Rise and Fall (11 page)

In that split second, the situation had got out of hand and Jerell had decided to get in there before the fat man had a chance to shoot. Only that other guy, the boss man, had got in between them. He had come from nowhere; stupidly, he had launched himself from behind Jerell, into the middle of all the drama; the bloke tried to calm the fat man down, and consequently because of all the commotion and intensity of the situation, Jerell had panicked and shot. The boss man had taken the bullet.

“Rhys, tell Reagan he has to go to Louise’s. I’ll make contact soon. Tell him to stay there till I speak to him. Tell him none of da gear is to be shifted until I give da word. Everything is at a stand-still until I give the say so. We are all in a whole world of shit if ‘dem police find anything in the flat and come searching for me.” Jerell was thinking fast. Although he had no qualms about shooting, stabbing, fighting or torturing, he was a smart man and gunning someone down on his doorstep had not been a clever move; he regretted his actions. Impulse had taken over, and it was a case of do or die. He had done what came naturally to him and reacted, and in the split second that the fat man had come towards him with the gun, Jerell had acted on instinct and pressed the trigger.

Jerell shooed Rhys and the other boys out the way of his car then pulled out of the garage. Tyler watched the boys run to do Jerell’s bidding, wishing that he was with them instead of in this car, with this man. Jerell hadn’t spoken a word to the boy since the men had interrupted them, and Tyler felt sick thinking about what he had been forced to do to Jerell, but more than that he was frightened of what Jerell might do next. 

Tyler hadn’t really understood what Jerell was doing when he had stood in front of him and started to unbuckle his black leather belt; up until then, Tyler had believed that Jerell would have a go at him for making up lies but ultimately he wouldn’t be ousted from the group. 

Tyler had watched Jerell un-tuck his shirt then undo the big silver buckle on his belt. Tyler was puzzled and had thought that perhaps Jerell would whip him with it, to teach him a lesson for the lie that he had been accused of telling. He remembered the stories Jerell had told about how he had been whipped as a boy back in Jamaica. 

But he hadn’t whipped him; instead, Jerell had told Tyler to take his penis out of his pants and hold it. Tyler had laughed a nervous laugh, thinking it was a sick joke, or a test maybe; it hadn’t been until Jerell had then grabbed him so hard by his hair and tugged it until it felt like he was lifted a foot in the air, a hot pain searing through him, that it finally dawned on Tyler what was happening. 

Jerell forced Tyler to put his penis in his mouth and to run his tongue up and down it, which had made Tyler gag. He had been disgusted by the taste, the smell… it was only because he had been petrified beyond belief, that he had managed not to vomit. 

If those men hadn’t barged in, he didn’t know what Jerell would have done next. Tyler knew that it had been the men in that posh motor who had been watching the flat earlier, it was too much of a coincidence, but at this moment in time, holed up in Jerell’s car with him looking like the anti-Christ, Tyler wasn’t in any hurry to say so. 

As Jerell drove, Tyler stared out of the window, tears blurring his vision. He wanted what had happened to have been a story. After all, this was Jerell Morgan; everyone knew he could have his pick of women. But Jerell was into little boys! Tyler guessed that there couldn’t be many people other than himself who knew Jerell’s dirty little secret. He wondered what lengths Jerell would go to in order to keep his filthy acts concealed. 

But no one would believe what Jerell had done to Tyler, especially after all the stories he had told. His lying had been his downfall. Besides, Tyler suspected that if he even breathed a word of what had happened to another soul, Jerell would kill him. Tyler gulped at the thought. His head was swarming with all sorts of feelings; he wanted to get what Jerell had made him do out of his head but it was impossible. Looking down at his hands, he tried to stop them trembling. He may have been scared shitless earlier, but he was just realising that maybe the really scary stuff was yet to come. What was Jerell going to do now?

After a couple of minutes of silence and after Jerell had driven around aimlessly in circles, he punched the steering wheel. 

“Fuck’s sake,” he shouted in frustration, making Tyler jump with fright. Everything was fucked up. The worst-case scenario was that he would be pulled in for this and Jerell had no intention of doing time if he could help it. Prison wasn’t for him. If he was lucky enough to get away with this, he would have to avoid the flat until he knew that it was okay to go back there. He and Reagan would have to stop shifting their gear for a while and lie low. Jerell had a feeling that this mess would cost him a small fortune. As he hit the steering wheel, the car swerved. Jerell drove on in anger. 

Who the fuck had those men been? He had recognised them but couldn’t remember from where. Jerell had many enemies, but until today had been fortunate enough not to be on the receiving end of anybody that he had crossed. He had made a name for himself now, and those fuckers had a nerve if they thought they were a match for him. He had a feeling that perhaps Tyler had in fact been right when he had said that the flat was being watched. It was too much of a coincidence, otherwise. The boy was vigilant, at least.

“Where you live?” Jerell asked the boy sitting so quietly beside him. Tyler looked small and vulnerable huddled up in the passenger seat.

Relieved that Jerell was going to take him home, Tyler told him his address. It was only a few streets away. Tyler had never thought he would see the day that he would want to go home; not that he could tell his mum what had happened to him, but at least he would be safe from this perverted lunatic.

“Who live there with you?” Jerell racked his brain to think of what he could do; where he could go. 

Tyler had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going. He said: “Just my mum… but she’s a fruit loop, Jerell, if we go back there she’ll call the old bill on us, honest she will. She’s always threatening to have the pigs come and take me away.” Tyler hoped that the thought of his mum involving the police would be enough of a deterrent to stop Jerell from staying there. It wasn’t. Jerell knew what sort of a mother Tyler had at home; the same kind that most of the kids that worked for him had. It was Jerell’s view that it was no wonder these kids had no goals in their lives other than to run drugs for some big man like himself, when their useless mothers had the morals of alley cats and no care for their children’s whereabouts. These kids weren’t shown right from wrong; they were dragged up into a life of abuse and neglect. Often they went home to violent fathers or drunken mothers. No wonder England was going down the pan. The way things were in this country was the reason he had so many boys working for him; it was all in his favour. If Tyler thought that his mother was going to stop him, he had another think coming. English people were lazy scum, as far as Jerell was concerned, and Tyler’s mother wouldn’t be a match for him. He had heard Tyler go on about his mother to the others enough to know that she was not exactly what you would call a decent role model. Tyler was never at school, he was constantly hanging around Reagan’s flat, unbeknown to his mother as she practically lived at her local pub he recalled. He remembered the conversations that he had overheard Tyler having with the other boys when they slagged off their families, trying to out-do each other with stories of the crap they had to put up with from their parents, each story more shocking than the last. Despite the fact that the boy was clearly scared of his mother, Jerell had a feeling that the woman would be putty in his hands. If she was anything like he thought, money would do the talking and Jerell would be able to persuade her around to his way of thinking with a little bundle of cash for her ‘assistance’. He only needed a couple of days, maybe a week at the most; he needed somewhere to stay where no-one would come looking for him. It would drive him mad sitting around, but if it kept him off the scene for a while, and kept his arse out of prison, then he would just have to grit his teeth and get on with it.

“We’re going to go and pay your mum a visit, boy.” Jerell continued to drive in the direction of the boy’s flat, as Tyler fought back the urge to cry once more. He had been totally out of his depth before, and now he had been left with no choice but to bring this psychopath into his home. His mum was going to kill him.

***

Tyler took out his key, struggling to turn it in the lock as his hands were still shaking; he was aware of Jerell towering over him. Tyler finally managed to open the door. He prayed that his mum wouldn’t be home.

Letting them both into the flat, Tyler was relieved to see that his mother’s bag wasn’t on the kitchen table where she normally dumped it when she was at home. Thank God she was still out, he thought.

Following Tyler into the kitchenette, Jerell looked around in disgust. What a shithole. He had seen a few hovels, but this place really was rank. There were food and drink stains down the walls and breadcrumbs and butter smears on the worktops. Next to the sink was an overflowing ashtray. A litter tray sat in a corner of the room, confirming that the smell that had hit him on entering the flat had been a combination of fermenting cat shit and piss. 

Sitting at a grease-covered table, Jerell despaired; the boy’s home was barely a step up from a squat. How people managed to live in such squalor was beyond him. No matter how poor people were, there was no excuse. Jerell felt dirty.

“I think we might have some orange juice somewhere,” Tyler said, trying to fill the awkward silence, as he opened the fridge and searched the shelves for something to drink.

He was aware of what Jerell must be thinking. He could see by the way that Jerell was turning his nose up in disgust as he looked around that he was judging him.

Tyler’s mother didn’t give a shit about the flat; she never had. Most of her life was spent in pubs; drinking was her favourite pastime, and she often didn’t come home until she was ready to pass out. She treated the place like a doss house. It was somewhere to lay her head at the end of the night. When she dragged herself from her bed, she would watch a bit of telly while she smoked herself silly and then fuck off out for the rest of the day, leaving Tyler, if he was at home, to fend for himself. 

“Do you want a drink?” Tyler managed to locate a carton of juice that had been shoved to the back of the bottom shelf. He felt uncomfortable that they were alone in the quiet flat.

Jerell looked into the sink; a film had formed on the stagnant water in there. Shaking his head, he decided against the juice.

“Where’s your mother at?” Jerell asked.

Not wanting Jerell to get the impression that they would be alone for any length of time, Tyler did what he always had done best and lied. His mum was probably at the pub and wouldn’t be back until late, closing time, he expected, but he didn’t want Jerell to know that. He couldn’t risk Jerell getting any ideas about a repeat performance of earlier. Pushing the disgusting visions of Jerell’s cock out of his mind, Tyler said: “She’s probably over at one of the neighbour’s flats; she should be back in a minute.” He spoke as convincingly as he could and hoped that Jerell believed him. 

As lonely as Tyler had often been in the flat, he preferred that to the times when his mother stayed at home, as all she seemed to do was shout and scream at him. She would also get him to run about fetching her drinks and her lighter. He preferred her absence to her presence.

Tyler had two older sisters, but they had both moved out years ago. He was envious that they had managed to escape this existence as soon as they had had the opportunity. They had found themselves boyfriends and had gone off to start their own lives, as far away as possible. Neither visited, and the only time they phoned was on Christmas morning: even then, they had nothing much to say. Their mother accused them both of abandoning her. Tyler wasn’t surprised that they kept away; his mum constantly slagged them off for having the audacity to ‘desert’ her. She harped on about it so much that Tyler had stopped listening. It wasn’t just his sisters: she rarely had a good word to say about anyone. 

Jerell drummed his fingers. He was not impressed that he would have to live in this squalor for the foreseeable future, but needs must. He would have to get on with it, it was only a temporary arrangement and lying low here was better than the alternative of chancing capture by the police.

“I want you to do something for me,” Jerell said to Tyler, as he indicated to the boy to sit next to him.

Tyler felt sick; if Jerell touched him he would throw up. His legs were jelly, as he crossed the room and took a seat.

“I need you to get rid of my gun, Tyler.” 

Tyler was relieved that was all he wanted.

Thinking of the old bill had reminded Jerell that he needed to ditch his gun; this one could be linked with the shooting. Jerell didn’t want to take any chances of being caught with it in his possession. He figured he wouldn’t need a weapon for a while, not while he was here with Tyler and his mother, he would more than be capable of looking after himself. He also had another gun that he kept in a safe at Louise’s place.

“You’ll take the gun down to the river and get rid of it,” Jerell said.

Tyler was happy to do so, getting away from Jerell would be the best thing that could happen. 

Taking a T-shirt from the clothes horse beside the kitchen table, Jerell wrapped it tightly around the gun. “You got a rucksack?” he asked the boy. 

Tyler went to the cupboard under the stairs where his mum often shoved all their shoes and coats and took out a small rucksack.

Coming back into the room, Tyler handed Jerell the rucksack. He had left his bike at Reagan’s, but Tyler didn’t mind walking down to the river, it would take longer to get there and back on foot, and the longer he took, the less time he would have to spend here alone with Jerell. Tyler was glad of the chance to get away from the man.