The smell of grease wafted out from a shop that had a sign more battered than the fish they sold.
“We’re not here to play tourist, Elliot,” said Julien, but Cinn’s eyes lit up.
“I love that one! Maybe we can bring that kid some chips to butter him up.”
“Butter him up? What is he, toast?”
Cinn rolled his eyes and headed straight into Cod on the Corner. Elliot shot Julien a smug, victorious smile. Yes, intervention was definitely going to be needed.
The takeaway restaurant was at least warm from the fryers. Julien studied the menu. Several of the price labels had fallen down.
“Why would you want your peas mushy?” Julien hissed into Cinn’s ear. “And what on earth are ‘scraps’?” When he reached the battered sausage, he groaned. “Mon ami, please don’t tell me these are all typical English delicacies?”
Beside him, Cinn shook with laughter. “I’m ordering for you.”
“I’m honestly not hungry,” Julien pleaded, but Cinn ignored him, reeling off a list of menu items.
When he was finished, they huddled in the corner to wait, watching the steam blur the view out of the window. A loud, stern lady soon shouted at them that their order was ready. Cinn passed Julien a small greasy box, a tub of dark sauce, and a wooden fork. He eyed the cutlery with disdain, its cheap splintered edges seeming likely to leave him with a mouthful of wood.
Julien raised an eyebrow at the gloopy curry sauce, handing it back to Cinn with a bemused expression. “I’mnotputting curry with fries,” he declared firmly.
Elliot snatched it out of Cinn’s hands. “You guys ever tried deep-fried pickles? I’ve only ever found them back in the states.”
“I fear my taste buds are not prepared for such transatlantic eccentricities. Let’s go find our friend then,” Julien said. The server was glaring at them for taking up valuable space.
He opened his box to find a surprising top layer of cheese. Certainly a bizarre choice. Underneath, the fries were far too chunky and salty for his taste, and drenched in vinegar, of all things, but Julien still wolfed them down—they hadn’t eaten any dinner. Cinn led the way all theway through the high street to a supermarket car park. He paused near a trolley stand.
“I think that’s him over there,” Cinn said quietly, jerking his head subtly towards two figures lurking by a bush. “Let me do the talking.”
“What are you afraid I’ll say?”
“Pretty much anything,” Cinn replied, and Elliot snorted.
As they approached the pair of youths, Cinn slowed his steps. The duo, a girl and boy, instantly stopped their conversation to study the three of them.
“Hey, mate. George, right?” said Cinn, stepping under a streetlamp to reveal himself clearly. “I doubt you’ll remember me. I’m Tyler’s friend.”
The girl maintained a suspicious gaze, but George flashed a smile. “Course I remember you. You’re that geezer who lent me a tenner. Need it back?”
Cinn shook his head and raised the paper bag. “I’ve come with an offering of chips in exchange for a favour. Tyler’s in trouble with Richter again. You still working for him?”
George eagerly accepted the bag, opening the box and handing it to the girl. She used her bare hands to scoop a large mouthful up. Julien stared at the pair of them, who couldn’t be much older than sixteen. They were dressed well enough, but their faces were slightly gaunt.
“Yeah. I heard about Tyler. Can’t believe he fucked up again. The story is that he was lugging around enough white to fill a damn swimming pool, but some slick crew rolled up and snatched it right from under his nose.” Even though there was nobody around, George dropped his voice to continue, “Richter’s proper pissed at him, mate. He owes him big time now. I’m worried for him, man. You know what happened to Hawk, don’t you?”
“What?”
“Let’s just say Hawk’s wings got clipped real short. The skies won’t be the same for him now.”
Cinn flinched. Did he know this Hawk fellow? Julien moved closer to him, and George’s eyes flicked to him and Elliot.
“Who are your mates, anyway?” George asked, wariness colouring his voice.
“They’re here to help Tyler. Think you can get a message to Richter for us? We need to tell him we’ll get him the money.”
George snorted, shoving a chip into his mouth. “You sure about that? I reckon it’s a hell of a lot more than last time.”
The girl, grease all over her lips, added, “I dunno if you wanna stick your nose in. He’s really cutting loose right now. It’s not just Hawk that’s felt it. Word is on the street that he’s taken care of this woman named Sally. She was his girl, until she tried to leave him.”
