Tales Of A WasteMan PART: 2

Danton’s eyes widened as the cool strip of metal pierced his gut wall. He stepped backward easing himself off the blade, dropping the food spilling jerk chicken and rice on the ground. Marcus withdraws the knife and stabs him twice more.

He waits for Danton to drop before he turned and ran. He ran hard and fast. He was nearly knocked over by an old lady in a Punto but he was lucky enough to reach the curb.

He runs clear out of town, through Nechells to a canal at the bottom of Duddeston Mill road. He stands on the bank breathing hard, looking at his shimmering reflection in the green murky water.

He drops the knife into the canal and watches it sink out of sight. He looks out across the water but all he could see was darkness. He felt a strong guilt growing in his chest like a poisonous venom, growing with every breath. He focused on the money to blank it out.

His phone vibrated. A missed call and a text from Avaria, his girlfriend’s sister.

Azaria wata broke, hospital kwik.

He looked at the message and sighed. Not now, he thought. I can’t deal with this right now.

He pulls the last tenner out of his pocket and sigh’s again, he can’t go to the hospital. They would have taken Danton’s body there by now and they would probably be looking for him, so the hospital was the last place he felt he should be. He decides to go home.

He gets back to the area without a hitch, no police cars with blaring sirens looking for Marcus Handly, no mans rolling around in blacked out whip ready to waste him.

He see’s one of his dealer’s at the entrance to Blossom Tower flats off Park Lane.

“Yo, I just picked up ya know” said Frosty. Marcus had long forgotten his real name so he started calling him Frosty due to his constantly dry lips

“I got some blue cheese, blood. Its poe trus”

“Can ya do me a five” said Marcus.

“Naw, man. Ya killin me with these five’s , blood”

“Alright, trus me a ten till tomorrow”

“I can’t do dat” said Frosty, he touched his chin and thought for a moment “ya know what just give a five, I’ll bust one in two”

“Ya got change for a ten”

“Ah come on, blood”

Later he sat alone in his flat smoking and looking at the missed calls and messages on his phone. Azaria was at the hospital, her water broke while he was dealing with Danton. He knows where he should be but he sits still, waiting for Lewis to call. Waiting for his prize.

But it didn’t come. It was now ten o’clock and still no call from Lewis, and Azaria’s sister had stopped ringing an hour ago. Her last message read;

Wasteman...

He sat perched on the edge of the couch smoking his last splif, waiting for his phone to ring.

He sighs and stands up walking to the far corner of the room to stand next to the statue of an African warrior. Spear held firm and strong, ready for the kill. He touched the head as he would often do and said.

“Same warrior, different jungle” he sighed out the last pull of the roach and watched the smoke engulf the warrior.

His phone rang.

“What’s goin on, blood! What’s wid da long ting?” said Marcus

“Hold ya mout, blood. Remember who ya talkin to. Yeah I got ya peas, but ya need to do one more thing for me”

“What!”

“One of Danton’s man’s, Pierson, is lookin for me, yeah. Man thinks it was me that done him in. Now what I need you to do is-“

“Hold up, blood. I did da ting, just gimme my money and deal wid man ya self”

“Oi listen, blood. I told ya to hold ya mout or I’m gonna bust it like I did ya cousin E-Jay. It’s a simple ting, just peel man’s car from outside the CountryFoods shop in Newtown, and bring me his tings. He parks it there every night to go check his baby mom”

“I ain’t passed my test” said Marcus.

“Did I ask if ya passed ya test? I ain’t passed mine, I got fake license and insurance, blood. When ya get da whip, drive it to the Landor street in Nechells and burn it. He usually picks up his stash before he goes to baby mom’s. Bring me da tings and I’ll give you ya peas, simple”

He clicked off before Marcus could accept or decline the offer. With no credit to call back and no electric in his flat he did the only thing he felt he could.

He walked to Newtown. Screwdriver, wire hangar and Stanley Knife in his left pocket.

He stared at Pierson’s black BMW M3, 09 plate. He walked over to it and tried the handle, it opened. He smiled.

“Oi Wastman” said Pierson “what ya doin in my car, blood”