Ken Bruen - Rilke on Black

I broke open a few Buds and wondered if I’d ever get it up again. Lisa had six months’ worth in an afternoon. She emerged from the shower wet, said, “See I’m dripping.”

The Bud I crushed in that manly fashion and grunted. Picture of macho bliss. She dropped herself on the couch, rummaged in her bag.

“Oh Nicky, I need you again. I’m weak fo’ yo’ sugar.”

It would need more than a beer to get me going. I gave a playful shrug, not one of my better moments. She curled up close to me and held her fist under my nose. A soft sound like a bubble bursting plink and she jammed her hand under my nostrils.

“Amphy Nitrate baby, inhale deep.”

And I did.

That was the beginning of all sorts of garbage. I didn’t slide gradually into usage and abuse, I plunged right in. She had her whole multi-coloured range.

Uppers.

Downers.

Sidewinders.

Ludes.

Speed.

Mellowers.

Jetters.

Black Kidders.

White Angels.

Shit, she had pills for when you didn’t know how you felt. And even ones for when you most wanted to feel nothing.

She could get you:

Asleep.

High.

Awake.

Jittery.

Manic.

Giggly.

But what they mostly did, they got you:

Bad fucked.

And none came cheap. The reserves I had were hitting on panic. Worse, I was losing my edge. The one sure thing a bouncer needs to be is alert. I took a swipe at a customer and missed. He didn’t. That was the end of my job. Lisa was delighted.

“You too good to be a doorman, yo’ should be ninning yo’ own place.”

Jeez, I couldn’t run a lighter.

“Lisa... I hate to kill the party but cash is running awful low, this shit’s got to stop.”

She pouted. I guess that can be sexy on some women. Me, I always found it irritating. She used her baby voice, “We going to have some serious money, Nicky.”

“We’re going to need it.”

“I have a plan Nicky.”

“And legal is it?”

She took my hands, gave me the earnest look.

“Baby, ain’t nothing legal gonna give us fast and dirty money... you know that.”

I could have stopped there. Before I heard a word. Kick her out. Clean up and get back on track. But I wanted her more than I wanted sanity or safety. So I said, “We’re going to pedal dope, is that it?”

She ignored this, released my hands and began, “There’s a black businessman, Ronald Baldwin. He started a club in Brixton called Rap. He’s smart and ruthless. There are a chain of clubs now and he’s into property and all sorts of shit. Then he got uppity, married some white bitch and got respectable. Are you getting the picture baby?”

I sighed.

“Old Ronnie’s going to give us the cash, is that it? He’s pissed off having too much.”

She got excited.

“That’s it baby, he sho’ is going to give us the money. ’Cos we’re gonna grab his black arse...”

“You’re outa yer mind.”

“No... no... no, he’s a dumb fuck, he don’t even have minders. We can take him easy.”

“Dream on Lisa. You’re way out there. This is never going to happen.”

From then on, she never let up. A mixture of sex, dope and irritation eventually wore me down. My capitulation surprised neither of us.

“We’re going to need a third man,” I said.

She didn’t like it. I could have cared less.

“But Nicky, that means less money.”

“Money won’t be the motivator for this guy.”

“You have someone in mind?”

“Almost house trained. Certainly raring to go in some orbit.”

I sure dialled the wrong number. Within five minutes they were matched. Dex’s mix of accents and bile just blended right in with her rap and antics. I took off for the kitchen as they mixed street credits. A while on, Dex joined me, said, “You sly dog you.”

“Am I to take it you approve?”

“Approve, jeez, I near came in my jockey shorts.”

“Tone it down Dex.”

“Whoops... sorry amigo. Your amour and all that. I got carried away. That is one foxy lady. What full-blooded male wouldn’t put the pedal to the metal there, eh... Geez, the gazooms on her...”

“Hey!”

“Mea culpa... yeah... what is she... twenty... even that?”

“She’s twenty-three.”

“And you’re... like forty... six... in there... am I in the ballpark?”

“You’ll be on yer friggin’ arse... I’m forty thereabouts.”

“Like I figured, watch the old ticker my man. That babe’s made for speed.”

“You want to drop this Dex?”

I was close to dropping him... especially as it was true. I pushed a coffee at him and drank from mine. It set the adrenaline and I tried to ignore my heart beat. Dex made a whooshing noise with his. A fun guy all told. He produced a silver hip flask, said, “See the ornamentation on there.”

It looked like Arabic, very finely detailed. Old and too full.

“Nice.”

“That’s what you call it... Nice... it’s a flamin’ work of art. You need to get out them Digests again, you’re pussy-drunk. Know what that inscription means?”

“No.”

“Me neither... fuck cares, eh. Am I right partner? It’s got brandy, what else can us dudes ask? Say when.”

He made as if to lace my coffee. I could have done with a healthy dollop but with Dex, who knew what else he’d added. I covered my coffee.

“Not just now Dex, it gives me a headache.”

“Me too. That’s why I do it.”

Go figure, I thought. He drained his, belched and said in a husky voice, “Don’t get up in a heap on me buddy but you’re looking at bit peaky. Overdoing it just a tad I think... are you eating right... I mean, apart from the obvious?”

I wondered if a Dobermann mightn’t be easier. At least I’d have some chance of seeing him coming. I said, “Let’s get back to Lisa, she’s got a proposition for you.”

Good news for him as he said, “I do like me one of them.”

Dex listened in silence as Lisa laid out the plan. From time to time he caught my eye and winked. This was indication of nothing. I’d bet he’d have behaved the same when told his parents were dead.

Lisa was convincing. Even I thought it might work. Concluding she asked, “What do you think?”

“I think I know him.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I laid out a sweet deal for him once and he threw me out on my arse. Oh yeah, he called me a name I’d prefer not to have to say with a lady present. I can tell you later Nick but really, I’d rather not.”

Lisa was on her feet.

“You’re in then... you like the plan?”

Dex stretched back, deep concentration writ large, said, “Only one tiny quibble. One minor coddlywinkle... just the only thing I’d change, call me pernickety.”

“What, what don’t you like?”

“The part about keeping him in Nick’s basement.”

“What’s the matter Dex. Want him to come stay at your house, is that it, that your problem?”

“Hell no, I say let’s whack the fucker.”

I gave Bonny a call. All I’d seen were Dex and Lisa and I needed out. I met her in the Rose and Crown on Clapham Common. A pub that still merits the name. The requirement was only to be a drinker.

You didn’t have to play pool.

Munch Hawaiian crisps.

Play lotteries.

Be yuppified.

Flaunt on sexual prowess.

A pub. Bonny was behind a large gin on my arrival.

“Got off to a flyer,” I said.

“It’s the finish us ladies prefer.”

I was drinking Scotch. Nice and easy. A vague mention was made of the new woman.

Bonny talked about the caff and the hassles, asked, “Do I smell of chips?”

“You smell good Bonny, and you know what? You look great.”