CHERUB: Brigands M.C. - Robert Muchamore Page 0,68
help with the mission, but she was playing the ex-wife of a stockbroker and she couldn’t jump at the prospect of a biker party, so she hesitated.
‘Come on, let your hair down,’ Rhino said cheerfully. ‘When was the last time you went to a really crazy party?’
Chloe laughed. ‘It’s been a while and I’m guessing the Brigands clubhouse is livelier than a cocktail party in Primrose Hill.’
24. RIDE
‘So how’s your little Jap rocket?’ Teeth asked, as he stood in the staff canteen, off the mezzanine between Marina Heights’ two floors. The windowless space had a few tables and chairs, a fridge, sink and a coffee machine, but on a warm day everyone took their breaks outside.
‘Haven’t ridden it yet,’ James explained. ‘They’re fitting the restrictor kit right now.’
‘Fitting it badly, I hope,’ Teeth smiled.
‘Course,’ James nodded.
‘Your basic salary is five an hour,’ Teeth explained. ‘Seven quid after eight at night and eight if you work after midnight. If you have a problem with your hours don’t leave it until the last minute to let me know. How does a full Saturday and a couple of evenings after school sound?’
‘I guess,’ James said. ‘What’ll I do?’
‘Everyone starts on clean-up and odd jobs: toilets, bins, litter. Next stage is serving in one of the kiosks. The top rung is working in the diner or as a kiosk manager. You get an extra two-fifty an hour for that.’
‘Cool,’ James nodded. ‘I’ve actually worked in a Deluxe Chicken before now, so I’ve got some experience serving customers and stuff.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Teeth said. ‘You never know.’
James remembered a few details about Teeth’s past and decided to flatter his new boss. ‘You look slightly familiar. Didn’t you use to be a wrestler?’
Teeth broke out in a huge smile. ‘How’d you know that?’
‘From when I was little. You were Gumdrop McGlone, on one of those early-morning wrestling shows they used to have on the sports channel. I used to lap that up.’
‘I only did three televised bouts,’ Teeth smiled. ‘You’ve got quite a memory.’
‘Do you still wrestle now?’
‘Nah,’ Teeth said. ‘I used to do holiday camps and stuff, but now I run Marina Heights and you can’t disappear for weeks at a time during the summer season. Plus I’m a few years past my prime. I ran a club for a while teaching young ’uns boxing and wrestling moves, but I turned it in. Some guy tried to sue me after his son broke his arm. Plus they brought in all these regulations and criminal checks for people working with kids, and I’ve got a bit of a past.’
‘Pity,’ James said.
‘I’ve got a full complement of staff today,’ Teeth said, ‘but I could start you off on a special job if you want to earn straight away.’
James wanted to ride his new motorbike as soon as it was ready, but putting in some hours would be more likely to impress his new boss. ‘I’ll do anything,’ James said. ‘I’m a hard worker.’
Teeth gave James a security pass, a walkie talkie and a blue boiler suit to put on, then disappeared to collect a water jet sprayer. After leading James to the underground car park below the Marina View apartments they walked between lines of expensive cars to a patch of wall covered with the partially filled outline of a graffiti tag Eklipz 08.
‘We spotted the man with the spray can and gave him a good kicking,’ Teeth explained. ‘But the only way you’ll get that lot off the concrete is to blast it.’
After showing James where to rig up the hose and plug in, Teeth demonstrated how to blast off the spray paint.
‘Spray paint does shift, but concrete is porous so it takes a lot of doing,’ Teeth explained. ‘You’re looking at a good four or five hours’ work. Take a break when you’re halfway through, then come and find me when you’re done.’
As James took the face visor from Teeth and began blasting with the hose, the walkie talkie hooked to his waist began to crackle. ‘Cleaning team one to Donut Shack,’ it announced. ‘Kid puked up on the promenade. Let’s get it scooped before people start treading through.’
*
It was half three when James finished. The building manager’s office was behind the restaurants. Teeth sat at a cluttered desk. James recognised the Führer’s sixteenyear-old son Martin as he entered.
‘This is the kid I was telling you about,’ Teeth explained to Martin.
Martin was taller than James, but thin. He wore skinny-fit black jeans, a