Warning
This story covers some dark areas, involving individuals who are not very nice. Unlike the previous stories, this does involve rape. You may wish to avoid reading if offended by such topics.
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Nina was pregnant, she was not aware yet, but inside her womb, Des's baby was growing. Back at University now, Lara was also pregnant and in love with Jamal. Perhaps not in love, which is a strong word, but if not she was utterly besotted.
Neither girl had been experiencing morning sickness yet, which would not come for a few weeks. They were both a week into their pregnancies, and since they would not be expecting a period for another three weeks both were blissfully unaware they were growing new black babies in their wombs. That said changes were happening to them, both had wondered if their breasts had grown and Nina especially was feeling the effects of the hormones, her libido had increased significantly.
Lara had remained the rest of the week, splitting her time between Nina's home and spending time with Jamal. Both sisters studiously avoided discussing what had happened, both embarrassed about what had happened and what they had witnessed.
Des was in a bind. He owed money to Mr Adebayo, and Mr Adebayo was not a nice individual. Originally from Nigeria, he had emigrated to the UK over two decades ago, he had never lost his strong Nigerian accent nor his links to the Nigerian criminal underworld. He lived in a large house in South London, among other interests he was involved in loan sharking, and running a number of girls. At 56 he was still sharp and fit, he needed to match his ruthlessness with cunning and strength. His dense woolly hair was turning to white and he had to dye it now, His skin was a dark brown almost black, he had the magmatism of a powerful man.
Mr Adebayo drove a BMW M series, he liked the feel of the power under the bonnet, even if it did garner too much attention from the police, who did not have him on their radar, just merely saw a black man in an expensive car and that was enough to pull him over. Mr Adebayo was smart enough not to protest, not to get noticed, though he seethed with rage underneath.
He dressed smartly, in an expensive shirt and suit and a big fat gold Rolex, a real one, which had cost him nearly £15,000. Among other assets, he had a letting agency which was a convenient front for him to launder money from his other activities. He mainly dealt with houses of multiple occupancy, the landlords being in a different name and often "abroad". He dealt in cash and rarely was a tenant ever late with their rent, at least not more than once.
Mr Adebayo outsourced most of his work to one of a number of gangs he worked with, he had his own staff and employed Chidiebere "Chidy" as his number two. Chidy was street-wise and ambitious, raised in the slums in Lagos, he had been spotted by a friend of Mr Adebayo, who after a short period of working for him in Nigeria had been sponsored to attend a college in London. He never went and the college took the money and gave him the required certificate.
Chidy had a hard upbringing, his father had battered his mother to death after a particularly hard-drinking session. Growing up being raised by his older brother and sister had taught him some hard lessons. As a man, he had not forgotten them and demanded respect. Those who did not immediately give it were in trouble, including one unfortunate out-of-towner who had offended Chidy in a club and paid for it with a knife through the heart, no one had seen anything of course.
Des would not normally have been involved with a man like Mr Adebayo, apart from anything else Des was Jamaican British and did not like the relentlessness of Nigerians, let alone wanting to owe money to the shark-like Mr Adebayo.
But Des has to help out a friend who invested a small amount of money in their business. As it turned out the business was a front for drugs which had been busted in its 2 months of operation. The hapless friend has the premises seized along with a considerable amount of drugs and money. Money which he had borrowed from Mr Adebayo, who now held Des liable for the debt.
While not rich, Des did well off his fitness and dance instruction, with his savings and his car he could cover nearly two-thirds of the debt, but the interest on even the third left would quickly put him back to square one. He needed more time to raise the funds without the interest building up. He knew there was not really any other choice not if he wanted to avoid a beating at first and to be in debt to Adebayo for the rest of his life, or at worst to have his throat slit as a warning to others.
His first payoff had been a girl called Ashley, a girl he knew through his dance class, it brough him another week. She had had an immediate crush on him when she met him at one of his classes and had been trying to flirt with him ever since, but he had not been that interested, she was too easy and had no class. She had been chatty and a half bored Des had her life story. Brought up in a bad home, has been taken into foster care, bounced around homes, and dabbled with drugs but was clean now, she had a job and wanted a life. She wanted the sort of adventure she read in cheap romantic novels. She would be easy meat for someone as ruthless as Chidy.
Des had texted her and invited her out she had been keen and they had exchanged some flirty messages, with Des being clear he wanted her to meet his friend. They arranged to meet the following evening, in Brixton, Adebayo's manor.
She was there when Des arrived, keen to see the object of her affections, as was Chidy who made brief eye contact with Des as he entered, a message not to cross him. Des took a seat next to Ashley, she had brightened up when she had seen him, She was 25, with shoulder-length brunette hair that had been streaked with blonde highlights in an effort to brighten her appearance. The highlights were slightly grown out, betraying a lack of upkeep, but she hoped the effect still looked intentional.
Her low self-esteem showed in the way she dressed: an effort to be alluring but not entirely believing she could pull it off. She wore a figure-hugging top that clung to her curves, its neckline just low enough to catch attention but not daring enough to make her feel fully exposed. She'd draped a cropped leather jacket over her shoulders, giving her outfit a veneer of edge she didn't quite feel.
Her makeup was heavier than usual, applied with care but betraying a trembling hand. Foundation smoothed her pale skin to a uniform finish, but the blush on her cheeks was too pronounced, an attempt to add vibrancy to her nervous complexion. Her eyeliner was slightly uneven, the flicks at the edges of her eyes tilted at slightly different angles, and her lipstick--a soft pink gloss--was already fading at the edges where she had anxiously chewed her lips.
She fidgeted with the strap of her small black handbag as she glanced around, her eyes flitting nervously but brightening whenever they landed on Des. Her movements were self-conscious, her hands repeatedly smoothing down her dress or adjusting her hair, as though she was trying to fix flaws no one else could see.
Des greeted her and then called Chidy over with as much bonhomie as he could summon and introductions were made. Chidy put on the charm which, made Des recoil, but worked on Ashley who simply wanted to be the centre of attention, she seemed to relax and was happy to accept drinks from the men. Chidy insisted he buy them and left for the bar.
Des felt guilty and awkward, and attempted small back, but was relieved when Chidy was back, he sipped his beer knowing the cost would be added to his debt. Ashley quickly finished hers and Chidy insisted on getting her another drink.
After the second drink, Ashley was slurring her words, and Des figured her drink had been tampered with. Chidy had her arm around her and was laying on the charm, she looked compliant and somewhat out of it. Des sensed he was no longer needed, he made an excuse and left. He felt sick afterwards, these men were animals. He was not surprised when Ashley did not turn up to the next class.
Now a week later, there was a hammering on the door, he recognised Chidy's voice angrily calling his name, and he hurried to open the door. Chidy's temper was famously short.
Des heard the knock before he saw the figure looming in his doorway. He hesitated, the weight of what was coming settling like a stone in his chest. When he opened the door, Chidy stood there, tall and imposing, his face calm but his eyes cold.
"Des, my man," Chidy said, stepping into the house uninvited. His voice, smooth but edged with steel, carried the sharpness of a threat not yet spoken. "You know why I'm here, don't you?"
Des closed the door behind him, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. "Yeah, I know," he muttered. "I told you last time, I'm working on it. I've already paid more than half. Just give me a little more time."
Chidy leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. He tilted his head slightly, studying Des with the patience of a predator. "Time?" he repeated, his tone almost amused. "You think time is free? Time costs money, Des. And you still owe Mr. Adebayo. He doesn't like waiting."
Des shifted his weight, trying to hold his ground but feeling smaller with every word. "I'm doing what I can," he said, his voice tight. "Business has been slow lately, but I'll get the rest. I just need--"
