MILK. // Matty Healy

1.

Winter had engulfed Manchester, eradicating Autumn entirely leaving only traces of moulded leaves on pavements. My black leather boots smacked against the wet pavement as I leapt off the tram, continuing my endless trudging around winding ginnels until I felt a familiarity from the dark, brick walls I was surrounded by.

"You're late," A low voice called,

"Give me a break, only by like five minutes." I turned to greet the familiar face, Julian. I don't think that was his real name, he would be moronic if it was. He wore blue, relaxed jeans and a chunky, black puffer coat. I slapped a fair amount of notes into his hand which he exchanged for a few small bags inside a plastic container, one of those ones you can find at the pharmacy to piss in.

"You owe me, too." Julian took a drag from his rolled cigarette, I could see the creases and uneven spread of tobacco even in the dark.

"I know, sorry. It's been tough on tips, I'll have the rest by the end of the week I promise."

He scoffed, "Forget it, you can help me out this week instead."

"Depends when, you know I'm busy."

"Late evenings, got a lot of deliveries I can't keep on top of on my own."

I pondered, looking around us to make sure we were entirely alone before pulling my house keys out of my pocket, placing one into the remnants of my last bag and sniffing whatever I could get on it. "I guess I could do."

"Good lass," he patted my shoulder as he began walking away, "Come to mine tomorrow at nine, don't give yourself a heart attack before then."

"Deal."

I walked in the opposite direction to him, leading myself back home. I passed a group of drunk women on a hen night, screaming Waterloo by ABBA at the tops of their lungs. It wasn't an unusual occurrence in this part of Manchester with it being so close to the centre, I'd learnt to tune it out as background noise over my last three years here. When I approached my apartment door, I made sure there were no remnants of powder left on my keys before giving them a hearty stab into the lock. I was extremely grateful to have snobbish parents that wouldn't let me live in student accommodation, I'm not sure I would be a tolerable flatmate to endure. It was going to be a restless night, I was too buzzed to sleep without at least a smoke.

I had drifted off eventually that night, waking up a few hours later and continuing with my daily routine. Line, cigarette, add some atrocious drivel to my latest assignment and head to work. I remember being little and thinking that being a waitress was such a glamorous job to have, at least I set my expectations low for myself. Getting geared up was the only way I could make my job tolerable, I'd also talk enough to get a fair amount of tips. My shifts still dragged, I would watch the clock go by whenever I got the chance as I tried to make sense of it in my hazed state. When it finally struck eight in the evening, I wasted no time rushing back to my apartment to get myself ready for Julian's. I'd opted for a warm jumper and corduroy jeans, the weather called for it, along with my boots. Julian lived on the outskirts of town, I hadn't been to his house often as he was, rightfully, paranoid. It was a dingy townhouse he shared with a few other guys, I'd been fortunate enough to never meet the rest. I began my walk, it was around thirty minutes and I couldn't drive and didn't plan on learning. I didn't mind the walks, even if I had to have my wits about me.

I eventually arrived, the bottom of my jeans slightly damp from the puddles left by the earlier rainfall. I stood in front of the dilapidated house, the render that was once a bright cream colour now shades of a murky grey and green. I knocked three times on the PVC door before it swung open, revealing an unfamiliar figure with long, dark hair and hollowed cheeks.

"Fucks sake, what's this kid doing at our door?" The figure called into the house, I stood awkwardly.

"She's not a kid, move. She's working for me." Julian's voice thundered as he approached the door frame. "Come in," He beckoned me with his hand, I stepped in past the unknown man and flashed him an uncomfortable smile. Julian led me to his living room, lit up by a struggling bulb from the main light with no lampshade.
"Take a seat." He gestured to the tacky, green settee with a few dubious stains. I perched myself on the very edge of it, resting my elbows on my thighs and looking around at the state of the room. Peeling wallpaper, damp on the ceiling, dirty cups and dishes scattered amongst the floor and coffee table. "Here's a list of people and addresses," He handed me a crumpled piece of lined paper with scrawled handwriting, "You shouldn't have any problems, if you do, call me."

"Thanks, what should I do once I have finished?" I queried,

"Come back here with the money, let me know if there were any issues and you're free to go. I will be counting the money so no funny business," He waved his finger at me before grabbing a carrier bag and passing it to me,
"This has everything in it, all labelled so you shouldn't have to worry about that."
I took the bag and placed it into the unsuspecting, bright rucksack I brought with me, "Thanks for uh, letting me help you out."
"Anytime. I know things can be tough, I guess.
Just be safe." He spoke sternly.

Julian saw me out, shutting the door behind me. I gazed at the piece of paper, the first address wasn't too far when I put it into my maps. The first address was an average, new build home for someone named Sam, they had a blue Nissan parked in the driveway and a Christmas tree in the window. I pressed the doorbell which produced a common, eight note chime. A man opened the door in grey joggers and a red hoodie, I heard a baby crying and a woman screaming crossly from inside.

"Sam! You have to be joking, you're a fucking father now and you're still acting like you're a teenager. I don't want this shit in my house with my baby." She wailed from inside, the man at the door smiled awkwardly. I handed him his bag containing a few rocks of cocaine and quickly grabbed the money he handed me before leaving, sharpish. I felt lucky being friendless with a few trivial commitments, my heart sank thinking of the poor child.

My nerves subsided after the first few deliveries, I had seen people old and young, living in the rich parts and council estates. There was no pattern, the only thing anyone had in common was drugs. Even they had no pattern, cannabis to smack, acid to ecstasy, there was no predictability. I had made it through the majority of the list, except for one person. The address was an apartment block, not too far from my own. It was in a tall, chic building with neatly circular shaped plants at the entrance. I could see the off-white tiles glowing from inside. He was on the fifth floor, I pressed the buzzer for the apartment written down after getting through the first doors into a mailroom.

"Hello?" A man's voice called,

"Hi, I've got a delivery for," I looked down at the sheet of paper once more, "Matt?"

"Shit, okay be quick I don't want anyone seeing you." I heard the crackle of the intercom before a low buzz signifying I could now enter. I took the lift, I had done enough walking for the day. The apartment block was decent, the architecture was modern and it looked pristine. The lift whirred past each floor before stopping at the fifth, the doors sliding open. I walked to the end of the hallway to find the apartment corresponding with the number written down and knocked, the door was harshly pulled open from the other side and I felt a warm hand grab my wrist and pull me in.