‘Well that couldn’t have gone any better could it?’
Jake was driving. Lights on and taking it steady. We pulled out of the darkened lay-by, miles from anywhere and joined the winding labyrinth of country roads that would eventually take us back to civilisation.
‘Well could it?’
The sun was rising at our backs. Autumn colours flashed orange, red, yellow and brown. Crispy fallen leaves scrunched under the car tyres. It was one of those frosty mornings when you can feel the freshness of life expanding in your lungs. It felt good to be alive. So fucking alive. He still didn’t answer.
‘Fucking hell, what’s wrong with you?’
‘Better turn that sat-nav off, she kept trying to get us lost all the way here. I can’t be arsed with her anymore. She’s doing my head in.’
In one hundred and fifty yards, at the junction, turn left.
‘Shut it you dumb bitch.’ I pull the plug on the sat-nav and throw her in the glove box. I was buzzing, it was properly like how they do it in the movies man. Shady characters, shady place, bags exchanged, hands shaken, fucking excellent like. Proper gangster style. My heart was still pounding, making my ribcage ache. I couldn’t sit still. My hands went from my knees to the dashboard, under my thighs, to my face. I kept looking round, up, down, it was like I’d taken speed of something. I’m telling you, these fucking surfers and snowboarders go on about the adrenaline drug like they invented it and have the exclusive distribution rights, but they’re right about it. I felt ready for anything, bring it on.
Jake was keeping at the speed limit, good, he should do that. Don’t want to attract any undue attention and all that. We were pros man, we’d done it once and got it, nailed on, absolute naturals.
‘So what do you think then?’ Jake was playing silent but I was a simmering bundle of energy.
‘We haven’t got away with it yet.’
‘Fucking as good as though. Deal’s done. We’re gone, they’re gone, jobs a good ‘un. Just need this heap of shit car of yours to find its way back to base camp and we can fucking par-tay!’
‘Yeah, when we get home and this is a fucking quality car, you could always get out of here.’
‘Calm the fuck down. All we were talking about was this hairdressers wet dream.’
‘You were just fucking talking, like you’ve talked all night. You never give me a moments peace. Give it a fucking rest will you?’ Jake’s head hadn’t turned once and his eyes had never left the road. His lips had hardly moved.
‘Fucking hell, alright. Chill out!’
‘You fucking chill out.’
I reached forward to the CD player in search of some quality tunage, nothing like a bit of Talking Heads, Jake was still wrapped up tight.
“We’re on the road to nowhere.”
I look at Jake. He hates me. I have no idea why. He’d have less fun without me. The introverted fucker needs me. He expends most of his energy trying to shut me up. He’d be better off listening to me more often. I mean, look at where we are now. He’d never have done this without me.
We’d got in contact with this bloke Eli, through Carl He was an old mate of his apparently, who’d been in the business for donkeys years. He was Ryan’s supplier. When it came to special occasions, Carl always got better gear than everyone else. The rest of the time he would just go to Ryan, like the rest of us. But at weddings, birthdays or New Year, Carl’s stuff was always infinitely better. Thing is he would never say where he got it from. Even when the night got messy, tongues were loose and guards were down. All he would ever say was ‘It’s worth the effort.’ Fair play, you couldn’t hold it against the lad. He was obviously getting it from a bloke high up the food chain and those guys don’t want people to know who they are. The thing is Ryan’s coke is fucking shit right? He’s the only dealer we know and he cuts his stuff with fucking allsorts. He’s a fucking charlatan, man. He sits in the pub having a drink with you like you’re his mate. Then he sells you a tiny wrap of this stuff that’s moist, chunky as fuck and makes your nose sting. It’s not even fucking cheap. He’s got a captive market and he knows it, he’s a fucking prick!
So I’ve pestered Carl for ages about his old mate that’s worth the effort. And eventually, a couple of weeks ago, over a quiet pint after work, he relents.
‘Look mate. I’ll give him a ring if you really want as much as that and I’ll see what he says but I can’t promise anything.’
‘You’re a good lad Carl, don’t let anyone tell you any different.’
‘He might say no. He’s been dealing with Ryan for years, they’re not big mates or anything, but if you want as much as you say you do, then he might think you’re trying to set up shop. Plus if Ryan gets wind of it, he’ll jump to the same conclusion and come looking for you.’
‘Fuck Ryan, long haired, tattoo sporting prick, I can deal with him. Just tell this mate of yours that we’re having a big party and I got the cash.’
‘Alright fella, I’ll give you a bell tomorrow and tell you what he says. Mind, if I vouch for you, don’t fuck him about.’
‘Sound mate, everything’s sorted, no bother.’
Carl came through like a good ‘un. Eli, like every other dealer in the history of the world, liked the sound of the cash up front. Just a one off deal, well this time anyway. Carl had arranged for us to meet in a huge gravelled lay-by way out in the sticks at six in the morning on a Friday. Love it! We rocked up about five minutes late, fashionably late. We didn’t want to give the impression that we were amateurs or some such shit. Eli was waiting, smoking a fag, sitting on the bonnet of his black BMW 5 series, nice touch. Clearly a man I can do business with. I got out first with the bag, I was gonna do all the talking, that’s what I’m good at, I’m a talker, me. Jake’s good at being quiet and driving, so I just let him fill his niche. Eli seemed like a sound old bloke, I mean, any mate of Carl is a mate of mine you know? And everything went off without a hitch, and here we are now – home free – bang on!
Jake
‘Fucking hell, what’s wrong with you?’
‘Better turn that sat-nav off, she kept trying to get us lost all the way here. I can’t be arsed with her anymore. She’s doing my head in.
Jake was talking about the sat-nav but who he was actually talking to was ‘him’. He’d been doing his head in all week. He’d been doing his head in for as long as Jake could remember but this week had been especially bad. Jake had no idea why he’d agreed to get in on this. Come to think of it, he did know. A bag of coke that size could be cut and flogged at a tidy profit and still have enough left over to be the most popular bloke around for at least a couple of months. The problem was that the money was Jake’s. No. There was more than that. He was acting like this was all his deal and Jake was his bitch. Jake couldn’t trust ‘him’ not to stick more than his fair share up his nose or to mouth off to everyone about it.
Jake’s frustrations about the constant deluge of bullshit had come to the surface and he’d told ‘him’ to shut the fuck up. Music now filled the car, Jake hated the Talking Heads but at least there wasn’t any talking.
“We’re on the road to nowhere.”
For the first time in nearly a week, Jake smiled. He glanced in the mirror and saw ‘him’ in the reflection. He was reclined in the passenger seat, shades on, drumming his fingers on his thigh and singing along. The irony of the lyrics was completely lost on ‘him’.
It all came about because he has had a bee in his bonnet for months about the standard of drugs they were getting from Ryan. Not only that but the declining standard of drugs they were getting from Ryan. It wasn’t just the coke either.His weed was so sub-standard that Jake had been growing his own for over a year. The final Straw came a couple of weeks ago when a gram of MDMA he’d got turned to mush overnight. He had been doing his nut, saying he was going to have it out with him and more. Like everything with ‘him’ though, it was just a front. Jake knew it. He was all mouth with precious little to back it up. Jake knew he wouldn’t do anything about it. If it came to blows then Ryan would wipe the floor with him. Thenhe would skulk around for a week before shouting his mouth off again.
Jake was pretty pissed off though. He’d been paying hard earned money most weekends for some quality escapism from the cattle-like professional grind that he’d fallen into and wasn’t exactly getting value. So they’d decided one night, over Jamaican Mules and Durban Poison, that they’d cut out the middle man and go to the next rung up the ladder. That’s where Carl came in.
If the story was told in his words, ‘he’ would doubtlessly tell everyone that he’d got Carl to set up the meeting. What he didn’t know, mainly because he was oblivious to everything but the sound of his own voice, is that it was Jake who put the real work in. After that night in the pub when he had been slagging Ryan off to Carl, what was it that he’d said?
‘Fuck Ryan, long haired, tattoo sporting prick, I can deal with him. Just tell this mate of yours that we’re having a big party and I got the cash.’
Jake could scarcely believe he’d done that. If Ryan had got wind of it he would have come down on ‘him’ so fast, it didn’t bear thinking about. Jake had long ago lost count of the number of times that his big mouth had gotten ‘him’ into trouble. Jake had squared it all up the next day though. He had gone round to see Carl and apologised for his behaviour the night before.
‘Look mate, I can’t apologise enough. The simple fact is that I’m pretty sick of spending good money on poor gear. I’ve got a bit of cash and I want a stock pile. I don’t want to be the big man, I don’t need the hassle.’
‘Well what was that performance last night all about then?’
‘You know what happens when a bloke gets a few drinks and gets excited.’
‘I do but it seems to happen quite often.’
‘I know, I’m embarrassed about it. I’ll sort it out but it takes time.’
‘As long as you’re on top of it mate. I’ll let you know what Eli says later on.’
‘Cheers Carl, you’re a good lad.’
That seemed to be all that Jake ever did, settling the water after ‘he’d’ caused all the waves.
Carl had called Jake later that night to say that Eli was happy enough as long as it was a one off. Eli would be waiting at a secluded spot out of the way of prying eyes at six in the morning on a Friday. It all seemed a bit over the top for Jake. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with a home visit or a pub handover. The drama and symbolism really appealed to ‘him’ but Jake was less than impressed. He didn’t like things being done like it was in the movies. Action happens in the movies and Jake didn’t want any drama. Jake arrived in the lay-by about five minutes late because the sat-nav had sent him via the scenic route. Those things were fine in cities but out in the country they thought that every footpath was a road to be navigated. When he arrived, Eli was perched on the bonnet of a shimmering black BMW 5 series. Jake had looked at it with distain.
Does this guy think I’m impressed with this? Every dealer drives around in a black beamer. He wants to be subtle by meeting here and at this time but he comes in a car like that. He couldn’t be more clichéd if he tried.
Before Jake could do anything, ‘he’d’ picked up the rucksack with the money, got out of the car and marched over to the dealer. Eli wasn’t alone, there were two hefty looking blokes in the back seat of his car. ‘He’ however hadn’t noticed them, as usual he’d steamed in without engaging his brain. Jake could only sit and squirm. From the sanctuary of the car, Jake watched the silent pantomime unfold. Eli with his calm, superior stance, a forced smile or a grimace here and there. And ‘him’ with his over-elaborate fidgety posturing, animated movements and attention seeking laugh. Jake could barely look, his embarrassed hands constantly reaching for his face. If this goes down without a hitch I’ll be fucking amazed. Eventually the bags were exchanged, Eli gave a cursory glance into the rucksack that he handed ‘him’. He however, just slung the bag over his shoulder and marched back to the car with a triumphant grin plastered all over his ugly mug. He was going to be an even bigger nightmare now.
The morning was cold, bleak and frosty, Jake hated the country, the protection of civilisation seemed a million miles away and he felt alone. The winding country roads were as alien to him as a lunar landscape and all he wanted to be was home. The deal was done, he’d checked the bag, it was all there. The party could begin but Jake couldn’t relax. Not with ‘him’ and his egocentric jabbering, hammering at his brain like a pneumatic drill.
The car was silent save the music from the speakers as Jake finally eased the car into the space outside the place that Carl shared with his girlfriend, Sam. He was subdued. Finally Jake had some respite from his constant stream of incessant bullshit. Carl had asked Jake to drop by after the deal to let him know how things went and Jake was going to bung him a bit of gear to say thank you for his trouble. Carl was standing outside smoking a cigarette. He came round to the driver’s door, Jake slid the window down and greeted him with a nod and a puff of his cheeks.
‘How did it go?’
‘Yeah, ok I think.’
‘You think?’
Jake indicated to the rucksack in the passenger side foot well. ‘It’s all there, Eli’s happy and I’m happy.’
‘Well you can’t ask for anymore than that then can you mate?’
‘I suppose not.’
Jake got out and heaved the stress of the morning out of him with an almighty stretch and leaned back against the car. Carl threw the butt of his cigarette onto the road and exhaled through his nose.
‘You know mate, you didn’t have to go by yourself. I would have happily come with you.’
Jake shook his head. ‘Sam would have gone ballistic if she had any idea of what you were up to. Anyway, I’ve never been one for self preservation.’
‘Very true but it’s not the sort of thing you should do on your own.’
‘I suppose not.’
‘Cup of tea?’
‘Now you’re talking, I’ll be there in a minute.’
Carl went back inside to put the kettle on. Jake went round to the passenger side and took the bag out of the foot well. As he closed the door of the empty car, he took a quick look in the reflection in the window. Just to see if ‘he’ was still around. He wasn’t there. Good. He will always come back. But for now, Jake could have a cup of tea in peace.
(c) G Mews 2010