Go home you mugs. You're are scaring off the punters. Fuck me, I got a five hundred quid habit to fucking fund here and I aint earning while you piss about in Marks and bleeding Spencers. It's night time, our time, fucking go home. This is Piccadilly bleeding Circus at night, go home. Go away, it's our place now.

Johnny had got some draw on the go so I walked over to him and ponce a drag or two.

"Fucking shoppers, pain in the arse" I muttered.

"Tell me about it Davey" he sniffed. "Scare off all the earners. No daddies going to leave their cars and come over while the straights are around. Late night shopping on a Thursday has killed the early trade."

Too right. Johnny minced off, circulating. Skinny little kid. Still looked twelve, lucky fucker. Young is good and I'm clinging on here. The chicken rack is nearly over for me, only eighteen but I'm looking it now. Too old, too bulky but it's where the money is. I'm nearly scaring them now, the punters that is. I look too tough, like I'm going to roll them, which, to be fair, I will if I think I can get away with it. I'll take their fucking money anyway I fucking can. My last shot was an hour ago and I was already hurting, fucking heroin is no joke. Monkey on the back? Fucking tribe mate.

****

Yeeha! Now this was the dogs cock, I wallowed in the big leather seats in the back. Fucking limo'd up. Two hours of freezing my nuts off and then out of the blue a fucking limo cruises up.

"You doing business son?"

No. I stand here like a cunt dressed in raggedy jeans showing my arse for laughs.

"Yeah. Two hundred quid."

Well, not every day it's a limo is it?

"OK. Get in. Oh need three of your friends too, same deal."

I grabbed Johnny, Tel and Arthur. A fair mix. Johnny the child, Tel the HIV mess that would do anything and Arthur who is a bit handy with his blade. Poked Arthur in the arm as we settled down on the back seats. He knew what I meant, keep the blade handy, never know what sort of weirdo shit this could become.

"Where we going mate?" I asked the driver, who is obviously just a driver, not the real punter.

"Big house. Big place. Big money. You all be irie," he said in pure Jamaican.

"Blinding. Got any gear?"

****

He did as it happens, prime sensimillia. We fell out of the limo in clouds of purple blue smoke. Big gravel drived monstrosity of a house. I grabbed Arthur.

"Look mate, this is a weirdo job. Fuck them two tarts." I pointed to Johnny and Tel who were giggling like girls as they fell out of the limo, whacked on the sensi. "Keep close, and be handy. Just take the money, do whatever but don't get alone in a room. This has got fucking gangbang written all over
it. Right?"

"Fucking right la" said the scally cunt. "No fucking way am I getting lost inthere." he said, pointing to the huge house, every window
alight.

"Come on naw." said our Yardie driver. We followed him and trooped into the house. The hallway was huge, so high. Noise from the double doored rooms in front of us leeched out, squeaking resonance.

"In dere."

He pointed to second set of double doors. I walked over and opened them. It was a smallish room. Three men were in it. One standing, one laying on a small type sofa and one, pissed as a banana, drunk as a rat in a padded, high backed chair. The one standing, who looked a bit like Charlton Heston, the actor, said:

"Ah. The entertainment. Thank you Sticks, you can go now. Come in lads, come in."

We trooped in. The pissed bloke in the chair cried out when he saw Tel.

"Oooh a dusky one, he's mine Freddie, he's mine."

"Of course George, of course. Well over there laddy, over there," he said to Tel.

Tel walked over and sat on his lap. Dirty drunken old fuckers hands went straight down Tel's jeans, grabbing for his cock. Tel was jellied and stoned so I doubt he found much. Johnny was grabbed by the bloke on the sofa who pulled him on and started to kiss him. Brave bloke, I knew where Johnny's mouth had been. I just sort of stood there. Charlton Heston then winked at Arthur. Arthur winked back. Eh? What?

Charlton turned around to the big fireplace as that cunt Arthur whacked me in the back of the head. I hit the carpet, seeing stars. Too smack banged to spring up, I writhed a bit holding where he'd boshed me. Charlton was now holding a bleeding sword.

"Will he grass Arthur?" Charlton asked.

"No, if you pay him."

"OK. You," he said to me. "Lie still."

I did. He walked over to Tel and the drunk bloke in the chair and rammed the sword into the drunk blokes neck as he was trying to suck life into Tel. I looked away. I lay there as I heard him walk across the room. I heard a terrible smacking, thwacking sound and a scream. I was laying there on the floor. Another horrible swishing, thunking sound. And another. My hands were wet. I looked at my hands, a puddle of red from the sofa was lapping me.

Arthur pulled me to me feet. Something, the sword I guess, was put into my hand and then taken away. I kept my eyes tight shut.

Charlton whispered in my ear.

"Go away and get lost. You ever speak, we have pieces of you on the weapon. Go away and die, junkie whore boy. Forget all about this."

No problem. Arthur grabbed me and eyes still tight shut.

I can't see it Dad, it never happened did it Dad? You love me really Dad? No Dad, no. Don't fuck me Dad. I'm your son Dad, no.

****

Me and Arthur scored in Kilburn. Trembled like an old biddy as I jacked up, Arthur just grinned as he shot up too.

At fucking last, oooooh good. And a grand in cash. Fucking good night, sorted now.