Кен Бруен - The Hackman Blues

‘Keeps the pecs in shape, I have to be ready for the call. I’m saving for America... if I could get to Los Angeles, I know I’d be big.’

I was fairly big myself. Had to hold back from saying about us going to San Francisco. Didn’t want to scare him off.

When we came out of the restaurant, I asked, ‘You wanna swing by my place? I’ll show you my video collection.’

He looked like he might but then:

‘Not tonight Tony, I’ve an early start, have to go and see if my bike’s ready, it’s in emergency repair.’

‘Plus, you don’t kiss on a first date, am I right?’

‘It’s not like that.’

‘Sorry, just kidding... I’m nervous here... Okay, cut me a little slack.’ He leant over, kissed me full on the mouth. Risky business at the Elephant Roundabout. The gay basheen prowl that area like the worst dose of disease. It got me hot again, the danger feeding the libido. Jeff hailed a taxi and as he got in, said, ‘See, you were wrong.’

‘Moi ... wrong! You jest... surely?’

‘I do kiss on a first date, call me.’

And he was gone.

I muttered, ‘Call you...? I call you divine.’

Next day, I relieved Danny. He was full of bonhomie, if that’s the word. Full of crap.

Talk about a warm welcome:

‘Tone, good to see you, son.’

Like that.

Roz was sulking and jeez, I do love it when they do. She was wearing a fresh tracksuit and appeared... ready. Yeah, that’s how she looked.

She said, ‘Here’s the local queer.’

I said, ‘You’re educated... right? Well, if you knew yer Derek Jarman, you’d realise that the word is not as offensive as you hope.’

Her lip curled, said, ‘You’re offensive.’

Danny was reluctant to leave.

I said, ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to hit her.’

He said, ‘Okay, then... bye, Rosaleen.’

Rosaleen!

He’d been gone maybe five minutes when I hit her. I said:

‘Surprised? After what I told yer paramour? The thing is, I lied. You ever call me names again, I’ll remove yer top teeth. Am I getting through to you, Rosaleen?’

I was.

Towards the end of my shift, I said, ‘See how time flies when you’re having fun?’

She’d spent her time reading and listening to a Walkman Danny had provided. Oh, and smoking, serial fashion. I could hardly see her through the smoke. Each time she hit a fresh pack, she’d carefully extract the coupon and meticulously shred it. Little piles of free offers surrounded her camp bed like sad heaps of confetti.

I suddenly jumped to my feet, slapped my forehead and went, ‘Oh no!’

I like a touch of theatricality as much as the next thespian.

She flinched back, so I added:

‘There was us, having a quiet day at home, having quality time together, and I clean forgot I got you a pressie.’

She said, ‘I don’t want a present.’

‘Course you do.’

And lobbed a parcel. It landed beside her and she moved away.

I said, ‘Go on open it... won’t bite.’

Curiosity impelled her to cautiously approach the parcel and touch it, one eye on me all the while. A T-shirt tumbled out and she said, ‘What...?’

‘It’s a large, I couldn’t help noticing you’re packing some cellulite, but if it doesn’t bother Lady Di...’

She held it up. On the front was 667.

Triumphantly she turned, spat, ‘You fuckin’ moron, it’s 666!’

I smiled, said, ‘That there, that’s the neighbour of the beast.’

Reed came storming in, agitation writ large.

‘Bro’, we’s got to talk.’

‘Sure... excuse us a mo’, you play with yer T-shirt.’

I moved up to the door, asked, ‘What’s shakin’?’

‘Me bro’, de bloods dun come to my crib... wit’ machetes, dun slashed it to shee-hit an’ gone.’

‘Leon’s goons?’

‘What cho think, they be lookin fo’ mo’ TV license? They be Leon’s.’

‘Jeez, lucky you weren’t there.’

‘Yah. I be born lucky.’

‘Time to get serious, he’s going to cough up now.’ I moved over beside Ros, said:

‘Let someone you love know you care.’

Me and Bob Hoskins both.

Asked Reed for Leon’s number and punched it in on the mobile. Answered, said, ‘Leon?’

‘It is I.’

‘Get this, you fuck.’

And tore a lump from Roz’s hair. She screamed like a banshee.

I asked, ‘Hear that?’

‘I hear it, please... no further demonstration is necessary.’

‘Hey, fuck-hole? don’t tell me what’s necessary. I’m holding a clump of her hair in my hand. You ready to rock ’n’ roll, else I send you her wrist... the tattooed one... in a bag.’

‘I’ll do what you ask.’

‘That minder you’ve got... have him at The Oval Tube Station at eight in the morning... with the money. He’s to hand it to a Big Issue seller. Got that?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s fifty-two large.’

‘I beg your pardon, fifty two?’

‘Yeah, the extra is for re-decoration, know what I mean?’

‘I follow you.’

‘Yo’... bollocks, that’s exactly what you don’t do. Otherwise, I’ll put the white meat to Roz here... how would that be... go where the black has been and boldly.’

‘Afterwards, where is it you believe you can hide from me?’

‘Gee, that’s scary. Gotta go now, give yer bitch her bath.’

Reed was sweating, said:

‘Yo’ be losing it, mon.’

Roz was whimpering, said:

‘You didn’t have to do that.’

I shouted, ‘People!... You... enough with the negative waves. If I have seen further than most, it’s because I have stood on the shoulders of giants.’

I took Reed by the arm, said:

‘Step outside with me a moment.’

‘Yo’ all gonna kick me black ass?’

‘What? I’m not a violent man... I’m just another Ghandi with edge.’

Outside, I gulped in the Balham air, said:

‘I have good news.’

‘Yo’ gonna shoot yo-self?’

‘I’ve found somebody.’

‘What cha be sayin’?’

‘I think I might be in love.’

He stepped back, his eyes wide as a Stockwell barrow boy, exclaimed:

‘Yo’ be courtin’... you be dancin’ and moonin’ while dee hood be chasin’ us with machetes?’

‘You’ll like him, he’s different.’

Reed moved to go back inside, said, ‘Dat medicine yo’ be takin’, it not be enough... we be fucked... dat what we be, how yo’ plan to collect de money?’

‘By courier.’

‘De Lord have mercy — we goin’ down.’

I went straight home, got a large hold-all and piled in the essentials:

1. Lithium

2. Baseball bat

3. Cash, a lotta that.

Also clothes, toiletries and Walkman.

Ready to boogie, called a cab and, moving fast, checked into a hotel off Clapham Common. Not a bad little place. Cypriot-owned, my room was large, bright with a shower. I could see the Common from my window. Spring or Autumn, I find it’s vastness beautiful. If I opened my window, I could hear the ducks and it sounded like normality. I guess this would explain me best, that I’d gauge normality by the quacking of a duck.

Perhaps the best metaphor of all for a mind, wounded at it’s centre.

Along the wall were the two basics for urban survival, coffee-making facilities and a phone.

Made an elephant black caffeine and chugged it, fast... too bitter, too raw... just how I loved it. Made another, getting mobile.

Originally, I’d had an elaborate plan to collect the ransoms involving Danny, Reed, Drop-bird; now I thought,

Fuck it!

And I’d go for the simple hit. It would work or not, but it would certainly be rapid.