“Fuck. Not one arsehole is willing to talk,” I say, swiping a hand over my face as we stand by the Bentley parked at the housing estate. “Too shit scared.”
“Yeah, we all know that wanker has a reputation around these parts.” Zayn replies, pushing off the car. He nods towards a kid sitting on top of a garage. He’s smoking a blunt and eying us both from beneath his beanie hat. “What about him? Was he one of the kids Pen mentioned you wanting to speak to?”
“No! Fuck, that’s Justin!”
Zayn frowns. “Justin?”
“Yeah, I teach him dance at the Academy for Madame Tuillard. He’s a good dancer but he’s also a little shit. Way too fucking cocky, and an arsehole to Sydney.”
“Who the fuck’s Sydney?”
“His best friend’s little brother. Cute kid. Talented. But the butt of Justin’s jokes.”
“Well, maybe we should have a little chat with Justin. See if he saw anything or knows someone that might.”
“Yeah. It can’t hurt.”
As we approach, Justin stands up and takes one last drag of his joint then chucks it over the side of the garage. The smell is pungent and reminds me of those nights in the basement of Jackson Street when we’d all get high and laugh until we cried. “Alright, Dax?”
“Been better. What’re you doing around here?” I ask him.
“Just hanging out. What’re you doing here?” He pins me with his gaze and smirks.
“You’re right, he is a little shit,” Zayn says, laughter in his voice.
“You should try teaching him. Thinks he knows every damn thing there is to know about dance. He reminds me of someone actually.”
Zayn laughs. “I do know everything about dance. Just because you’ve got this new teaching gig on the side, doesn’t make you an expert all of a sudden. I was always the choreo genius. You know that.”
I shake my head and return my attention to my most frustrating student. He could actually be an exceptional dancer if he didn’t let his ego get in the way. That’s why Sydney is better, because he has no ego, just pure love for dance. “Hanging out on your own? Where’s the rest of your crew?”
“Chilling at a friend’s place. Needed some fresh air.”
“You call that joint fresh air?” I ask, raising my brow.
“What are you, my dad?” Justin responds, pressing the flat of his hand against the edge of the garage roof and flipping over the side in a forward roll. He lands on his feet before me, kicking up dirt and grit from the pavement.
“Woah, you really are a cocky little shit!” Zayn says, shaking his head.
Justin rolls his eyes “Not cocky. Just certain of my skills, that’s all.” He looks between us both then up at the block of flats we’ve just come out of. “So, I’m guessing you’re here because of what happened to that hag, yeah?” He lowers his voice and looks at me with excitement in his eyes. “Rumour around here is that her daughter finally had enough, and murdered her.”
“Watch your mouth!” I admonish, clipping him around the back of the head. “That hag happens to be the mother to two people we care about. So hold your fucking tongue!”
“Shiiiittt! Fuck, man. I didn’t know that. I was just kidding, that’s all. I thought she might owe you a debt or something and you were coming to collect, being as you’re gangsters.”
“I’m not a gangster. I’m your dance teacher, that’s all.”
“Yeah, and I’m a fucking virgin.”
Zayn barks out another laugh and wraps his arm around Justin’s shoulder, pulling him into a headlock. “I fucking like you, you little twat,” he says, before shoving him away again.
“Thanks… I think,” Justin replies, his cheeks blushing a little. I don’t know much about the kid, but I do know that he doesn’t have a father figure and his mum works all hours of the day to provide for him. Pretty much the same story for most of the kids who live around here. It’s rarer to find a kid who doesn’t come from a broken home than kids that do. Sad as fuck if you ask me.
“I’m guessing you wanna speak to someone who might’ve seen something, yeah?” Justin asks, side-eying us both, before casting his gaze further afield, as though he’s expecting someone to step out of the shadows and tell him to shut the fuck up.
“You know something?” Zayn asks, beating me to it.
“I don’t, but I know someone who might. Follow me.” Justin strides off towards the block of flats opposite to the one Lena and Pen had lived in with their mum. There are four, twenty-story flats on the estate. Fucking ugly monstrosities that until recently blighted the landscape. I’m talking graffiti covering the walls, both inside and outside of the buildings. Broken down lifts, smashed windows, fucking piss in the hallways. It was a dive; add in litter covering every inch of the place, including used needles and condoms, and it wasn’t exactly prime real estate.
“So who’s your friend that lives here?” I ask.
“Rafe.”
“Rafe? I didn’t know he lived on this estate,” I say as we cross the newly revitalised green space that sits right in the centre of the four high-rises. The local playground where Kid first met Zayn has now been updated with wooden play equipment and one of those outdoor gyms that have popped up in local areas all over London.
“He doesn’t, but his older brother Jefferson has a place here,” Justin replies, jumping up onto a wooden picnic table. He grins then does a backflip, landing on light feet. Zayn glances at me and I can see that he’s mildly impressed by the kid’s tricks.
“Jefferson? That name sounds familiar.” I remark. “You say he’s Rafe’s older brother?”
“Yeah, Jefferson Sloane. He’s part of the Callous Crew.”
“Ah fuck, yeah, I know him. He was the guy who got beaten to a pulp by Beast in the cage at Tales a little while back,” I say. “Talented fighter, if a little hot-headed.”
“See, I fucking knew it! Only gangsters get into Tales. One day I plan on getting into that club. Is Grim really as shit hot to look at as Jefferson says? I swear he’s got a permanent hard-on for her. Then again, maybe it’s that other mysterious chick he’s been pining over for a while now…”
“Yeah, Grim is hot. She’s also way off limits. That’s a tree I’d advise him never to bark up, not unless he wants to become a eunuch,” Zayn comments with a grin.
“What the fuck’s a eunuch?” Justin asks, popping a piece of chewing gum into his mouth.
Zayn and I burst out laughing, and I give the lad a gentle shove. “Look it up on Google, but be prepared to see some fucked-up shit, and do not let Sydney or Olivia see. That shit ain’t for their eyes!” I warn him.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Justin replies, stopping dead in his tracks when someone wolf-whistles from one of the balconies on the block of flats we’re walking towards. He points. “There’s MDMA.”
“MDMA?” Zayn asks, looking up and shading his eyes from the mid-morning sun that’s peeking out from behind the tower block and doing its best to fucking blind us. “That’s a fucking drug.”
“No, it’s Jefferson… Mad Dick Magenta. MDMA is his tag. Get it?”
Zayn pulls a face. “Mad Dick Magenta? Are you for real? Why has he called himself that?”
“Because he’s a mad dick of course, and he happens to like the colour. His tag is all over London, The dude is fucking epic at parkour and graffiti. Last week he climbed up the civic centre in broad daylight and spray painted his tag on the wall right outside the mayor’s office. The police were called but no one could catch him. He just did his Spiderman shit and escaped across the rooftop.”
“Spiderman shit? Escaped across a rooftop? I think you’re high, Justin,” I point out.
Justin shakes his head, looking at me with a wide grin, the whites of his eyes pink from the joint. Yeah, fucking high.
“Nope. See for yourself,” he replies, pointing towards the tower block whilst shoving another piece of chewing gum into his mouth.
“What the ever loving fuck?” Zayn exclaims, his mouth dropping open in surprise.
I follow his gaze, and for a moment I can’t see jackshit with the sun blinding me, then a cloud blocks out the sunlight and about six stories up, Jefferson Sloane is hanging from the bottom of what I assume is his balcony about to drop to his death. Rafe is peering over the side of the balcony, a mixture of awe and horror on his face.
“Hey, get the fuck down from there!” I shout.
Beside us, Justin doubles over and laughs. “That’s like telling Fuck Boy Blue to not, well… Fuck.” Then he cracks up again as though he’s just said the funniest thing in the world.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath, side-eying him.
The kid needs to stop smoking Mary-J, that’s what he needs to do. I make a mental note to call his mum and let her know what her son’s up to. I’m no snitch, but someone needs to look out for the kid. He might hate me for it in the short term, but I know his type. The kids got an addictive slash destructive personality. I’ve met loads like him over the years. By the time he’s twenty he’ll be doing crack and on the short road to death. Well, not on my watch. He might be a cocky little shit, but he’s a good kid underneath it all, and talented. He just needs a little help to get things right, and clearly hanging about with Jefferson Sloane ain’t doing much for him.
“Did you know that Danny has slept with over a hundred women. He’s like, fucking epic, man. The guy’s a babe magnet.”
“Danny? Who the fuck is Danny?” Zayn asks, one eye on Jefferson as he dangles one handed from the balcony.
“Fuck Boy Blue, of course!” Justin says, rolling his eyes like Zayn’s some old shit with memory problems. “Well, Fuck Boy for short or otherwise known as Danny Bleu. Then there’s Jade Robertson.”
“Let me guess, Jacked up Jade?” Zayn retorts, scoffing.
“No, Sick Prick Jade, actually. You wanna fuck with someone’s head, hire out Jade. He really does have a cruel streak. It’s just as well Rafe is Jefferson’s little brother and I’m his best mate, otherwise he would’ve practised being an arsehole on us way before now.”
I frown at that. Not liking the sound of that cocksucker. “Hmm.”
“Anyway, that pretty much makes up Callous Crew. I’ve been practising my parkour skills to see if they’ll take me on. Rafe said I should steer clear, but he’s just a chicken-shit…” Justin’s voice trails off, his thoughts lost beneath awe and wonderment as he stares up at Jefferson who swings his legs and lets go of the balcony only to land lightly on the one below without falling to his death.
“Fuck me!” I exclaim, my eyes widening at the insanity of what I’ve just witnessed. “I’ll tell you something, kid. You need to listen to Rafe. He’s got his head screwed on. You, on the other hand, do not need your head splattered all over the concrete.”
“Ah, whatever. Jefferson might be insane, but he’s fucking cool as shit… Watch,” Justin insists.
It takes Jefferson or should I say, Mad Dick, all of three minutes to make his way down to the ground. He drops from one balcony to the other like he really is fucking Spiderman. There’s no safety harness, no ropes, just his skill. If I thought Justin was cocky, then I guess he’s got nothing on this prick.
“Yo, T-Bone, what’s up?” Jefferson shouts from the other side of the green, his attention on Justin as he approaches us.
“T-Bone? What’s with all the goddamn nicknames?” Zayn grumbles under his breath.
“It’s a graffiti writer thing,” I reply with a shrug. “Asia’s real name is Alicia and Camden was once known as Bling. How do you not know that?”
Zayn rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to Jefferson. “So here he is, MDMA,” Zayn mocks. It takes Jefferson a second to realise who Justin’s with and once he does, his cocky demeanour changes to one of respect, even if there’s still a lot of bravado on display.
“Dax. What’re you doing here?” the motherfucker has the audacity to ask like this is his territory and we’re encroaching. “You good?”
“I’m here to ask a few questions, and I’ll be better once I know you’re never gonna let Justin join your crew. Like your little bro, he’s a good dancer and I need all his limbs in working order, not to mention his brain kept intact. That little show you just put on can plant ideas into young, impressionable heads and that, my friend, I ain’t cool with. Understand?” I finish with a smile, but we all know it’s a warning veiled in good natured banter. Jefferson nods, hearing me loud and clear.
“We ain’t looking to take anyone on. Besides, doing backflips off of a couple benches isn’t exactly impressive. It takes a lot more than that to get into the Callous Crew.” He glances over at Justin, who frowns, the cuss slowly filtering through his high. The poor kid is downright dejected. Looks like joining Callous Crew is higher up on his wish list than becoming a professional dancer. I’m going to have to do something about that, but first…
“So, what can I do for you?” Jefferson asks, before I can question him.
He folds his arms across his chest, and I notice the way he winces slightly at the movement. I’m betting he’s got a couple of cracked ribs from the recent fight with Beast. Which makes the stunt he’s just pulled doubly stupid. There’s a yellowing bruise under his eye and one on his jaw too. Though, despite his cocky attitude, I’ve got to give him props, he’s got balls stepping into the ring with the best fighter in London. Especially since I’m betting he’s barely eighteen. I’d even hazard a guess that he might even be under age, and if that’s the case, it ain’t us he needs to worry about but Grim. She’s a lot of things, but the rules of her fight club are simple ones. No weapons, no mercy and no minors. Unlike some other underground fight clubs dotted about the UK, Grim is very strict when it comes to children fighting in the ring. Ever since her half-brother, Ford, threw a fight against Beast to save his life, it’s a no-go for her.
“Justin here said you might have seen something the other night?” Zayn asks, cutting to the chase.
“The other night?” Jefferson tips his head to the side as though trying to recall, but I notice how he glances over at Justin, clearly pissed off that the kid’s opened his mouth.
“Yeah, you know when that drunk-arse bitch was found dead. You said that you saw…” Justin’s voice trails off as soon as he realises his mistakes. One, he’s just cussed out Pen and Lena’s mum again, and two it’s suddenly dawned on him that Jefferson isn’t too pleased to be drawn into this. Justin pulls an ‘oh fuck’ face.
“… Oh, that night. Yeah, I saw you guys coming out of the flat with Pen and Lena before the cops came. Beast was there and some other bloke I didn’t recognise.”
“You know Pen and Lena?” Zayn asks.
“I live on the estate, don’t I?” he retorts with a shrug. “What happened to their mum, did she overdose? Everyone knew she liked to drink and do drugs. Wasn’t a secret.”
Stepping closer to Jefferson, I glare at him. He’s actually not much shorter than me, but where I’m built, he’s wily. All muscle, sure, but built like an athlete, not a boxer. He’s lightweight to my heavyweight, but if he fucks me off then I’ve got no issue teaching him a lesson. The guy’s fair game. If he can step into a ring with Beast then he can take a pummelling for trying to act like he doesn’t know shit.
“Listen, we need to know what else you saw. People around here ain’t talking and that leads me to believe they’re very aware of who killed our girl’s mum. The fact that Justin here is about to drop a bollock tells me you saw more than just us leaving the flat, am I right?”
“Fuck me. You’re with Lena? Ain’t that what they call jailbait? For you, I mean. For me, she’s fair game. I love an older woman, even if it is only by a few months,” Justin says, grinning stupidly.
“No, idiot, they’re talking about Pen. Lena’s older sister,” Jefferson says, clipping him around the back of the head before I can.
“Ow, fuck!” he exclaims, rubbing the spot and looking between us both. Suddenly the penny drops. “Wait, Pen as in that dancer who came to our lesson that time?” He starts gesticulating with his hands, mimicking the curves of a woman. “She had such a sexy fucking arse—”
“Continue along those lines, T-Bone,” Zayn snaps, referring to his nickname with as much contempt as he can muster, “and I don’t give a fuck if Dax is your teacher, I’ll give you a hiding for disrespecting our woman like that!” Zayn snaps, turning from laid-back-and-friendly Zayn to I’m-gonna-pull-a-knife-and-cut-you Zayn in less than a second.
“Wait, shiiiiitttt, our woman?” Justin blurts out, not in the least bit scared by Zayn’s threat and unable to control the verbal diarrhea due to all the Mary-J. Reason number two for calling his mum: the kid has zero filter when he’s high, all the street smarts he’s acquired over the years disappearing under the influence of a Class B drug. We’d get high as kids, sure, but we never lost the smarts.
Zayn steps closer to him, a warning look on his face and I throw my arm out. “He’s just a kid. Leave it be.” We both know he wouldn’t hit a child, but there’s nothing wrong with Justin thinking he might, it might make him think twice about getting so high that he doesn’t realise until it’s too late that he’s pissing off some very dangerous people.
Jefferson grabs Justin by the arm and points to the block of flats he just scaled down. “Rafe is waiting on you. Get inside!” he says, pushing him away with a shove.
“But…!”
“Inside now or I’ll call your mum and tell her you’ve been smoking weed again.”
“Fuck’s sake. Fine!” Justin turns to me and gives me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
I jerk my chin. “Get going.”
“Sorry about Justin,” Jefferson says as soon as he’s out of earshot. “He’s a royal pain in my arse, but like a little brother to me. Him and Rafe have been tight since they were in nappies. His mouth runs away from him sometimes.”
“That’ll be the joint we caught him smoking a second ago. You give him that?” I ask.
“The little fucker!” Jefferson exclaims, running a tattooed through his hair. “No, I didn’t. He must’ve nicked it from my stash. He said he was going to the shop. I should’ve known. He’s a liability, but Rafe loves him, and I happen to give a shit about my brother’s happiness and his. So I let them hang out at my place. Better than hanging out on the streets.”
“Or from balconies…”
Jefferson meets my gaze, and I can tell he wants to respond with a cutting remark, but wisely thinks better of it. Instead, he blows out a breath. “I wouldn’t put them in danger. I’m always telling Justin to concentrate on dance.”
“Yeah, yeah. We get it, you’re a nice guy.” Zayn responds, his voice loaded with sarcasm. “Let’s cut to the fucking chase, shall we? What did you see?”
“A pizza delivery driver. That’s what I saw.”
Zayn scowls. “The fuck? You better not be feeding us bullshit. I might not hit kids, but then again you’re almost a man, and I prefer using a knife.”
“Yeah, I heard.” Jefferson doesn’t even flinch at the threat or the fact that we’re assuming he’s under eighteen. He’s gutsy. There aren’t many people who’d hold their nerve when the Breakers threaten them with violence. Either we’re getting soft, or Jefferson Sloane, aka Mad Dick Magenta, is a lot tougher than we give him credit for.
“Well?” I prompt.
“That’s honestly what I saw,” he says, perching on the picnic bench beside us and propping his feet up on the seat.
“But there’s more to it than that, am I right?” I say.
He nods tightly. “I was smoking a joint on my balcony, just chilling, when I saw the delivery driver pull up. Honestly, the only reason he caught my attention was because Mrs Ray, a sweet old lady who’s lived on the estate since it was built back in the fifties, stopped dead in her tracks the second she laid eyes on the bloke. She dropped her pint of milk, and it smashed all over the concrete. Then she just turned on her heel and went inside her flat. For an eighty year old, she sure as fuck moved fast.”
“Then what?” I ask, urging him to continue.
“Then I did a really fucking stupid thing…”
Zayn cocks his head. “And what was that?”
“I decided to go check this dude out. I was high, bored, feeling restless over a bit of pussy…” I raise my brows and he just shakes his head as though to dislodge the thought of that bit of pussy from his head. “By the time I reached the block, the delivery driver was coming down the stairs, a flight above me. I got that feeling in my stomach, you know what I mean, when you know you need to make yourself scarce,” he says, looking at me for agreement.
“Yeah, I know what you’re saying. That feeling has saved all of us countless times in our line of business,” I agree. Call it street smarts, self-preservation, whatever. Most people who’ve grown up in this kind of environment learn pretty quickly to trust their instincts. That’s why Mrs Ray turned on her heel and returned to her flat when she saw the delivery driver. Self-preservation had kicked in, and that only happens when there’s a threat to your safety.
“What happened next?” Zayn asks, resting his foot on the bench and giving a mother and her child a brief smile as they walk by. Jefferson doesn’t answer until they’ve left.
“The delivery driver passed by me, pulling off a pair of black gloves and shoving them in his pizza bag. There was something sticking out of the corner of the bag. I don’t know what it was, maybe the handle of a knife or something? But it wasn’t even that that made me glad I’d stayed hidden. It was the fact that the guy was smiling.”
“Smiling?” I ask, my blood running cold.
“Yeah, smiling, in a sick, twisted way, like he’d just fucked someone up and was getting a kick out of it.”
Zayn looks at me and I nod. “And this guy, describe him to me.”
“Maybe mid-twenties? He was wearing a cap, light brown hair. Straight nose. Stubble. About your height and physique. Good looking, I guess, with a side of fucking psycho,” he says, nodding at Zayn. “That’s all I got.”
“And the license plate of the moped. You didn’t happen to notice that?”
“No. Sorry. I didn’t.”
I nod my head, and hold my hand out to Jefferson. He takes it in a firm grip. “Thank you. We appreciate you telling us this.”
“It’s the least I can do. What you’re doing for my brother and Justin, well… it means something to them even if neither will admit it.” He hesitates for a moment then stands. “Look, admittedly, I should’ve come forward earlier, but you know how it is. Especially lately. I heard about what happened at Rocks. Frederico was batshit crazy thinking he could take on the Skins. I’m sorry about your uncle.”
“I’m not,” Zayn replies, grabbing his mobile from his back pocket and reading a message on the screen. He wanders off, leaving me alone with Jefferson.
“Right. Well, see you around then.” He drops my hand and moves to walk away.
“Wait…” I say, glancing over at Zayn who has his phone pressed to his ear. Catching my eye, he shakes his head at my concerned expression, telling me without words that it’s nothing to worry about.
“Yeah?” Jefferson stalls, waiting for me to speak.
“I need to ask you a favour,” I say, locking eyes with him.
“Okay…” He’s cautious. Frankly, he’s right to be. Favours come hand-in-hand with danger in the kind of circles we move in.
“As you might’ve gathered, we’re looking for that guy you saw here. It’s really fucking important that we find him. I’m asking you and your crew to keep your ears to the ground and your eyes peeled. If you see him again, you give me a call immediately. Rafe has my number. If you can’t get hold of me, call Grim or Beast, I’m assuming you have a contact number for them given you’ve fought at Tales.”
“Yeah, I do, and Dax….”
“What?”
“I know how this shit works,” he says, meeting my gaze with a steady one of his own. I already know where this is going, but I’m not going to give him a helping hand. I’m asking him for a favour and therefore he’s going to want one in return. It’s only fair. If he didn’t ask for one, I would’ve been more wary of him, not less. I wait. “I want a favour in return.”
“Done.”
“Aren’t you going to ask what it is?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Though, if I were betting a man, I’d figure it has something to do with that piece of pussy you mentioned earlier.”
Jefferson’s mouth drops open. “How the fuck…?”
I laugh, pointing my finger at his face. “Let’s just say I recognise the look of a man who’s got his head in a spin over a woman. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, just let me know.”
With that I turn on my heel and catch up with Zayn who’s still talking on his phone. When he eventually finishes the call I give him a look.
“Just Beast checking in,” he explains. “I filled him in on what we found out from Jefferson. He’s going to call Hudson and see if Interpol can find out if there were any reports of stolen mopeds from the local pizza deliveries in the area. Failing that, they might be able to pick up CCTV footage in the surrounding area. It’s a good lead.”
“Let’s hope so. Have Beast and Grim had any luck with their contacts?”
“Not so far, and he’s mad about it. Grim too. They’ve got everyone working on finding David, but he’s like Jack the fucking Ripper. A fucking psychopath that no one could catch.”
I shake my head. “Not this time. We’ll find David, and when we do, he’s going to understand what it feels like to be on the receiving end of violence. I fucking guarantee it.”
