Levi. What’s up?’
&nbs
p; Levi beamed. He was the same age and size as Lamont, but more confident, living well thanks to the drugs his older brother sold. He wore his hair in neat, thin cornrows and rocked a sports jacket and tracksuit bottoms with Nike’s and a thin gold chain.
‘I’ve got some real good news, L. We’re gonna make some money!’
‘Doing what?’
Levi glanced around.
‘Can you leave here?’
‘Auntie said to stay until she got back.’
Levi frowned. ‘Stop by my Nana’s yard when you can. I’ve got summat to show you.’
Once Auntie returned, Lamont headed out to see Levi. He lived two streets down so Lamont didn’t have far to walk.
A few of the elders in the Hood were milled around, talking in loud voices and laughing. They greeted Lamont warmly, and he was polite in return. Some had been friends of his parents and occasionally told him stories about his them; stories Auntie was too lazy to share.
Knocking on Levi’s door, Lamont waited for an answer.
‘Lamont! How have you been?’ said Nana Parker, warmly greeting Lamont. She was in her sixties and seemed to be perpetually cold. Every time Lamont saw her, she wore a thick cardigan and warm clothing, even in the summer.
‘Hello, Nana P. Are you okay?’ Lamont made conversation for a few minutes, then walked up the stairs to Levi’s room, knocking on the door.
‘Come in, L!’ Levi called out. It startled Lamont to see Levi sitting on his bed smoking. Next to him was the biggest bag of weed Lamont had ever seen.
‘What’s that for? Are you gonna smoke it?’ Lamont asked.
‘Course not. We’re gonna sell it. Craig’s gonna hook us up. Are you in?’
Lamont wasn’t stupid. He knew how things worked in the Hood. More people were selling drugs these days, and there was a lot of potential profit. Craig Parker had started out selling weed and was now moving heroin and crack for one of the local shot callers. He made enough money to show off and also pay his Nana’s bills. Their father had run out on them, their mother was too strung out on drugs to be a good parent. Craig had stepped up at an early age to feed his family, and Lamont admired that.
