Free The Dirty South by Alex Wheatle Page A

laying in a curled-up position on the concrete. Blood was spilling from the top of her head. I paused, just to check if she was breathing. She was. Fuck knows what Noel done to her but I’ll bet Ann Sheridan won’t fuck with Brixtonian shottas again.
    â€˜Get your motherfucking black ass in the car!’ Noel screamed again.
    The ride home was quiet with both Noel and myself trying to get our breath back. We looked at each other, well satisfied. I couldn’t help but grin. It’s only when we reached Tulse Hill when Noel said something. ‘Shizzle me nizzle, Dennis! You proper dealt with that African. Banged him up neatly. To be honest, I didn’t know you had it in you, but shit! You’re up in my ratings!’
    The words were sweet music to my ears but I didn’t enjoy the moment for too long ’cos I was playing in my mind what had just happened. ‘We were kinda reckless,’ I said. ‘Next time we do shit like that we’re both gonna be wearing gloves. Did she scratch you or anything, Noel?’
    â€˜No,’ he answered. ‘She just begged me for mercy but I just booted the bitch in her head.’
    â€˜Did you notice anybody looking down from the balconies?’
    â€˜I dunno. I wasn’t really looking up.’
    â€˜Next time,’ I said. ‘If we do a banging again then we’ll pull on balaclavas. I don’t want no pussy to identify us.’
    Noel nodded.
    When Noel dropped me off outside my home that night he stepped out of the car and hugged me tight. He’d never done that before. ‘Look after yourself, bruv,’ he said.
    â€˜Yeah, and you look after your mad self too.’
    I went to my bed that night feeling as content with myself as I could remember. I had proved myself in front of Noel and he wouldn’t dare call me a spoilt little rich kid again. In a corner of my mind there was this little picture of Paps, Mum and Granny wagging their fingers saying we didn’t grow you like that… But it couldn’t spoil the feeling I had, the feeling of being a
badman
.

Chapter Eight
A NEW DEAL
    I t was a week after Ann and the African brother got a banging. I was still vibing in the glow of my badman success as Noel drove me and his latest chick, Priscilla Lane, to Red Eyes’ place. Biggie was rapping on the car stereo and Priscilla was in the back seat bopping her head and chewing gum. She was a typical ghetto chick, mobile phone stuck to her ear, greasy kiss curls running down her cheeks, some piece of jewellery stuck in her nose and a council estate full of attitude…
    â€˜Got the dollars, Dennis?’ Noel asked.
    â€˜Of course, bruv,’ I replied. ‘What do you take me for?’
    â€˜We’re buying four oz you know, bruv. Not the usual two.’
    â€˜Yeah, I’m on that. Drive on, James.’
    Noel couldn’t drive on because as he was just about to turn into Myatts Fields North estate, we found the familiar sight of blue and white tape all over the place and the area was polluted with Feds with their yellow Day-Glo tops.
    â€˜Must have been a shooting,’ said Priscilla. ‘There’s bare shootings in this estate. I wonder who got merked this time?’
    â€˜Tell us something we don’t know,’ said Noel. ‘Man! You’re a stupid bitch sometimes. Always saying the obvious.’
    â€˜Who you talking to like that, you ugly mother?’
    â€˜You’re calling me ugly?’ Noel challenged. Him and Priscilla were always like this. ‘Why do you think that when you’re sitting in my ride it’s the back seat for you?’ Noel went on. ‘And you didn’t have to come. I already done said Friday night is a business night.’
    â€˜I wanted to come for the drive, innit,’ returned Priscilla. ‘And can we stop over for a Kentucky when you done your business.’
    â€˜I might do if you’re paying. I ain’t your