Rise and Fall (16 page)

Tyler hadn’t made it home in time on the night that his mother had come back to find Jerell in her house, so he couldn’t be sure of her initial reaction. He imagined that she had got the shock of her life when she had been faced with a big black man sitting at her kitchen table waiting for her. Tyler had hurried to the river where Jerell had instructed him to dump his gun. He had walked so fast he had given himself a stitch. Tyler had held his side as the hot pain had torn through him, wanting to get back home before his mum returned.  

Tyler had been too late. When he walked in, she was sitting opposite Jerell at the kitchen table. Neither of them was speaking, and Tyler's mother’s face resembled a slapped arse. 

Tyler had stood in the doorway, trying to gauge what had been said, while his mum glared at him. Jerell had obviously laid down the law. She looked as if she were shitting herself, like someone who didn’t know how to play out the situation that had presented itself. Tyler could understand that feeling; Jerell could intimidate most people. He had an air about him of someone who was not quite the full ticket.  

“I’ve agreed that Jerell can stay,” his mother had said, at last. Tyler suspected that she hadn’t been given any choice; the way his mum had spat the word ‘agreed’ confirmed his thoughts. Jerell could take the sofa, as long as he agreed to her terms. “There are a few conditions, though,” she continued, trying to save face and pretend that she had a say in the matter.

Tyler was stunned. In all his young life, Tyler had never seen his mother look so browbeaten. She looked small and pathetic as she sat there, clearly trying to suppress her anger. Tyler wondered how she felt about being on the receiving end of bullying. He couldn’t help thinking that it was revenge at its sweetest. No matter how trappy his mother could be, she didn’t stand a chance against Jerell. It was karma.

The two weeks since Jerell had moved in had followed the pattern of his first day. Watching him manipulate Tyler’s mum was fascinating. Tyler enjoyed watching her squirm. He had never seen her act in an obedient manner. She complied with everything that Jerell insisted on, without a murmur.

Jerell had given her a large wad of rolled-up notes as payment for her ‘letting’ him stay; he knew that it would keep her sweet, and he was also aware that if he lined her pockets with cash she would make herself scarce at the pub. It would be money well spent. 

“Ya get them?” Jerell had come quietly into the kitchen, making Tyler jump when he heard him speak. He dropped his glass, which rolled across the table, the last few drops of coke spilling. Tyler grabbed the paperwork that he had left on the table, next to his bag, before it could be stained. He passed it to Jerell. 

Jerell hadn’t touched Tyler since the day of the shooting. However, he watched him, staring intensely. Tyler had a feeling that it would only be a matter of time before he did something again. Tyler had his suspicions that Jerell hadn’t done anything because he didn’t want any drama while he stayed at the house, in case Tyler’s mum found out. He was playing it safe. He hated Jerell for what he had made him do, even the thought of it made him want to puke. The sooner Jerell was out of the flat the better, Tyler thought, as he grabbed a cloth from the worktop and started mopping up the spilt drink, as Jerell looked over the papers.

“Everything’s in place.” Jerell had a rare smile on his face as he folded the papers and threw them down on the now clean table. Reagan couldn’t have picked a better house from the description he had read. Jerell was happy that he would soon be back in his own place, doing his own thing.

“Reagan’s picking the keys up first thing tomorrow morning. So I want you to get your backside over to Louise’s now, so that you can give Reagan a hand to get everything packed up, and then you can take it all straight over to the new place in the morning. I’m gunna meet you there at lunchtime.”

Tyler was knackered from walking back from Louise’s with the documents, and the thought of heading straight back out again was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew he didn’t have a choice, and once again he couldn’t help thinking that anything was better than staying at home with Jerell. The sooner Tyler helped Jerell to get himself organised, the sooner Jerell would be leaving, and Tyler would have his life back again, so he happily obliged.

“Pack your things before you go, Tyler.”

“My stuff?” Tyler wondered why he would need to pack?

Jerell smiled at the confusion that had spread across the boy’s face.

“You heard me right, boy. Pack your things. You’re coming to live in the house, too. It ain’t like you gotta leave much behind. This ain’t no home, this is a fucking shithole.” Jerell looked around at the mess and dirt; the flat was a dive. In the two weeks that he had been staying, Tyler’s mum had been drunk every day. She only came home late at night to sleep, and got out of bed when the pubs opened at eleven. She was the epitome of what Jerell detested in English women. They had no self-respect. Woman like her were the reason that Jerell had so many boys like Tyler working for him. “Your mum doesn’t give two shits about you, Tyler. The only thing she cares about is where her next drink is coming from. You don’t get no schooling. What chance do you stand out there in the world? So you may as well come with me.” Jerell shrugged, as if it were the obvious solution. “Besides, I got plans for you.” 

Dread filled Tyler’s stomach on hearing Jerell’s final words. He had an awful feeling that he knew exactly what Jerell’s plans were. Jerell wasn’t doing a Dr Barnardo and whisking Tyler away from his dismal life with his mother for a better one. Jerell was thinking of himself. 

Tyler nodded dumbly. He felt petrified. If he moved in with Jerell, he would never be able to get away; Jerell would do what he liked. As Jerell looked at him, Tyler had never felt so scared.

Jerell sat bolt upright, unable to relax. He plucked the bobbles of thread that were sticking out of the cheap fabric of the worn sofa; his impatience was getting the better of him.

Today was the day that he would be leaving this dump and moving into his own place with Reagan and the boys, and he couldn’t wait to get going. Reagan and Tyler would be over at the new house now, and Jerell was eager to join them, but there was one last thing he had to do before he left, and he was going to get pleasure from doing it.

Jerell had been up for hours. He didn’t have much to pack, just a small bag of clothes. Reagan would take care of the rest. Jerell couldn’t wait to have his own space again, especially as the house they were moving into was a palace in comparison to this dive.

Jerell looked at the clock once more. The lazy cow would probably be in her bed for at least another hour, sleeping off the copious amounts of alcohol she had drunk last night. He had heard her come in just after one in the morning, crashing around downstairs like a fucking bull in a china shop. She wasn’t exactly light on her feet at the best of times, but when she was half-cut she was like a bloody dancing rhinoceros. 

Jerell wasn’t prepared to wait any longer for her to finally grace him with her presence. 

He was feeling twitchy and decided he would go to her. He climbed the stairs two at a time, his patience well and truly gone and his temper building as he burst open the door and stormed into the bedroom.

The stench of the stagnant room, sour body odour mixed with the overpowering smell of alcohol, filled his nostrils, making him retch. If the smell alone wasn’t bad enough, the sight before him was worse. He could just about make out, as the curtains were still drawn and the room was in almost total darkness, her silhouette on the bed. She was face down, sprawled like a starfish across the bed sheets, wearing nothing but her knickers, dirty and hung-over.

“Get up,” Jerell ordered, waking her instantly. He wondered if she even knew that her son had packed up his things and left last night, while she was out getting off her face. She was a poor excuse of a woman, and the longer he stood here looking at the state of her the more he wanted to kick the living shit out of her. He had so much pent up anger and frustration from just sitting around the past few weeks that he could have kicked her from here to Brighton.

“What the fuck’s going on?” Tyler’s mum was startled by her rude awakening. Jerell loomed at the foot of the bed, she could just about make out his forehead, wrinkled with anger, as he stared back at her. Her head pounded from the shots she had downed last night at the pub. She tried to get herself together but confusion made her head bang even louder. She wanted to sort whatever it was out as quickly as possible, so that she could get some more shut eye.

“I said, get up,” Jerell’s voice was quieter, more controlled, than before. But his tone spoke volumes, his calmness unnerving.

Even putting one foot in front of the other this morning would be a challenge, she thought, as she struggled to sit up, feeling queasier with every movement. As she moved her legs slowly over the side of the bed, and tried to fight back the urge to vomit as the room started swaying, she thought that she couldn’t be arsed with this crap; if Jerell hadn’t woken her up, she could have happily stayed in bed for at least another few hours.

But Jerell had no tolerance left. As he watched her pathetic attempts to gain his sympathy he shook his head at the woman, disgusted with the state that she allowed herself to get into. Unable to contain himself any longer he launched himself at her, grabbing a fistful of her greasy hair as he pulled her out of the room, towards the stairway.

“What the fuck are you doing, Jerell?” she screamed, she winced in pain as she felt a massive chunk of hair being torn from her scalp.

“I’m doing what I’ve wanted to do since the first minute I set eyes on you.” Jerell released his grip from her hair, giving her a few seconds of relief from the pain, before he kicked her in the stomach. Losing her balance, she toppled down the stairs, her plump body bouncing off each step as she desperately tried to grab hold of the banister, hoping that it would break her fall. As she landed in a heap on the floor at the bottom of the stairway, her head was throbbing in pain and her vision was fuzzy. She tried to get up. That kick had been hard, and she felt like she had had the wind knocked out of her. Even with her blurred vision, she could just about make out Jerell’s dark towering figure coming towards her as he made his way slowly down the stairs. She groaned in pain, as he grabbed her by her arm and dragged her into the lounge. Using all his strength, as she went limp with fear, he threw her across the room, where she landed against the coffee table. 

A sharp pain seared through her right foot, which was twisted at a funny angle, and she knew straight away that it was broken. The pain was excruciating.

Jerell prodded her stomach with his boot, enjoying the scared expression that flashed across her face as she wondered what he was going to do to her next. He looked down at her; if she wasn’t such a horrible cunt she would be pitiful, he thought. Her pleading looks and the pathetic whimpering were doing nothing but agitating him even more.

“You women are all the same. Why you choose to have a child if you can’t be bothered to look after it?” Jerell shook his head in anger at the woman in front of him, as she shook with fear. She was wearing nothing but grimy-looking knickers, and the rolls of fat that rippled around her stomach and her thighs wobbled as she trembled. She didn’t try to cover up her large saggy breasts as she lay there like a lump of lard. The sight of her was making him feel sick. This woman wasn’t capable of looking after herself, let alone a kid. Jerell’s own mother had upped and left him when he was born; she had walked out on him and never contacted him since. Even though he had been happy enough being raised by his grandma, he had grown to despise women because of what his mum had done. Especially those that thought that they could just pop kids out and let someone else clean up their mess.

“Please, Jerell; I don’t know what I’ve supposed to have done. If you can just tell me, then maybe we can sort out whatever this is about.” She spoke quickly, hoping that her words would be enough to resolve whatever the issue was that had caused him to react this way. There had to have been some kind of a misunderstanding, she thought, as she had done absolutely nothing wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact, she had gone out of her way for him and had given him a roof over his head, and now here he was acting like a fucking animal towards her, and she couldn’t for the life of her fathom out why.

“Is it Tyler? Cos if he’s done anything wrong, I’ll kick his scrawny little arse, I promise you, Jerell. That kid can be a right little shit sometimes, trust me I bloody know.” 

Jerell sat in a chair, watching her hoist herself into a sitting position, positioning herself so that she was now leaning her back against the front of the sofa. 

His silence, as he looked at her, was more unnerving to her than his violent outburst. 

Finally, he spoke. “Oh, Tyler is a little shit alright,” he said, nodding in agreement. “All dat boy do is run his mouth around the place telling stories; he tell so many lies I don’t know if he is coming or going. Shit, I don’t tink he know himself if he is coming or going.” Jerell continued to speak quietly, as the woman sat with blood trickling down her forehead, from the cut above her eye that was the result of her crashing against the coffee table. Jerell continued: “He steals, he lies, he don’t get no schooling.” 

Jerell was telling her what she herself, knew better than anyone, and she wondered what the kid had said or done to cause this amount of trouble for her; when she got her hands on him she was going to teach him some fucking respect.

“He don’t wash, you know? He go round da place stinking, he smell so bad the other kids don’t want to sit next to him, you know dat?” As Jerell reeled off a long list of Tyler’s bad traits, his anger gathered speed with each word. “You hear what I saying?” Jerell asked, his calmness fading as he spoke, his voice getting louder.

Tyler’s mum nodded in agreement, even though she barely comprehended his words; she was just gauging his expression and hearing his angry tone. She was terrified about what else he would do to her. Whatever Tyler had done, the boy was going to get a slap when she got hold of him. Jerell could say what he wanted about the boy: it was all true, every word of it. Tyler was a little shit, she could vouch for that, but she still didn’t know what this was about.