King of the Road by Charlie Williams

Author:Charlie Williams [Williams, Charlie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Humour
ISBN: 9781935597490
Google: ut3AYgEACAAJ
Amazon: 1935597493
Goodreads: 10899591
Publisher: AmazonEncore
Published: 2011-07-12T05:00:00+00:00

11

I hadn’t been over Bonehill way in fucking yonks. Not to stop anyhow. Being perched just across the river it were somewhere you went past on your way to Norbert Green. And let me tell you as an expert on local security matters—Norbert Green is a place best avoided.

Bonehill flats was three big blocks sticking skyward like massive fag lighters. Fifteen or so storeys apiece, and Don lived atop the middle un. I went in and walked straight past the lift. It were another one o’ them boxy uns, like at the Wossname Centre. I went up the stair.

Five minutes later I’m ringing the bell.

‘Ah, just the man,’ says Don, opening up. ‘All right, Blakey.’

‘All right, Don,’ I says, handing him the four-pack.

‘Nice one, Blakey. Lift bust again is it?’

‘Eh? I dunno. Why?’

‘Sweatin’ like a slag, you is. Come on.’

I followed him into the flat. They was nice flats, these uns, with proper hallways and that. You could hear voices coming out of the living room, and that’s where we went. He stopped in the doorway and says: ‘Lads, here’s Blakey,’ then stepped aside to reveal us.

‘All right, lads,’ I says.

‘All right, Blakey,’ one or two of em says. Others just grunted, and one didn’t even look up. There was five of em in total, seven including meself and Don.

‘Blakey,’ says Don, waving at the table. ‘You knows Mike and Tony.’

‘Aye,’ I says. ‘And Pete.’

‘All right, Blake,’ says Pete.

‘All right, Pete.’

‘All right, Blake.’

‘All right, Blake.’

‘All right, Mike and Tony.’

‘An’ these two lads here is Max and Tommo,’ Don says, pointing at em. One of em was the one who hadn’t looked up just now. He glanced at us this time and nodded a bit. The other didn’t though. He didn’t look happy. Neither of em did.

‘Woss wrong with them?’ I says all quiet to Don.

Don covered his mouth and goes: ‘They ain’t from local.’

‘Ah, right.’

‘Anyway, Blakey, you sit here. Tony, deal him in. Hoy,’ he shouts kitchenward. ‘Giz some more beer, eh.’

Tony dealt a hand. ‘So woss we playin’?’ I says, picking up me five cards.

Max and Tommo snorted and glanced at each other. I didn’t like that. But I’d let em off this once, them being Don’s mates.

‘Poker,’ says Pete. ‘You know how to play?’

‘Fuck off,’ I says. ‘Course I does.’

It went quiet for a bit, fellers looking at cards and scratching swedes. I kept an eye open and no one else seemed to be glancing nor snorting, which was all right. ‘Here,’ goes Mike. ‘D’you hear about Berty Fontana?’

‘Berty who?’ says Tony.

‘Fontana.’

‘I knows him, I think.’ Tony scratched his hairy chin, looking at the ceiling. ‘Who’s he?’

‘You know. Bee Hive.’

‘Oh aye?’ I says.

‘Hoy,’ shouts Don again at the kitchen, making us jump. ‘Where’s the fuckin’ beer?’

‘S’all right, Don,’ I says, reaching for the four pack I’d gave him. ‘I’ll have one o’ these.’

‘No, Blake, we got a keg in. Max and Tommo brung it in from the big city. Ain’t that right, lads?’

One of em shrugged.

‘Here, Don,’ I says.

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