Human Conditioning (11 page)

“Oh, yeah?”

“Fancy a pick-up?” Aiden smiled
to his fullest and Reggie, as so often, was reminded that this boy was a good-looking
bastard. His smile conveyed bags of confidence and his good looks hid a stack
of malevolence that, during a pick-up, would bode well for Aiden, but not so
well for the poor soul who found himself on the other end of his well-trained
fists. “It’s on the Nightingale estate,” he explained. “A bloke called Dusty.
He owes me a ton and hasn’t been so keen to pay.”

Aiden nodded and sipped his
pint. Damien placed two shots of tequila on the bar. “Pint as well?” he asked.

“Nah, I’m not staying,” Reggie
replied. He pushed one of the shots over to Aiden. “Have a go on that. You’re
gonna need the buzz...”

“You want me to go now?”

Reggie grinned. “Well, there’s
no time like the present!”

Aiden lifted the shot to his
mouth and threw it back, downed the rest of his pint then shouted over to his uncle
that he’d see him later. As he and Reggie stepped outside, Reggie asked, “How
does your uncle know Billy Wyatt?”

“He used to knock about with
him before he was raided with a bunch of Billy’s gear on him.”

Reggie nodded and said nothing
more of it. Aiden sparked up a cigarette and before he could get going, Reggie
took both of his shoulders in his large hands. He stared down at him with a
serious and concerned glint in his eyes. “You go tooled up, right? But you
don’t use nothing but your fists and feet, unless Dusty gets out of hand. The
last thing I need is you going down on my conscience.”

Aiden smirked. “I don’t think
it’ll be a problem...”

“Don’t do nothing stupid and
take care of yourself, alright?”

Aiden felt a warm rush of
affection for the large Rasta before him. The man truly did care for him – more
than Duggie did, more than his mother. Without even realising it, Aiden had
spent the past five years going to this big man’s flat and off-loading his
problems and seeking advice. Reggie had been more of a guardian to him than his
own parents, much like Grant. But the difference between Reggie and Grant was
that Reggie had never once pried into his personal business or lectured him.

Aiden had got it in the ear
from his mother and Duggie after Grant had left for good. He did feel a twinge
of guilt for how he had treated the man, but he was equally relieved that he
had once and for all escaped from his scrutiny. It suddenly dawned on him that
Grant had had no chance of being his mentor when he had Reggie Driscoll to
confide in. It had been Reggie who had been the barricade that Grant could not
break down in order to win his affection. Reggie had always allowed him to be
himself. He had not once attempted to mould him into something
he
wanted
him to be. He was massively fond of Reggie Driscoll, he had to admit it.

“I can look after meself, you
know that! Now, get off me before people think we’re about to give each other a
kiss and a fucking cuddle!” Aiden jested and gently shrugged Reggie off. Reggie
laughed and relaxed back to his usual easy-going self. “So, what flat number?”
Aiden asked.

“Three-two-five...”

He nodded then headed off down
the street. Now alone, a sensation of nervousness began to creep into his gut
as he thought about the task ahead of him. Reggie was throwing him in the deep
end here. He didn’t have a clue who this bloke was. With a name like Dusty,
Aiden thought he sounded a bit of a cunt, but how the hell was he to know?

Reggie wouldn’t put him in any
danger, would he? It
was
his first time. Even so, he needed to be poised
and ready. If he fucked this up, if he didn’t stamp his authority today, then
that would be it. The tale of his failure would spread like wildfire and he would
find it almost impossible to regain the respect he’d earned over the past
months.

When he returned home and
closed himself into his bedroom, he took a deep breath. He could do this. He
was
a hard bastard. There was no doubt about that. He was unpredictable,
and unpredictability bred wariness. He would have to use some of his
unpredictability today. Surprise was the best form of attack. 

As he pulled a hammer out from
a shoe box buried at the bottom of his wardrobe, he closed his eyes and
imagined himself using it. A wicked smile crept onto his lips. The key was to
think of Dusty as the enemy. Dusty was the blockade between him making
something of his life and ending up like his father. Just the thought spawned a
burning determination throughout his entire body, and when he opened his eyes, he
suddenly felt as if he had purpose, and it felt good.
No one
was going
to stop him from being somebody, and Dusty, whoever he was, was about to find
that out.

************

It was 4pm when Aiden knocked on Reggie’s front door. Reggie
appeared holding a sports towel around his neck. He let Aiden in and led him to
the lounge. “What you been up to?” Aiden asked with intrigue, peering at
Reggie’s dark skin shining with sweat.

“I’ve just bought a bench and
some weights... an early Christmas present to myself...” he said with irony.

Reggie had never celebrated Christmas.
Aiden had never seen one decoration in his flat, not until New Year. Reggie was
a big fan of New Year. He said it was the chance to leave behind all the shit
that came before and start anew. Aiden didn’t usually agree. Every year from
the moment he’d been old enough to recognise what he had been born into, he’d
known that the New Year would be just as shit as the one before. However, as of
today, he thought he might just allow himself to be a little more optimistic.
Now that he was inevitably going to begin debt collecting for Reggie, and he
had his little car business on the side, he actually dared to believe that 1987
could in fact be a good year for him.

“What you got weights for?” he
asked.

“When you get to my age, son, you’re
not blessed with having those big fucking muscles you’ve got without working
for it!”

“I already work out,” Aiden suggested
provocatively.

Reggie laughed. “Well, trust
me, once you’re over thirty, even humping like a rabbit won’t keep you solid.”

Aiden dipped his hand into his
pocket, pulled out a small stack of ten-pound notes and handed them over to him.
Reggie counted them out. “There’s one fifty here. He only owed a ton?”

Aiden grinned, again. “I know.
I demanded a little interest for the inconvenience of you having to send
someone round to get it...”

“You cheeky little bastard!”
Reggie beamed at him with pride. “Here y’are, then...” He handed forty pounds
back. “That’s for today.” Aiden took the money happily and stuffed it into the
back pocket of his jeans. “How did it go, then?” Reggie asked, placing his
money inside the tin where he stored his personal gear.

“You never told me he was a
skinny little runt! He nearly shit himself just at the sight of me!”

“Well, I didn’t want to throw
you right in the deep end. Did you have to be physical?”

Aiden shook his head. “Nah,
only a few shoves and that.” He shrugged. “I pinned him against the wall and
gave him some lip, just for my own amusement. He was running off and getting
the money before I’d even said anything... the little ponce.” Reggie laughed
and Aiden went on, “Anyways, why would someone so fucking delicate try it on
with you in the first place? Don’t he know who you are?”

“Most of them get it from a
mate and think it’s up to them to sort it out... they don’t have a clue how it
all works. They’re just after the next buzz and don’t care where it comes from
most of the time...”

“Well, I care... any chance of
a few lines? I’ve got a buzz on now. Wanna keep it going for a bit. I’m seeing Gina
later.” Aiden slumped down onto the couch.

Reggie smirked. Placing the
tin on the coffee table, he knelt down and proceeded to rack up. “You enjoyed
yourself, then?”

“The collection? Yeah, ’course!”

Reggie passed Aiden a rolled
five-pound note and, once the lines had been prepared, Aiden snorted three in
succession. Falling backwards, he spread his legs to get comfortable and rested
his arms on the back of the couch. Reggie sparked up a joint and, both deep in
thought, the room ran silent for a long moment before Aiden asked, “So... those
weights you got. You reckon I could have a go on them some time?”

“Yeah, ’course,” Reggie smiled,
unsurprised by the request. “Now you’re a debt collector, you’re gonna need the
extra muscle.”

The Fosters approached
Christmas Day like a habitual requirement rather than with any genuine
excitement. Vivien and Kate had only put up the tree the night before. It was
sparse, with just a few red and gold baubles and two pieces of tinsel thrown on
it with no care or thought. There were no other decorations in the flat.

It
was early evening. Duggie, Aiden and Kate were sitting in the living room
whilst Vivien flitted about in the kitchen. Aiden sat on the couch, Kate on the
floor leaning against his legs and Duggie was slouching in his armchair, filled
with booze and snoring lightly. Kate’s favourite Christmas movie,
A
Christmas Carol
, was showing on the television, and she was watching it
intently, content and happy in her brother’s company. Aiden wasn’t keen on the
show. He watched it each year merely for the pleasure of seeing his sister so
enthralled, and at that moment in time, he was far too distracted by the coming
events of the evening.

Reggie
was owed over five grand by a small gang in Shoreditch and he had arranged for
him and Aiden to take the gang members by surprise and retrieve the money tonight.
Reggie already knew they were spending their Christmas Day at a lock-in in
their local pub. It was the perfect opportunity to get them altogether in one
place and cause some damage in order to get his money back.

Aiden
had already been in a fair few brawls during his short time as collector, but
this was a different kettle of fish. One: this wasn’t an individual that Aiden
could quite easily overpower, and two: this was a gang, a gang that would seek
retribution if he and Reggie didn’t damage them good and proper to reinforce
their authority.

As Aiden sat staring at the
television, though not actually watching it, the sound of his father’s snoring
was beginning to nark him. He hated Christmas Day. It was forever the same tedious
routine. They got up, opened shitty presents that he wouldn’t even give to a
dog let alone his children, then his mother would start kicking off about the
amount Duggie had already drunk before 11am, then they’d eat a dinner that was barely
edible, his father would complain, his mother would get upset, then there would
be this: his mother seething in the kitchen and his father, smashed, and
snoring on the couch.

When
the adverts came on the television, Kate turned and smiled a knowing smile at
Aiden. She glanced over at their father, then back at her brother and rolled
her eyes. Aiden forced his anger away. He didn’t want to cause a fuss and land
Kate in it all night whilst he pissed off out. It wouldn’t be fair.

“What
time you leaving?” she asked, beseeching him to stay, though she knew it was fruitless.

“Not
long now.” He smiled and patted a space next to him on the couch. “Give your
big brother a hug on Christmas Day.”

Kate
beamed up at him. Jumping up from the floor, she slumped down next to him and,
wrapping her arms around his neck, snuggled in close. “Love you, bro.”

“Love
you too, Bone,” he replied, kissing the top of her head.

“Are
you two fucking each other or something?” Duggie mumbled from across the room.
“I’ll have no incest in
my
house.”

For
a moment, both Aiden and Kate couldn’t quite believe what their father had just
said to them. Kate recoiled with embarrassment. Noting her reaction, Aiden was
suddenly off the couch, looming over his father, fists clenched. “You twat!” he
seethed.

“Leave
it, Aiden,” Kate muttered and bowing her head, tears pricking her eyes, she
left the room and headed upstairs to her bedroom.

Aiden
glared down at his father. “Why do you have to fuck everything up?”

Duggie
shrugged, and this nonchalant gesture pushed Aiden over the edge. Gripping Duggie’s
shirt collar, he pulled him clean out of his chair.

Immediately,
Vivien was in the living room. “What the bloody hell is going on?” she cried. Aiden
landed a hard blow to the side of his father’s head and Duggie stumbled back
against the fire place, knocking all their photographs and ornaments to the
floor. “For Christ’s sake, Aiden!”

Vivien
lunged at her son, slapping him multiple times across the side of his head. Not
registering his mother’s assault, Aiden gripped his father’s shirt once more, pulling
and pushing him around the room. Duggie was intoxicated and finding it
difficult to put up any kind of fight, but he was able to keep upright until Aiden
kicked his feet from under him, sending him crashing to the floor. Vivien
finally recoiled, shouting profanities at her son as she watched him climb on
top of her husband.

Kate
appeared at the living room door. Aiden was just about to lay into his father
when she screeched, “Aiden, no, please! It’s Christmas Day!”

Aiden
glanced up at his sister. Her eyes were streaming with tears. He looked at his mother
to see her glaring at him from the kitchen door, a mixture of fear and loathing
etched in her expression as she tried to catch her breath. Duggie was lying on
the floor, his arms and legs raised to protect his face and body. He was
wheezing and he was disorientated.