SkinMarvin Gay Stories

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Part 14

Scar learnt of Andrew's suicide while reading the paper at breakfast. "Fuck that coward. Fuck him to hell! Harry will have to use one of his own pigeons now. He owes me plenty; time for him to cough up." He immediately wrote to Harry, and told him the situation. Next night, Harry rang him on his mobile phone, smuggled in by one of the guards, from the prison. "Walter me old skin, what's this about Andrew? Not sure if I can help you there me old son." Scar was livid Harry had called him by his real name. He only did that when he wanted to get under his skin, or when he thought he had him in a position of power. "Fuck you Harry! You owe me big time. Screw with me, and I slow the drugs down to a slow crawl. I never wanted to get involved in the first place. I can just as well give it away, and there isn't a fairies fart you can do to stop me. Now, what can you do inside?" Harry laughed a full belly laugh. "You always were the feisty one of the family." "Cut the crap Harry, give me the gen. Can you do it or not?" "Of course I can do it, no problem. Maureen is visiting me on Thursday, and I will pass them on to her. She will send the kid in with them to you. Turns out he likes the skins too, young and with tight asses, just like his uncle Walter." "Yeh? Well you can't help his good taste despite his father's lack of it. Can your boys cover the goods till the job is done?" Harry laughed again, "Course we can, it will be our pleasure. You can have this pig free, Scar, he will be good as gone by next week." With that, Harry rang off. Scar knew it would be done. Harry had used his skinhead name.

Harry's boy Drake arrived Friday night at around 7pm. The shop was open till 10pm Fridays so the skins could shop before going to the gay skin club. Drake was dressed in his skin gear, and looked much older than his 16 years. He had left school last year, and had started work in the local garage as an apprentice mechanic. He had always been mad on cars, and could not wait till he had his licence. Scar knew he would most likely kill himself within the first year, but what could you do. "Well Drake, your dad says you are gay too?" Drake looked at Scar. "Didn't know he knew, ah well, he does now, maybe he won't be too bad about it. Mum knows, and I told her I didn't care if she liked it or not. I was gay and that was all there was too it." Scar had always liked the boy, and his forthrightness was refreshing. "Got a boyfriend at the moment?" Drake nodded. "Yeh, he's down stairs looking at your skin gear. He loves your shop. He wants a pair of the 20 hole oxbloods. On his salary, £260 is more than he can afford. Can you give him a discount Scar?" Scar liked Drake, and would do anything for this pimply-faced youth. "Sure, I will see what I can do. Have you got the parcel?" Drake pulled the small envelope out of his inside pocket of his flying jacket. "Take your jacket off and relax a while. I may need you to take a reply back home with you." Drake relaxed, and took off his jacket. "Can I have a beer Scar?" "Sure, there's plenty in the fridge. Help yourself." Scar was in the kitchen looking at the shift rosters when Drake came in. "What's this." Scar folded the paper. "What you don't know you cannot snitch on. Now get us both a beer." Scar noticed Drake had tattoos on both arms. "Who did the pics boy? They are good and suit you." A smiled beamed out on Drakes face. "Blood of course, who else would do a tattoo on a Bogan? Blood would have me hung drawn and quartered if I had gone anywhere else. They're my squad patches and the brotherhood patch. I even got a war band as well." He proudly showed his tattoos to Scar. Scar was proud of his nephew. He had always been a scrapper at school, and hated the school discipline. He had expected Drake to leave school early, but not to be a mechanic. He had not expected Drake to amount to anything more than a lout and layabout, but he had proved him wrong. Drake was not a big lad, but he was street wise, and could handle himself well in a fight. Scar pressed the keys into the wax, and cleaned them up before giving them back to Drake. "Dad going to make a break for it?" Scar looked at him with his straight and nasty face. "Ever breath a word of tonight to anyone, and nephew or not, I will kill you myself. You got that? Not a word!" Drake went a whiter shade of pale, and nodded. He had heard rumours about his uncle, but classed them off as just that, rumours. "Now, take this back to your mum. Let's see how your boyfriend is getting along." With that done, Scar led him back down to the 3rd floor after they had skulled their beer.

Scar estimated Drakes boyfriend to be about 22 or 23, and much taller and stockier than Drake. But when Drake walked up to him, Scar could see his face change, and see the bond they had together. Sometimes you can see couples that should be together, and these two were just that, made to be together forever. Scar was happy for Drake. His father had spent most of his life in one prison or other, and Drake had lacked that parental control and Father image to look up to. Scar saw this in his mate, and was happy for them. "Let's go shopping lads, I owe you a couple of Christmas presents. Now, where will we start first, ah yes, no self respecting skin can go past a good pair of Doc's." He winked at Drake, and Drake smiled back, knowing Scar was doing his uncle bit for him. Drake had always liked Scar, and had modelled himself on his uncle, but never really saw him as often as he would have liked. He loved the power Scar exuded when he walked and talked, the way his skin gear always suited him perfectly, fitting him exactly, bulging in just the right places, just the right amount to be sexy and seductive, but leaving you guessing. Jeremy went straight to the 20 holed steel-toed oxbloods. He wanked himself every night when he thought of those boots, and always tried them on when they came to the shop. Sometimes he left with a wet patch on his bleachers. Drake had been putting a small amount each week away from his meagre wages, hoping to be able to buy them for Jeremy's birthday later in April, but he was several pounds short, about £190 short to be precise. Scar told him to try them on. Boots, he said, gave a wearer character, a sense of presence and being. If they did not, then they were not the boots for you. He tried them on, and Scar could see the swelling increasing as he laced them up. He must admit, they did look good on him; he had the height and the bulk to wear them right. They were definitely made for him, and Scar told him so. Jeremy so wanted them, and Drake looked at Scar with his soulful puppy dog eyes. Scar was a sucker for those eyes, ever since Drake had been a rug rat. "Ok, they just found a new home. I don't think I can sell them anyway. No lookers at them in weeks. Might as well cut my losses now and get rid of them, they are dust collectors." Jeremy looked at Drake then at Scar. "How much are you going to get rid of them for?" Scar looked at Drake, and saw his left hand behind his back showing and flashing 5 fingers. "Well, I don't know, they cost me a pretty penny, what do you recon they are worth?" Jeremy stuttered, then said, "I don't know." "What you got in your pocket now," Scar was waiting for Drake to but in, but Drake held his mouth. This was a negotiation between Jeremy and Scar, and he was not going to interfere. "£100 in my wallet and £10 in my pocket. I have £120 saved up in my bank for them. Can I pay you off for them?" Jeremy would have done anything to own these boots. "Ok, that sounds like a good idea. Now, lets see. £10 for the paperwork: £120 for looking after my nephew for one night, out on the town; now we have a bill for £10. That ok with you?" Jeremy was over the moon. "Those boots for £10?" "No Jeremy, £10 and a fantastic night out for my nephew here. Can you guarantee me you will give him the night out of his life?" Jeremy was ecstatic. His treasured boots were his for £10, and his lover would always get the best night out of his life whenever he was with him. Then Jeremy's face dulled. "No, I cannot take them. I will save up and buy them when I can Scar. Thank you anyway, but I want to look after Drake and myself, by myself. I have to learn to live on what I earn, and those boots are a dream that maybe one day will come true, but not today. But I guarantee I will give Drake the best night out he has ever had." He turned, grabbed Drakes ass, and led him away towards the steps. Drake stopped, turned to Scar. "Thank you Scar, I love you too." With that they left. Scar had Julian pack them up and sent to Drakes home. Drake would have his birthday present for Jeremy.

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