Chapter 7
"A lot of people, are advocating that¦ the rich get richer and the poor gets poorer.
But that's only because you don't understand what's going to happen to you.
You see it's all just a game ladies and gentlemen, and the quality of your living depends entirely on your ability to play the game.
And I play the game.
Jarvey nodded in agreement as the base-line kicked in,
"You're goddamn right there.
One thing was for sure, life was what you made it, you made your own luck and if you thought someone was going to be there to give you a hand you were shit out of luck. No-one gave him any of the stuff he was surrounded by, there was always a pay off, nobody did nothing for nothing.
Shit, enough of them would only to be too happy to take his place.
And from tonight they were welcome to it.
The Riverside would be looking for a new main man.
Let them fight for it, like dogs.
He wondered for a minute if everything was going to plan, before dismissing the idea, no point in thinking negatively, of course it would be running smoothly.
Tonight everything changed forever.
Jarvey had been ten years old the first time he'd put a blade inside someone.
That someone had been an eighteen-year-old skinhead who took pleasure in taunting him over his colour.
That day he was sat with his cronies, the usual insults being hurled and Jarvey had turned and told him what to do with his mother. As the older youth approached he didn't budge, safe in the knowledge that his Mum's best carving knife was tucked in the back of his waistband.
Pulling it out the older youth had gone to taunt him further, but only for a split second, then the blade hit his stomach. The look on his face changed, changing further as Jarvey repeated the gesture several times. The victim's gang looked on, doing nothing as their leader slumped to the floor.
Nobody said a word in the aftermath and that was when he'd known one day he'd run the Riverside.
Of course it hadn't been easy.
Drugs was where all the money was, fuck all that stick up shit for a couple of hundred quid a time, he'd done enough of that by the time he was sixteen with his crew. The problem was the yardies who'd begun running the area.
Jarvey hadn't seen this as a major issue. He had respect for them knowing they'd kill him without hesitation if they thought he was trying to muscle in on their trade. But he also knew he was as bad as any of them. The only people who'd lost his respect after the rapid take over had been the older criminals in the neighbourhood who'd stood by and let the Jamaicans waltz in unchallenged.
Biding his time Jarvey had opted to work for the yardies until the time was ripe, then with his own crew he'd gone for it.
People had died, gunned down in the street, and the papers were full of speculation on why there was all this black on black violence.
Black on black violence?
Plenty of his crew were white, Asian or mixed race.
The violence had been getting the squatters out of town, if you wanted to beat them you had to be just as ruthless, it was all they understood, all they respected.
Eventually they stood back letting him take over the area, their soldiers taken off the streets as they accepted a less paid role as suppliers.
Jarvey had the boys in place, Dwaine his sidekick was already locked up but there was still Sammy, Ruby and a dozen others to sell.
Jarvey thought of Ruby for a minute, it was a long time ago but they were close once, they'd had a proper little crew, and they'd been tight, 'The Palmy Posse', because of their meeting point when younger.
Growing up they'd robbed together and indulged. While his friends chose to spend the profits on drugs he'd chose to save and make money. His friends ended up as his dealers, till they were too ruined with the produce to be of any use.
The old crew, all dead or in jail, bar Dwaine.
Dwaine.
Dwaine had turned his back on the lot.
If anyone could have matched him it was Dwaine, his old spar, shame he'd got into indulging so much, but even still, there was nobody he'd rather have at his side than his old pal.
Since he'd straightened up they hardly spoke but Dwaine knew he was here if he ever wanted to come back to it all.
But not any more, tonight he was leaving this shitty world and never coming back. There was nothing here apart from misery and he was seizing his chance to leave it all behind.
No more putting his neck on the line.
Thinking again of Dwaine he decided he'd go and see him, tell him he was going. Maybe he'd also decide to leave it all behind, what was here for him here now since his mum.
She'd been cool, the sort of parent they'd all wanted. His own mother had tried to beat the badness out of him with a belt, all it had done was toughen him up.
Dwaine's Mum was sound, sure she lectured, but she'd known what she was talking about, she was only trying to warn them.
Not that it did any good.
Yeah he'd say goodbye.
Looking at the clock he knew there was only one place he'd find him.
The café, eating a full English.
Tucking a Glock pistol in his waistband Jarvey headed out the door.
