Broken (Estate State Of Mind Book 1) Read online

  “Oh crap,” I say after riding for fifteen minutes, “my tire’s going flat.” That’s all I need — a flat tire in the rain. “Great idea,” I say bitterly.

  “Hey, don’t blame me for the flat tire, it isn’t my fault,” Kaylee says, riding past me.

  I pedal harder to pull up alongside her on the narrow path. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Let’s take a shortcut along the road, next time we see one.”

  “Alright, sound like a good idea,” she says as raindrops drip off her nose.

  I smile. “You look like a drowned rat.”

  “You don’t look much better yourself.”

  I wish me and Kaylee were taking one of those bike rides now. We’d even spoken about me getting one of those kiddie seat holders for the front of my bike, for Casey.

  Forgetting for a moment that I’m on the run from a murder I didn’t commit, I pretend Kaylee’s just behind me on her bike, trying and failing to beat me to the top of the hill. I pedal harder, as the rain pounds down, until I reach the peak and pause to catch my breath. “I did it, I won,” I mutter, looking over my shoulder and down the hill, hoping Kaylee would be there.

  But as I already knew, she is not. I’m not on a family bike ride, I’m on a grocery run for Darnell dropping off bags of weed. Even the money I earn from this — about £100 — isn’t going to get me far. It’s good for a train ticket to Liverpool, where one of my uncles lives, but if the police are there, he isn’t going to help me. He’s just getting out of prison himself for assault — a bar fight, I think.

  The only thing I can do is make enough money here to keep me going for a few days. But how? I wonder as I prop the pink witch against the wooden fence, which leans inwards from the extra weight. The overgrown bushes behind it help keep the fence from caving in.

  I knock on Paul’s door; open-door rules don’t count if you’re not from the same estate. Paul and I were best mates at school, and out of school, we still are. When his girlfriend got pregnant, she told him in the schoolyard. Imagine that — one moment you’re playing soccer, the next one, you’re finding out you’re going to be a dad. Your childhood’s taken from you before you even finish school. Then again, it’s kind of normal around these estates to quit school.

  I wait for a moment, then bang again.

  “I’m coming,” Paul yells from inside the house. When he opens the door, he looks at me in surprise. “Hey, Liam. What brings you here?” he asks, rubbing his hand over his shaved head — as smooth as the day he was born.

  “Helping Darnell with his groceries,” I say, patting my pocket.

  “Sweet. I was nearly all out. You saved me a trip, because you know there’s no way Darnell was gonna leave the house in the rain. Can’t get his dreadlocks wet, can he? But damn, he should. They smell of sweat and weed. Sorry, mate, what am I thinking? Come on in, you’re piss wet through.”

  I walk into Paul’s house. Pictures of his kid adorn the mantelpiece.

  “Jesus, Liam, what are you doing, doing Darnell’s drops for him? I thought you were all out of that, with the kid on the way,” Paul says, taking a towel off the top of the laundry pile and throwing it to me.

  “Cheers,” I say, catching it and drying myself off.

  Paul clenches his fist as he gets a good look at my bruises. “Damn, who did that to you?”

  “Seamus.”

  “Seamus. When’s that kid gonna learn? Bet you messed him up. Go on, tell me you messed him up,” Paul begs.

  I don’t know how to answer him, but I know I have to, if I’m going to get his help. So I answer vaguely, “Yeah, I messed him up already.” And my life, I add silently. “How many bags?” Every minute I spend here is time I could be making money, and time for the police to flood the estates.

  “Just one, mate.”

  I pass him the bag of weed, leaving my hand out. “£20,” I say.

  “Sorry, Liam. Like I said, I didn’t think I’d be getting any today. I’ve not got any cash on me.” He turns his pockets out; to show they are empty.

  “Damn,” I say, gritting my teeth.

  “Jesus, Liam. It’s only £20. I’ll drop it off tomorrow at Darnell’s.”

  “Tomorrow’s no good.” I drop down to the sofa and confess, “I need the money now.”

  Paul looks at me confusedly. “I thought you had money stashed away from the jobs. Didn’t gamble it away like me.”

  “I have,” I say, shaking my head.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “I need to get out of town.” I drop my head into my hands. If £100 wasn’t enough, £80 isn’t worth anything. I need more money.

  “What did you do?” Paul asks.

  I look up at him. “Seamus is dead.”

  Paul springs to his feet and begins rocking back and forth. “He’s dead? What? Seamus is dead?” He repeats the questions, biting the skin on the edge of his fingernails. “He can’t be dead. Not today.”

  “Why not today?”

  Paul pauses his nervous movements. “Because tonight we have a job on.”

  “Oh, you always have a job on.”

  Paul’s nervous movements return. “Not a job, this was the job. Jesus, Liam, you don’t know what you’ve done. Your uncle… your uncle.”

  My hands roll up into a fist. “Tell me you’re not involved with my uncle.” Paul bites down on a piece of skin instead of saying something. “Even after last time? Mate, I told you to stay clear of him.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. He’s your uncle. And I needed the money.”

  He’s the last person I want to ask for money, but he’s the only one who has any. He’s Tyson’s dad, one of my mum’s brothers. She has four of them, and you don’t cross any of them.

  “How much money?”

  Paul cheers up; he knows that when I ask about money, it’s because I’m interested.

  “Two g.”

  “Two grand?” The figures flash in my head like they’re winning lottery numbers. With two grand I could get Kaylee, Casey, and me out of the country.

  “Yeah. You could have Seamus’s cut.”

  This could be the payday to change my life. “I’m in.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Paul’s car pulls up behind Tyson’s red Fiesta. Great, Tyson made it home — now his dad will know everything. That I beat his son, and left him for dead. The slimy smackheads always survive. Then I realize that my uncle’s car isn’t there. Maybe I have a little bit of luck; maybe he’s in the pub watching Liverpool’s football club.

  Paul flicks down the music in the car, leaving NWA at a whisper. “Are you sure about this?” He asks it quickly, like he’s hoping I didn’t hear; he needs the money just as much as me.

  “Yeah. I’m sure.” I don’t have time to wait. The police will be here soon — after all, he’s family.

  I rap on the door with the golden knocker. Everything about my uncle Glenn’s house, from the outside to the inside, is perfect. My aunt Muriel’s only job is to make sure the place meets his high standards. The door is painted glossy red; a colour you could imagine on a posh house but never a council house. Rows of rose bushes — his pride and joy — serve as the barrier from the rest of the estate.

  I can hear rustling from inside his house, then see the curtains twitch before the front door swiftly opens. “What the hell are you doing here?” Glenn asks, as he grits his teeth together.

  “Mmm,” I say, scratching my head.

  “Don’t mmm me. Get your ass inside before the bissies see you.”

  Both of us walk in, but we don’t get very far before Glenn glares at Paul. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demands. “This is family business. Wait in the car.” Paul shrivels as my uncle speaks. I remember when I used to do that.

  “Happy seventeenth birthday, Liam,” Uncle Glenn says, as he enters my mum’s kitchen.

  “Thanks, you want one?” I say, pulling a beer out of the fridge.

  “Yeah, pass us one.”

  There is a f
izz as we open the cans. “Cheers,” we say in unison as we knock the cans.

  “Your mum says you’re going uptown tonight.”

  “Yeah, going to Brooks nightclub with the boys,” I say, taking another gulp of beer. I’ve never liked beer’s taste, only its effect.

  “Do you want to earn some money tonight? Call it a birthday gift.” Everyone knows how my uncle makes his money, drugs or jobs.

  “What do I have to do?” I’m currently broke. Unemployment benefits when you’re at college are a joke. I barely have enough money for beer and cigarettes.

  Uncle Glenn smiles. “Don’t tell your mum.”

  I smile back, but when his face changes into the one that I know men fear, I can feel my body shrink under his presence. “You can’t tell her. Never,” he says firmly.

  “I won’t. What do you want me to do?”

  Glenn peeks around the doorframe into the front room, from which I can hear mum chatting away with my brothers and friends, then turns and looks back at me. He holds a clear bag with white tablets in it. “Sell these in the club. £10 each. You can keep the money, for your birthday.”

  The bag holds ten Ecstasy tablets, or £100, if they’re all sold. I weigh my options — make a quick £100 or stay broke — and start toward the bag. But Glenn shakes his head.

  “No, forget it. You’re too young for this. Forget I ever said anything.” He shoves the tablets back into his pocket and walks back toward the front room to join the party.

  “Uncle, wait!” I blurt. Glenn stops in his tracks and turns towards me. “I’ll do it.”

  “Only if you’re sure,” he says, putting the bag in my hand.

  Being roped into selling drugs at the local clubs — what a great birthday present. The problem was, I was good at it. I quickly went from selling £100 a night to £1,000 per week. It just became simple math. The more time I had to sell, the more I made, and college got knocked on its head. What was the point of staying in school? If I’d finished my bricklaying course, I would have made £250 a week — yeah, a frigging week. Why would I do honest work when I was so good at the other work, which also paid better?

  There wasn’t any reason until Kaylee came along. If I wanted to be in her life, I would have to change mine. They say people can’t change or that others shouldn’t try to change you; well, that’s bull. I changed once before and now know I have to change back again for Kaylee.

  “How dare you come to my house after what you did to my Tyson?” Spit flies out of Glenn’s mouth. The man once terrified me, but no longer — not in his older age.

  “He brought Seamus to Mum’s house with a gun. He came to kill me.”

  Glenn steps closer to me, our noses nearly touching. “And you think that gives you the right to beat the hell out of Tyson?”

  “Yes,” I reply firmly, not twitching like Paul. No drug or fear is running through my veins, only the thought of doing to Glenn what I did to Tyson. Beating him to a pulp like I should have done years ago.

  As if he’s reading my thoughts, he suddenly steps away from me, smiling. “Watch yourself, kid. Tyson told me what Kaylee did to Seamus. She owes me.”

  “She owes you?”

  “She took one of my boys out. There’s a price for his head.”

  I make a fist with each hand and repeat, “A price for his head.”

  With a greedy look, Glenn cuts in before I can continue. “There’s a price for her pretty little head as well.” Before Kaylee and I began dating, Glenn would follow Kaylee and offer her drives, which she never accepted. I put a stop to him following her once we started to date.

  “You’ll leave her out of it, if you know what’s good for you.”

  Glenn smiles. “I don’t think you are in the situation to make demands. Why are you here? Oh, you need something from me, don’t you?” he says, peering out of the window. “Paul told you about the job, didn’t he?”

  “He said you have a job tonight, and you’re one man down,” I say, trying not to lose it. I need this job.

  “You beat my son, then you come here wanting to get on a job after refusing jobs for months. What is it, five months since you did the last job from me? Oh yeah, when you found out Kaylee was pregnant. Wait and see what it’s like when you’re a dad and someone tries to kill your kid, then comes asking for money. Are you frigging joking? Get out of here!” he yells.

  I don’t move. I stand firmly on the stoop. “I said get out,” he repeats.

  “Jesus, Glenn, he came to the house with a gun. What if Mum had opened the door? What if he’d killed Mum?” My insides feel like they are burning, as I push the bittern words out of my mouth: “We’re family.”

  Glenn tilts his head sideways and stares at me with gritted teeth as I play my only card. “Just ’cause you’re my sister’s kid doesn’t mean I’ll let this slide. How much money have you got at your mum’s house”?

  How does he know that? I wonder. He must read my face, because he adds, “Kid. I’ve been giving you the money, and you haven’t been spending the money.”

  “Not much. Kaylee spent it on stuff for the baby and new house.”

  “We’ll call the money at your mum’s payment for Tyson and Seamus.”

  I need that money, but I’m in no position to argue. “And Tyson’s silence? Kaylee can’t go to prison for this.”

  “Well. I can’t have your mum’s first grandkid being born in prison. She’d be up there all the time visiting and wouldn’t be watching Dad.” Mum keeps an eye on Granddad at his home.

  “How are you going to get the money out of there?” Every way I thought about how to get the money out wasn’t going to work. No doubt the police are already there and could have already found the money. I need to make some money and be out of here before the police find me. Without it, I’m screwed.

  “And your payment for screwing up is coming on the job tonight,” Glenn says ignoring my question

  I knew all along he’d let me in on the job. I just had to pay for it first. “What will my cut be?”

  “Your cut? You’re lucky I’m not cutting your balls off.” Glenn’s hand slips into his pocket, pulling out his blade. Cut wasn’t the best choice of words. “You can share Paul’s cut,” he says, waving the blade towards the window.

  “Paul’s cut?” I say, then quickly add, “What’s the job?”

  It’s a good change in play. Glenn’s face instantly turns from rage to joy (well, as much joy as I’ve seen on this man’s face). “Two football derbies in one day, and the Grand National.”

  With everything that had just happened, I’d forgotten today’s football matches — Liverpool against Everton and Manchester United versus Manchester City — would also be on the same day as the Grand National, England’s most famous horse race. This never happens. “The job’s at a bookie, isn’t it?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Every man in Manchester will be placing a bet today. And because of the other derby yesterday. The bookies are spilling over with money, and we’re going to clean it up.”

  My heart pounds at the opportunity I’ve just been handed. I don’t need Paul’s share; I’ll take my own cut.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Time fades, but my nerves don’t as I watch out of Paul’s window, waiting for a police car to pull up. He’s letting me crash here until we’re ready to go on the job. I know the police will be here soon; they only have to ask someone on the estate who my best mate is in order to know where I will be. But I couldn’t think of where else to go. I’ve got an exit plan if they come: through the back door, where the bike waits, through the back alleys and into traffic. I will be out of here before they get out of their car.

  Paul gave me some dry clothes, but unlike me, he isn’t any bigger than when he left school, and the shorts’ waist bites into my sides. I did clean up my white Nikes, scrubbing off the blood that the rain hadn’t washed away.

  I reach into the cargo pocket for my cell phone but it’s not there, and even if it was, I couldn’t call her. “Damn,�
�� I mutter. All I want to do is call Kaylee. Any other day, if we aren’t together, we are just a phone call away. But not today, the day I want to be with her the most. I wonder whether Casey has arrived.

  Once I get some money together, I’ve got to work out how I can get them out of here and away with me. Then we can have a fresh start, far from all of this.

  Paul bounces from one room to the next, making me feel even more uneasy, if that’s even possible. I myself flick between watching him and out of the window. He’s this way because of me.

  “Go on and try one, Paul,” I say, holding out an Ecstasy tablet for him. “They’re good. Uncle Glenn gave me them for my birthday.” I can feel a goofy grin on my face, as the drugs take effect.

  Paul waves his hand at me. “Mum and Michelle will get pissed at me,” he protests, Michelle is his baby’s mum.

  “They won’t know. Anyway I thought you were the man of the house,” I tease.

  “You know that’s Michelle.”

  “Yeah. But just one. Call it a birthday gift for me.” Selfishly I don’t want to be high on my own.

  And unfortunately it never did just become one. He was hooked on the first tablet. You’ll never get that same high again, no matter how much you try. You just can’t reach that point unless you change the drugs to something stronger — which is what happened to Paul.

  I hear the siren’s wail before I see the police car’s blue and red flashing lights. They are here. “I’ll be at the garage,” I say. With that, I grab Paul’s jacket and head out the back door. I’m leaving Paul alone with the police and God knows how many drugs. But they’re not after him; it’s me they want.

  I weave through the cobblestone back alleys on the pink witch, and the rain pounds down in sync with my heartbeat. “Damn!” I yell as I swerve too quickly and nearly slide under an oncoming car. “Put your frigging lights on!” I shout, then stop, realizing I’m not meant to draw attention to myself.

  I blend in with the traffic, which is quiet for three reasons: One, while the football games and the horse race have finished now, everyone will still be in the pub; two, it’s raining, which though normal is also the best time to be in the pub; and three, it’s Sunday, so those not in the pub are in bed. I’d give anything to be back there, lying next to Kaylee. But if I pull this job off I will be, and we can be out of this damn rain, and away from the estate that keeps dragging me back, no matter how hard I try to escape it.