Page 55 of Crave

“So Ghost’s shifting rubbish now.”

“Looks that way.”

That got me thinking. Ghost never moved weak product. Not unless he was stretched thin or planning a switch-up. I pulled the folded map from my jacket pocket, the one I’d lifted off Ghost’s runner last week when the kid tried to muscle onto our patch.

Tyler clocked it. “What’s that?”

“Map of drops. Routes. Some of ’em line up with ours, some don’t.” I flattened it on the table, tracing the lines with the two fingers clutching my cigarette. “I wanna see where Ghost’s been shifting stock that ain’t his. If he’s cutting it thin, he’s desperate. Means there’s a hole somewhere in his chain. Probably why he’s raiding us. Find it, and we take the gap before he does.”

Tyler frowned, massaging his cheek. “You thinking of moving in?”

I shrugged, eyes on the ink and pencil scrawl. “Not thinking. Making sure I ain’t next.”

Truth was, I’d been tasting it in the air for weeks. The quiet before the swing. Ghost’s boys were sloppy, cops were sniffing, and whoever put that piece on Darren was sending a message. And last night, Tiny missing, the stash hit, Cormac wanted that answered. I could get the money, had a plan on that. But more so, it needed its own message back. And if I played it right, secured the border, maybe nick another block, then I moved up the chain. Play it wrong and I’d be another name whispered on a Hackney stairwell. And lately, with everything else twisting my head, I weren’t sure I trusted my instincts the way I used to.

I tapped one of the circles marked in biro. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. Check every drop between the Green and Roman Road. Take Kyan and Rio if you want backup, they’re showing initiative. Anyone moves gear without clearing it through me, I want a name. You find Tiny, you bring him in. Breathing, preferably.”

“Shouldn’t we do that?”

“Can’t.” I folded the map, tucked it in my jeans pocket. “I got something else to sort.”

“Like what?”

“A debt owed.” I nodded to the bag of gear I’d brought in. “That’s new stock. Get it shifted. Quick. We need to feed up the chain to keep this looking good, you get?”

“Yeah, okay.” Tyler frowned. “What debt?”

I should tell him. That’s how it worked. He was my second. A gobshite, sure, but reliable when it counted. We had each other’s backs. Always had. Keeping secrets about the line was how operations cracked from the inside out. Personal stuff? That was different. Everyone’s entitled to their own shadows. But right now, mine were bleeding into the business, and that made it dangerous.

He watched me, waiting for an answer.

I forced a shrug. “One that’ll be settled tonight. We’ll divvy it up after, same as always.”

He narrowed his eyes as if he wanted to push, but I turned away before he could. Couldn’t risk him seeing a hint of hesitation meaning something was shifting. And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sure who I was protecting anymore. The line. My secrets. Or the bloke tangled up in the middle of it.

So I slapped Tyler’s hand, a handshake saying all was square and nodded towards him. “Go buy your girl some flowers. Or take her out somewhere nice.”

“She’s away at Butlins in Bognor.”

“Butlins? Ain’t that a kids’ place?”

“Nah, they do adult shit now. Some washed-up nineties boyband reunion. She’ll be hungover till Friday.”

I huffed a laugh. “Classy.” I started for the door, then glanced back. “Get someone in to clean this place up for her, yeah? Looks like a crack den, not a home.”

I didn’t wait for the comeback.

I got in the car, did a few runs around the blocks, checking corners, keeping up the habit. Scouting for any sign of Tiny. Tried not to think. Didn’t work. The thoughts looped. Tricky’s mouth, those girls, Tiny, Cormac wanting answers, the mess I was making of both sides of my life. By the time the sky bruised into dark, I found myself heading somewhere I hadn’t in a long while.

Borderland. Not quite Hackney, not quite Stratford. Mid-terrace gaff with hanging plants and clean paint, and I sat there for a bit, staring through the windscreen at a life that didn’t fit me anymore.

Fuck it.

I got out, went to the boot, wrestled the bloody twin buggy out and it finally folded after a fight, but left the car seats in the back. Then I walked up to the door, dragging the thing like a guilty offering. Knocking felt like betrayal; it always did. Every time I came here, I felt like the piece of shit I was, pretending I still belonged.

The door flew open.

“Razor!” Amara came at me belly-first and I barely got an arm round the buggy frame in time to catch her. “Careful! I’m massive.”