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.’

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

‘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.