He guessed she was used to it by the way she got dressed afterwards and giggled at him. Her hands had been expert, as was her body, though she could be no older than sixteen. That level of experience came with multiple encounters, surely, and he began to worry about STDs. He’d seen disgusting photos online of rotting penises and wart-riddled vaginas. They hadn’t used a condom; she hadn’t given him time. He heard his mother in his head and remembered their conversations about condoms.

‘It’s less about pregnancy than about disease. It only takes one infected person to have sex with ten women and that’s it: game over. Think about that.’

He’d thought her over the top, but now, not so much. His cheeks burned and he bit into his pasty hard to try to erase her voice from inside his head. He had work to do and she was distracting him.

The group began to disperse, and he tagged along with a splinter group of boys who looked pretty streetwise. Their language was ingrained in the way they moved their bodies, and it was as if Jordan was watching a role play. They were tight. Not so tight that they would shut him out: why would they do that? The potential of a new member was always welcome, and waifs and strays were the mainstay of what they did, but at some point he’d have to prove himself of value.

‘That bitch is moving mad, rah. She’s bare jarring, say nuffin’.’

Jordan translated the hotchpotch of gang words quickly; he’d been exposed to them for a long time. He worked out that he’d just been told that the girl he’d had sex with yesterday, in front of a room full of other grinding blood, was somewhat promiscuous, as well as crazy. He couldn’t agree more.

‘Time to move on, blood. I need a trek.’ He communicated that he was friendly and he fancied a walk.

They fist bumped. ‘Safe.’

‘Come wiv, blood. My yard is a bare trek away. I got some sweet one for us right there. Still.’

The young man who’d spoken indicated a group of girls, and made his intention clear that he was about to invite them all over to his place to take drugs. It was a positive step and might take him closer to his target. Jordan wasn’t sure what gave him the vibe about this particular group, but they smacked of confidence, control and swagger: perfect traits for the hard core of any gang. He could feel himself growing closer and closer to Jason and Adam Cotton. Someone, somewhere knew where they were, and young lads taking drugs had loose mouths.