Reckoning Point, стр. 25

His hand stayed there, palm flat in my pocket, and I’m sure I felt a caress. I wanted to squirm, but it was Mark Braith, so I did nothing except stay entirely still. He was very close, I could smell the tang of the oranges and see that his top lip was beaded with sweat. He was taller than me, most men are, and I fixated on the top button of his shirt while he slid his hand in and out of my pocket. Each time his hand moved I was tugged a little closer to him, and a red warning buzzer started up in my head. Where was this going? Where would this end?

Finally he tired of playing with me, and stepping back he strode into the kitchen. I rested the empty glass on the floor while I shrugged off my coat, hung it on the banister, and followed him through.

“Got some deliveries for you today,” he said, not looking at me, but sorting through half a dozen brown packages. “Need you to take these over to your buddies, the Irish lads down on Gevers Deynootweg.”

“Oh, but I can’t,” I exclaimed before I could stop myself.

He turned to me then, brows furrowed as he waited for an explanation.

“I … I don’t see them anymore,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. “They were … they were mean to me.”

I waited as he stacked three packages up and then picked a piece of lint off his shirt. I knew he was waiting for me to speak again, so I took a deep breath.

“It was just Miles, really,” I said. I cleared my throat. “He made me watch the chicken slaughter at work. He knew I didn’t want to.”

And I felt stupid as soon as I heard my words. Maybe everyone was right, I really was an idiot. I shook my head, rubbed at my temples.

“I’m sorry, I’m being silly,” I smiled as widely as I could manage. “What would you like me to take to them?”

Wordlessly he passed me one of the parcels and a carrier bag. He turned back to the kitchen counter, and silently I retrieved my coat and went on my way.

I walked straight in when I reached apartment 1058, the door was open, as always. The feeling was one of familiarity, of coming home, and I almost regretted my emotions of dislike towards Miles that I’d had for almost a month now.

The three brothers were on me, rubbing their fists into my hair, hooking their arms around my neck and dragging me into the kitchen area for a beer. They took the carrier bag and discarded it on the side, and I took pleasure in the fact that they were genuinely pleased to see me, more so even than the bag of drugs.

Vinnie started to talk about what I’d bought and suggested that we crack it open and have an impromptu party. David, always the slightly more sensible of the three, lay a hand on the bag and fixed his deep gaze on his brothers.

“It’s not ours, is it? We need to deliver it on, and not consume it.” He smiled ruefully in turn at all three of us. “Let’s not forget where it came from, hey lads?”

The atmosphere nosedived and Miles slapped his hand down on top of his brother’s.

“When did we start being employees of that fuck?” he shouted and his temper was so sudden it made me jump. “We came here for a crack, to get good and loaded and party, and now we’re pushing for him!”

Vinnie hushed him, and I caught the glance he shot them. He was shushing them because of me, they thought I was a mole or a grass.

I should have known, I had known, I hadn’t wanted to come here but earlier my words to Mark had sounded silly. But I had been right, everything had changed. The brothers didn’t trust me any longer. I wasn’t on their team anymore.

I made to leave, reversing quietly, but I wasn’t the unnoticed boy lurking in the shadows anymore. They watched me, their eyes accusing and just as I was out of the door one of them – Miles – broke the silence.

I heard the mimicking of a chicken clucking just before I closed the door.

Then the fire came in my belly, followed by a sharp anger.

One day they wouldn’t be laughing at me.

One day they would laugh on the other side of their faces, as my mother would say.