Read Online Acid Row by Minette Walters - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Minette Walters
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get hurt."
“Maybe you don't know as much as you think you do.”
He shrugged and tilted his chair to look at her. "All right. Who saw the kid and what were they on? Tell me it wasn't that retard, Wesley Barber, who spent five hours on an alien spacecraft, spaced out on acid, having his sperm milked to make a super race." He grinned at her expression. "Learn a bit of wisdom, babe, and let me eat my food in peace. I don't want my arse busted for some middle-class white kid who's almost certainly dead by now."
She punched his arm. "You've gotta be there, Jimmy. The meet's at Glebe School and if you don't come with me, people'll talk."
“You mean the women'll talk,” he said cynically. "So what's new? They do fuck all else except sit on their arses and tear their men to shreds."
“You're such a wimp,” she said, trying to rile him. "You make out you're Mike Tyson, but the minute there's any trouble you run the other way."
“Yeah, well, I can't afford trouble at the moment,” he said dropping the chair legs to the floor again and poking a fork grumpily into his food. "I've got some deals going down, and getting nicked for hounding a couple of nonces out of their house ain't part of the game plan."
“Anyone'd think you had a soft spot for them.” She was worried about her reputation. What would everyone say if her man failed to turn out after she'd told them what a hard bloke he was? "They'll reckon you got too close to them in the nick and started to feel sorry for them."
Jimmy chewed in silence for a while, wondering if she knew how close she was to the truth. He'd had his head done in good and proper by his first cell mate and he didn't care to be reminded of it. The guy was a music teacher, coming to the end of his sentence, who had taught Jimmy notation during the three weeks they were together. He was a bit of a genius, knew everything there was to know about jazz, and could use his voice to mimic instruments. By the end of the third week he was the backing track to Jimmy's rap, and Jimmy was beginning to plan a legitimate career in music. They even had a demo tape under way. It was looking good till word leaked out that his mate was banged up for giving hand-jobs to some of the boys in his school. Two days later he had all his fingers broken in the showers.
It took Jimmy a while to get over it. The motherfucker had tried to tough it out on the open wings after being transferred from an all-Rule prison on the Isle of Wight. He claimed he was in for cheque fraud which was the kind of thing an educated man might have done, but someone snitched probably an officer and he ended up in the vulnerable prisoner unit for protection. Jimmy never saw him again, although he thought about him from time to time. He was the only bloke he'd ever met in prison that he actually liked, and it struck him as pretty sad that his pleasure came from giving hand-jobs when most guys preferred to be on the receiving end.
“Let them think what they like,” he told Melanie, pushing away his barely touched plate. "I've got better things to do than shout insults at weirdos."
Glebe School, Glebe Road, Bassindale Estate Gangs of drunken youths were already milling around the school forecourt, downing lager and psyching themselves up for a confrontation with the perverts. In among them, Wesley Barber pranced like an idiot mouthing off about how he was going to roast nonces .. . fire-bomb the school .. . raid the Co-op .. . stick pigs. He twitched with excitement like a dog scenting a bitch on heat, and there was jeering from the other boys as he karate-chopped the air in imitation of Wesley Snipes in Demolition Man and Blade.
“Jesus, you're a fucking retard, Wesley!”
“What you on, meat-head?”
Colin Patterson and Kevin Charteris dragged him away. "Calm down, for fuck's sake,“ said Colin angrily. ”My mum'll go ape shit if she hears you talking like that. She'll call the cops if she thinks you're gonna do something stupid.
“Maybe you don't know as much as you think you do.”
He shrugged and tilted his chair to look at her. "All right. Who saw the kid and what were they on? Tell me it wasn't that retard, Wesley Barber, who spent five hours on an alien spacecraft, spaced out on acid, having his sperm milked to make a super race." He grinned at her expression. "Learn a bit of wisdom, babe, and let me eat my food in peace. I don't want my arse busted for some middle-class white kid who's almost certainly dead by now."
She punched his arm. "You've gotta be there, Jimmy. The meet's at Glebe School and if you don't come with me, people'll talk."
“You mean the women'll talk,” he said cynically. "So what's new? They do fuck all else except sit on their arses and tear their men to shreds."
“You're such a wimp,” she said, trying to rile him. "You make out you're Mike Tyson, but the minute there's any trouble you run the other way."
“Yeah, well, I can't afford trouble at the moment,” he said dropping the chair legs to the floor again and poking a fork grumpily into his food. "I've got some deals going down, and getting nicked for hounding a couple of nonces out of their house ain't part of the game plan."
“Anyone'd think you had a soft spot for them.” She was worried about her reputation. What would everyone say if her man failed to turn out after she'd told them what a hard bloke he was? "They'll reckon you got too close to them in the nick and started to feel sorry for them."
Jimmy chewed in silence for a while, wondering if she knew how close she was to the truth. He'd had his head done in good and proper by his first cell mate and he didn't care to be reminded of it. The guy was a music teacher, coming to the end of his sentence, who had taught Jimmy notation during the three weeks they were together. He was a bit of a genius, knew everything there was to know about jazz, and could use his voice to mimic instruments. By the end of the third week he was the backing track to Jimmy's rap, and Jimmy was beginning to plan a legitimate career in music. They even had a demo tape under way. It was looking good till word leaked out that his mate was banged up for giving hand-jobs to some of the boys in his school. Two days later he had all his fingers broken in the showers.
It took Jimmy a while to get over it. The motherfucker had tried to tough it out on the open wings after being transferred from an all-Rule prison on the Isle of Wight. He claimed he was in for cheque fraud which was the kind of thing an educated man might have done, but someone snitched probably an officer and he ended up in the vulnerable prisoner unit for protection. Jimmy never saw him again, although he thought about him from time to time. He was the only bloke he'd ever met in prison that he actually liked, and it struck him as pretty sad that his pleasure came from giving hand-jobs when most guys preferred to be on the receiving end.
“Let them think what they like,” he told Melanie, pushing away his barely touched plate. "I've got better things to do than shout insults at weirdos."
Glebe School, Glebe Road, Bassindale Estate Gangs of drunken youths were already milling around the school forecourt, downing lager and psyching themselves up for a confrontation with the perverts. In among them, Wesley Barber pranced like an idiot mouthing off about how he was going to roast nonces .. . fire-bomb the school .. . raid the Co-op .. . stick pigs. He twitched with excitement like a dog scenting a bitch on heat, and there was jeering from the other boys as he karate-chopped the air in imitation of Wesley Snipes in Demolition Man and Blade.
“Jesus, you're a fucking retard, Wesley!”
“What you on, meat-head?”
Colin Patterson and Kevin Charteris dragged him away. "Calm down, for fuck's sake,“ said Colin angrily. ”My mum'll go ape shit if she hears you talking like that. She'll call the cops if she thinks you're gonna do something stupid.
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