No Going Back by Casey Kelleher (black male authors TXT) 📗

on good account from a mutual acquaintance in Wandsworth nick that Jay-Jay Andrews could more than handle himself, which is why they had offered the bloke a job when he’d got out in the first place. The man fought like an animal when he needed to, they’d been told. Though looking at him now, Russ could see that he ate like one too. ‘You look as if you haven’t eaten all week.’

‘And?!’ Jay-Jay said, confirming that Russ had hit the nail on the head as he greedily swallowed down the mouthful of his food. Glaring at Russ now.

He just wanted Russ to pay him and fuck off so that he could finish his meal in peace. He’d spent the past ten days fending for himself and scouring in the bins behind the local parade of shops for anything remotely edible. And he’d found a few decent morsels. One man’s rubbish is another man’s treasure and all that. But this was the first real bit of decent grub he’d had since he’d got out of prison. He wanted to savour it.

‘You sorted it then?’ Russ asked, referring to the first job that they’d sent Jay-Jay on.

Jay-Jay opened his mouth, ready to fill Russ in on the shitshow that had been last night.

The victim sprawled out on the ground. The knife dropped on the floor. Only he knew that once he told Russ about last night’s colossal fuck-up, and how quickly everything had seemed to escalate completely out of control, he could kiss goodbye to the money they’d promise him, and he’d have no work with them in the future.

‘What?’ Russ said. Narrowing his eyes then, and feigning ignorance. Knowing full well that something was up. ‘Please tell me you didn’t fuck it up. Because between us, mate, I heard things got a bit heavy-handed.’

‘Heavy-handed?’ Jay-Jay said feigning ignorance, deciding to keep his mouth shut and not incriminate himself. He wondered what exactly it was Russ claimed to know.

Jay-Jay was depending on this money so that he could eat properly over the next few days. He wanted to buy some decent bedding too. He was fed up with sleeping on some old piss-stained sleeping bag on the freezing cold floor of the derelict house he was squatting in. This was the price he paid for wanting to stay off the grid. For not taking the handouts offered to him when he’d got out. For not opting for assisted housing and benefits. He’d declined the proposal of being put up in a hostel, knowing that if he did, he’d be beholden to the system. Depending on state benefits and handouts while having some do-gooder case worker keeping tabs on him. But Jay-Jay didn’t want to be in debt to anyone. He wanted to earn his own way and be his own man. This gig with the Boland brothers might just be the making of him. He couldn’t fuck it up.

‘All you need to know is that it’s done. I sorted it,’ Jay-Jay said, just wanting to get paid his money and get the fuck out of here.

Only he could see that Russ still didn’t look convinced, scrutinising Jay-Jay intently as he’d picked up on a trickle of doubt in his body language. The man clearly wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Jay-Jay needed to make this look good. Or at least believable.

‘Look, let’s just say, I made sure she got the message,’ Jay-Jay said with finality. He wiped the ketchup from his chin with the back of his hand, before shovelling a handful of chips into his mouth and trying to appear complacent. As if Russ’s suspicious stare wasn’t affecting him one bit.

‘You know what, fuck it, while I’m here I may as well join you. It ain’t as if you can catch salmonella from a pint, is it? Mind you, this place might be the exception,’ Russ added, not waiting for an invite as he slid in to the tatty, worn pub booth before shouting over at the barman.

‘Oi, mate. I’ll have a pint if it ain’t too much trouble. Wouldn’t want you to miss whatever shite you’re watching on the box!’

‘I ain’t staying. I’ve got places to be,’ Jay-Jay lied, trying and failing to hide his irritation that Russ had decided to join him and was dithering over giving him his money.

The last thing Jay-Jay wanted to do right now was sit and have a drink with the man, because he’d encountered men like Russ and Sam many times in his life. They were always the ones out to prove a point. Acting the big-I-am. Trying to make trouble just for the thrill of it. And he could tell that Russ was in the mood for trouble today. He had that air about him.

‘You’ll have to let me know if you’ve got any more work lined up for me,’ Jay-Jay said, testing the waters and trying to gauge Russ’s reaction. ‘Proper work this time though, yeah? I’m drawing the line at threatening women,’ he added bitterly.

Annoyed now at how last night had played out. He hadn’t signed up for that shit.

‘Threatening women? Is that what you call it?’ Russ laughed. ‘You know, that bird you paid a visit to last night is Pete Baker’s daughter. You heard of him?’

Jay-Jay shook his head. Not fussed whose daughter the woman was.

‘The man’s an old face. And I mean that literally too. Personally, I think he’s well past it. But give him his due, he was a proper fella in his day. And he still has a lot of contacts and a lot of clout.’ Russ shook his head, his brother’s words still ringing in his ears after he himself had endured the lecture.

‘According to Sam, he ain’t someone that we want to start a war with.’ Russ shrugged. ‘And between us, I don’t think he’d be too fussed about the beating we dished out to Ashley. We’ve heard he ain’t much of a fan. Ashley’s that kind of bloke. He’s got more enemies