Snow Space

Accused

Rob's red Fiat Spider car was one of his most highly prized possessions; an item that demanded thorough care and the upmost precaution when in its presence. It looked out of place though, amongst all the council flats, and the rough estate - shining in the sun like a polished trophy, a gloating tool to all those who passed it. Khamil was by it now, carrying out the routinely car-wash that earned him a fine sum of 50p an hour (generous for Rob), the soapy suds dripping down the windows as he swiped the sponge across the laminated glass. The bucket sat at his feet, water sloshing dangerously near his worn trainers every time he swirled the sponge in it. 

"Oi, Brooke!"

At the sound of his surname, Khamil glanced up, squinting with one eye as the sunlight bounced off the car - a fluorescent glister. He chucked the sponge back into the bucket, finally recognising the figure walking towards him, holding out a friendly hand.

"Wah'gwan, fam?"

"Alright, Raff," Khamil nodded, leaning forwards to meet his old friend's hand with a bro-shake. "What you doing back here?"

Raff leant against the Fiat, and Khamil neglected to adhere to Rob's strict rules on the car, instead offering a lighter to his friend as he brought out a cigarette.

"Cheers. Just back down the ends for a few days, thought I'd drop by, innit."

"Safe. It's good to see you, man."

Khamil watched, as Raff brought a cigarette to his lips, passing the lighter back. 

"Sweet whip."

"Ain't mine," Khamil smiled wryly, and Raff laughed, shrugging as if it didn't make a difference. 

"You still rolling with Pikey and that lot?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Standard," Raff nodded, exhaling a breath of smoke. Raff had been at Khamil's primary school two years above, dropping out to pursue a career in business, and it had been heard that he'd been pretty successful too. He was making Benny's a minute during a working day, and it showed too; his clothes were far flashier than Khamil had ever seen him wear before. 

"Look, Khamil -" he suddenly said, holding out his cigarette as he spoke to elaborate whatever point he was about to make. "I confess, I came down here to ask for a favour."

"Sure," Khamil replied, wiping his wet hands with the old rag that had been sitting on the car roof. 

"I got some business down here, but my boys are flat-roofin' it at the moment - you get me? Bare stressed out about feds and that, apparently they aren't good to be seen on the street right now, innit."

Raff spoke quietly, though with extreme informality, almost as if he were letting Khamil in on some private joke, his cigarette smoke escaping his lips with the words. Khamil nodded, not sure where this was heading, though he trusted Raff - he'd been a part of Bateson road for years. 

"You couldn't spare a half hour to help me shift some stuff could you? I got eighty quid going spare for some help. Trust me, this shit is off the hook."

Khamil paused, before chucking the rag back on top of the car and raising his eyebrows.

"Eighty quid, fam, are you serious?"

"Dead serious. You in?"

Khamil glanced back at the car, and then up at the window - Rob probably couldn't see him. 

"Course I'm in, mate," he grinned, and Raff mirrored it, clapping Khamil on the back in solidarity.

"That's what I'm talking about brother. Come, follow me."