“Look. Ah don’t need this shit. Ah was just fine on ma own. Knew deep down this wis a bad move.” Billy jumped to his feet and flung the bedroom door open. “On ye go.”
“Is that what you want? Really? Is it?” He shrugged his shoulders.
“What Ah dont want is someone pryin intae ma life! After what a month?”
“It’s called a relationship Billy! Honesty! Sharing. Shouldn’t be any secrets.”
“Awrite. You want fuckin honesty? I’ll give ye mair honesty than you can handle. And trust me. You’ll be runnin through that door by the end of it screamin fer mummy an daddy. Am a scumbag Lyndsay awright? A low life. An unemployed bum that signs on. That hasnae worked a day in his life at that! That has to steal and scam just to get by. I have committed unspeakable acts of violence over the years, and the chances are?” He raised his hands in the air. “I’ll commit more. That enough honesty fer ye? I’m fae the fuckin streets! Believe me, you don’t want any ay this. Bad to the fucking bone! So why don’t ye get yer shit together, an go find a proper, decent guy. Someone wae a career Lyndse. Someone that’s goin places! Cause believe me you’re in the wrong part of town. Wae the wrong fuckin boy.”
Lyndsay looked down at the floor, despondent.
“I probably should. Go that is.” She sighed and then looked up at Billy. “But I’m very, very stoned.” The statement shattered the tension sending them into more fits of laughter that took at least a minute to let up. Billy sat down on the edge of the bed.
“You sure you want this? You deserve better Lyndsay. You went tae Mary Erskines, ye live in Morningside. Got a nice family around ye, a good up-bringing. Fuck, the last place in Edinburgh you should be right now is sitting here wae the likes ay me. Could have anyone ye wanted. Look at ye!”
“Maybe so. And if I’d found this out after the first week or Two, I would have ran a mile, no question. The problem is, I love you now, you prick. And yeah I probably need my head examined for saying it, but if I’m honest I always did find nice boys a little boring. And on top of all that? You’re not bad to the bone, you’re a product of your environment, that’s all.” She looked him deep in the eyes. “There’s good in you. I can see it, even if you can’t, or don’t want to.”
21
Billy had to look twice as he sat in the motor with George outside Telford College, watching Joe’s newfound drug buddy Andy Riley approach, closely followed by Joe himself. He looked like he was coming off a three-day bender, with a pasty white face covered in spots and dark bags under his eyes. He wore a striped beanie hat, a white T-shirt with a yellow smiley face on it over his skinny frame and baggy jeans that looked like they were about to drop any minute. Surely this phantom wasn’t the poster boy for this new ecstasy scene, Billy thought to himself as he jumped in the back followed by Joe.
“Andy aye?” said Billy as he turned around, trying his hardest not to catch George’s eye. He knew it would set him off, and the two of them would be pishing themselves laughing all the way to Cramond.
“Aye man, nice ta meet ya.”
A flock of seagulls scattered away from the grass verge that led down to Cramond beach. Ever since he had set foot in his first motor, fifteen years old, barely able to see over the wheel, Billy had visited Cramond. Staring out at the cold blue sea, mind drifting off into the distance felt magic, peaceful, if that was at all possible. He used to come down as a kid with the rest of the young team, exploring all the nooks and crannies of the River Almond further on, dive-bombing off the waterfall on a cracking summer day, as disapproving old cows stood and scowled, skelping their bairns round the ear for trying to jump in themselves. Wandering to Cramond Island in the distance across a bed of murky wet sand, now that was the real adventure. One time the tide came back in, leaving them stranded there for hours. Didn’t matter a fuck to Billy, he loved being stranded out there, felt like freedom.
“So Andy. These pills,”
“They’re fuckin sweet man.” he replied, in an accent Billy wasn’t quite able to place.
“Where are you fae mate?” said George, his eyebrow raised with confusion, clearly wondering the same thing.
“I’m from Gala originally, Galashiels like. Moved up last year to go to college, staying up at Liberton now.”
Billy could tell he was trying to talk rough but it was painfully obvious he was anything but. An oddball, a geek, kicked about and bullied, trying to find a place in life, a place that ecstasy had suddenly provided. It wasn’t surprising given the way Billy had felt after that first pill hit him. That drug would make anyone feel like they belonged. Not just like they were part of something, like they were part of everything.
“Can ye roll joints Andy boy?”
“Aye, maaan.” He said drawing out the “man” part in a strange fashion, like it was supposed to sound cool. Billy flung him a polythene bag containing a half ounce of soap bar, a packet of green Rizla and ten Regals. “So these tablets always that good? Cause the ones we had were fuckin dynamite.”
“Oh aye. Get all kinds too, from a mate of a mate, They come up from Manchester. Doves, dollars, supermen, but doves are the best. You guys were lucky to have them fer yer first time, man.” He grinned, as he licked a skin.
“Much dae they sell fer? On average like,” said George.
“Bout ten, fifteen, sometimes twenty quid.”
“Fuckin twenty quid, aye?”
“How much fer a thousand, Andy?” said Billy. The skins stopped rustling, Joe sat forward, and George turned with two raised eyebrows this time.
“Ah. Ah’m not sure. I only get say fifty to a hundred a time, sell to friends, folk from college, folk at the raves.”
“Well it’s no gonnae be ten to twenty a pop with those kindae numbers anyway,” said George, clearly trying to do the maths in his head as to the potential profit at stake.
“Exactly. Think about it, we buy a load, right fae the get-go. We’ve already got Andy an all his pals tae sell tae, that’s what, fifty tae a hundred a week you says?”
“Aye.”
“Then between the lot eh us, we split the rest week in week out, go wherever the demand is. Cunt we awready know how strong they are, we’ll no be able tae sell thum quick enough. We could do a thousand in a month no bother when ye take intae consideration personal as well.”
“See anyone else sellin their ain, just tell thum straight, from now on ye get yer goods fae us. If they dinnae like it they get filled in,” said George.
Billy caught a look of raw fear on Andy as he nervously crumbled the hash. Billy smiled, wary that George’s approach might just scare him back down to Galashiels. “No need fer you tae worry Andy san, you’re wae us. Naebody will fuck wae you pal.” Billy glanced down at Andy’s half-rolled joint. “By the way is that a carpet you’re rollin us? Fuckin how many skins you usin?”
Joe laughed as he had a look himself. “He's usin the fuckin Evenin News!” said Joe as Andy joined in the laughter nervously at first and then with enthusiasm.
“Long as it smokes, eh.”
22
Sean looked down at the steaming mug of coffee in front of him and sighed as he endured poor old Bob Callum’s woes. Dad had been at it again, stirring up trouble, this time in the bookies. In the weeks since his release Sean had been at pains to keep him under control. He was bitter, that much was blatantly obvious to everyone, and it was a difficult one for Sean because every time he tried to reason with him he got his head bitten off, accused of taking his uncle’s side.
Problem was, his Dad wasn’t interested in compromise or patience, or seeing sense or reason. He just wanted his demands for half the business met, or else. Just as stubborn and hard nosed as Dougie, neither-side prepared to budge an inch. What made matters worse was every time Sean turned up at his Dad’s flat there was a different escort on the go. Sean could barely go fourteen days without a ride let alone fourteen years, so yeah, he was making up for a lot of lost time. Sean got that. Still, it wasn’t an image he wanted in his
head as he tried to get to bed at night, the old man all bare arsed and rampant, hammering away at a quarter of a century of frustration, while some skanky whore howled with excitement.
Though at least when he was getting laid he wasn’t stewing away, aggrieved that Dougie had given him the cold shoulder.
Davy had struck an easy target in Bob Callum no doubt, but it was what could only be construed as a thinly veiled warning shot at Uncle Dougie, for the bookies was his joint. Sean knew he was going to have to broker some kind of agreement between father and uncle, or shit was going to go off the deep end, and soon.
“So he's waltzed in like he owns the joint, swaggered straight up tae the counter, right? He’s layin bets left right an centre, refusin tae pay. Ken what he keeps sayin? It’s on Dougie, take it out of my settlement fund. So eventually I’ve put the foot down, or tried to at least. Ah’ve says tae um, no more bets till ye’ve paid what ye owe, a wee bit give an take, ye know? Ken what his answer is tae that? You give and I take! So I’ve tried tae stand ma ground ken? Customers lookin over, getting wary an that. Next thing ye know he’s started howlin with fuckin laughter, like it’s all a big joke, like he’s havin me on, right? So I’ve eased up a wee bit. He’s pattin me on the back, tellin me tae relax an that. Next thing, he’s gripped me in a hug, but a long lingerin one, ye know what Ah mean? Like a scary, fuckin deeply uncomfortable one. An all the customers huv stopped what they’re doin, lookin over, wonderin if he’s fer real, probably wonderin when he’s gonnae turn. Then he’s kissed me on the cheek. So by this point, as ye can imagine, Ah’m just a wee bit uncomfortable. And he’s honkin of the bevy too, stinkin ay it. So Ah’m tryin tae back away at this point but he’s pulled me back intae another hug an by this point he’s squeezin me as hard as he can, an Ah’m sweatin like, shitin it! Then it happens. He goes tae kiss me on the other cheek, except he doesnae kiss me this time, he sinks is dirty fuckin teeth, right intae ma cheek, Ah mean takes a fuckin chunk ootae it. Pulls away wae this sick grin on is face, an spits a mouthful of ma blood on the ground!”
Bob’s plump face had turned scarlet.
“Then he swaggers toward the door. Ye know what he shouts as he’s leavin? Ah’ll be back same time the morn. And you better have ma coupon ready ya fat bastard!”
Bob pulled the top of the plaster down exposing a nasty hole that looked in danger of infection.
“Look at that. Now Sean, Ah don’t want tae speak outae turn. Ah know Davy’s yer old man, an Ah know you’re doin yer best tae keep the peace an all that, but he’s outae control man. Talk about an occupational fuckin hazard. Ah’m fuckin scared fer ma life! Ah’m gonnae need tae get a tetanus shot fer this shit. Biggest mistake Ah made wis tryin tae step in between him an Dougie at the homecomin. Big fuckin mistake, cause he’s had his targets set on me ever since.”
Dougie sat forward, staring through the coffee table with a dark brooding look. “He’s goadin me Sean. Ye know this eh?”
“Aye. Aye, Ah get it.”
Dougie shook his head. “An what’s more, he’s gonnae be back there the morn, raisin more hell, callin me out again. Sean ye need tae go back tae him. Tonight. You’re the only person he'll listen to right now. If I get within a hundred yards of him right now I’ll take his fucking head off.” Dougie pushed an authoritative finger against the coffee table. “Give him my terms. An tell um they’re non negotiable. And if he shows up at the bookies the morn demanding money again, fuckin scarin off customers and makin threats, Bob here will be pickin up that phone and the time for talkin will be over. And brother or no brother he'll be dealt with.” Dougie pounded a fist into his palm as he growled. “Fuckin family!”
Sean pulled up outside his old man’s flat. It had been a wee homecoming present, son to dad. A no bad wee flat, three months rent covered. Little did he know his old man would effectively turn it into a nightly whorehouse.
The lights were on and the music was up loud, above which he could hear his Dad shouting the lyrics at the top of his voice. At least he wasn’t shagging, or at least Sean hoped he wasn’t. Sean went into the back pocket for his wee vial. Time for a pop star. He racked it out on the dashboard before hoovering it up the right nostril, for the left one was getting a wee bit worn. Boom. Good to go.
The old man was yelling a distinctive chorus at the top of his voice as Sean rattled on the door as hard as he could. The Who, The Kinks, The Stones. Three bands his Dad had listened to nonstop since his release on the three cassettes that from all accounts he had been rocking all the way through his sentence. Sean didn’t mind the older acts, he had a thing for Sinatra especially. Any guy who could croon like that, birds falling at his feet left right and centre, whilst the Mob did his dirty work, had Sean’s respect. The door swung open to reveal his bare-chested old man grinning away whilst gripping onto a half-drunk bottle of vodka.
“There he is! The handsomest devil in town. Come in an have a drink wae yer auld man, eh?”
“Christ Dad, stick some claes on will ye?”
Sean took in the sight of the latest hooker sitting on the couch puffing away on a massive coned joint. She had bobbed red hair. Her pursed lips did little to hide yellowing teeth, and she kept pulling at a tight red pvc skirt that was hugging her freckly thighs.
“Son, meet Carol.”
“Hiya pal.”
“Bloody hell he’s even mair handsome than you, doll.”
“Hey!” said Davy, clearly eager to keep his ego on an even footing. “Yer right, though. Ah have reared an absolute cracker of a laddie though eh?” He grabbed Sean by the shoulders, pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek, prompting Sean to back away.
“No gonnae bite me are ye?”
His father turned to Carol. “You wantae make yersel scarce fer a wee bit hen? Father an son stuff, that’s all.” She passed Davy the cone and threw her nimble hands up in the air before heading for the living room doorway. Davy sat down on the couch and took a large puff of the smouldering joint before aiming his hand toward the armchair. He threw on a top and picked up a glass from the floor before dusting it off some and pouring Sean a vodka.
“What dae ye think of Carol then?”
Sean looked at his father, trying to sense if he was having a laugh or not.
“She’s awright, ah suppose.”
“She’s a bit rough around the edges Ah know. An Ah know she couldnae hud a candle tae yer mother in the looks stakes, but she shoots straight. Tells ye when yer shit stinks, know what Ah mean? A man needs that. A strong woman like.”
“Wait a minute Dad. She’s a whore is she no?”
His father looked him straight between the eyes. “I met her at the Telford Arms yesterday afternoon son.”
Davy grinned as he took another puff on the joint. “Keeps me occupied, eh.”
Sean nodded his head awkwardly.
“So. Ye’ve been talkin tae the pieman Ah see?”
“Dad, Bob’s harmless. Couldnae fight sleep.”
“Aye well, it got yer uncle’s attention at least. Knew he’d go running tae Dougie, he always has been his fuckin lap dug. Ever since we were young. An what’s he sayin tae it anywey?”
“He’s willin tae work somethin out.”
“Ah’m listenin.”
“Ye get the deeds tae The Gunner, signed an handed over, it’s yours. And ye take over the loans in the area, for which, all the vig goes directly intae your pocket on a weekly basis.”
“And? That’s it? So he’s gonnae leave me tae stick ma neck oot chasin after loan payments, an run a pub, his fuckin pub, while he sits there rakin in aw the drug profit? He can ram it sideways. If you think what happened the day was bad that’s only the tip of the fuckin iceberg son. Ah’m gonnae bring him and his business tae its knees...”
“Ah thought ye’d say that. So that’s why I’ve worked out a Plan B. It’s no ideal, but as long as we can keep it discreet hopefully it can keep us all happy an prevent all out fuckin war between family.”
Davy sat up.
“Guy that runs this hotel up the town. Tony Parker’s his name. Always lookin fer charlie, always gantin on it. Thing is it’s no just him. He’s got a line on a whole bunch of privileged motherfuckers that were born with a silver spoon in their mouths an a mummy an daddy tae tend tae their every need. Ah’m talkin footballers, lawyers, real wealthy clientele. An they’re payin way over the odds, an I mean way over the fuckin odds for their coke.”
“Go on.” Davy leaned forward.
“I figured things would go the way they have with you and Uncle Dougie. So I had a wee word with John at the homecoming about the possibility of getting some coke. An ounce at first but at the strength he gets it we could make that two ounces. Tony will bag it up and do all the legwork. He’s got the network know what a mean? We split the lion’s share fifty fifty. If it goes well an they keep comin back for more, next time we could get two ounces which then becomes four and more again the more the custom builds. These cunts will pay a hundred quid a gram for this stuff no bother, that’s what they’re payin the now an I’ve tried it, it’s shite. Gave Tony one line of the stuff I get on personal an he was climbin the walls.”
Davy couldn’t stop the grin on his face growing wider by the second.
“An it gets better. As part of the deal he’s gonna let us clean our money through his hotel. Fuckin perfect. Saves having to put more cash through The Gunner an get him suspicious know what Ah mean? He even says we can use different rooms on a weekly basis tae stash and cut the coke. It’s fucking perfect, Dougie has no control. If we do this though, I have one condition Dad.”
“Which is?”
“That ye let things settle wae Uncle Dougie. Keep the peace, accept his offer. Make like everything is fine and dandy. And ye don’t under any circumstances tell anyone about this deal, cause if it gets back tae Dougie that we’ve set this up right under his nose without cutting him in it will kick off an that’s exactly what Ah’m tryin tae avoid. He’ll come round in time Dad, just play the game wae um.”
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