Black Sheep (12 page)

We went past Jukkie’s on the way home. He had the latest edition of GTA – and he wanted to take me on.

“Where’s Tony, man?” I asked as we walked along the corridor towards Jukkie’s door. “I ain’t seen him for time. Is he still up in Birmingham?”

Jukkie kissed his teeth. “He’s on a long ting, man,” he sneered. “He got back last night and he’s gone mad religious now – you can’t even talk sense to
him.” He shook his head. “He used to be a playa, man, a don. Now he’s just a chief...”

But when Jukkie pushed his door open, there was Tony, larger than life. His face went all bright when he saw me. Jukkie grunted and pushed past him into the flat but Tony just stepped to the
side.

“Hey, what’s happening, bruv? Long time no see!” We shook hands and hugged, just like old times. It felt good to see him, man, real good. Like everything would be all right now
that Tony was back. Even though I knew that it wasn’t like that any more, not really.

“Safe, man, I’ve been around, innit. Where’ve
you
been, blud?” I was proper pleased to see him again.

Jukkie shouted back from the kitchen. “At the mosque, innit, where else?”

Tony rolled his eyes and jerked his thumb at Jukkie’s back. “He’s got issues, man.” But he didn’t seem too upset by Jukkie’s stink attitude. “I’ve
been in Birmingham, y’know, keeping a low profile.” He smiled and his fingers went up to scratch his jaw through his beard. I noticed that, although he was wearing a thick silver ring,
he didn’t have any other jewellery: no chains, no earrings, nothing.

“Seen, seen. But you look different, man. What’s up with the facial hair? Is it part of your Muslim ting?”

Tony tugged at the beard again. “Yeah, it is.”

The beard looked good – although I would have shaped it up a bit, gone for a goatee instead.

“So how’s it going, the Muslim ting? You ain’t been partying... and you ain’t on the game...”

“Yeah, I had to come off that stuff, innit. Too much badness around these days – I ain’t in all that no more. Being away from everything really helped. The brothers in
Birmingham helped me get myself straight: y’know I needed to come off the weed and cut some of my old ties, learn how to pray and that. They helped me through it all. Oh yeah, and I was
giving
da’wah
to my girl – you remember Lorraine?” Tony’s face lit up as he mentioned the long-term girlfriend he had been cheating on for the last year.

“You were ‘giving her
da’wah
’?” I asked. “What’s that, then?”

“It’s when you tell someone about Islam and invite them to become Muslim.”

“And..?”

“Yeah, man, she accepted Islam, bro! I was so happy, man, it was like God – Allah – just answered my prayers. Lorraine’s a good woman, y’get me. She didn’t
deserve all that crap I put her through.”

“So now...?”

“Well, we got married, innit...”

I did a double-take. “You
married
her, bruv?” I couldn’t believe it. Marriage just wasn’t something young guys like Tony did. I mean, you could have kids with
your baby mother and maybe even live together – but marry her? Nah, that just wasn’t something that mans did.

“Yeah, we’re both Muslims now, innit? Can’t be fornicating and that. Got to make things legal, y’get me, make it
halal
and ting... anyway, what you been up
to?”

I didn’t answer Tony’s question. I was still shocked by the change in him. He had been a real playa back in the day, with a different girl every week; he had taught me some of my
best chat-up lines! And now here he was, all married and ting. Talking about
fornicating
!

That was some deep church talk, right there. Mum would have been impressed. But then Tony wasn’t going to church, was he? He was a Muslim...
a Muslim
. Images of the Twin Towers
crashing down flashed through my head.

“So what, are you on some Al-Qa’eda ting, bruv, blowing up planes and stuff?”

Tony laughed and said, “Nah, blud, don’t watch that stuff, man. That’s just the media hype, y’get me. ‘Nuff man are becoming Muslim nowadays – we had about
five young brothers from the endz come and take
shahadah
just this last Friday.”

“I thought that only happened in jail, man.”

“That’s coz when you’re inside, you got ‘nuff time to reflect, to think about your life, where you’re going, what it’s all about. And Islam? Islam is just the
truth, bruv, plain and simple. It just makes sense...”

“Woah, getting heavy now, talking about truth and ting. You do your ting, innit, if it’s working for you. That’s safe...”

“Yeah, it is,
alhamdulillah
. I mean, don’t get me wrong; it ain’t easy. But it’s good, still. It’s made me change my life around, get cleaned up. I’m
off the weed now, clean, and I’m on a course at Brixton College. They told me take a plumbing course but I said, nah, I wanna study business, y’get me. Make some food the legit
way...”

I almost laughed out loud: Tony, the big man playa and hustler, a
plumber
?

But I had to respect him still. He was doing something different, rewriting the script, as Misha would say. How many man could say that? “You know what, bruv? Gwan – you’re
taking care of business. I respect that. Your girl... wife... must be pleased too, right?” It still sounded so mad to talk to Tony about his ‘wife’.

“That’s right, bro,” replied Tony feelingly, “mans got to come correct. In Islam, that’s the man’s role, y’get me, to provide and ting. So I know I need
to get straight!”

We laughed but I could hear Jukkie grumbling in the background.

“How long you gonna listen to this foolishness? Are you here to play X-Box or what?”

Before I left Jukkie’s crib, Tony gave me a book:

The Autobiography of Malcolm X
.

“Try and read it, bruv,” he said. “It’s a wicked book.” Then he shook his head and laughed. “Man, I never thought I would hear myself say that!”

True dat!

MISHA

Effie opened her front door, her face lit up with a mega-watt smile.

“Misha!” she squealed, pulling me in. “What took you so long? I’ve been ready for ages!” We hugged briefly and she pulled me through the hallway towards the living
room. “Come and say hi to Mum and Dad before we go. I told them about Oak Hill so you can imagine how pleased they are...”

I smiled, half-pleased, half-embarrassed, as I allowed Effie to lead me into the living room where her parents were sitting, reading. Dr Mensah took off his glasses when he saw me.

“Ahh, Misha,” he exclaimed, beaming. “Our shining star!”

“Hello, Dr Mensah,” I said, smiling, “how are you?”

“I’m very well, thank you,” he said, “and how are you? How is your mother?”

“We heard about your good news, Misha,” said Effie’s mum in her soft voice. “Congratulations, my dear.”

I turned to her. “Thank you, Dr Mensah, but I haven’t been fully accepted yet.”

“They’re waiting till after the exam results are published,” Effie explained. “But that won’t be a problem, will it, Misha?”

“Oh, I am sure it won’t be a problem,” Effie’s dad said, an approving look on his face. “Now, if you can only influence Efua here to become more
studious...”

“Ohhh-kay, Dad,” Effie said, pulling me towards the door, “we have to go. Misha’s dad is expecting us.”

“OK then, girls,” called Effie’s mum, “have a nice time. And Efua, don’t be late home. You girls have school tomorrow.”

“All right, Mum!” Effie called back before we bounded up the stairs.

Once in her room, Effie looked in the mirror, eyeing her reflection critically.

“Do you think I’m too short to wear these jeans?” she said, turning to look at the way her skinny jeans fit.

“Not necessarily,” I murmured. My main question was how she hoped to be able to sit down in them.

“Well, not with these shoes on, anyway!” laughed Effie, picking up a pair of high-heeled ankle boots and waving them in front of me.

I gasped, my eyes open wide. “Effie!” I shrieked. “Where did you get these? They cost, like, a grand from Selfridges! I saw them in the weekend paper!”

Effie smirked and started putting the boots on. “They were a gift...”

“Another gift?” I said, incredulous. “Who from? ”

“Lawrence.”

“Is he your latest honey, then?”

“Uh-huh.” Effie picked up her favourite tube of red lipstick.

“Hey, Effie, easy on the lipstick; we’re going to Selfridges, not a party.”

Effie looked at her heavily made-up face in the mirror and wrinkled her nose. “D’you think it’s too much?”

“Yeah, just a bit. I’d stick with the lipgloss.” I shook my head. “Anyway, why is this Lawrence character buying you one-thousand-pound boots?”

Effie turned to me, her eyebrow raised, a sardonic smile on her face. “Why d’you think, Misha Baby?”

My eyes were wide. “You mean you..?”

“Yes...” Effie smiled patiently.

“With
him
?”

“Yeah, and what’s wrong with that?”

“How old is he anyway?”

“Oh, about 21...”

I stared at her, incredulous. I couldn’t believe she could be so nonchalant about this. “Effie, what 21-year-old do you know who can afford ‘gifts’ like these?
Aren’t you worried about where he might be getting all this money? He could be a drug dealer, for all you know!”

“Well, we can’t all have sweet Romeo and Juliet romances with little sixteen-year-olds, can we?” Effie teased.

“Effie!” I couldn’t keep the concern out of my voice. For once, I wanted her to take me seriously, not make a joke out of everything. “Are you sure you know what
you’re getting yourself into?”

Effie smiled and said, “You know I can’t resist guys like that. They’ve just got such a mysterious air about them!”

“Hmm, mysterious or dangerous?”

“Ooh, preferably both! And it’s flattering! He could have any girl he wants and he chose me. Plus, there’s the excitement and the fun times. Guys our age don’t know how
to treat a girl – they think that taking you out for a box of chicken and chips means they’ve scored! With older guys, it’s different: they give you more, they’re
experienced; it’s just totally different!”

“Do your parents know?”

Effie burst out laughing. “Oh, please! Can you see Dr and Dr Mensah agreeing to their daughter going out with a guy like Lawrence? No, as far as they are concerned, I am studying hard at
school and will soon be on my way to uni like Ama...”

“So, what, you’re not planning on going to uni any more?”

“I didn’t say that, did I? God, don’t be so dramatic! I just want to have a bit of fun first, that’s all.”

“Well,” I murmured, “I hope you know what you’re doing...”

“Don’t worry, Misha, as you know, I can handle this. I’m a big girl; I know how to take care of myself. If I were you, I’d be worrying about my own business. After all,
you’re not quite Little Miss Upfront and Honest any more, are you?” She knew that I was still seeing Dwayne even though Mum had told me to end it. “Does your mum suspect
anything?”

“We’re being really careful. He only calls me while she’s out at work or after she’s gone to bed. And no text messages, in case she checks my phone.”

“Would she do that?” Effie was incredulous.

“She’s done it before – and if I give her a reason to think something is up, I know she’ll do it again.”

Effie whistled. “West Indian Psycho...”

“Don’t,” I pleaded. “Come on, we’d better get going – we’re already late.”

“BMT – black man time, innit?”

And the heavy mood lifted as we laughed and left the room.

Aalia was less than impressed by my plans to continue seeing Dwayne behind my mum’s back.

“I don’t know, Misha, it seems like a big risk to take.” Her brow was furrowed as she picked the onions out of her salad. “How do you know he’s even worth the
stress if your mum does find out?”

I sighed and tugged at my fringe. I didn’t really expect Aalia to understand – but a bit of faith in me would have been nice. “I just know, OK?”

But Aalia was persistent. “I mean, aside from the fact that he’s a hottie and he makes you laugh, what do you really know about him? You didn’t even know which school he went
to until he dropped it at your house. You don’t know where he lives, what his family is like... what if it turned out he lived in a crackhouse?”

I stared at her. That was impossible – wasn’t it?

Aalia laughed at my expression. “OK, maybe not a crackhouse but you see my point, don’t you?” She put her hand on my shoulder. “Look, Misha, I’m not judging him but
I think you need to be more careful. Your mum trusts you. You’ve taken years to build that trust; don’t throw it away over some guy who will be here today and gone tomorrow.”

I smiled ruefully at her. “You are such an old auntie, do you know that?”

She giggled. “Hey, I don’t have this moustache for nothing, you know. It’s my job to keep you on the straight and narrow. So I suggest you do a little bit of research about Mr
Dwayne Kingston before this goes any further. Any gang activity? Prior convictions?
Baby mother
? Better find out everything now than get a nasty surprise further down the road. Does that
make sense to you?”