Behind the Hood (Behind the Lives) (3 page)

She followed him. “No, boy, you can’t leave me.”

Without replying, he took the stash. Shit, he’d forgotten to wash his hands. Now there was blood on the money. He jammed it into his pocket and strode out of the room and into the bathroom. Soap and water soon removed the blood. He gave his face a quick rinse, then headed to his sister’s room and gave her a kiss. The little girl slept soundlessly under her pink Barbie duvet, her curly brown hair spread out on her pillow. Caitlin looked just like their mother; never going to win any beauty contests, but sweet nonetheless.

His mother grabbed his arm. “Please, Tama, don’t go.”

“Sorry, I hafta...”

She started sobbing. For fuck’s sake, she was giving him the guilts. He didn’t want to leave her alone to raise his half-sister. But then again, why should he blame himself? Yeah! It was his stepdad’s fault for going up north. The stupid git got thrown in the slammer. Unlike Seth, there was no way Tama was going to prison. He wouldn’t let the pigs catch him.

“I’ll visit when I can,” he added.

Her grip tightened. Dammit, she never listened. He shook her off, strode through to the dining-room, and yanked open the back ranch-slider. He could hear the sirens coming along Banks Street, almost at his road. He had to split. Now!

“Tama, don’t go!”

“Bye, Mum. Love ya.” He didn’t look back, just leapt over the railing that ran along the rear porch. He raced up the sloping backyard, clambered over the wire fence and onto the back of Claydon Primary School. The sirens were now playing their symphony down his street, the police lights providing special effects.

“Man, I need to piss,” he muttered, now regretting all the booze he’d drunk. Well, there was no way he’d risk stopping here. He sprinted across the grass and through a gate that led onto Finley Park.

Swings and slides filled the space behind Tama, while a network of playing fields lay before him. On his right, Auckland’s Sky Tower poked out from behind distant hills, the pointy structure bathed in mauve coloured lights. Beyond the park and a row of houses, the darkened waters of Manukau harbour merged with the night. Tama loved Finley Park. Ever since he was four he’d played touch rugby here, but much preferred the full on contact that came with the rugby matches held on Saturdays. Maia had ruined all of that for him now. No more rugby games. One stab wasn’t enough; he should have gutted the bitch.

He kept his eyes peeled for cops as he cut across the fields and over the road, past the Marae—the land where the Maori meeting house stood. Red stained carvings framed the triangular-shaped building, broken up blue and green Paua shells used for the eyes of the carved Maori faces. A naked, carved warrior, with a large head displaying a
moko
, stood at the apex. Tama ran a hand over his head, proud to show his heritage through his tattoo.

The street was dark, with hardly any lamp-posts to light up the night. For once the council’s cheap arse budget benefitted Tama, allowing him to take cover in the dark. He could just make out the road leading onto Jayden Green’s house. Good ole Jay would help him out, possibly giving him some cash or weed. Man, he wanted something harder to take off the edge. The cheap weed and beer he’d had earlier wasn’t enough for the excitement of the night.

Shit, he really needed to take a leak now or he’d be adding different bodily fluids to his jeans. He darted into the bushes, did the business, then took off down the dimly lit street. He ran past Jayden’s mouldy picket-fence, up the front steps of the square box his mate called home, and banged on the front door.

Lights went on, followed by shouting. “You fuckin’ answer it.” “No you.” “You effin’ ho.”

Tama looked at his neon watch. It was just past ten-thirty. Jayden and Leila were acting like two old farts going to bed so early. He sniggered. Maybe they hadn’t been sleeping.

A door slammed inside, followed by approaching footsteps. The front door creaked open a fraction.

Tama kicked it. “It’s me, fuckin’ open up.”

Jayden slipped the chain off and opened the door. He looked like he’d dressed hastily. The fly on his jeans was down, and he was shirtless, revealing a podgy gut and man boobs.

“Whatcha doin’ ‘ere?” Jayden asked. His eyes widened as he looked down at Tama’s blood stained pants. “Oh, shit, Tama, who’d ja cut?”

Tama pushed past and headed for the kitchen. After all that running, he was thirsty as hell.

Jayden grabbed his arm. Tama shook him off and opened the fridge. No matter how hard Jayden tried to appear tough he always looked comical. Except for being taller, and two shades lighter, his face looked just like Gary Coleman, with his wide nose, big lips, and fat cheeks. Tama had thought it was hilarious after he’d seen a rerun of
Different Strokes
a few months back, and had taken to teasing Jayden about it. Jayden would get mad and continually repeat, “I dunno who he iz.”

Tama took a can and sat down at the oval dining table. Jayden stood over him as he downed the beer. His mate looked like he was pouting and about to say, “What’chu talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?” It didn’t help Jayden’s case that his pronunciation was as poor as his pocket.

“For fuck’s sake! Answer me. Who’d ja cut?”

“Nike’s sister. Li’l bitch smart-mouthed me.”

Jayden’s hand swiped out, whacking Tama across the head. “Ya effin’ bastard. She’s just a kid.”

Tama jumped up and slammed him into the wall. “You fuckin’ touch me again, and I’ll waste ya.”

Jayden held his hands up. “Then I won’t help ya.”

“Whatever.” Tama pushed Jayden into the passage. “Just gimme some cash, weed, and a coat hanger, then I’ll shove off.”

Jayden glared at him. “Why should I fuckin’ give ya anything?”

Tama idly stroked the top of his switchblade. “Cos you’re my mate.”

Jayden’s gaze dropped to Tama’s hand. “You ain’t gonna cut me. Anyway, I’m skint. I can only give ya weed.”

Tama frowned. “Of course I ain’t gonna cut ya. Why would ja think that? You’re my mate.”

“You were strokin’ yo blade.”

“So? I stroke my dick too; don’t mean I stick it into every cunt I see.”

Jayden sniggered. “S’pose so.”

Something banged on the other side of the wall. Tama heard Leila’s voice, but couldn’t distinguish her words.

“What ‘bout Leila? She have any dough?” Tama asked.

Jayden grimaced. “Fuck no. She’s the reason I’m skint.”

Tama sighed. The weed would just have to do. He could always sell it if need be. “Gimme what ya got.”

The door next to them creaked open and a bleary eyed Leila poked her head out, her afro out of control. “Will ya shut the fuck up so I can sleep?” She closed the door without so much as a, “What’s that blood on your pants?” or “Do ya wanna cuppa?”

Tama never understood why a hot piece like Leila was with Jayden. Even worse, she married him. Who the hell got hitched at eighteen, other than the freak Nike? Yeah, Jayden was a nice bloke, but all his mate could do well was grow weed and fix cars. Everything else he failed miserably at, including in the bedroom. Tama had heard all about it from Leila when he popped in for his regular visits while Jayden was at work.

Jayden followed Leila into the bedroom.

“Bloody turn off the light,” Leila yelled.

Jayden countered with a “Bitch” then a moment later he was back, slamming the door shut behind him.

“You ain’t gettin’ any for that,” Leila shouted.

Jayden ignored her and handed Tama the coat hanger and a bag of weed.

Tama stuffed the weed into his backpack. He held onto the coat hanger as he slapped Jayden across the arm. “You’re a good mate.”

Jayden nodded. “Where ya headin’ to?”

Tama rolled his eyes. Although Jayden was big, he was a wimp when it came to standing up to Maia’s brother. Jayden had made the one mistake of teasing Nike about his name in ninth grade, calling him, “Sneaker Boy.” Nike had made him pay for it ever since. Tama remembered walking into the Men’s once and seeing Nike holding Jayden’s head in the toilet bowl, flushing it. Both Tama and Nike had left school for good that day with more than a few bruises.

“I ain’t tellin’ ya that. You’ll spill when Nike comes round.”

Jayden ran a hand over his head. “Shit, he’s gonna do his nut in. Ya better take off before he finds out.”

Tama gave Jayden another friendly slap on the arm and strode towards the front door. He stepped outside and pumped his fists together in a gang salute. Jayden returned the gesture.

Tama took off, sprinting up the road. A parked Mazda caught his eye. He bent the coat hanger, angled it through the top of the window and down to hook it under the lock. In no time he was in the car working at the wires.

The car refused to start. Tama swore, realising it was just a wreck. In the distance sirens blared. He didn’t have time for this. He wanted to go to the real north, not some fucking prison.

Tama grabbed his bag and took off running, wishing he’d stabbed Maia’s brother instead. He hated the bastard! Nike thought he was better than him, that he wasn’t worth shit. Tama slowed to a stop. Nike would come after him regardless, whether he went to Kaitaia or Timbuktu. It may take a while, but Nike would eventually catch up with him. The bastard was like that, never able to let something go. No, he couldn’t leave until he’d taken care of Nike. Plus, Nike’s wife was pretty. God, he liked Jess, always had. She should have been his, not that prick’s. Yeah, he could also take care of Jess in a totally different way.

3

Nike

Sweat glistened across Nike’s chest. He grabbed Jess’s hips, scared that if she went any faster he’d shoot his load. He didn’t want to come yet; he wanted to make it last as long as possible. But fuck, she wasn’t helping. She just kept swaying her hips back and forth making his dick want to explode.

Jess gazed down at him with hooded eyes, her dark mascara and eyeliner smeared. He wiped it with a thumb and kissed her lips, loving the taste of the strawberry gloss. He wondered whether he could put it on her other lips and lick it off.

His hands moved back to her hips as she picked up speed. “Slower,” he gasped.

“No, I need it now.” Her voice was breathless, needy.

He tightened his grip. “I wanna make it last.”

A playful smile spread across her face as her fingers went for his ribs. Nike let go and grabbed her wrists, pulling her against his chest. She nuzzled into his neck, her lips working their way up to his left ear. He groaned as her body rocked against his. No longer able to control himself, he rolled her onto her back and started pumping fast, pistoning in and out, harder and harder.

Jess cried out, “Yessss ... fuck, yesssss!”

Her body clamped down, milking him for all he was worth. Nike closed his eyes as bliss overtook his body.

After the last pump, he withdrew and flopped onto his back. Jess got up and gingerly ran off to the shower, cupping herself so that his seed didn’t spill out. Nike couldn’t be arsed having a shower, he just wanted to sleep.

Water splashed in the next room. He imagined Jess lathering up her gorgeous tits. His balls tingled. He thought about it running over her plump arse, more than a handful. His cock began to harden. His baby had back alright, just the way he liked it. He didn’t like skinny chicks. They looked too brittle for a good fuck.

Jess started singing. Nike closed his eyes and grinned as she butchered a Beyoncé song. Jess thought she could sing because she scored well in Playstation’s karaoke games. He’d told her enough times that the machine was tone deaf, but she didn’t believe him.

Loud rap music started up from a neighbouring flat followed by a baby’s cries. Nike’s eyes snapped open, fucked off that the new neighbours had woken Jake again. He’d spoken to them only an hour ago.

He swung his legs out of bed, snatched up his briefs, and pulled them on. The phone went off. He grabbed it. “What?”

The sound of his mother crying made him straighten, her sobs drowning out her words.

“Mum, calm down. I can’t understand you.”