California: a Novella by Ray Banks

Author:Ray Banks [Banks, Ray]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, Hard-Boiled, Thrillers & Suspense, Crime, 90 Minutes (44-64 Pages), Literature & Fiction, Crime Fiction
ISBN: 9781907869075
Google: 9zf1TgEACAAJ
Amazon: B006NY2YH4
Publisher: Five Leaves Publications
Published: 2011-06-14T12:00:00+00:00

6

Whisky and beer, the whisky nicked, the beer out of code. Both cheap and nasty, the kind of booze people drank when they all they cared about was getting off their face. Shug had tried to remember Captain Dollar’s rules, chief of which was don’t get pissed, but if he didn’t drink, he wouldn’t be able to leave. He nursed his can. He tipped the whiskey to his lips, already cracked and burning, and he watched Len and Golly knock back the booze like someone was going to take it off them.

That wasn’t new. The boys had always liked a drink. They were only human.

But it wasn’t just the booze now, was it? There was something else going on, something that had bought the new telly, the array of consoles under it, the DVDs and Blu-Rays scattered on the lino by the games. This was something that meant quick money, and because Len was stunted, he’d spent it just as quickly. In the background, a mini hi-fi played west coast rap. Same shite he’d listened to when he was a kid.

“So what you been doing with yourselves all this time?” said Shug.

“Business,” said Len.

“Ah, right y’are. Business.”

Len was leaning back in a gaming chair, rocking slightly with a half pint of whisky held in both hands. Staring at Shug like he was ready for anything. “Once you got took, Shugs, we had to have a word with ourselves, ken what I mean?”

“I see.”

“Robberies weren’t the way to go, were they, Gol?”

Golly shook his head, obscured by a cloud of weed smoke. He made a series of little coughing noises, then added to the cloud by exhaling. “Too much risk.”

“No risk for you,” said Shug.

“Ah now –“

“You were the driver. You weren’t in there.”

“Hey, still risky, Shug.” Golly sniffed. “Something happens to youse two, I’m a sitting duck, aren’t I?”

“Exactly,” said Len.

“So,” said Shug.

“So we decided to pool our resources, didn’t we?”

“Aye.”

“And do what?” said Shug, even though he knew the answer. He gestured to the telly. “You a fence now?”

Len laughed. “Do I look like a fuckin’ fence?”

“Well, you don’t look much like a fuckin’ dealer, if that’s what you’re building up to.”

The laugh disappeared into a cleared throat. Golly blew more smoke.

“I am, though.” A quick spasm of irritation as Len caught the whine in his own voice, then: “I am a fuckin’ dealer. Biggest one in the surrounding.”

“Tack.”

“Naw, not just. Tack. Coke. Dope. Crack.”

“Give the dog a bone,” said Shug.

Golly giggled. He waved a hand through the smoke, reached for his Belgian lager. Hummed to himself.

“Take the piss if you want,” said Len. “We’ve got it fuckin’ made here.”

“Oh aye, it looks it. Fuckin’ Scarface, this, eh? Living the high life.”

“Too right,” said Golly. He finished his lager and tossed the can. Pulled another from the plastic. “Got it made, Shugs. You want in –“

“There’s money,” said Len.

“Aye, I bet there is.”

“Fuckin’ serious, man. Constant. Don’t have to go out to get it, neither. It comes in here.”

“You deal from here.

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