SkinMarvin Gay Stories

Chapter | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 |

Chapter 1

Buster couldn't help noticing the young lad n' mostly because of the boots, you just didn't see them on the streets any more in these days of trainers (or sneakers, depending on where you're from), Rockport shoes and the like. The brightness of the yellow stitching gave away that the Doc Martens the young lad had on were still relatively new. You couldn't see how high they were because they were hidden by the charcoal grey trousers of the lad's school uniform. He looked about 16 years old, maybe 17, about 5 feet 5 inches tall, sporting a reasonably short haircut by today's standards (a grown-out crewcut affair by the looks of things), and the most striking thing of all, blood streaming from his nose.

David was embarrassed to see the big skinhead coming towards him. He was embarrassed that he didn't hold his own against the twins, and was only hoping that the big skinhead hadn't seen him get the hiding from the two tormentors who had sped off not two or three minutes earlier in the opposite direction. David forced a nod in Buster's direction. As the latter came closer, David could see he looked pretty fearsome. Tattoos everywhere and a big ring through his nose suggested that this skinhead was also someone not to be messed with & he doubted that the twins would have even thought about taking this guy on. David instinctively backed towards the entrance of the nearby shop doorway, he knew however that there were people around he could shout to for help, not that any of them came running when he was being set upon a few minutes earlier by the Barnes-Forbes Twins.

The Barnes-Forbes Twins unofficially ran the sixth form. It was known that they ran a mini-protection racket, dealt drugs and alcohol to their mates (what few they had) and that it was best to give in to their demands, no matter what. Various attempts by concerned parents had been undertaken to get the two delinquents removed from the sixth form college but a variety of factors had been more influential in the opposite direction & the school itself had a good reputation for academic excellence and didn't want to attract bad publicity, the boy's grades were good (little did the staff suspect that most of the work they handed in wasn't theirs) but most of all their father, Reverend Peter Barnes-Forbes, was on the School Board. James and Rupert Barnes-Forbes were there to stay and got away with pretty much everything they wanted to get away with.

For the last few days the Barnes-Forbes boys had continually been taunting David about his new boots and how he shouldn't "play the big boy, especially at his height". True, David was a bit shorter than most of the guys in the sixth form (and a lot of the girls too) and true, the Doc Martens he wore were unique in the sixth form college where he had almost finished studying & one more day of regular school, then he only had to go back to do his A-levels. The fact was, he'd cajoled his parents for the money for the boots because since the first time he'd seen them worn on another guy he knew he had to get a pair. They were his first pair of boots and he liked the feeling he got when he wore them & he didn't know why, but that's just the way it was. It did embarrass him a bit to be the only one in his school wearing them but he figured he should try to handle it, after all, he'd had to do a lot of convincing before his parents would give the money for the Docs, and anyway he'd only another few days to go then he'd start his A-level exams and then on to university. As it was, his place was practically secured at University, and as long as his grades remained high, that's all that mattered to his parents in the long run. The truth was, they were so busy they didn't notice what he wore on his feet in any case.

"That's a fuckin' nice pair of boots you've got yerself Lad," said Buster as he approached. David cowered into the doorway of the shop. "Don't worry, mate, just wanted to know if you wanted any help with that nose of yours. It looks pretty bad. What bastard did that to you mate?" David inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that the skinhead hadn't seen him getting the kicking.

"Aww, just some idiots from my school," said David.

"You must go to some fuckin' rough school mate," replied Buster.

"Nah, it's a pretty good school actually, one of the top two in the county."

"Is that right, mate? Well they should fuckin' teach you how to take care of yerself a bit better," said Buster with a laugh. Buster reached the lad his open pack of Reds. "Take one of these, that'll fix you!."

"No thanks, I don't smoke."

"Please yerself mate, you don't know what your missin, now let me see that nose of yours."

Buster took a few gathered bits of paper handkerchief from his pocket and pinched the bottom of David' nose. "Ummmppphh," emitted David. He couldn't help notice Buster from top to bottom, the way he looked, how his breath smelt of stale smoke, how there was a faint tinge of alcohol in the air as well. That said, something clicked in David which made him relax with this big skinhead as the big guy first-aided his bloody nose. David knew a bit about skinheads, and he instinctively trusted this one. He couldn't take his eyes off him, in fact.

"Hold still lad, this'll hurt but it'll stop the bleeding"

By this stage a man from the nearby bus queue had come over to see what was happening. "Are you OK, Son, he's not botherin' you, is he?"

"No, it's really all right, he's helping me actually, he's doing me a good turn, thanks all the same," said David through his nose which Buster still hung on to.

"Nosey wanker," muttered Buster. "Still, it must look odd, a Skin like me with you in a doorway, and you're covered in blood!.hehe."

"I suppose it must do, so you're a proper Skinhead then, I take it?"

"Nah, I'm Mother Fuckin Teresa, what's it look like?" said Buster smiling. David burst out laughing.

"Thank you so much for helping me, anyway, I'm sorry I look such a mess."

"Anybody in a fuckin school uniform looks a mess, Son." Again David laughed out loud.

"Well I'm not wearing it by choice, it's just we have to."

"But they let you wear Docs to school?"

"Well I've only another few days of school left then I start my A level exams so I guess they don't mind."

"They look good on you, Lad, when you getting the haircut to go with them then?" David looked at Buster inquisitively.

"Eh, I did, just a week ago. A number four crop & it's what I've had for the past two years."

Buster gave the lad a disbelieving raise of his eyebrows, and then looked at the handkerchiefs he'd been using to stem the young lad's blood. "Aww, fuck this is nowhere near stopped. Come with me."

David couldn't refuse & the blood was still trickling down his chin from his injured nose and Buster said "come with me" in such a way that a refusal would have been futile.

They crossed the busy shopping street and cut through behind the large supermarket on the other side. There was only wasteland to be seen, but Buster strode ahead, expecting David to follow, only now and then checking round to see that he was tagging along behind.

"Where we going?"

"To our place, I can get you cleaned up properly there."

"Are you sure?"

"Course I'm fuckin sure. Just come on. We can't have you goin back to your folks lookin as if you've been whacked with a fuckin baseball bat. Me name's Buster, by the way."

"David. Nice to meet you, Buster, and thank you again for!." A cursory wave of his tattooed hand stopped David thanking Buster for the fourteenth time. They eventually arrived at the old derelict house. No lights were on, that meant Charlie and Nisbo were out somewhere.

"Do you live alone Buster?" asked David, as they entered the hall.

"Nah, I have two mates here, but they ain't in at the moment, and no, I ain't no fuckin axe murderer either," said Buster smiling again, "there used to be three other geezers your age or so here, but they are otherwise detained at her majesty's pleasure at the moment to be honest." Buster gave a quick chuckle.

"Oh, I never suggested you were going to do me any harm!"

"Don't worry, Lad. I know & you ain't got any need to worry." David didn't exactly feel comfortable when he saw his surroundings once the hall light went on. It was a dingy old house, with empty beercans sitting here and there about the place and posters of punk and Oi! Bands and old concerts on the walls. "Come in, make yerself at home, I'll get a cloth for that nose of yours!"

David sat down on the somewhat busted settee.

"Are your other friends skinheads too?" asked David.

"Everybody who lives here is a skinhead," replied Buster as he advanced on David with a wet cloth in his hand. "Get yer blazer and shirt off mate, don't want this ice goin all down yer nice uniform."

"It'll be OK, honest."

"Get them off Lad, I seen more than a lad's tits before," remarked Buster, smiling wryly. David did as he was told and immediately began to shiver.

"Here, press that icepack to the bridge of yer nose, it's a trick me mate Charlie showed me & the nosebleed will stop soon enough I'll get ya somethin to catch the drips in." Buster was taking charge of the situation. He soon came back with a Fred Perry for David to put on temporarily. "Put this on, Dave, it'll fuckin stop ya shiverin."

"OK, thanks Buster. Nice Fred Perry by the way...."

"OK, what the fuck's goin on mate? Yer wearin boots and you know about Fred Perrys. What's the story?"

David went beetroot-red. So much so that Buster noticed. "Come on, out with it. Were you once a skinhead or what?"

"Eh, no, I wasn't. My parents would never allow me to be one to be honest. I just like skinheads. But living where I do and going to school where I do, I would never be a skinhead myself. I just find skinheads very!interesting." Buster noticed the very slight pause between David's last two words. "I read a bit about their history and so on too, how that it all started years ago in the seventies!"

"Mmmm!!.. skinheads are interestin for sure mate." Buster remembered only too well that it was researching about skinheads got him where he was today. Had that assignment been given to someone else, Buster would still have been plain old Anthony, and certainly wouldn't be living the lifestyle he'd grown accustomed to over the last lot of months. "Mmmm!..well we're not all bad, as I'm sure you fuckin know by now," he said, tousling David's hair.

"No, I know that, Buster, thanks again for your help today. I think the bleeding's stopping."

"OK, give me the icepack then, and get that Fred Perry off, you ain't keepin' it!"

David did as he was told and put his school shirt and blazer back on. He recounted to Buster how the Barnes-Forbes Twins had ganged up on him from behind and pushed him against the wall and punched and kicked him. All because he was wearing these boots. Maybe he shouldn't wear them to school any more.

"You fuckin wear them anywhere you like, Dave. They're your boots, you like them, you fuckin wear them. Understood mate?"

"Yes, mate." David allowed himself to say "mate" to Buster & he'd never called anyone "mate" before. "I'd better go. I wish I could repay you for the help."

"Aww, just don't fuckin thank me again, that'll be fuckin thanks enough."

David rose to go. "Can I maybe bring you some beer or something? I don't know. It's just!."

"What?"

"I'd like to talk to you more about you being a skinhead, but I really have to go now, but I'd like to know more about you and your life and!.."

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't know really. You're the first skinhead I ever met really and I want to talk to you about it. I'm sorry, I know I'm only 18, but!."

"You're 18?" asked Buster incredulously, "I thought you were about 16."

"Everybody does," said David forlornly. "I mean if you'd rather I never came back, I'd understand, it's just you're the first skinhead I know and I want to know more about it." David was conscious that he was repeating himself.

"Well look, mate, why don't you come round here at the weekend and you can ask anything you want. But me mates might be here!!you'll get three different fuckin opinions to every question you ask."

"REALLY? Can I come back here??" David was obviously delighted that Buster would be happy to chat. Buster had more than chat on his mind.

"Sure. Come round any time, come round on Friday night and have a beer with us."

"Eh, I don't drink but!.."

"Don't' fuckin drink. Don't fuckin smoke. Don't fuckin swear. No bloody wonder you get beat up on the way home from school!.." laughed Buster as he ushered David down the hallway.

David stopped dead in his tracks. Nisbo and Charlie (big as ever) came through the front door. "Who the fuck are you, Son??" said Charlie, staring down at David who was again cowering back towards Buster. "It's a long story!" began Buster. Before Buster could stop him, Nisbo pushed past David, and Buster, kissing the latter on the cheek as he did so. "I'm bustin for a fuckin dump!"

"Sorry about me mates, Dave. They didn't go to such a fine school as what you did," laughed Buster.

"See you on Friday evening, Buster, mate, and thanks again." David replied. Charlie stood there, unable to take any of this in. "What the fuck's goin on," he began!!

"He's a kid that got beat up by a couple of thugs from his school, that's all. He couldn't get his fuckin nosebleed stopped, so I fuckin helped him out, OK?"

"Should've used an ice pack on the top of his nose," said Charlie. "So what's he comin round here again for then?" he asked as David closed the front door behind him on the way out.

"He likes skinheads."

"Aww, fuckin hell, that's all we need, a fuckin kid snoopin around, Buster, what were you thinkin of, you tosser!"

"Nah, Charlie, he LIKES skinheads. He's as bent as we are, we won't be seein Deck and the lads for a very long time & it's about time we had some fresh!"

Charlie interrupted, "Yeah, yeah, maybe, but he's your fuckin baby and if he crosses me, he's OUT."

"Give me a weekend, Charlie, you'll see," replied Buster.

"I reckon it could be fuckin fun," agreed Nisbo from behind, scratching his arse.

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