Chapter 6 Darius
Darius
I’m not blind to the violent poverty crippling Dog City.
I live it and breathe it on a daily basis.
Driving through the streets, it’s nothing new to me to see junkies loitering in shop doorways and kids running free, parents not knowing what their offspring are doing or where they are, nor giving a shit.
I learned at an early age where I belong, and to survive, you have to step up and truly understand it’s a dog-eat-dog world. Tariq’s the one who dreams of riches and a big house. His imagination is essentially a rapper’s music video. The cars, women, bling, the lot.
I’ve driven down Gold Mile plenty of times, but I’ve never been on the other side of the gates. Clare’s house is a mansion, filled with everything Tar and I could never afford. She has it all yet acts like she has nothing.
Pulling up outside Tariq’s house, I say, “Before we deal with last night, I need to know the rich bitch isn’t going to cause trouble for us.”
His reaction is to laugh, and it sets me on edge, irritating me to no end.
He holds his hand out flat and says, “She’s right where I want her. Putty.”
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head and wait for him to haul his ass out of my car. He slams the door after him and leans on the window ledge.
“What went down between you and Amelia last night?”
“Nothing. Unlike you, I’m able to control my dick. Give me an hour and we’ll regroup and end these Six-Nighters assholes.”
He laughs, and I pull away as he walks up his front path.
My house is only four houses up and I park on my drive and take pride in the neatly trimmed front lawn and the vibrantly colored flowers lining the borders around the front of the house.
The only thing my Ma loves more than us kids is her garden.
We’re the only one on the street with green grass as she waters it morning and night without fail.
Everyone else’s are burnt and could do with being mowed.
Not many people give a shit about this place.
Letting myself into the house, my grandma is perched in her armchair watching the latest episode of her soap opera she loves. My two kid brothers are sat up the small table eating their cereal and my mom storms through from the utility room, a basket of laundry on her hip and a scowl on her face.
Her mood is nothing new. She hates it when I stay out all night.
It’s common around these parts, that when your boy doesn’t make it home to his own bed, it’s because he’s not making it home ever again.
There are at least two to three mothers who have to bury their sons every week but what my mom doesn’t realise, I’m alive today because I know how to survive.
I’m the one the mothers curse for ending their son’s lives.
To make it, there aren’t any boundaries I won’t cross.
“A phone call would’ve been nice,” she mutters, dumping the laundry basket on the end of the couch.
“I was a little busy.”
I nab a piece of toast from Connor’s plate and chuckle when he tries to slap my hand away.
“We’re running out of groceries.”
Digging into my back pocket, I pull out the cash she needs to fill the cupboards and her mood instantly lifts.
As usual. She’s had a hard life, I don’t blame her for how she is, but sometimes I wish she would just take responsibility for the lives she created, instead of relying on me or boyfriends she brings around, telling us they’re her forever man, when in reality, they’re nothing but temporary fixtures who beat on her and treat her like shit.
Now I’m older, it hasn’t been so bad because the so-called grown ass men who walk through the door know or learn real quick of my reputation.
Recently, my Ma is content to rely on me to provide for the house and for my brothers, who didn’t ask to be born into this life. I do everything I can to make sure they have food on the table three times a day, nice clothes on their backs and heat in the house come winter.
Disappearing into the bathroom, I turn the shower on and undress, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor. Stepping under the spray, I drop my head and let the hot water run down my back.
Now I’m alone, I allow myself to think of Amelia.
I didn’t show it, but she was the hottest thing I had ever seen when she stepped out of the club last night.
Her slick body covered with that black dress and those killer heels had me having to remind myself just to breathe.
I knew she’d be with Clare when Tariq made me drive over to Bar Ten.
If it wasn’t for the Six-Nighters, I’d have happily sat with a Hennessy in the club watching her dance.
Yet it was when we were at Clare’s house that I grew to like her a little more than I should.
It took one conversation to see she’s nothing like I first imagined.
There’s depth to her and for once, no judgement to who I am compared to her.
Closing my eyes, I remember her lying on the couch before I draped a blanket over her, her legs looked as smooth as silk, going on for miles.
Her hair just as soft as I swept it out of her face.
And her lips, slightly parted, lipstick faded, plump as fuck.
I want inside her but for now, I settle with taking my dick in hand and stroking, picturing her on her knees, scuffing her smooth skin.
My strokes become harder and faster as I imagine her looking up at me as she takes my dick in her mouth.
Her eyes beginning to water as I hit her gag reflex.
Oh fuck. She might be wealthy pussy, but after seeing her last night, she’s pussy I want inside of.
Enough to make me come under the shower like a fucking boy scout shooting my load for the first time.
I’m going to get to know Amelia Haynes, and nothing is going to get in my way.
Heading out, I stand on the porch and light a cigarette as I look up and down the street.
It’s pretty quiet for a Sunday and I walk the short distance down to Tariq’s house.
The streets to someone like Amelia are a scary place but to me, it’s home.
I own these streets with my boys, and nothing scares me.
We’re the ones to fear. We’re the ones who hold onto the streets.
Jermaine sits on Tar’s porch, feet kicked up on an old crate and a bottle of beer in hand. A joint in the other.
“Is everyone here?” I ask him, heading up the steps.
He nods. His eyes are pinched and there’s a tic in his jaw.
“What’s up with you?”
“Tariq. I can’t listen to him bang on about his piece of ass any longer. I’m ready to blow my brains out, considering you wouldn’t be happy if I blew his out.”
Snorting, I slap him on the shoulder and say, “Come on, it’s time for business.”
I walk inside and the smell of pot is so strong it makes my eyes water. I lean against the stair banister and cross my arms over my chest. Frankie and Blue aren’t here. Rodrigo, Daryl, and Eddie take up the couch and Carl and Ricky are sat in the chairs.
“Tar was telling us how you ran into a couple of Six-Nighters dealing on our turf.”
Looking to Tar, I’m surprised he’s said anything. He’s more interested in his phone. He’s certainly not paying attention to me.
Crossing the room, I snatch it out of his grip and turn it off, tossing it on the table. He doesn’t say a word and leans back on the couch.
“I put Blue and Frankie on that block, where the hell were they? The Six-Nighters were dealing out in the open, not giving a shit who saw.”
Sighing, everyone in the room has nothing to say as usual and I light another smoke.
“Is someone gonna get on the phone or do I have to call them myself?” I bark out and Tar is quick to grab his phone and get on it.
“When do you want to hit them?” Daryl asks.
“Tonight. Regardless of where Blue and Frankie are, they were dealing on our streets. We’ll hit the bar they hang around. Call everyone, we’re showing up in force.”
The atmosphere turns from tense to amped up. Every guy here has been through Hell in their own ways, and none of them are afraid to fight. It’s all we know and the crew I’ve built are strong.
“Frankie’s in the hospital. They done him over bad. Blue’s with him,” Tariq informs me, still on the phone.
“Tell him to stay with Frankie and keep us updated.”
He relays the message, and I turn to the guys who stand at my side in every situation.
“We roll out as soon as it’s dark.”
Outside, I drop my ass on the swing seat and finish my cigarette. Tariq slips out, already on the phone with his girl.
I debate whether to leave when it seems he doesn’t have any intentions of ending the call any time soon but then she must have to go because he drops down beside me.
“You’re different with this girl,” I say, adding, “You think it can work between you being from different worlds?”
Tariq shrugs, answering, “She’s mine for now.”
“When are you next seeing her?”
He laughs and it rattles me.
“You asking cause you actually care or because her friend was looking hot as fuck last night?”
“I…” I don’t know how to answer.
Amelia was nothing like I first judged her to be.
“Did something happen last night?”
“Nah, we just talked and then she fell asleep.”
“You talked?”
“Yes, asshole. Tell me what you know about her.”
“I don’t know much. I’ve seen her a few times, I don’t think she likes me much. Clare said she’s single, but the guys at their school all want a piece of her.”
I bet they do.
I do too.
“Let me know when you next see Clare.”
“I don’t think you’ll get far with her, she pretty much looks down her nose at us.”