The Burned Out Citreon

The Burned Out Citreon

It was nighttime on Robin Hood Chase. Ben went to walk down onto Westville Gardens but a burnt out Citreon Estate obstructed the entrance. It must have been a recent arrival, but the actual car looked like an ancient relic. The rust and smell of fired petrol first assaulted your senses but underneath it, a mephitic odour lurked. It smelt as if someone had been burned alive in the car. The thought troubled Ben so much he turned away, anyway he had better things to do – he had to go and score.

-i)Big Tits Lisa

As he got to the bottom of the Chase, Ben looked at his watch anxiously. Chrissie would be going ballistic; she was already in acute withdrawal when she returned from doing the punter. There was still no sign of anyone about but he was getting desperate - it felt that his skin was burning up and his bones ached. Every cell in his body cried out for gear an unwelcome adrenaline rush was priming him for the anticipation of that first pipe of the day.

Scoring it seemed was almost as addictive as the drugs themselves. The phone call, the sweat of your palms as the dealer passed you the wraps, racing home to tear into them and then the lick of the lighter against the glass and – oh, um ecstasy. So euphoric, so brain-splittingly good – you’d normally vomit after the first minute. A huge rush of noradrenaline and dopamine then the chucks. Soon after the numbness, the cocaine anaesthetising your face, your mouth – your soul.

As he swiftly scanned the area, in the alleys at the vase of the flats and past the doctors surgery and on to St Anns Well’s Road he saw a blue Mercedes pull over and a young girl get out. He strained his eyes, regretting his damned short sightedness and lack of glasses.

“Yo Ben…! Ben,” the girl was waving frantically, “It’s Lisa…..Big Tits! Big tits Lisa! You know,” she began her characteristic lop sided amble to him.

“Who’s about Benny boy! Anyone on the Chase….?”

“No – I’ve been looking around for ages, its dead. What going on?”

“Feds about innit. They raided Cowboy Bill’s on Westville Gardens last night and arrested him and the Foggo brothers I think. Must have scared all the shot-errs . You got your mobile on you….I know someone who’s got brilliant tings. This isn’t just some runner either - it’s the main man on the Chase. The American – Deano, you know?” she gesticulated.

Although Lisa was no more than twenty-five years old, her voice croaked and her face had the look of a wizened crone. Previously a very serious OD had also caused some kind of damage to her nervous system as one side of her body had suffered a slight, but noticeable paralysis, of the time not uncommon with victims of a stroke. It didn’t stop her moving fast though or had her stopped her success with the punters.

Ben thought Big Tits Lisa was an awful name, but it was a moniker she had adopted and encouraged. It was all part of her sales routine and went before her reputation as one of the biggest earners on the beat.

Ben handed her his phone and fingers with long, brightly coloured nails soon punched in the number for the main man.
“Hello, Deano babe. It’s Lisa. Lisa Big Tits – can I come and see you. I’ve got Ben with me, you know Chrissy’s man.” As she was talking she mouth to Ben, “How much ya got? – Forty – yeh! Tastic – two and two…? Good!”

Then she completed the order, pulled a wad of notes from in between her bra and took Ben and Chrissy’s money.
“Deano, says you can come to his yard! Highly unusual! He only normally lets in the street girls. You must be a lucky man Ben. He’ll give us something to drink and maybe…yeh, last time he gave me a few pipes…he’s a good man Ben, good heart. And you should she the things he’s got in his yard. His TV – Oh, my days its like the screen at the Odeon! You’ve never see anything like it.”

Ben felt optimistic once again the knots in his stomach abating. The problem with scoring had been resolved, for a moment he felt guilty for taking so long and for Chrissy. She would be tearing her hair out back at the flat waiting for her hit, but now all he could consider was the fat pipe he was gonna load at Deano’s and of the laughs he was gonna have with Lisa. She was a most amiable crack companion and always seemed to know instinctively who had the best gear….

ii) Deano’s Yard.

They arrived at the bottom of the walkway on. Lupin Close, the bottom flats sealed with metal blockades, but one had been broken apart. Inside, it looked like this place had been squatted a few greasy mattresses, empty cans of Special Brew, litter. But as they walked up to the second floor of the apartment complex order prevailed. Lisa knocked on a door that stood out from the green fronted council ones on the other sides of the close. The windows to the flat were almost blacked out, sucking out the dim light – Deano obviously had his eye on security, but the whirr of a CCTV camera, a far more expensive and sleek model than the ones in Phase Ten, took him even further by surprise. It took a full minute for the door to be unlocked, keys seemingly jangling everywhere.

A slim, beautiful, elegant girl of no more than twenty opened the door her white teeth shown in an incandescent smile.

“Hello Lisa….and oh..Ben. I believe” she spoke in a Californian drawl, as slow and easy as her movements. She belonged it seemed to another world from these scruffy, scrawny addicts Ben was amazed at this creature, so suave but beautiful and kind. After she introduced them in sitting them down and a black leather sofa – the next thing she did then was to pull out a glass crucible so exquisite it looked as though it may have contained diamonds. Picking up a crumb of icy crack that was twice the size of a usual ten deal, she blinked her gorgeous eyes. Then with the flick and lick of the lighter and pipe she blasted into inner space.

The angelic vision of beauty and serenity that Ben had seen at the front door was destroyed. He realised she was just a fucked as and Lisa and himself - if not more. She’d just got further to fall…………. it wouldn’t be long before she was out on the beat. This had happened to Alisha, the last discarded plaything of Deano’s. Alisha - now crack ravaged and forgotten was just another in the ranks, another in the legion of the lost daughters of St Anns.

Deano walked in clasping his hand together snapping Lisa and Ben out of their trance.
“Wha’ gowa-nin’
“Oh Deano! This is Ben, Chrissy’s staying over at his…at the mo’”
“You Chrissyman? Pretty boy Ben, innit? I heard a lot about yo’. What you sayin’. “
“Well – me and Chrissy, we’re not together. Not an item – like” Ben giggled. He was nervous in the presence of this man he’d heard so much about. This and the fact that he was anxious, rattling heavy as it was several hours passing since his last fix.

Deano laughed and with a huge hand, placed the wraps of dark and light onto his designer coffee table. He took the money of Lisa, adding the few notes to a massive wedge in an expensive looking leather wallet. He looked thoughtfully around the room until his eyes met Ben’s.

“Cum…now to the kitchen. I hear you are a computa man. I need some work doing for me, some advice. I do not want to bore these ladies with these matters…come” he beckoned Ben into a kitchenette that backed onto the living room.

Deano waited for Ben to pass the door, and then he quietly shut it and swiftly turned the lock. Ben could feel the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He was that close to Deano he could hear his breathing.
“The computa…. It’s over there,” Deano pointed to desktop computer under a desk. Ben went down to examine it but was stopped short – he felt his heart banging hard in his chest. There was a hard point, something large nestling into his back A mechanism sounded behind him He was now almost choking…everything flashed around the room. Deano was pointing a gun at him – but why? Ben couldn’t think straight; it wasn’t like Deano was short of a bob or two, what the fuck could he want?

“Lissen…..Bumba clat. I know…..” Deano seethed, his voice quiet but malignant, as sharp as glass “’ bout that little in-ci-dent on the Chase a few days ago. You get what I’m sayin’. Turn round slowly…. I just wanna get sum - in-for-mat-ion.”
Ben was paralysed with fear. He tried to speak but nothing came..

“You mean….you mean – bout Pablo?”, He whimpered.
“Seen. You learn fast….so whadayaknow?”
Ben told him about going to score and then what he could remember; the whizz and the bang, Pablo being on the floor, but he couldn’t remember much. He explained as if his life depended on it – which to him it sure felt as it did.

Deano suddenly pulled the gun away. In seconds his menacing presence returning back to the affable host that had greeted them in the front room
“Sorry posh boy.” he seemed genuinely apologetic now. “I just wanted to know if you knew more…..I can see for myself you are not connected with ‘dose Meadows boys. You posh, ininit! Blud clat…. posh boy…silver spoon for his ting, eh?” Deano was now laughing to himself at his own joke. Simply he’d just been sizing Ben up, seeing if he had anything to do with the shots fired at Pablo. Ben had heard that Pablo had lost his ear, but he wasn't even sure it was definitely at the time he scored off him in the alley.

Deano switched again. Crushed his ample frame up against Ben again he grabbed his hand. Ben froze – but soon his fear was to melt into delight as he could feel Deano pushing something into his hand. He opened his sweaty palm and found a rock of crack as big as a small marble.
“You good kid, Ben,” Deano said unlocking the kitchen door. “But you tell me all you know now, innit. I still wan’ you to cum round and fix my rarse clat computa, yeh.”

Ben made his way into the lounge and sat down. His head still spinning after Deano’s interrogation. Hell, he thought that was not very nice. He didn’t have much time for thinking as he broke the crack into crumbs offering tasty sized pieces all round. He gestured to Deano, who gave him a look of incredulity before sayin, “No brother. I never ever touch that shit myself!” But Ben didn’t hear him; he was sucking in the smoke off the massive hit he'd fired off from the pretty girl’s pipe.

Half-hour later, they were back at Ben’s – in his crack-fuelled exuberance, he’d agreed that Lisa could stay over. Chrissy wasn’t too happy about this of course. She and Lisa were rivals and Chrissy was fuming at the size of the pipe Lisa had offered to broker the peace. A foul tempered argument kicked off lasting until the dawn. Lisa had stolen Chrissy’s clothes, gone off with her best punters – an endless list of slights and disses.

Life on the street was tough and Ben had noticed that the girls were obsessed with little petty feuds and trivialities. The chaos and disorder that ruled their lives was far greater than what Ben, Kev and Caddy had to deal with in theirs. At least these three friends had managed to keep their own flats and occasionally paid their bills. As the row reached its peak, the issue was over who could use the only remaining clean needle they had between them. At this point Ben told them to calm down or he’d kick both of them out.

He also told not to be so silly and irresponsible and that he had a new bag of clean works for them to use. He couldn’t believe that Lisa was going to even contemplate putting in the barbed and rusty pin near her arm. Then he saw the rashes on her arm and the dint marks of several old abscesses. You really need to start taking better care of yourself he thought, although now he was too tired to say anything. As he felt the warm glow of the heroin guide him into the arms of oblivion, he thought of the gun and of Deano’s hot breath on his back. He felt glad that things hadn’t turned too nasty - it was OK. Slowly his brain switched off to dream the limbo sleep of fallen angels.

iii) The Square

By Midday the three of them awoke. Lisa, ran straight to the bathroom whilst Chrissy tried to beat the door in on her. Somehow she’d managed to save herself a sneaky pipe and hit and you could bet that she wasn’t sharing. When she came out, Ben, who was pissed of to, showed her the door. Before she left she taunted Chrissy about a punter who was a mutual client – she was going to see him and get the money first.
“Christ, I can’t be dealing with this!”, Ben muttered to them both, trying to forestall another row.
Soon Chrissy was out on the sweeping up and down Cranmer Street -–by three o clock she was back with eighty quid. Ben didn’t ask any questions – he’d heard more than enough already about what went on that beat.

Bizarrely there were no dealers on the Chase and being as Ben had pawned his phone, he could call anyone either. He went back to the flat and explained to Chrissie who was furious he couldn’t score at this time of day.

Eventually she relented and told him that it was no problem – they could always score in the Meadows. They left and took a speedy walk through Nottingham until they got to the edge of the Meadows estate.

Walking across the endless maze of walkways and alleys to get to the Bridgeway Centre, they chatted and took in the sun until they arrived at their destination. This pedestrianised square in the heart of the Meadows estate, compared to in St Anns still had a few shops left,– but they all had pains of glass around the shelves of superbrews and groceries. You had to order and collect your goods through a hatch. When they got to the square Ben was amazed at what he saw. Phase Ten was crazy, but this was even worse!
Chrissie shouted “DRUGS!!!!!!!” so loud that Ben wanted to hide.
A few seconds went by with nothing happening but then suddenly you could hear a squeaking, screeching noise. On the south end of the square four youths on bikes appeared, one of them – could he be more than twelve?.
“What yo sayin’…” One of them ushered Chrissie over and as he expertly stashed her money down his socks, he spat out the drugs in his hand and then passed them to her.
“Bum, ting – yeh, you wanna come check me later,! Who’s your friend – is he a punter? Yoosh! He look like police………!” he pointed over at Ben, but it was evident he was only joking.

This whole scenario was deeply shocking. On Robin Hood Chase, although the dealing was blatant the yardies at least hid themselves in the alleys or by the trees. Here in the Meadows, these local kids were dealing as blatantly as you could possibly imagine. Not only this but they were so damn young, barely teenagers. The way the bikes had appeared was both comic and appalling – christ, it was like something from a film.
Chrissie smiled at him, with her best crack rotten smile – the deal was done. Happily arm in arm they walked back to St Anns, buoyed with the euphoria of having those greasy wraps close at hand.