The Dirty South

by Alex Wheatle

  ‘See you later, Mum.’

  Just as I killed the call, the Lexus and the BMW arrived outside the mosque. Courtney and his brethren climbed into the rides as they shouted badwords at Muslim elders… Other male worshippers emerged from the mosque and they were gesturing with their arms for Courtney’s posse to move the fuck away. I thought of bouncers at the Ministry of Sound nightclub and laughed to myself again. Pussies…

  Should I follow them? Do I have the nerve? Of course I should track their black asses! You think Noel would have pussied out? Noel would have stepped up to the mosque and shanked Courtney right there and then.

  I kept a safe distance as they turned left into Bricky High Street. As usual in rush hour the traffic got vexed and the pavements were proper heaving with pedestrians… The traffic lights seemed to stay red for ages at the crossing to Bricky underground station. Hundreds of people were getting on and off buses and for a moment they filled my vision. But I could just see the BMW about thirty yards away. Above, the clouds were parting and it looked like the Choice FM DJ was right about the weather. Noel loved days like this when he would cruise in his ride and feast his eyes on buff chicks, halting traffic as he chirpsed girls walking by. I won’t hear Noel’s deep laugh again while he’s doing shit like that. Thompson has to be merked.

  I followed the BMW and Lexus up Brixton Hill and after turning left into the South Circular, they made their way into Palace Road council estate. I was surprisingly calm. But I had to be careful now, not too much traffic on road. Don’t want them pussies to turn around and see my black ass.

  They pulled up outside a shop within Palace Road estate and two of them got out. The flat we used to live in was just a three minute walk away. There’s probably refugees living there now. Stay focused, Dennis!

  Remaining a safe distance away, I parked and just watched. A mother walked inside the shop with her two kids. Older kids were performing wheelies on bikes and one fell off… The others laughed out loud. Shouldn’t the brats be in school? No, it’s the summer holidays. Dennis, don’t get distracted. Focus on the cars.

  Courtney stayed in the BMW. He was in the back seat. The mother with the kids came out with a newspaper and was lighting a cigarette and if I smoked cancer sticks I would have lit one too. I should’ve burned a fat-head after breakfast to help relax me.

  After a couple of minutes the two fake Muslims who went to the shop returned carrying bottles of drinks, crisps, other sweets and cigarettes. The two rides performed U-turns and headed in my direction. It caught me off-guard and I had to move Mission Impossible-quick. I ducked before they went past and my heart did some pole-vaulting shit but I soon regained my composure. When their rides passed mine, I could hear hip hop music blaring from their windows. Yeah, fear was in me but I had control of it.

  Executing a frantic three-point turn, I tracked them to the back streets of Streatham. I looked into my rear-view mirror and realised I was sweating and gripping the steering wheel too tight. Relax, Dennis. Relax. I pressed the play button on my ride stereo. Mya was singing ‘Taste This’. I could picture Akeisha singing in a MTV Base-style video. Then the screen suddenly went blood-red. When it cleared Akeisha was laying on the ground. She had been shot through the head. Courtney appeared on screen with a smoking gun in his hand. He was laughing manically. Laughing. He didn’t stop laughing.

  I shook my head madly to rid myself of the image.

  They climbed out of the rides on Faygate Road and I watched them from about a hundred yards away… I wiped my face and concentrated my eyes again. I don’t think they suspected a damn thing. Pussies. My heartbeat gathered pace as I saw Courtney Thompson climb out of the BMW. He was wearing this gold-coloured skull cap and he was smoking a cigarette. If I don’t merk him I hope cancer duppies his wannabe bin Laden ass.

  They all entered a house and my eyes were focused on that front door for another two hours… Nobody of the original crew departed but others arrived, some in Muslim-type clothes and some in normal garms. What is this place? A recruitment centre for terrorists?

  I recognised at least one of them. Didn’t know him by name but he was a shotta from Black Prince Road, Vauxhall ends. A tall, messed-up face ugly brother. Maybe he was paying his tax ’cos he was only in the house for five minutes. Pussy.

  3 p.m. At last some movement. Courtney and his crew come out from the house. They were still wearing their bright garments and too-small hats. They climbed into their rides as I started my engine. They headed to Brixton Hill and I followed them as they turned into New Park Road. I was quite calm and kept a safe distance. They drove into New Park Road council estate, Brixton Hill ends and I considered if I should follow them in. And then I remembered that Courtney’s mum still lived in the estate. I parked fifty yards away from the estate entrance. I started on another pack of cheese and onion crisps as Tupac rapped about ‘No More Pain’.

  Five minutes later I saw the BMW and the Lexus emerge from the estate. Courtney wasn’t inside any of the cars. What do I do? Just wait? When I get the gun I don’t wanna merk him near to where his mother lives. Can’t do that shit… No, I’ll just wait and see where he goes.

  Wait I did. I was proper determined. Tupac kept me company in the late afternoon and early evening. I got my reward at 8.30 p.m. when I saw the BMW return. Sure enough, the ride picked up Courtney and they drove out of the estate and headed for central Bricky. I was about ten car lengths behind as we passed Bricky Town Hall. The usual winos and drunks were mingling around Windrush Square and I noticed the weather was still warm enough for drinkers at the Bug Bar to sample their shit on the outside seats and benches. Some drunks were flat out on the grass. Don’t get distracted, Dennis. Focus.

  The BMW drove along Bricky High Street but they didn’t turn into Gresham Road as I expected them to. I felt a pang of hunger but I had no more crisps. The empty packets were now surrounding my feet and I only had half a Lucozade bottle left…

  Just as I was thinking that Noel would have loved to own that BMW, it now turned right, towards Angel Town. I drove one-handed as I clicked open my glove compartment. I had a black metal bar inside there. It was Noel’s. I speeded up as images of Akeisha filled my head. I glanced at the metal bar, then looked ahead of me and back to my weapon. I wound down the driver-side window all the way. Then the BMW turned off towards Loughborough Junction. I heard myself breathing out hard but my heart was still pumping. I closed the glove compartment and slowed down a bit. I wondered if they saw me in their rear-view mirror. Tupac was chanting ‘Heartz Of Men’.

  I watched the blue BMW pull up at the feet of one of the white-coloured council tower blocks that dominated this part of Bricky. I was about seventy yards away and I parked my ride and turned off my engine. It was only Courtney that got out of the Bimmer and he made his way to a white council block. From where I was I could see the balconies of the block where Courtney headed so I got out of my ride and just looked upwards. The sun was setting in that direction so I put my sunglasses on. Meanwhile, the blue BMW pulled away. They still hadn’t seen me. Pussies.

  Two minutes later, Courtney appeared on the fourth floor balcony. He walked along and then rattled a letter box. Moments later, this white girl opened the door. I didn’t see much of her, just half a face, one leg and one arm. I bet she had a Croydon facelift. Courtney glanced behind him before entering and closed the door behind him. Bang went my chi chi man theory.

  I’ll merk him there, I said to myself. Before he gets in the lift. Yeah, next Friday. I just hope that white bitch is a regular Friday night wok for him. I’ve done all my scouting and shit. Fuck! Was it this easy to stalk somebody and they don’t know shit? I’m gonna blaze him, duppy his motherfucking wannabe-a-terrorist ass. But I still need somebody to justify it. I’ll see Cara after the weekend. Yeah. See how Cara is. Haven’t seen her since the funeral. I haven’t even seen Priscilla and checked on how she is.

  I returned home. I needed to wind down. I found Paps reading his newspaper. When he saw me h
e placed his newspaper on the floor and he glared at me. I was about to leave the room but he said, ‘Sit down, Dennis.’

  I sat down and I felt more nervous than I had been following Courtney Thompson. Sweat returned to my forehead with a vengeance. ‘In the hospital,’ Paps began, ‘when you was interviewed by the police, I was wrong to make my outburst. Wrong.’

  ‘Yeah, so?’ I said. I didn’t want the conversation to last more than a minute. I wiped my face with the palm of my hand.

  ‘We have to trust the police, Dennis,’ Paps said.

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Trust the police. Yes, it might sound hypocritical but it can’t be a “them and us” situation for ever. We have to work together, trust each other. Too many black kids are getting killed and the killers are going free all because no-one in the black community will talk.’

  ‘You’ve changed your programming,’ I remarked.

  ‘Dennis, I feel you’re hiding something.’ Paps’ voice was now deeper, more serious. I was trapped in his angry gaze.

  ‘No I’m not,’ I answered.

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t recognise any of your attackers?’

  ‘You calling me a liar?’

  ‘No, I’m not calling you a liar. But I think you might be scared to reveal who did this to Noel and you. It’s quite understandable, nothing to be ashamed of.’

  ‘I’m not scared, Paps.’

  ‘So you don’t know who did this?’

  ‘No, Paps!’ I was shouting now.

  ‘Don’t you want these people to get caught?’ Paps asked.

  ‘Of course I do! I don’t know who it was! And you’re a hypocrite! All my life you’ve been telling me stories how the Feds were corrupt, how the Feds planted evidence, how the Feds framed black brothers, how the Feds pounded you in cells. And now you’re telling me we have to work together? You never trusted them and I don’t. Simple as. Got nothing to tell them anyway.’

  ‘Yes, I am a hypocrite!’ yelled back Paps. ‘But please, Dennis… If there is anything that you know can help the police you have got to tell them… The police are not the enemy here.’

  ‘I don’t know anything else. Nothing to add!’

  Paps picked up his walking stick, glared at me for half a minute and then limped out of the room. He slammed the door behind him in disgust. I didn’t care. I had to merk Courtney Thompson. Anyway, back in 1981 Paps and his crew duppied a Bricky crime lord. He didn’t go to the Feds when Auntie Denise was kidnapped… So burn Paps and his hypocrisy.

  That night I went to Akeisha’s. I wasn’t good company and I didn’t play with Curtis like I normally did. I didn’t really want to speak to Akeisha’s parents either. I just crashed out on Akeisha’s bed and tried to sleep for a while. Despite closing my eyes all I could see was Akeisha getting shot by Courtney Thompson and Noel getting kicked to death.

  Akeisha woke me up with a kiss and we made frantic love like it was the last time we would ever be together. Usually we worried about Akeisha’s parents hearing us but this time it was so intense. We didn’t care, or I didn’t care. Throughout, my face was within an inch of hers and I was just kissing her on the lips repeatedly, looking into her eyes. I kept on thinking what would become of me if Courtney Thompson merked my girl? I was bordering on insanity now so there wouldn’t be much hope for my state of mind if my worse scenario actually happened.

  After we made love we were laying in the bed, wrapped together. Her left cheek was pressed against my right cheek. I liked it like that. As usual I was holding her too tight but I liked that too.

  ‘What you scared of, Dennis?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You were shaking earlier when I hugged you and you’ve been preoccupied about something.’

  ‘It’s the medication I was on. Even though I stopped taking all the tablets I still feel drowsy.’

  ‘No, Dennis. This wasn’t drowsy. You’re scared of something.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe.’

  ‘You’ll be alright now, Dennis. You got people who love you and will look after you. You’re safe now.’

  ‘I’m not scared of that, Akeisha.’

  ‘Then what?’

  I sat up and looked at her. Then I cradled her jaw and cheeks with my palms like the way my mother always did to me. ‘You can read me good, Akeisha. Yeah, you’re right. I am scared. Proper scared. Scared of losing you.’

  She smiled and kissed me on the lips. ‘You’re being silly,’ she laughed. ‘I ain’t gonna leave you! No way! Ain’t we been tighter than we’ve ever been? Stop sweating, Dennis! This girl’s not gonna go walking out or go missing on you. And I can’t wait to go Crete with you. Everything’s gonna be alright.’

  She kissed me again. She didn’t understand what I meant but she seemed so happy that I was with her. I wanted so much to be honest with her but I didn’t want to fuck up the moment or the vibe by admitting I was losing my mind ’cos I feared she might be merked. So I laid back down, hugged her tight and pressed my cheek against hers. I wished I could stay like this for ever. I wished Noel was by my side on my mission. With him it would be easy.

  The following Sunday Mum roasted a big leg of lamb and cooked rice and peas. She also prepared side dishes of salad and shit, bought some wine and invited Auntie Denise, Uncle Everton and the twins over. We dined on plates and drank from glasses that Mum normally had displayed in the front room cabinet. She even made an attempt to make Granny’s rum punch and I had to admit it wasn’t that bad. Paps said it was excellent but he had Brownie points to gain. Mum ignored Paps and everybody else as she catered for all my needs. Davinia, smart as she is, noticed this but didn’t say anything. Mum was being so nice to me it was embarrassing… Paps and myself were hardly on speaking terms but that was all good. It meant I wouldn’t have to suffer another interrogation for the time being.

  As Mum was serving the dessert of apple pie and custard I received a text. It was from Gloria. All it read was got it, can you talk? Gloria was always cautious like that. I excused myself from the table and went to the toilet. Our toilet was so clean and smelled so good you could invite your complaining fussing auntie in for a chat and not feel bad.

  I called Gloria. ‘Can I pick it up now?’

  ‘I’m at the South Bank,’ Gloria said.

  ‘Can’t we link up? Now like?’

  ‘If you have to, Dennis.’

  ‘OK, where you wanna link?’

  ‘Well, I’ve got to drive home and pick up your goods. Give me an hour and I’ll meet you in the Sainsbury’s car park in Nine Elms.’

  ‘Shizzle my nizzle!’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. Just something that Noel used to say. It means everything is cool…’

  ‘OK, Sainsbury’s car park.’

  ‘Be there.’

  I killed the call, flushed the toilet and when I returned to the front room, I wolfed down my apple pie and custard like I was Homer Simpson.

  Mum was vexed about me leaving when guests were here but I just wanted to take ownership of the gun. I still heard her nagging when I shut the front door behind me. I didn’t care.

  Gloria was five minutes early and when she spotted me she even left her ride and climbed into mine. She had never done that before. She was carrying a shopping bag and when I looked inside it there was something bulky wrapped in kitchen foil. She took off her sunglasses and looked at me. ‘I didn’t expect to be delivering this kind of thing when I started in this game,’ she said… ‘But this is your property now. If you use it or don’t use it, you have to get rid of it. Properly. I don’t want you ringing me up saying that you wanna give it back. Dryneck told me to make that very clear…’

  ‘I hear you. Everything there? Instructions and shit?’

  ‘Everything is there, Dennis.’

  She opened the passenger door and prepared to leave. But she thought about something and sat back down, pulling the door closed. ‘Would it sound racist if I said I hate those fucking Musli
ms? You know, the ones that wanna kill white people? ’Cos that’s what they mean when they say they want jihad against the west. Is it my fault that my race has had the better of it in the last few hundred years?’

  ‘Look, Gloria,’ I replied. ‘Don’t really want to get in this argument again. All I know is that I have to deal with Courtney Thompson… Simple as. This ain’t no religious mission I’m on. I ain’t no raas Crusader and I ain’t doing my mission for Christian kind and shit like that. I still think of Thompson as the ugly motherfucker in school who didn’t have no bredrens and loved his fried chicken and crisps… Thompson and his crew merked my best friend and threatened to duppy my girl. His reasons were stone-cold money and rep. So I’m gonna merk Thompson. Call it personal, simple as.’

  ‘Then know this, Dennis. If Dryneck didn’t hate those Muslims so much then he wouldn’t have got you what’s in that bag. He was totally against getting you the gun.’

  Gloria opened the door and was gone. She didn’t even look back and her steps were no longer elegant or sexy but angry. I nodded. At least she was honest.

  She had placed the shopping bag in the feet position for the passenger seat. I crouched and started to unwrap the kitchen foil. And there it was. A black gun. It looked new and it felt greasy to the touch. There were instructions with it in English and in German. Stapled to the instructions was a polythene bag that contained seven bullets. A chill went down my spine as I realised the seriousness of what I was about to do. But my resolve hardened when I remembered the suffering wailing of Cara at Noel’s funeral. Courtney Thompson has to ketch a fire, as Granny would have put it.

  The following Thursday night, the day before I planned to merk Thompson I arrived at Cara’s flat at just after 10 p.m. Cara herself opened the front door. She was wearing a sky blue dressing-gown. Her hair was all over the place. Her eyes were half-closed and I couldn’t tell if she had been drinking or if she was tired…

  She let me in and I have never seen the place so clean. There was a whisky bottle and a lemonade bottle on the coffee table and a pint glass that Noel had kidnapped from a pub. The ashtray was full of big-head butts. I could hardly sleep without thinking of Noel so what must it be like for her?