Black Sheep (26 page)

“You never heard what went down?”

“Went down? Where? With who?”

Trigger laughed: “Jeez, man, sometimes I swear it’s like you live on another planet! Larkside man – they broke into Jukkie’s yard, bruck it up bad; armsed up his
mum...”

“What?” I couldn’t believe what Trigger was telling me. Half of me hoped I had misheard him, that the thumping bass had mashed up his words. I thought of Jukkie and
Tony’s mum, so small and fragile, and my throat went tight. How could man do that?

But then, there was Jukkie, his eyes blazing, his face like stone. “See what happens now,” he snarled. “See what happens now. Man have fi dead fi dat!”

“Of course, man, that’s just plain disrespect...”

But my words dried up as soon as Jukkie opened his jacket. I recognised the 12-inch blade Jukkie had tucked into his waistband. It was Jukkie’s favourite: stainless steel,
Japanese-made.

“No man comes into my yard...” mutttered Jukkie, and his blazing eyes floated away from me to rest on Lockjaw, who was still standing by the bar. I did a double take when I saw who
he was standing with: Effie, Misha’s friend.

‘What the hell’s Effie doing with Lockjaw, man?’

‘I don’t know!’

‘She don’t know who she’s messing with!’

‘I know... oh God...’

I swallowed hard. In my heart, I could feel a premonition stirring, a dream that had played itself over and over in my head; a dream about me, Jukkie and a sharp, sharp knife.

I reached out to grab Jukkie’s arm and hissed, “Not here, man!”

But Jukkie turned on me, a twisted scowl on his face. “What you afraid of, bruv? I jukk dem man live – live, in front of
everyone
, y’ get me? I don’t care if I
go down for that!”

He kissed his teeth and shook my hand off. “And I ain’t your girl, yeah, so don’t touch me! Move from me before I jukk you too!”

And he strode off into the crowd of people. I was shaking. I had never seen Jukkie this crazy. The wildness in his eyes was new, much worse than anything I had seen, in all the time we had been
friends. I looked over at Trigger, who had been watching the exchange between us without saying a word.

“Tonight,” Trigger said, “Larkside man are gonna get what’s coming to them, seen? And none of us is gonna be able to stay out of it; ain’t no one gonna be able to
keep their hands clean – not even you Muslims. You know how these things go, blud. It don’t stop until mans come out on top, until mans have proved that we can’t be messed with,
that we run tings. Just make sure you’re ready when the time comes...”

Trigger smiled his crooked smile and his gold teeth winked in the strobe lights. “So I reckon you chose the right night to come spit some bars, innit?”

When Trigger said those words, my heart just dropped to my stomach. He was looking to cause more beef – tonight!

I frowned as I saw the RDS mans spread out on one side of the club, eyeing up the Larkside boys on the other end of the room. This was not going to be pretty. But they couldn’t be planning
a beat-down here, could they? It wasn’t possible. There had to be another plan. I looked up at Trigger who winked at me and put his finger to his lips.

‘Watch this,’ he said, before stepping away into the crowd of dancers.

I felt the room begin to spin, the lights whizzing around and around. From where I stood, I could see Lockjaw, Effie and some other Larkside mans at the bar on my left. I could see Trigger and
the RDS boys dotted around in the crowd to my right – they weren’t wearing their bandannas tonight. That was when I knew that they weren’t playing for show tonight. They were
playing for keeps.

Suddenly, there was a scuffle on the other side of the dance floor, on the opposite side of the club to the bar. I peered over the heads of the dancers and saw that Trigger had tipped over the
drink of one of the Larkside man who had been lounging on a seat, squeezed between two chicks.

The guy was screwing, embarrassed in front of the girls, ready to take Trigger out there and then. He was shouting at Trigger, pushing him in the chest, all up in his face. Trigger stayed calm
though and stood his ground, looking down at him, daring him to do his worst.

I saw the other Larkside man begin to reach, pushing through the crowd, getting ready for a fight. The bouncers noticed too and walked quickly towards them, speaking into their
walkie-talkies.

This was it.

My heart began to beat in time to the music and I felt the storm clouds gathering behind my eyes. I thought of Jukkie’s mother. I still remembered her as she had been years ago, when we
were boys running around the estate: her smile, her shining, clean flat, her delicious roast dinner. And, as I thought of how frightened she must have been when those green bandanna-wearing goons
broke into her home, my blood boiled.

Larkside man had gone too far this time. There are some things you just don’t do. And Larkside man had done them, again and again and again. Messing with kids, with man’s girl, with
man’s family.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward, flexing my fingers, cracking my knuckles.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of red, like a flame flickering on the edge of the dancehall.

It was Misha.

But something was up with her.

She was swerving, tottering, staggering almost, reaching out for Effie. My eyes narrowed when I saw the look on Lockjaw’s face, the smile that slid across his crooked lips, the way he
grabbed Misha by the waist and pulled her towards him. She swayed against him, her eyes half shut.

‘Yo, what’s up with Misha, man? Is she drunk?’

‘I don’t know, man, I don’t know!’

I started to step to them – but then I saw Jukkie, silent as a thief in the night, come up behind Lockjaw, and I froze, unable to move.

While Misha tried to get herself away from Lockjaw, Effie shouted at her, trying to make her focus, trying to get through to her. Lockjaw was laughing – he looked like he was telling Effie
to calm down, to take it easy.

I could imagine him saying, “She probably just had too much to drink, innit?”

It was all a joke to him.

Until Jukkie stepped up behind him and, with a motion as smooth as silk, drove his knife into his side.

‘Who’s laughing now?’

It was over in seconds and, when I blinked, Jukkie had disappeared, melted into the crowd, leaving Lockjaw holding his side with a look of shock and surprise on his face. The blood from the
knife wound spread like a poppy on his white suit jacket and he slumped forward on to Effie and Misha.

Then Effie started screaming.

I finally found that I could move my feet. I pushed past the dancers that swirled around me on the dance floor and made for the bar.

But then, in seconds, there was Jukkie, right in front of me, breathing hard, his face hidden by his hood.

The next thing I knew, Jukkie had pushed the bloody knife deep into my jacket pocket. I felt the stainless steel edge tear the inner lining and my stomach clenched.

“Hold it, hold it!” Jukkie’s voice was hoarse in my ear and I nodded, numb, unthinking.

Then he was gone.

MISHA

“Dwayne!”

I struggled to raise my voice and cut through the sound of the music, the crowd and Effie’s screams.

Through the fog, I could see Lawrence on the floor, an awful patch of red spreading across his jacket. My stomach lurched and I turned and retched.

The music was so loud and the club so packed that, for several minutes, hardly anyone realised that someone had been stabbed: that a man lay on the floor of the club, bleeding into his white
Armani suit. It was like a nightmare.

The people standing at the bar were the first to realise. Alerted by Effie’s screams, the barman and the people around him looked over and saw Lawrence, his eyes rolled back in his head,
his blood spreading over the floor.

I became aware of shouts, curses, bodies moving, some away from me, some towards me, and again and again, louder and louder, Effie’s strangled cries.

“He’s been stabbed!” Effie was screaming. “Oh my God, he’s bleeding! Help! Someone help!
Please
!”

I tried to reach out for Effie but my arms felt like lead, my head as if it was stuffed with cotton wool.

‘Tired, so tired...’

The room tipped and swayed as flashes of green bandannas swam in and out of focus... there was Victoria, a horrified look on her face... Effie, her face streaked with tears... the sound of angry
voices, accusations, swirled around me. I cowered from the commotion of the crowd, swaying, pressing my hands over my ears as I struggled, struggled to find my footing, to remember how I got there,
what was happening, where I had left my bag.

But it was too much for me. I just couldn’t do it.

Someone bumped into me and I felt myself falling, as if from a great height. It took so long for me to reach the floor that I thought I could be falling forever, down, down, down, away from the
noise, from the stench of alcohol and sweaty bodies, from the man on the floor, his blood so very red against the bright white of his jacket.

Falling, falling away... until Dwayne caught me.

“It’s OK, babes, I’ve got you...”

That was when I began to cry, great big tears of relief. Dwayne was here. Everything would be all right. I was safe.

DWAYNE

Things in Club Loco had begun to kick off.

One by one, Larkside man began to realise that one of them had been taken down, that Lockjaw had been taken down – and that RDS man were in the place. It was obvious what had happened and
they started scanning the club, looking for anyone from RDS, to take their revenge. I knew exactly what man were feeling, had felt it myself many times: your blood boils and your heart swells with
the hunger to draw blood, to take lives.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me how lethal the situation had become. This was standard: the escalation, the upward spiral, the racing headlong toward the climax, the final scene, the
endgame.

My pride made me strong; I wasn’t afraid to fight. An old feeling stirred inside me, from deep inside me, ingrained since boyhood: just then, I was not afraid to die for my boys, to lose
my life to protect the rep of our crew, to have Jukkie’s back. This was it, the true test of everything the street had taught me. Now I would know the true meaning of loyalty, the true price
of respect.

I would stand firm.

‘Eediat! What the hell are you thinking, man?’

‘What?’

‘Stop that blasted stupidness and get the hell out of there – or this beef ain’t never gonna end. It ain’t worth it. And Misha needs you!’

‘I don’t know, blud, what about..?’

‘Listen, yeah, you’re carrying a knife with next man’s blood on it. Listen! You hear that siren? It’s the 5-O, coming to arrest mans over yet another stabbing. You
ain’t stupid; you know how they’re going on with knives and that these days. Where’s Jukkie? You see him hanging around? Nah, mate! What you need to do is get Misha and her girls
and get the hell out of there before the 5-0 reach!”

That was just what I needed to hear: a wake-up call. This wasn’t my scene any more. This wasn’t my war. Man had to get the hell out of there.

Bare people started shouting, cursing, pushing. I squeezed myself against the wall and watched as Trigger and the other RDS mans began brawling with the Larkside boys, just as the bouncers
arrived with their walkie-talkies.

All of a sudden, a gunshot went off, then another. The girls all screamed and dived for cover and everyone starting stampeding, rushing for any exit they could find. I grabbed Effie and
Victoria, lifted Misha up and charged for the emergency exit that stood at the end of the bar.

The crowd of people that surged behind us made it hard to get the door open but we did and in seconds, we were outside. Victoria and Effie stood gasping for air but I knew that there was no time
for that. We had to find a cab and get out of there.

DWAYNE

Effie’s teeth started chattering on the taxi ride home. Her breath came in short, shallow puffs and, when I touched her hand, it was cold and clammy.

“Effie,” said Victoria, shaking her by the shoulder. “Effie, are you all right?”

But Effie didn’t say anything. She was just staring, staring, her head lolling against the car seat, her eyes glazed over, her breath puffing, puffing.

“Oh my God, do you think she’s in shock? She’s not responding to me, Dwayne! Dwayne?”

“You’re just gonna make things worse, man! Jam your hype! Calm down... try and talk to her, innit, rub her back an’ ting... Oh, yeah, and put her legs up...”

“OK... Thank God we’re almost there!”

I stared at the posh houses that lined Victoria’s street. “Which one is your yard?”

“Number 49, the one with the red door.”

Next to me, Misha moaned and turned in her seat, bumping her head against the window.

I reached out for her and settled her head against my shoulder, away from the window. I was proper anxious. She had slept all the way home.

“What happened to
her
?” wondered Victoria. “One minute, she’s fine and, the next, she’s staggering around like a prizewinning drunk... I didn’t think
anyone could react that badly to champagne...”

I turned to stare at Victoria. What had she just said?

“Wait, when did you lot have champagne? I ordered orange juice for Misha...”

“It was Lawrence... he bought it for us. I remember I saw him handing Effie Misha’s glass to give to her.”

I felt my nostrils flare as I breathed in deeply, trying to control the rage that was building up inside me. I could feel the pressure building up at the back of my head as it all became
clear.

Lockjaw.

Lockjaw had spiked Misha’s drink.

He must have known that she was with me.

The psycho bastard.

I looked down at Misha.