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| Copyright © Mark R Kelly 2025 |
I sat on the leather-bound sofa, my instincts screaming to move, to evade and vacate. I didn't answer immediately, but instead returned the gaze and held it. "Not yet," was my answer.
A grin split the black guy's face immediately, white teeth flashing. The sound he made as he laughed put me in mind of a cross between an asthmatic and a hissing snake. Apparently my reply satisfied him, as he began rolling himself a spliff behind the kitchen breakfast bar of his open-plan apartment.
Every so often, he'd look at me from under his brows, eyes locking on me each time. He'd giggle quietly, with a slight shake of his head. My companion stood with his back to us both, babbling on about nothing in particular, making mugs of tea on the far side of the kitchen. Quietly observing it became apparent my companion was familiar with the place - his hands knew exactly where everything was, and not once did he ask the owner how to find the milk, sugar, tea or mugs. Clearly both men had a comfortable rapport - supplier and user.
On the journey to the apartment, the bypass was almost deserted, late night traffic scarce enough to be nearly non-existent. We drove with the windows down, the mildly warm August night air tussling our hair like a stylist gone mad, but it felt good. That near-hypnotic soothing rumble of rubber on dry tarmac loud in our ears. I glanced at my driving companion, his face faintly etched in highlights from the dashboard lights, a vacant grin on his face.
"This guy," began my companion, "isn't one you want to fuck with." He quickly glanced at me, his grin gone.
Not sure why or what he was expecting from me. I nodded, "Understood."
We came off the slip road and headed into the heart of the Cardiff Bay area. Although born and bred in Cardiff, the Bay was unfamiliar to me. I had an uneasy feeling of being led into the Lion's den as we pulled into the apartment block car park.
Inwardly I slipped into amber mode, not knowing how this was going to play out. A definite first for me, being taken to a drug dealer's home - a known one at that, with a grisly reputation as the icing on the cake.
My reason for being there was basically 'security'. My companion, known to me since childhood through my older brother, had heard about my security background and training in close protection. He thought he could put me in touch with 'some people' he knew who could be looking to hire such a skill set.
The dealer lit up. Taking a long pull, he offered it to me over the breakfast bar.
"Not for me, thanks." I politely declined. Again, that shark-like grin as he turned and passed it to my companion. Both spent a good ten minutes, puffing and chatting, spliff passing back-and-forth between sips of tea and coffee.
I sat silently. Observing, trying to appear calm, but inwardly I was on edge. I'd also been informed that this guy was a feared man. Folks didn't mess with him, most avoided him at all costs. I felt like a survivor from a boat that had just sunk, treading water and wondering if a shark attack would happen at any moment.
It was with great relief, half-an-hour later, we left. Still the grinning face and calculating eyes watched me as we made our way down the external stairs and into the car park. Only when the apartment door closed did I exhale with a palpable sense of relief.
My companion handed me the keys, his bloodshot eyes slightly glazed, "Drop me home would you? I'm too fucked to drive."
"I wasn't going to let you," I replied.
Casting one final look up at the apartment as I opened the driver's door. A chill ran down my spine as I saw the dark outline of the dealer watching us from his window.
On the drive back I thought over the encounter. Stupid! So fucking stupid of me even allowing myself to be put in such a situation to begin with. Just as well the drug squad hadn't kicked in the apartment door. My presence would have been difficult to explain away, at the very least.
As my outro for today, here is Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - "Red Right Hand".
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