Instead I let the anger and the hurt take over. Jamesy tells me I've been betrayed and I believe him.
Do you know what makes it worse? They actually make a really good couple. They look like they should be together.
I was an idiot to think she'd go out with me anyway. You're right, I'm better off without either of them.
Just you and me, Jamesy.
You and me versus the world.
No, I'm not going to that fucking meeting. Course I'm not going.
I can smell her. I can smell Astrid. I sniff under my armpits. Her perfume's still on my t-shirt from when I stayed with her, clinging to me. I breathe it in, hold it inside me.
The thought of them in there, eating bacon rolls, kissing each other. Tomato sauce on her fingers.
Sticky Fanta.
I grind the twig into the dirt, push it into the ground until it splits and breaks.
In a parallel universe, it's me in there with Astrid, not him. Me.
I need to get out of here. I just need to get away.
Jamesy stays quiet while we walk. Man, I need help. Something to keep me upright. I could do with one of those earlier hits, one of the ones that gave me a buzz. Something to lift me up and keep me up.
I'm a wavelength.
Up. Up. Up. Up.
Down. Down. Down. Down.
One minute I'm pumped full of rage. The next minute I'm so sad I could cry. Every so often I'll get a waft of her perfume, and it's a punch to the gut.
I want to punch Alfie. Even though he's my best friend, I want to hit him.
Fight or flight?
Fright.
Davie's dad kept telling Lewis to hit them back, that bullies were all wimps at heart. As if Lewis was ever going to do that.
Davie hadn't realised it was so bad. He heard Lewis complaining about being unwell some mornings, faking illness so he didn't have to go to school, but Davie thought it was to do with schoolwork, teachers. Not his gang of friends suddenly turning against him.
By the time Davie found out what was going on, it had been going on too long, had already gone too far.
He came home to find Lewis at the kitchen table. His school shirt was ripped and his top lip was bleeding and swollen. He held a bag of frozen peas to his face, while his mum and dad sat at the other end of the table.
What happened?
I tripped over the strap of my schoolbag.
It didn't sound like Lewis speaking, his swollen mouth had changed his voice into somebody else's.
Dahdadahdahhhh, Welcome to Radio Watts, I'm Lewis and this is my sidekick...
And your shirt?
Lewis didn't answer, just looked down at the table and shut his eyes. Later his mum managed to get the story out of him. Lewis had tripped, but only because he was being chased. He'd been so scared he'd left his schoolbag lying in the street. When Davie and his dad went to look for it, they found Lewis's stuff hanging in some blossom trees. The pink petals stuck to his gym kit and his pencil case and his jotters like confetti.
Tree blossom stuck to him like he was some sort of walking mosaic.
Their mum went to the school and spoke to the guidance teacher, despite Lewis pleading with her not to.
They thought it was all sorted after that.
I don't even know what time it is when Jamesy finally calls me into action. I've lost track of the day. We've just been walking. Like that day back when I first became the Trackman. Since I met Jamesy, I don't think I've walked so much in my life.
Aye, what is it?
We've ended up outside some bar. I've been in here once before, I think, but it was a total dive, a real old man's pub. It looks like it's been done up since then.
The pub door is on the corner of the building and there's a gargoyle thing carved into the wall above it. It's got red lights inserted into its eyes, they flash at me as I enter the pub.
I look around, there's a few groups of people sitting around tables. A couple of guys standing at the bar. Then I clock her.
A lassie sitting on her own, in one of the raised booths facing the bar. She's working her way through a bottle of red wine. I'm desperate to forget about what's happened today. Desperate to lose myself in the Trackman, so I head straight towards her. No messing about. Give me the hit now.
'Mind if I join you?' I ask her.
'Sure.' She shuffles along the seat. Her lips and teeth are stained with red wine.
It looked like her gums were bleeding.
She's pretty pished. There's no need to make up some story for her. This should be easy. It feels like I'm taking advantage.
'Davie,' I say and hold out my hand.
'Kate,' she replies, shaking it.
'Do you want to hear a song?' I ask.
No messing about, Jamesy. You're always on at me for dithering about. This time, no messing. I'm the Trackman. Don't regret choosing me. I can do this, be this.
Trackman Trackman Trackman Trackman Trackman Track
'What song?' She leans across the seat so her face is almost touching mine.
She's got lumps of mascara in the corners of her eyes and her perfume is really strong. It catches in the back of my throat and tickles my nose. It's not soft like Astrid's. I turn away from her.
'Bless you,' she says as I sneeze.
I hand her the headphones.
'Is it The Killers? I love them, I saw them at T in the Park, they were amazing.'
She squints at me when she speaks. It's like I'm one of those old magic eye pictures and she has to screw up her eyes the right way to make me out.
'Just wait and see,' I say.
She picks up her glass of wine and downs the final dregs, before filling it up again from the bottle. There are lipstick marks on the rim of her glass.
'Right, ready now,' she says and puts the headphones on.
'Oh wait, can I choose? Mr Briiiigghtsiide!' She tries to grab Jamesy out of my hands.
Trackman Trackman Trackman Trackman Trackman Trackman Tr
I'm the Trackman. I'm in charge here. I'm not Davie, I'm the Trackman.
I push her away and give her the wine glass to try and distract her.
Alanis Morissette You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette You
Everything about Kate seems to intensify. The smell of perfume gets stronger, the stained lips get darker. Her eyes glow red like a badly taken photo, or that stupid gargoyle thing at the door of the pub. The wine shimmers and swirls in her glass like a whirlpool.
What did I do wrong? What could she give you that I couldn't? I know I wasn't always there all the time, I'd work late, go out with my friends when I could have been with you. I should have been more attentive.
Sometimes I'd push you off when you wanted to have sex. I wasn't in the mood all the time. I couldn't be late for work. I was cold in bed. Frigid. No good.
I was no good. I didn't do enough.
But you didn't do enough either. The first sign of trouble and you shag somebody else. We weren't even in trouble, all those reasons you quoted at me, the ones you'd obviously rehearsed in your head for the day you got caught. They were all bullshit. You just needed an excuse. An excuse to make yourself feel better because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants.
I'm such an idiot. Why am I sitting here blaming myself? So what if I didn't want to have sex at the exact time that you did. So what if I wanted to go out with my friends instead of you. This is the fucking 21st century. I'm not here to please you all the time. And I work late because I have to, because I love my job. And I'm not cold or frigid. You're just a cock. I can't believe I'm getting drunk over you, shedding tears over you. You're just an arsehole, and she's a slut. I'm better off without you. I'm glad you did this, I'm glad I found out. Now I don't have to waste anymore time on you.
'Jesus, that was great,' says Kate.
I fold up the headphones and stick Jamesy in my pocket, where she can't get at him. My hands tingle like a cold sore.
I was hoping to get a buzz from her, but instead the rage from before has returned. Astrid and Alfie writhe naked and sweaty in my head.
None of them had realised how bad it had got after that. They thought that day in the kitchen had been the summit, but really they had all still been at the bottom of the hill.
Davie wanted to fucking kill them.
The ambulance driver didn't even bother with the lights or the sirens as it pulled away. Davie watched from the front garden as it reached the end of the road then he was out the front gate and on his way to Paul Johnstone's house.
Paul's house.
I'm just going up to Paul's house.
When Davie got there, he kept his finger pushed down on the doorbell so it rang continuously. He was running on adrenaline. This wasn't Davie at all, this was someone else ringing the doorbell. Not him, someone else.
A man wearing pyjamas appeared at the door.
What the hell are you up to?
Where's Paul?
He's in bed, what do you want?
I want to see him.
Get out of here or I'll phone the police.
They should be here, they have to speak to Paul.
What?
Your son's a murderer.
He's been in all night, I don't know what you're going on about but I think you've got the wrong house.
He killed my wee brother.
Saying the words out loud floored Davie and all the rage was sucked out of him. He fell forwards onto the steps where he lay crying until the police came.
He fell forward and threw up in the road.
Kate finishes her glass of wine and tries to refill it, but the bottle's empty. She waves over at the bar.
'Can I get another one,' she holds up the bottle, 'and a drink for... what did you say your name was?'
'Davi… the Trackman.'
'And a drink for Davie, the trackstar.'
The barman looks at me as if to say, you sure about this, son?
I nod back.
'Pint of Tennents, please.'
Maybe I should do an Astrid. Kate's not bad looking, older than me, but what does that matter? I'm happy to flirt back with her. Fuck you, Astrid, two can play at this game. The barman brings our drinks over and takes away the empty bottle.
'So, what's your deal, trackstar?' Kate asks as she fills her glass, spilling wine on the table.
'What do you mean?'
'What's that song shit all about?'
'Just something I do, eh?'
'But it's brilliant, how come you knew to play me that?
'Good question, Kate. Good fucking question. One I don't have an answer to. Jamesy never goes into much detail. This is the first time I've actually spoken to someone after a song was played. A Trackee. I should be making the most of this. I'm wandering the streets playing songs to people and I never find out why.
'You tell me, it's your song?'
'It made me feel fucking, you know, all fired up.'
'Fired up about what?'
'My boss found me crying in the toilets at work and sent me home, fuck sake, eh? Like that loser deserves my tears.'
'Your boss?'
'No, not my boss, trackstar. Adam, the prick.'
'Who's Adam the prick?'
'My boyfri... ex boyfriend. I found out he's been shagging someone else. I had my suspicions. Secret texts, weird phone calls, work trips away. Jesus, it's all such a fucking cliché. I should be laughing, not crying. You know how I found out for sure? You'll love this.'
'How?'
'I found a video on his computer of the two of them going at it on my sofa. That sofa cost me over a grand and now it's fucking ruined.'
'Ruined by fucking.'
'Exactly, you and me are on the same wavelength, trackstar,' she waves her hand back and forth between us and sloshes wine onto my jeans.
'Careful,' she says and tries to wipe me clean with the cuff of her blouse.
Jamesy, what have you done? Primed her for a fight rather than calming her down. She rolls her sleeves up and I notice a tattoo winding around her wrist.
'What's that?' I ask.
'Oh, it says "while my guitar gently weeps",' she twists her wrist to show me the spiral of words and ends up spilling more wine.
'Careful,' she says.
'Cool tattoo, Beatles, eh?'
Do you think so? She screwed up her nose. It's after that, um, German girl. You know, the one the Beatles met in Hamburg?
Stupid, cheating, lying bitch.
'Yeah, I got it done when I was, what, seventeen or something, thought I was being dead deep and meaningful. I used to be in a band when I was at school, thought I was fucking Courtney Love, or something.'
'I like it, it's different.'
'It's my bracelet of words. Sometimes I wish I could change it depending on how I was feeling, kind of like a Facebook status or something.'
'What would you have today?'
'Fuck Adam the prick, and fuck the bint he's sleeping with.'
Kate holds her wine glass above her head, as if she's making a toast. People stare at her and laugh and the barman looks ready to chuck her out. I bet they never heard language like this even when it was an old man's pub. With every sip of wine she's becoming more and more like Billy Connolly.
Like he was the first one to think of it.
'Sounds like you're better off out of it,' I say.
'You're right, I still want to kill the both of them though. I've been sitting here feeling sorry for myself, fucking blaming myself. Asking myself what I'd done wrong. Was I bad in bed? That sort of shit. Jesus, what an idiot. I am brilliant in bed and I did nothing wrong. It was him who couldn't keep his dick in his pants.'
'Aye.'
I finish my pint and order another. Was I shite in bed? Is that what it was? Compared to Alfie, what must Astrid be thinking? I heard her moaning through the wall. Did she do that with me? I don't think I made her moan like that. Did I even make her moan at all? Her and Alfie are probably in bed now, laughing at me. Laughing at how small my cock is.
I think I'm going to be sick again.
'What's wrong, trackstar, why the serious face?'
'Nothing, I got cheated on today too. This girl I was seeing slept with my mate.'
'No way, some friend.'
'I know, it's pretty shite.'
'Play yourself a song, put Alanis back on. Her songs always remind me of her name, there's all these long words and syllabubs.'
'Syllabubs?'
'You know what I mean,' she grabs my thigh, 'come on, let's plot revenge together. Show those fuckers they can't mess with us.'
'Aye, why not.'
She waves her hand at the bar.
'Another pint for the trackstar.'
'Let's go,' says Kate.
She scrambles out of the booth and trips over the strap of her handbag.
'Careful, trackstar,' she says, grabbing my arm for support.
I've had about five or six pints now, but I don't feel very drunk. Just miserable, really. I'm glad I left my phone at home. This is about the time I'd start bombarding Astrid with drunken texts.
hi goledhngdr ws fun famby a 2 date? X
'Which way you going?' I ask.
'Your way,' she replies.
'I think I'm just gonna head home, sorry, don't feel in the mood for going anywhere else.'
'I'll come with you then.'
The thought of revenge sex doesn't appeal anymore. I don't feel anything. I just want to go home and sleep and forget everything. I can smell Astrid on me, I want to keep it there for a while. I don't want Kate to wipe that smell away. Not yet.
You need to let him go.
I'm not ready.
'I'm not sure.'
'I need to, I've missed my last bus.'
'What about the night bus?'
'Nah, I live in Roslin, the buses are shite, finish dead early.'
I'm totally confused. I seem to have dulled my brain activity without getting any
of the usual drunk feelings. I can't even think which direction Roslin is in at the moment, let alone what bus goes there.
'Aye, alright.' I agree.
We head out of the pub and wander a few feet along the pavement.
'Hang on, I need a pish,' I say, and head down into the alleyway next to the pub, where I go behind some bins.
As I come out doing up my fly, Kate pounces. She pushes me up against the wall of the pub while her tongue forces its way inside my mouth.
Her lips were on his, biting, urgent, her tongue stud tapped against teeth. His or hers? Ring a ring a roses.
He ran his tongue over her teeth, feeling for the gap.
I didn't realise how tall she was inside the pub. Out here, in her heels, she towers over me. She tastes of wine and perfume and salt and vinegar crisps. It's a heady concoction which, along with the fresh air, seems to act as a catalyst to all the alcohol. The alleyway starts to speed away from me, a tunnel getting further and further away and I have to close my eyes or I'm going to fall.
I don't have the strength or the willpower to fight her off. It feels wrong, like I'm cheating on Astrid or something and I have to remind myself who cheated on who. She started it. I pull Kate towards me and lose myself in the blur of the kiss.
I don't remember how we got home. The next thing I know, I wake up in my own bed. Alone. Naked and alone.
She wriggled her toes up next to his.
My head cracks every time I open my eyes, like ice being dropped into cold, fizzy juice.
My mouth is dry and I can't face moving to get a drink.
I skim my arm around the bed, feeling to make sure I am alone. Did I imagine Kate?
My hand lands on something on the pillow next to me.
A piece of paper.
I pull it towards me and open one eye.
A note.
Hey,
I have to go. Tried to wake you but you were totally out of it. I'll always be eternally grateful to you trackstar for looking after me in my hour of need. Don't stress about last night – we both drank way too much! I couldn't manage much either.
Anyway, maybe see you around sometime.
Kate xx
I scrunch the letter up and throw it away.
What the fuck? Why did she have to write that? As if I wasn't already feeling totally shite, without her going on about my lack of performance. Talk about kicking someone when they're down.
Trackman Page 24