28 June 2012
‘This is Milton street lads. What d’ja’s wanna do? Richard is instantly focused: like a meercat gazing through the windscreen He scan's the street ahead. ‘We might as well get out here?’ He announces ‘This is the street’; Lee doesn’t just look confused. He eye’s the passenger seat; vacantly. As if waiting for the image in a Magic Eye picture; Only, Lee’s not waiting. He’s rehearsing. I know what ya thinkin. Don’t worry. I’m gonna tell ya.
The future, mate;
Lee’s rehearsing the future. (Well thinking about it at least). He’s playing out the night ahead over, over and over again. Like memories of things to come. Don’t get me wrong. Lee’s about as psychic as I am purple. I don’t even think he believes in all that bollocks. And he definitely can’t tell the future. It was me who gave that impression. He’s just a forward thinker. An obsessive journey planner. This journey being life. And well. He don’t wanna go the wrong way does he? ‘LEE, we’ll get out ere yeah?’ The cabbie sighs, quietly. If he had his way he would turf them out here and now. He turns to face the pair putting forward the hollow proposal he feels obliged to ask. ‘I’ll drive up the street if ya like? Might see summing’; Richard looks at lee. Lee’s facing the magic eye. Richard looks at the Cabbie. The cabbie’s eyes project a mixture of sympathy and disgust as he Sighs again, turns, and looks out the side window. Richard hits Lee. The eye slams shut. ‘Sorry man I was thinkin’ Richard smirks through his gurn ‘Fuck me, I thought it was getting hot. He throws his voice in the driver’s direction ‘Better open that window mate. He’s thinkin back ere’. The driver laughs. Internally. Almost silently; releasing a short blast of hiss as he exhales through his nose; The meercats are oblivious. Lee’s busy with his eyes closed whilst Richard’s taken a particular interest in a...shall we say, sparingly clothed individual who seems to have materialised within shouting range of the car.
Richard winds down his window. The prostitute’s radar kicks in instantly. No need to shout. She’s wobbling over. The closer she wobbles the lower Richards interest gets. Heroin chic aint exactly top of his to do list; Watching the situation in his rear view mirror the Cabbie’s heart rate is rapidly going through the roof. The pro moves into that clichéd leaning on the window pose. The Cabbie’s knuckles are white on the wheel. She opens her mouth ‘Allright daarrlin, what cha looooo’ The car pulls away. The sentence is left hanging. she spins half circle, makes a grab for an invisible lamp post. Misses, and topples backwards landing painfully square on her bony behind. The meercats watch from the back window. She watches back.
Eager to disappear the cabbie slips down a side road. Quickly, quietly, and in one fluid movement the car is tucked between two others. He turns the key. The Lights go out. The engine dies. He bows his head and Lets his eyelids fall. Breathing returning to normal;
More impressed than alarmed Richard speaks up ‘You should be a getaway driver mate’. The Cabbie don’t look happy. He looks relived, but far from happy. ‘Was it the old bill?’ baffles lee trying to see something out the back window. Richard looks at Lee in total disbelief ‘old bill?’ Stewing in the front seat the Cabbie wants his money. A second ago he was prepared to take out the cost on their heads. But that was a second ago. And now he wants his money. He turns to sneer at the boys. Fronting em out with a look of total destruction. ‘Fourteen quid’ he snaps prodding his finger toward the main road ‘That’s Milton Street’; Richard pulls out his pocketful of earnings. Careful not to drop any. He eye’s the mess of Mounded notes and coins, looking for an opening in the mini cash construction. Imagine Ker plunk. With money: Pull the wrong one, and everything tumbles. Richard’s never played Ker plunk. That’s why Lee’s stroking the carpet beneath his feet. Richard has his hand down the back of his seat. And the Cabbies put the light on. He’s proper pissed off now the Cabbie. And he let’s em know it too. ‘You two dossy cunts are taking the right piss now. If I aint paid and on my way in two fuckin minutes your gonna wish you got a bus’. Meer cats are good at sensing danger. That’s why the cabbie got a score (twenty quid). In just under a minute.
Halfway up Milton Street on his way to another job the cabbie passes the pro once more. He thought it was her but wanted to double check. Their eye’s lock for no more than a second, It’s her. A sweat hits him. His mind starts to race: Neck and neck with his pulse. No mistaking that look. He drives right past her But the prostitute knows Every inch of this cabbie From his head to his toes
Spangled • Opuss № I