THC e-book cover.jpg

THC

Three different versions of petty criminal Joe, each with radically different attitudes to life, set out on a day like any other.

As their lives tangle and overlap they each unwittingly draw one another towards an explosive finale.

This weird crime novella is a loose prequel to END OF LINE.

“ "Hey Joe," he yelled from the sofa, "where you going with that gun in your hand?" I tucked my piece into the back of my jeans and scanned the room for my keys.

"I'm going out to bang your old lady," I replied sourly, spying the bunch.

"Yeah," he called back with barely concealed glee, "I heard she was messing around with another man." Amid the pungent, bluish haze he collapsed into hysterical giggles.

"Just gets funnier every time man," I said sarcastically but, pulling on my jacket, I couldn't stop myself smiling. Damn pothead, always did make me laugh. Anyway, I was about to leave, I mean I was halfway out the door, when he called after me.

"Hey, can you do something for me?"

I didn't even turn round, just cocked my head and stared at the floor.

"Like what?" As if I didn't know.

"Could you pick me up some gear?" Yep, there it was.

"I don't have time to sort that out man, I've got shit to do." That wasn't strictly true but I couldn't be bothered and besides, it was first thing in the morning, none of the dealers I knew would be on for hours yet.

"No it's cool, it's all sorted, you just have to pick it up. C'mon man, you're going out anyway and you do owe me that ton." That was entirely true, he'd lent me a hundred last week. I cursed under my breath, trying to think of a better excuse as he continued his pitch.

"You've never had anything like this man, I swear, you will not be sorry." While he was as much an expert in bullshit as he was in weed, my flatmate didn't mess about when it came to his own smoke and I must admit I was intrigued. It was obvious I'd caved but I didn't want to look quite so easy so I came back into the flat and perched on the end of the sofa before changing the subject.

"Have you been up all night?"

"What day is it?" he asked. I thought about it.

"Wednesday," I decided.

"Two," he said, flipping through the TV channels. I smiled and shook my head.

"Alright man, who've I got to see about this killer gear then?"

"Seriously, it is the best I have ever had, even Dutch Dan is scared of this shit man," he still wasn't looking at me.

"Yeah alright, I've said I'll go yeah? Who'm I going to see?" He fiddled with the remote a little before mumbling something I knew I'd misheard.

"Who?"

"Sam." I hadn't misheard.

"Fuck. That." I was on my way back to the door.

"No come on man, two minutes, it's just a pick up, in and out, it's all arranged, you won't even have to talk to her." His barrage of reasoning couldn't distract me from just how bad an idea this was and yet, despite myself, I had to ask about her.

"What's she doing selling gear anyway?" I was trying to stay angry but another pause and mumble had my curiosity raging and I was back on the sofa's long suffering arm. "What?"

"It's her new bloke, I met him down the pub last week. We got talking, had a toke outside and set it up." His face writhed in discomfort as his eyes tried but failed to meet mine.

"Are you taking the piss?" Suddenly, being angry didn't take any effort at all.

"Honestly mate," he showed me the palms of his hands, "I didn't know who he was until after we'd set it up. He said he wouldn't be around this week but if I dropped by his missus would sort it. It wasn't until he mentioned her name that..." I frowned at his weak smile and sorry eyes but knew that he was being straight with me.

"Why the fuck can't you go?" I asked with a sigh, sliding down into the seat next to him.

"I would, obviously, but you've got the cash and you're going out anyway and..." I watched as his smile twisted from weak to devious, "...well, don't tell me you don't want to see her. C'mon man, this is your chance!"

"For what?" Remembered shapes and smells had already melted my resolve.

"To be cool man! You slide in there and be icy cool with her y'know? Show her you don't give a fuck. Who knows, might do you good."

"Alright, alright," I headed back to the open door before he could say any more. "Where are they living then?"

"You know where she lives man," his attention was back on the TV. Yeah, I knew where she lived, because until six months ago, I'd lived there too. I shook my head and set off but his words just managed to slip through the closing door.

"It's two hundred yeah, half and half?"

Damn pothead.”

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