Prima Facie ✔️

Gangbanger - 2

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Arlie's POV.

"We need to talk about the flat."

Jamal looks up at me, his mouth full of pizza. After my interview, I went food shopping. I snuck a glimpse of his fridge earlier and it's half-empty. The only things in it are beer and some take-out boxes. I bought a load of fruit and vegetables for him, plus some chicken and fish. He needs more variety in his diet, that's for sure.

"What about it?"

"You don't want me to live here, fine, I get it, but my name is on the deed so I need something from it," I tell him, feeling awkward but determined. "I'm owed something, Jamal. You can't take the whole flat for free. It's 50/50."

He nods, his expression grim. "I know. It's just...I can't sell the place because it was Mum's, it's the only thing we have of hers, but I don't have the money to buy you out."

"I don't understand how you don't have any money, I thought gangbangers did well?"

He glares at me. "Don't call me that."

"Are you part of a gang?" I retort and he scowls.

"Yes, but I ain't no gangbanger. I'm like...an associate. I'm not fully in."

"Your tattoo says otherwise."

His jaw clenches and his nostrils flare. "They made me get that."

Guilt gnaws at me. I wasn't there for him. If I'd been there, I might have been able to stop him from getting involved.

"So, do you have a job?"

He sighs and rubs his jaw again, something I've realised he does when he's stressed.

"I'm a runner. I run drugs, guns, whatever they're moving. I don't always do it, only when they call, which is about once or twice a week at the moment. They give me a tiny percentage of the cut. Most days, I move boxes down at the docks for a shipping company. The owner, Jack, he pays me in cash, he's sound."

"School?"

He scowls again. "Didn't finish it."

"Did you get any GCSEs?" I ask softly.

He glares at me. "The fuck do you think, Arlena?"

"Okay," I reply gently. "Would you be willing to take some evening classes?"

"You wanna make a fucking nerd out of me?"

"I want you to succeed," I snap. "If you get the basics, you can get a good job, Jamal."

"Oh, yeah? Where's your job?" He fires back, getting angry.

"I got one this afternoon, actually. £15 an hour."

"Fuck off! Where the fuck are they paying you that?"

I've already thought up my alibi. "Working nightshift at the hospital as a intern tech," I tell him.

The night shift will match the strip club's hours, and working as a tech is actually possible with the GCSE's I've got, but it definitely doesn't pay £15 an hour.

"When the hell did you get that job?"

"I arranged the interview for this afternoon, that's what I went to. And before you ask why I lied, I didn't want to tell you until I knew for sure that I'd got the job."

He looks like he wants to argue. Instead, he presses his lips together and shakes his head.

"Well, I'm glad you've got a job. We can't all be that lucky."