Brenton Brown (17 page)

‘OK, I will, but you have to promise you won’t hit me.’

‘Alright, alright. Do you think, honestly, that we could live together?’

Malakai looked into Breanna’s eyes. He kissed her on the
forehead
and cupped her jaws with his hands. ‘Yeah, I do,’ he said. ‘No messing about. In five years’ time we’ll have our first kid, I’ll take our kid for a walk to the sandpit in Brockwell Park where she or he can fling sand in my face and beat up all the other kids and jack their mobiles. We’ll live in one of those new flats overlooking Brockwell Park. We’ll have a games room where I can play my Playstation and t’ing and where I can work out. You can have your girly room where you can invite friends over and watch shit like
Sex in the City
and your soaps. We’ll have a king-size bed …’

‘A king-size bed? I mean, er, considering your, er, small size, shouldn’t it be a pawn-size bed?’

‘You feisty Jezebel!’

‘Typical man! You can serve it out but you can’t take it. Anyway, go on, you were talking about our house?’

‘The main lounge,’ Malakai resumed. ‘It’ll have to be big enough for a fifty-inch TV,
blatantly!
And I want one of them easy-chair t’ings, you know, the one’s where you can adjust the leg and headrest and t’ing with a remote. I wanna fish tank along the whole side of one wall with those seriously flat skinny fish inside it. You know the ones I’m chatting about?’

Breanna nodded and smiled.

‘Yeah, those fish are skinny but they’re well colourful,’ Malakai continued. ‘They’re s’posed to be very calming so when you get to your time of the month I’ll just sit you in a chair to stare at
the fish. It’ll calm your moods, man, blatantly. It’ll be good for your violent side.’

‘Malakai, you wanna leave my house still walking?’

‘Ah! Who can’t take it now?’

‘And how many kids am I gonna have?’

‘Three girls.’

‘Nah, I’d like two boys and one girl.’

‘Nah, man,’ Malakai disagreed. ‘I want three girls so that if you are sick or somet’ing happen to you and you can’t cook, then I have three substitute cooks for my rice and peas, innit.
Blatantly!
’

Breanna punched Malakai on the shoulder.

‘What did I say?’ laughed Malakai. ‘Stop resorting to violence. How’s it gonna look when we’re living together and I have to report you to the police ’cos you’re always banging me up?’

Levering her right arm, Breanna thumped Malakai again. He managed to grip her arms and roll onto her. She could just about detect his body odour but it smelled pleasant to her. She looked into his eyes and kissed him. She then squeezed his lips with her right thumb and forefinger. ‘I’m gonna have to control that mouth of yours,’ she said. ‘It’s too damn feisty.’

She kissed him again. ‘Malakai,’ she said softly. ‘Do you think I’m pretty?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Seriously, no messing about. Do you think I’m pretty?’

‘Why you even asking, Bree?’

‘Just answer the question.’

‘Course you’re pretty! Why would I have first stepped up to you?’

‘Who would you compare me to?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Compare me to? Any black female celeb?’

‘Grace Jones,’ answered Malakai. ‘She looks as violent as you. I’m surprised you haven’t got an Asbo.’

‘Malakai!’ Breanna pulled back her right fist but decided against another punch. Instead, she ran her fingers over Malakai’s head. ‘You know, some guys … some guys just wanna fuck a girl, innit. When you saw me you didn’t think, yeah, that girl is an easy fuck.’

‘Bree, what you talking about? What’s brought this on? When I first saw you I thought
raated!
Now I’ve got to know you I found out you’re quite sensitive and well intelligent.’

‘But not pretty?’

‘Course you’re pretty! When we’re stepping out together I love it that
you’re
my girl.
Blatantly!
’

Breanna couldn’t stop herself smiling. She pulled Malakai’s bottom lip with her own lips then released. She gazed at him for a long second. ‘Do you think my mum’s pretty?’ she asked.

‘What kinda question is that?’

‘Do you?’

‘Er, course. She looks really good for a woman of her age.’

‘You think I’ll be as good looking as her when I reach my forties?’

‘Better,’ replied Malakai. ‘Mind you, your knuckles will be worn away by then ’cos of the amount of times you’ve banged me up, blatantly!’

‘Can’t you be serious for more than a minute?’

‘Nope. Look, Breanna. I love your company, love the way you look. And no! You don’t need a perm or a weave to make you look better.
Blatantly!
Too many black girls I know think extensions and shit is the bomb. It ain’t! So stop asking me should you change your hair, do you need to lose weight and do you look pretty.’

Unable to suppress a huge grin, Breanna kissed Malakai. She started to pull at his clothes. ‘What about your mum?’ Malakai asked.

‘What about my mum?’ Breanna repeated. ‘Why you asking that? You want her to join us? For a threesome?’

‘No! You idiot! Stop taking the piss! She might.’ Malakai sided up his right cheek to Breanna’s and then he began to softly kiss her neck. ‘She might walk in … even worse your paps …’

Breanna covered Malakai’s mouth with her right hand. She then stood up, walked to the door and secured the small latch. She gazed at Malakai provocatively, pulled off her top and
whispered
, ‘Let’s see if I can, er, upgrade you to king-size.’

Before she rejoined Malakai on the bed, she turned up the volume on her stereo a notch. Joe’s
Life of the Party
rocked from the speakers. Breanna knee-walked onto the bed and into Malakai’s embrace. Keep the squealing down,’ she said.

‘I don’t squeal.’

‘You do, when you, er … just keep quiet.’

EMERGING OUT
onto Brixton High Street from her lawyer’s office, Juliet glanced at Brenton and asked, ‘You hungry?’

Brenton looked at the traffic. An angry motorist was cursing pedestrians who kept walking across the road despite the traffic lights turning to green. It was after one o’clock in the afternoon. People barged and fought to get on a 109 bus. The nearby Red Records store was playing a Morgan Heritage track that Brenton could not quite name. Hustlers were selling phone cards in shop doorways and a sad-looking man was holding up a sign
advertising
a new takeaway food brand opposite Brixton tube station. Brenton glanced up at the clear April sky and wondered in what country he would be viewing the heavens in a year’s time.

‘Yeah,’ he finally answered. ‘I’m kinda peckish. Why not?’

‘Satay Bar?’ Juliet suggested.

‘Never been there,’ replied Brenton. ‘Yeah, let me try
something
different.’

‘My treat,’ Juliet offered.

‘
No!
’ insisted Brenton. ‘My treat … I can afford it now.’

‘Just let me …’

‘No, Juliet. Let me do this.’

‘OK.’

They made their way to the top of the high street and crossed the road to the Ritzy cinema. Idlers were drinking beer and smoking roll-ups on Windrush Square. A young white couple was kissing at the entrance of the Tate library. A taxi driver was sitting in his black cab reading the
Sun
as he smoked a cigarette.
An ambulance screeched into Acre Lane, its sirens blaring. Located behind and to the side of the cinema was the Satay Bar. Brenton found it dim inside. There was a long counter and a variety of local raves and shows were advertised on the lobby walls. It was mostly black guys with neat trims and black women with straight perms and manicured nation-coloured nails that were enjoying the food and cocktails, Brenton noted. WMCB he thought; wannabe middle-class blacks. Then again, at least they’re trying to move up from having lunch at Kentucky. He led Juliet to a corner table for two. He picked up and read the menu and Juliet did likewise.

‘What is this?’ Brenton asked. ‘Chinese food?’

‘No, I think it’s Malaysian,’ answered Juliet. ‘Or maybe Thai … what you having?’

‘Dunno,’ Brenton replied. ‘Something that I recognise.’

A waitress came over. ‘Would you like to order drinks?’ she asked.

‘I’ll have tap water,’ Brenton said. ‘You do that, don’t you? Don’t want no fancy mineral water that costs a whole heap. Put some ice in it, please.’

‘I’ll have your house red wine, please,’ said Juliet.

The waitress smiled and went away. Brenton and Juliet looked at each other for a long twenty seconds. Memories swelled in both of them. Brenton reminisced about making love to Juliet; her naked body, her lips, the dark birthmark below her left hip. Juliet remembered his rhythmical snore, stroking the jelly-like flesh of the scar on his neck and falling asleep in his muscled arms. They could both read each other’s tension. Juliet was the first to look away. She glanced at the menu again.

‘How … how is Breanna?’ asked Brenton.

‘Oh, she’s at war with me at the moment,’ Juliet chuckled. ‘I’m not exactly her favourite person right now.’

‘Oh, why’s that?’

‘Er, the other night, she came in tipsy from her birthday night out and told me to tell her who her real dad is.’

‘Serious? What did you say?’

‘I had to keep to my story. I felt I had no choice. She said I was lying.’

‘You are lying,’ said Brenton bluntly. ‘Have you been going on suspicious? None of this would have happened if we were honest from the start.’

Juliet leaned in closer to Brenton and spoke in an angry whisper. ‘I know how you feel now but when Breanna was born
you
agreed to this. Remember? At the time didn’t I say to go away and think about it? Didn’t I say that?’

‘Yeah,’ Brenton admitted. ‘But I wasn’t thinking straight. My mind was all over the place ’cos of what happened to me and you. I was young …’

‘So was
I
! Don’t you think my head was all over the place too? That’s what you forget in all this. My daughter thinks I was some kind of role model who could do nothing wrong. So does Clayton. You thought about it for a good few weeks. Mum didn’t interfere. You came back to me and said we should keep it just between you, me and Mum. I agreed to that. Both of us didn’t quite know what we were doing but we
made
a decision. For good or for bad. You
can’t
change the rules somewhere down the line just because we have all become supposedly more mature and wise and you want to play daddy.’

‘Your drinks,’ said the waitress, placing the glasses on the table.

‘I’ll have the lamb and rice,’ said Brenton.

‘And I’ll have the same,’ smiled Juliet, not even looking at the menu.

‘No problem,’ said the waitress.

Juliet waited to speak until the waitress was out of earshot. ‘I … I really feel bad about lying to her though.’

‘Then tell her the truth.’

Juliet held Brenton’s gaze for a long five seconds. Her
expression
hardened. It’s so hard not to pity her, Brenton thought. Her nose always does this twitchy thing when she’s vexed. So fucking hard not to fancy her. Impossible not to love her.

His stare softened. He thought of Floyd’s mother. She had no choice who she fell for, Brenton recalled her saying. Nor did I.

‘Have you been listening to me, Brenton?’ Juliet snapped him out of his thoughts. ‘Do you respect what I’m saying?’

‘Yeah, I’ve been listening. I still think you should tell her the truths and rights of the situation. I reckon she’ll take it better than you think.’

‘Oh, so now you know Breanna better than me?’

‘I’m not saying that. Just be honest with her … and I
didn’t
have a chance to know Breanna as good as you.’

Juliet thought about it. ‘I … I can’t, Brenton. The lie’s got too big. It’s
me
she’ll really hate if this comes out. It’s
me
she’ll never trust again. It’s me who’ll lose a daughter. Or don’t you think about that when you’re only thinking about what’s good for you?’

Brenton nodded. ‘Yeah, you can say that. Mind you, we could have thought up a better story than the get-high-and-
screw-somebody
-you-don’t-know-at-a-party-and-can’t-remember shit. That’s one big fucked-up story. A whole heap of fuckery that was. Breanna must have grown up thinking you were this
drug-taking
, free-loving girl who went to nuff orgies and t’ing.’

‘Oh thanks!’

‘Even
Eastenders
wouldn’t have come up with a plot as lame as that, man.’

Suddenly Juliet burst out laughing. She rocked back in her seat and doubled-up. Brenton watched her and didn’t know whether he should laugh with her or be shocked.

‘It was a bit C-movie, wasn’t it?’ Juliet remarked. ‘What were we thinking?’

‘We?’ Brenton pointed at himself. ‘It was
your
idea.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Juliet conceded. She sipped her wine. ‘It was. But this is what I’m saying. We were young. We didn’t think it out properly. I was just thinking of a baby. I wasn’t thinking how we would both feel twenty or so years later. I wasn’t thinking that the baby would grow up, develop an attitude, cuss my behind and want to know answers.’

‘Has she brought it up again?’ Brenton asked.

‘The father thing? No. But she’s still vexed with me.’

‘Why?’ Brenton wondered.

‘Her boyfriend stayed over the other night.’

‘That Malakai guy? The one with the back pockets of his jeans kissing his ankles?’

‘Yes,’ Juliet chuckled. ‘I spoke to her in the morning about it, you know, just told her to be careful. Make sure you use
protection
. That kinda thing. Then she came with a whole trailer-load of attitude.
You’re only saying be careful ’cos you don’t approve of Malakai and you don’t like him and you hate the way he dresses. You just pretend to support brothers like Malakai but in reality you don’t give a shit about brothers like him. But one day you’re gonna want his vote, innit!
She gave me a full blast.
You’re too much of a damn hypocrite and you’re too damn stush! And so is Paps
. And you know what, Brenton? I didn’t say a damn thing about his baggy jeans!’

‘Bloodfire!’ Brenton raised his voice. ‘She gave you two barrels.’

‘She certainly did,’ nodded Juliet. She took another sip of wine. ‘The funny thing was it was Clayton who was
complaining
most of the night about Malakai staying over. At one point he got up in the middle of the night and listened by Breanna’s door. I told him to get his backside into bed.’

Not only a prick but a fucking perverted prick, thought Brenton. Why the fuck did she ever marry that fucking bounty? Black middle-class, wanna-be-white
motherfucker!

‘He asked me to talk to Breanna and tell her to be careful,’
continued Juliet. ‘While Breanna was cussing me about the dad issue,
he
kept quiet.’

‘Hmm,’ Brenton remarked. ‘I ain’t making no comment. It might be held against me and t’ing.’

The waitress returned with the food. Brenton quite liked his lamb, rice and salad dish. Just a little bit spicy. He asked for another glass of tap water. Juliet watched him and sipped her wine.

‘Too spicy for you?’ Juliet guessed.

‘Yeah.’

‘What am I going to do with you?’ laughed Juliet. ‘It was the same when we went to that Jamaican restaurant and you tried jerk chicken. Remember that? Breanna’s sixteenth.’

‘Yeah, I remember that. Clayton
insisted
that he paid for my meal. He couldn’t get his fat wallet out quick enough.’

‘It must be the white in you,’ joked Juliet, ignoring Brenton’s last comment. ‘Not being able to eat heavily seasoned or spiced food.’

Brenton was unable to hold back his laughter. ‘You try growing up with bubble and squeak and dried-up toad in the hole and wet dumplings.’

He laughed at his own joke and Juliet laughed with him. To compose himself, he finished his glass of water and let out a satisfying sigh.

‘So,’ Juliet said. ‘What are you going to do with your
inheritance
? I reckon after tax you’ll clear a hundred grand.’

The ideal person to help invest that money is Clayton, Juliet thought, but I won’t go there.

Brenton cleared his throat. He gazed at Juliet and then ran his right index finger over the rim of his glass. Juliet watched his finger. ‘What you going to do with the money, Brenton?’ she pushed again.

‘I still think we should share it,’ Brenton said.

‘We’ve gone through this already,’ said Juliet. ‘The argument done as far as I’m concerned.
Finito!
I’ve made my choice. In fact I made my choice ages ago. If you start a family you’re going to need it. You had nothing from Mum for the first eighteen or so years of your life. At least now if you want to have a family you can give your kids a start. Get some good advice. Maybe talk to, er … put it in a trust fund or something. Give it to them when they’re going uni. I don’t know? Buy them flash cars for their twenty-first birthdays.’

‘But half of it is yours.’

‘I’m alright, Brenton. Clayton earns more than enough. If I took even a pound of that money I’d feel too guilty.’

‘She was your mum too.’

‘But she wasn’t a mum to you for
eighteen
years. Brenton, I’m not arguing about this anymore. It done. We’ve just signed the papers in front of two solicitors.’

‘I can look after myself, you know. Say I never start a family?’

‘Then that’s cool.’

‘I’d leave everyt’ing for Breanna,’ Brenton said.

Juliet paused for a moment. She gazed into Brenton’s eyes and saw Breanna’s face. ‘That’s your choice,’ she said. ‘Nothing wrong with that.’

‘No, there ain’t,’ nodded Brenton.

‘So, any ideas? You going to invest in property? Sell your flat? Upgrade to something bigger?’

‘No,’ Brenton answered. ‘Upgrade to something bigger? It ain’t me. Sometimes I think my flat is too big.’

‘That’s because there’s only you in it. When you start a family, trust me, that place you got will feel tiny.’

‘I’m thinking … no, I’m not thinking. I’ve decided I’m gonna move abroad.’

‘Abroad?’ Juliet repeated. A forkful of rice was poised before her mouth.

‘Yeah, why not? Make a fresh start.’

‘Where?’ Juliet asked, placing her fork down and sipping her wine.

‘Dunno. Ain’t really thought about it. I liked Paris but I wanna go somewhere with decent weather. A place where I can hear reggae music. Forget Jamaica, I don’t wanna spend my days there living behind some serious metal grille at the front of my yard and see a goat shitting on my gates and chickens walking around like they wanna mug you. Fuck that and the potholes in the road. Maybe the US?’

‘When do you think you’ll be going?’

‘By the end of the year. When I get my papers and t’ing. That shouldn’t be too long ’cos they need skilled trades in nuff
countries
. In a way it’s your fault. You’re the one who told me to do my City and Guilds certificate all those years ago; it’s recognised in nuff countries. I’m gonna step to the American Embassy and make my application.’

‘Won’t you be, er … won’t you be lonely again? You’ve lived the first part of your life all alone. You always told me how that was the worst thing about living in care, the hardest thing to deal with. Then you found me and Mum and now you want to live alone again? A long way from friends. A long way from … us?’

Brenton thought about it. He ate two mouthfuls of food before answering. He returned Juliet’s gaze again. ‘Truth of the matter is I’ve always felt alone. Even when I found you and Mum. The only time … the only time I didn’t feel alone is that time, you know, that time we were … we were together. I know I had Mum after that and we did chat about everyt’ing and get on. And me and you were still talking good. But it wasn’t like before when we used to chat about everyt’ing. It was a kinda polite talk, you know. How is the weather? Did you see that t’ing on telly last night? Ain’t it a bitch that council tax has gone up. How’s Breanna doing at school and t’ing. I’d better check my doctor
for my flu and shit. But it could never make up for, you know, there was always somet’ing missing. It never … how can I say this?
Felt
right.’