You Don't Know Me

One of the things that they shove down your throat every day is that people are equal. People believe this shit even though it clearly isn’t true. You even know it ain’t true but you still believe it. Or you say you believe it. But if you are honest with yourself you don’t believe it any more than I do. It’s bullshit. In my eyes a drug dealer isn’t equal to a normal person. He ain’t even equal to most criminals. Most criminals do some shit and deep down they know that the shit they are doing is wrong. You rob someone, you know it’s sly. You thief something out of a shop even, you still know it’s wrong even though you might tell yourself they got insurance. You know it’s wrong because it’s not your shit you just took.

A dealer fucks up people’s lives and doesn’t give a shit even while he’s doing it. He don’t give a fuck if he’s selling to adults or children. He don’t care if a child becomes a prostitute at the age of twelve just to get a score. It ain’t none of his business. He’s just after the dollars. As far as he’s concerned if mans stupid enough to take it, mans deserves what comes at him. So do I feel guilty about hoping that some bad men were going to rough up some other bad man? No. Not a fucking bit.

Sure, life is life and all that but at the end of the day, if they live, they probably take out twenty good lives each. A way you could look at it is I am saving lives. It wasn’t how I was looking at it exactly at the time, but to me they weren’t really lives worth crying over. You could show them someone who is now a crack addict because of them and they would be like, nah man, they a crack bitch because of themselves. Even if they sold the drugs to them in the first place. It’s not a real human being is it? Where is the human in that being? Nowhere. But at the end of the day, as long as I didn’t pull no triggers, whatever shit went down is not on me. That’s how I see it. You pay for your own.

So getting back to the thing of it, one of the problems in the plan and there were a few of them, was that Curt was going to be exposed. Jamil knew him now and if he had to he could name him and pick him out. And if he picked him out to the Olders they’d probably merk him. Kill him.

If Glockz found out that Curt had taxed someone like Jamil and they wasn’t in on it, they would probably ice him too. I wasn’t that happy about two lots of very bad men looking for him. We discussed the situation back at my yard the day after the meet with Jamil. But the funny thing was, Curt weren’t that bothered about it.

‘I need to get out of this shit anyways blood. It’s all getting a bit on top, you know what I’m saying?’ says Curt and pulls up a chair around my little kitchen table.

I take up a seat next to him and Ki stands behind with her hands on my shoulders like she’s giving me a massage but has forgotten to do the actual work.

‘They’re going to find you though whether you want to get out or not,’ she says.

‘Yeah well they ain’t going to look for me in Spain is it?’

‘Spain?’ I goes. ‘What the fuck you going to do in Spain?’

‘The way I’m thinking about it, I ain’t putting my head on the block without a little something innit,’ Curt says and gets up and helps himself to a beer in the fridge.

‘I don’t get you,’ I say and look at Ki for some clue. She doesn’t seem to have one and pulls up a seat next to me.

‘When we tax Jamil, I’m taking the dollars. Sixty long is going to set me up in a bar or something out there or if not there I’ll keep moving,’ he says and takes a long swig of his beer. He looks at me all the while to see whether I’m going to start arguing about the money.

‘Fair enough,’ I says. I weren’t interested in the money anyway. For me taking the money was nothing but a pain in the arse anyway. What would we have done with it? What could we have done with it? I just wanted Ki safe, that’s all that was on my mind. And since Curt was helping us out it only felt right he should get whatever he wanted out of it. We couldn’t do it anyway without him.

‘So where we going to set up the trap-house?’ Ki asks. Her eyes have got some colour in them again. They ain’t quite like the diamonds they used to be but they are getting a bit of sparkle back. I reach over and touch her arm. She doesn’t flinch. Which I think is the first time since this all happened that she hasn’t.

‘I still got my old yard. There’s a few people using it from time to time, but I’ll get it cleared and we can set it up,’ Curt says. He drains the last of his beer then scrapes back his chair and gets up. I think he’s leaving but he walks towards the sofa, sits down heavily on it and then switches on the TV. He just wanted to change the subject, I reckon. You could tell he was tense. We all were.