Chapter 11 — The Embankment

The night breeze cut through the embankment, sharp and bracing, biting at Simeon in a quiet reminder that he was still breathing. Walking along the Thames at night had always been his way of clearing his head, of grounding himself when things got too loud. He used to sit on the worn stone benches, watching the river boats drift by, sometimes even giving a lazy wave as the city shifted from day to night. Not tonight. Tonight, the weight in his chest was too heavy, his mind too full.                                                                                

He reached for the iron railing, its cold bite grounding him as he stared out over the water. The river moved in a steady, uncaring, constant, its surface broken only by the occasional ripple of a passing boat. The lights from the city rippled off the dark water, stretching into golden streaks before vanishing beneath the current. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, muffled by the grounding hum of London at night.

With a practised motion, he pulled out his emergency pack of cigarettes. It wasn’t a habit, at least, it hadn’t been. But lately, the burn in his throat, the brief hit of nicotine, had become something he relied on. He couldn't afford to dull his senses with weed, not now. Not with Bluesy creeping in on all sides.          

He lit the cigarette with a flick of his lighter, the flame casting brief shadows over his fingers. He inhaled deeply, the smoke curling in his lungs before he exhaled, watching as it disappeared into the cool night air. It had been weeks since he first sensed this slow unravelling of control. And now, with one of his own dead, the reality was inescapable. He would have to make a choice. Stand his ground or disappear. Fight or flee. He breathed another breath of smoke, staring at the inky black water below.     

The city moved around him, cars whispering over the bridges, the occasional chatter of late-night walkers drifting on the wind. But he remained still, gripping the railing, mind circling the same thought. There was no easy way out of this. He needed to make a decision soon. 

‘Fuck it!’ Simeon’s voice tore through the night, raw and furious. A passer-by flinched, casting him a wary glance. He exhaled sharply, lifting a hand in half-hearted apology before turning his gaze back to the empty street. His mind was racing, tangled in a mess of frustration and disbelief. ‘Fuckin’ Donovan.’ 

Simeon shook his head in disbelief.  Why the hell would he take that risk? He had to know they’d figure it out, that there was no hiding from this. And Matt, what part had Matt played in all of it? Had they thought they could set Simeon up and walk away unscathed? His jaw clenched, his breath coming in short bursts as the pieces started snapping into place. How could he have been so stupid? So gullible? Sadie would have seen this coming. Why didn’t he? And then there was Kentish. If Simeon had listened to Frankie, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe Donovan wouldn’t have had the opportunity to play them like this. But now there was no undoing it. There was no way Frankie was going to stop. Kentish was as close to him as he was with Simeon.                                                            

‘Fucking Donovan.’ Simeon muttered, more to himself than anyone. He shook his head, exhaling sharply. ‘This fucking guy, man.’ Everyone knew Donovan wanted to make money. That wasn’t news. He was ambitious, always looking for the next move, always trying to climb. But this? This wasn’t just ambition. This was greed, pure and simple. And greed was ugly. It turned good men bad. It made them forget where they came from, who had helped them, who had bled for them. How could he fuck over his own?                                   

Simeon exhaled through his nose, tension tightening across his shoulders. He knew the path ahead wasn’t his to choose anymore. He wasn’t in control. Not in this moment. The weight of that realisation settled deep in his chest as he dropped onto one of the benches, elbows resting on his knees. He watched the Embankment lights shimmer against the water, reflections twisting and breaking with the steady movement of the Thames. He looked up, tracing the outline of Big Ben, its giant, face leering down at him like it knew something he didn’t. The Houses of Parliament stood eerily still, their darkened silhouette shifting with the tide, like ghosts watching from the other side of the South Bank.                                       

When he was young, he swore that if he ever had enough money, he’d do good with it. He used to fantasise about what he’d spend it on and how he’d make life easier for his family. He’d make sure his parents lived well and could travel back and forth to Jamaica without worry. He’d send barrels filled with goods for his family to make sure they could make something for themselves, build something better, and live a life. And he had done it. All of it. The motorbike and the Range Rover were fun dreams, and he had them now. Though he could have bought the flat and house outright, he paid for them monthly, keeping his wealth quiet. He had wanted to stay low profile. But that was over now. Donovan had changed everything. And if Simeon wanted to hold onto all he’d built, he would have to remind people of his worth. Otherwise, all his dreams would be for nothing.                        

He dialled the eleven numbers and waited. The phone rang twice before she answered.                                                                                                                                     

‘Hello?’

Simeon smiled. It was moments like this when he just needed to hear her voice.                                                                                                                                    

‘Hi, lady. How’s it going?’ He tried to sound normal, unfazed. But Toni was part of him; she was tuned in to his vibe.

‘Simeon. Where are you?’                                                                             

‘Embankment.’ The word slipped out before he could stop it. He pulled the phone away from his ear, silently cursing himself for another moment of stupidity.

There was a pause. Then her voice was edged with concern. ‘What’s wrong?’                                                                                       

‘Nothing, man. Nothing. I’m alright.’

But he couldn’t fool her. She knew his voice, his moods. And Embankment at eleven-thirty at night meant one thing: something was on his mind. She also knew this wasn’t the time to press him. ‘So, when are you coming back?’                                                                        

‘I don’t know.’

An unfamiliar silence stretched between them.

Simeon glanced up at the night sky. ‘To tell you the truth, some stuff has come up, and I’m probably not gonna make it tonight.’ And just like that, he confirmed her suspicions. ‘I’ve got some things I need to take care of. It’s gonna take me a little time, so…’

She cut in, thinking fast. ‘Why don’t you come over, just for a while, just for an hour. Let me massage your back.’

‘Toni, I can’t, I’ve got to meet Frankie in an hour.’                                                              

‘Then if you hurry, you won’t be late, will you?’ He could hear the worry in her voice. And despite himself, he gave in.

‘Okay. I’ll be there in a little while.’                                                                          

‘Good. See you soon.’

Simeon dialled his cousin. ‘Yo, Frankie, we’ll have to do this later.’

There was a sharp exhale on the other end. ‘Fuck that, man. This has to be done now. There is no fucking later.’

‘I’ve got to see Toni, Frank. I’ll ring you in about an hour.’ 

Frankie was ready to move. Too ready. And Simeon was stalling.  There was a tense pause, and Simeon closed his eyes, waiting for Frankie to speak                                                                                     

‘Okay. You’re the boss. But it’s getting done tonight, one way or the fucking other.’