‘Edge it, mate. There’s the fuckin screws!’
The polis motor rolls up tae the car park slow as fuck, crawlin along the Serengeti, lookin fur its prey. A’m flippin the joint rapid, lickin n stickin it then stashin it doon ma tracky bottoms, horizontal along the waist band. The polis motor rolls on, a silver n blue beast through the trees. A light ma joint n watch as the cherry crackles n the blue smoke gets sucked oot the windae, towards the orange sky n the clouds ae midges that huv showed up tae gatecrash the party.
The Nature of the Beast
There’s piles ae notes aw over the floor n pills n bits ae dope lyin everywhere. Danny n Kenzie ir sittin countin the money n tryin tae work oot wit stuff they’ve still git left. They’ve took another bar ae dope last weekend wae a week’s tick on it. The pills hud been an impulsive extra. McIntire hud pulled the bag oot, said he wis lookin tae git rid n they hud snapped his hand aff. So, as well as the soap bar, they’ve git three hundred swedgers tae try n move anaw. They got these fur a hundred n seventy-five. This isnae such a good deal, sayin Big Kenzie or Eck kin git them a hunner fur sixty fae this other guy, on two-week tick anaw.
Party drugs ir hard tae sell individually cos no cunt is takin them through the week n it’s a mad n sporadic sesh customer at the weekend. The hash sold itself. That’s cut intae quarters n sold fur fifteen or twenty dependin on who’s buyin, n the pills ir sold two quid a whip, aw the way. This meant they only huv tae sell fourteen twenty-pound quarters n they kin pay their normal tick. The remainin bits tae sell wid be profit fur their pocket, but yi never got it bang on n they always smoked some. The eld hash that used tae git imported wis much better quality. The outer skin ae the bar used tae be mega shiny n the dope inside wis a soft sandy colour. Mostly it’s shite noo n cunts only want green.
Wan ae them wid take the new bit on Friday n start sellin that. The other wan wid keep the rest ae the original stuff n try tae sell they bits. If they kin sell ninety pills, they’re aff scot-free and in healthy profit tae sell the rest in their own time – while takin their usual order next week n sellin that simultaneously. If yi wur smart, yi saved up a few weeks n bought bits cash n sold them at yir own pace. Problem is, when cunts find oot that there’s nae mental third-party tae potentially enforce any hunt fur the debt, yir much more likely tae git bumped. Then yi need tae sort cunts oot, which is drama. If yi sold anyhin on tick yi wid always huv tae chase somecunt n smash cunts who bumped yi. Yi wid huv tae contend wae that, cunts wantin tae set yi up n steal yir stuff n the polis anaw. That’s the way drug dealin works. Simple? Aye, in theory.
A’m sittin starin at the pills again. Danny n Kenzie ir arguin aboot whose fault the present situation is. Ma eyes ir driftin across aw the pills lyin. It wisnae uncommon tae take at least ten ae these things. In the last fifteen years, the levels ae MDMA in them hud dropped dramatically. These ecstasy tablets ir the size ae a drawin pin heed, off-white wae shark stamps on them.
‘Ya fuckin dafty! A told yi just tae git the fuckin dope!’ Kenzie whines.
‘Did yi fuck! You wur the wan noddin yir heed when McIntire asked yi.’
‘A wis shakin ma heed, no noddin it.’
‘Yi wur noddin like the Churchill dug, ya cunt!’ A shout.
‘Fuck up, Azzy. It doesnae matter noo! We’re nearly two hunner short fur him!’
The two ae them turn tae me. A’m smokin a joint in the corner, mindin ma own business. ‘Wit you sayin, Azzy?’ Danny says.
A turn n raise ma eyebrows through a thick cloud ae grass smoke. ‘A’m no a fuckin drug dealer. A take the hings, A don’t sell them.’
‘Aye, we know that, Alan. But dae yi know anycunt that wid be interested in eckies or a bit ae fuckin dope tae help yir mates oot, wee sacks?’
‘Yi know everycunt is lookin fur green noo. The dope’s gittin hard tae shift n fuck knows aboot the pills. Yees shouldnae ae took that many, fuck sake!’
‘Aw great fuckin help you ir!’ Kenzie shouts.
‘A’ll try aw the young wans. Ask them if they want fifteen quid quarters n a good deal on pills.’ The two ae them look as if A’ve slapped their faces. ‘That’s fuckin business, boys. If yi want cash in a flash then yi need tae gee cunts a deal! Even A know that, fuck sake.’
‘Fuck sake, sir. That’s our profit yir handin oot, Azzy. It’s a business, no a charity.’
Five minutes n a few calls n A’ve made them back seventy quid. They bang bits oot underweight, chase cunts early fur tick n then they wonder how they cannae git rid ae stuff when it comes tae Friday n they’re desperado fur any coin tae make up their debt. World’s worst fuckin dealers. A understand it n how tae deal wae cunts, but A cannae reconcile the grief wae the potential small profit yi might or might no make. The logistical heed-fuck on a Friday makes fur grim watchin.
‘Gunny takin a bit then?’
‘Aye, a half Oscar n ten sweeties.’
‘FUCKIN YASS, Azzy boy! You should git in on this. You’d make a few bob! Eld silver tongue, know wit A mean, Kenzie?’
‘Bad enough listenin tae yooz moanin n greetin on a Friday. A’ll help yees the night but that’s yir whack.’
‘Some cunts irnae fit fur the game, know wit A mean, Danny?’
After that the sales dry up. The elder wans ir nae use the night. Oot ae aw the younger wans we manage tae git rid ae another twenty eckies n a quarter ae dope. We make half their tick back, which is pretty good goin considerin. Aw that’s left tae dae is go n meet McIntire n tell him the script in person. They’re meetin him in a car park doon the bottom end.
We roll in n there’s a black Subaru Impreza awready waitin. Aw the windaes ir blacked oot n the motor hus the usual gold alloys. A pull up across fae it n Danny leans forward fae the back seat. ‘Mate, you wait here,’ he says tae Kenzie.
‘Wit yi talkin aboot?’ Kenzie says, his pride obviously knocked by this.
‘Wait here, fuck sake. Both ae yees. Witever happens here, just stay in the fuckin motor n that’s it. Awright?’
‘Danny, we’re only fuckin aboot a tonne short or suhin! Yir being para, ya cunt.’
‘Naw we’re no.’
‘Wit dae yi mean?’
A roll ma fuckin heed back n take a long last draw on the joint. ‘How much?’ A say without lookin round.
‘Wit?’ Kenzie says, confused.
‘How much, Danny?’
He finally turns tae me. ‘Me n Amanda git a quarter ae ching through the week. A thought the pill money wid cover it, but A told him it wis fur a mate.’
‘Fuckin gear anaw? On tap ae the bar ae dope n the fuckin eckies?’
‘Aye …’ he says.
The Scooby flashes its lights.
‘Yir a fuckin dick, mate.’
‘A know A’m ir, he says A better huv it anaw. Said he didnae care aboot the pills, but don’t dare let him down fur gear money.’
‘Take it yi sniffed it aw n didnae punt any?’
‘Aye, obviously, two ae us ended up wrecked n sniffin rock stars n shaggin aw night.’
‘Canter, mate. How much noo?’
‘An extra two hunner on tap.’
Three hundred-odd quid tae these cunts is a week’s wage. Even wae their wee enterprise runnin they don’t huv two pennies tae rub the-gither. It’s always in wan hand n oot the next. They like countin notes n playin aboot wae scales but they never actually seem tae profit fae any it, pure pointless. The lights flash again.
‘We’ve been late the last three times, Azzy. He’s telt us straight nae fuckin more or else.’
A shrug. ‘Yir gonnae huv tae tell him the script, eld son.’
Danny sighs, bounces oot n jogs up tae the Subaru.
Two minutes later, Danny’s up at the windae ae the Scooby wavin his arms about. The door flies open n Marcus McIntire bounces oot. He’s a big Donkey Kong ae a cunt, roarin at Danny n pushin him. Danny’s shitin himsel waitin fur the inevitable. McIntire hits him five rapid n Danny’s on the deck. He’s gittin bootit fuck oot ae n aw we kin dae i
s watch. A kin feel Kenzie shakin like a leaf in the passenger seat. He’s a fuckin cardboard gangster. Danny’s both brains and enforcer in their wee business arrangement. It finishes before it starts. McIntire helps Danny up n brushes him aff. He takes the notes oot his hand, after Danny picks them up. McIntire ruffles his hair before he jumps back in the motor n toots the horn on the way oot the car park.
Danny walks back up tae the motor bent in two. He’s git a beaut ae a black eye n a bloody nose. Kenzie jumps in the back. Danny sits doon in the front wae another big sigh. A pass him ma pre-rolled joint, which A always keep fur night. He nods a cheers n puts it between his swollen lips. ‘Wit did he even say?’ Kenzie asks.
‘Says A’ve tae huv it aw by next week or A’ll be gittin it again.’
‘Did yi git our bit?’
‘Aye, two this time,’ Danny says, passin the tin-foil wrapped bars tae the back ae the motor.
Raving in the Bedroom
Saturday, 27 September 2008. The last few weeks huv been nuhin but anticipation ae this day. In aboot seven hours we wid be on a bus headin tae wan ae the biggest events in the Scottish dance-music scene. Fantazia, the original n best. It wis the wan yi aspired tae go tae, the wan yi dreamt aboot as a wee guy. We’d seen elder wans’ videos n heard the stories ae smoke n sweat, the bubble ae heat when yi walk in the main arena, the green lasers above yir heed as yir eyes roll in pleasure n ecstasy. The long bars n pockets full ae drink tokens on the bus hame. The smell ae a burst glowstick in yir hair fur days. That is aw tae come.
We’ve listened tae dance music since we wur wee guys aboot eleven year eld. Happy Hardcore, Scott Brown n Hixxy n aw that. Then Clubland – The Ride of Your Life. After that it hud been aw the PCDJs. Yi hud the first pioneer, the genesis, DJ Rankin – Pulse, Nogitaclue, Fatcat, Badboy, Zitkus, Gillies, Paul n Cammy. Then Curtai, Steven Logan, McD, Neil Jackson, Div E, Disco Dave, Supreme ae the famous ‘Friday Night Tune’, Cheesy, Cambo, Blitzed, Easton, CoCo, Flea n DJ Add, aw fae aboot this way, n the boay, Gary McF. ‘Ah Ahh Ahhh’ – any time A heard that tune, it took us back tae the very beginnin on the streets wae the troops, the definitive anthem ae the PCDJ generation. There’s too many others tae hope tae mention, fuckin hundreds ae cunts mixin fae the schemes. Aw these legends hud kept us aw ravin through the early years. Only a few mainstream tunes broke through in they days, ‘Fly on the Wings of Love’, ‘Pretty Green Eyes’ n other mad dance chart shite like that. Aw the lassies hud ‘Dancin in the Dark’ n DJ Sammy n that playin constant. A few other classics made it through like ‘Cruisin’ n Scooter’s tunes, the big blond German hero. We mostly preferred the disses n aw that Every day oan MSN! Yir about tae git shuttt-down!
About sixteen or seventeen yi grew oot ae the megamixes. Then yi found cunts like Tiesto, Mauro Picotto, Marcel Woods, Armin van Buuren, Simon Patterson, Markus Schulz n plenty mare. The trance scene wis flyin, n a bit ae Showtek n Deepforces fur a bounce. Somecunts split n went harder n listened tae hardstyles n gabba – Technoboy, Tatanka, Evil Activities n Angerfist n aw that. A’m no intae aw that as much. A like trance n takin eckto n dancin aboot wae glowsticks n ravin wae yir hands n feet, rather than aw that fuckin fist-pumpin, heed-bangin hard shit. The night, we’re progressin tae the next level. Fantazia is the original event in the Scottish rave scene n it’s wan ae the big wans, alongside Coloursfest in June n Fantasylands, the newest addition, in April n November. We’re plannin tae hit that wan next.
The anticipation is building inside us, an uncontrollable urge tae git bang on-it. A’ve git ‘Alya’ playin in the background n A’m almost ready. Ma maw’s even went n brought me in a McDonald’s tae make sure A eat suhin. It’s gonnae be difficult but. Normally, yi wid snatch the thing oot hur hands n scran fuck oot it, but the day A’ll be munchin it a sesame seed at a time. A’m forcin it doon. Adrenaline is a hunger suppressant. This excitement n euphoria needed nae fuel, apart fae Methylene-dioxy methamphetamine n Buckfast de la Tonic Vino. It’s an eld CD n it skips ontae DJ Rankin, ‘Raving in the Bedroom’. The CD player is blastin oot n A’m bouncin aboot like fuck. Ma maw’s goin nuts but A don’t care cos we are ravin! YEEEOOOO! We are raaavin! We are raaavin! ALLLLLLAN, TURN THAT DOWN! Naw, maw, cannae, soz – cos A’m fuckin ravin in the bedroom. DJ Rankin in the mix motherfucker! Here we fuckin go. Haw, specky, gees an ecky.
A bounce doon tae Eck’s flat n the troops ir awready here bang on-it. Danny, Addison, Big Kenzie, Wee Kenzie, Finnegan, Big Eck, Amanda n Wee Toni. The tunes ir bangin oot the eld beat-up system n the neighbours ir awready chappin through the wall. Big Kenzie n Eck ir fuckin full ae it. They’ve been sniffin a quarter ae gear aw day apparently, bangin oot Patsys left, right n centre. The two ae them ir dressed in pure bright colours. Tam’s wearin a shockin pink tap n Eck’s in a baby-blue polo shirt wae the collar up n white trackies. Danny, Wee Kenzie n Finnegan huv Gio-Goi n Brookhaven T-shirts on wae joggy bottoms. A’m wearin a royal blue Henleys tap wae a pink logo, dark grey Nike joggies n ma eld Lacoste trainers wae the single strap. Amanda’s gone fur the pink tutu n furry boots, the lot. Toni’s in a turquoise strappy tap n ripped denim hotpants. Hur n Finnegan ir in the corner chattin away. A crack ma bottle ae wine n take a healthy neck oot it, make the first drink a good wan. It goes doon smooth, pure nice bottle wae the vanilla hint comin through that only a seasoned Tonic connoisseur kin detect. A’ve git that n a bottle ae Red Square Reloaded. That wid dae yi on rave day.
The door goes n Eck rolls backwards aff the couch tae git it. He comes back in wae Patricia n Monica. A huvnae seen them fur a bit. There’s rumours flyin aboot that Patricia’s been seein that Jamie Peters fae the Toi. Scheme hoppin wee cow. Cunts said they hud seen her oot n aboot in his BMW. She’s that kind ae lassie – no quite shaggin fur a run, but no far aff it. Monica hud stayed on at school n hus started college. She’s talkin aboot maybe goin tae uni eventually. Naturally, yi think yir above folk aboot here if yi try tae better yirsel. Everycunt thinks she’s turned posh or suhin. We hud always kept in touch after our fling, but, as wae aw elder burds, it wis a passin thing. A still huv a wee soft spot fur Monica Mason but, cannae deny it, troops.
A’ve only drank half ma bottle yit n take another healthy tan. A heavy bangin beat blasts on tae the system. Dark Oscillators, ‘Nobody is Perfect (Original Threesome Mix)’. Wit a fuckin eld school sound it is. Pure constant bassline beat wae the treble gawn young skitzo Dardie. The beat draps n A sniff a line aff Eck’s mirror. It’s good stuff, goes right tae yir fuckin nut n A’m dancin aboot gawn mental. A light a fag n it tastes like heaven, smooth smoke slidin doon the hatch n ma numb mooth n teeth tinglin. Cocaine en route tae the brain. Caffeine keeps me chargin, marchin powder keeps me dancin. Still the beats ir bangin.
A’m the only wan dancin on the floor but A don’t fuckin care. A’m ravin wae ma hands n feet n it feels dyno. Class A drugs wid dae that tae yi. The wine’s kickin in n Big Kenzie bounces up wae me. The two ae us ir goin fur it, dancin like fuck. ‘Hard house music makes me horny,’ the lassie on the track is sayin n A’m bouncin when that beat draps. The two lassies ir dancin wae us noo. Patricia n Monica ir both in wee hotpants n lumi taps. A’m watchin them n they’re watchin me n A feel wan ae their hands roon ma waist n it feels good. Showtek, ‘Green Stuff’ comes on, Big Kenzie n Eck’s favourite. They’re shoutin like fuck n singing,
‘I WANNA PUFF PUFF,
SOME OF THE DUTCH STUFF!
I WANNA PUFF PUFF,
GIVE ME THE GREEN GREEN STUFF!’
The bass kicks in n the whole flat vibrates n A kin make oot a neighbour chappin the wall like fuck again. Me n Monica’s laughin away n we sit on the couch. Patricia sits doon next tae me on the other side. Big Kenzie bounces on tae the armchair opposite. ‘Where’s Gemma, Azzy?’ Patricia asks us, as she crosses her long legs n lights a Lambert & Butler.
‘She’s no comin! We’ve finished.’
‘How’s that then?’ Monica says, lightin wan up tae.
‘Cos she’s a boring eld wuman!’ Patr
icia shouts.
‘Did yees finish bad?’
‘Naw, we’re still pals, just ran its course n aw that.’
‘She’s too eld fur yi anyway, son!’
‘Gemma’s lookin fur a quiet cunt wae a good job n a fancy motor. Goes tae the clubs n aw that. No a fuckin bam like me.’
‘Aw well, her loss!’ Monica says.
‘Exactly, hen,’ Patricia agrees wae a wink.
‘Ahh yooz ir bias!’
The two ae them cuddle me, one fae each side, n A see Big Kenzie raisin his eyebrows n winkin. A gee him the finger. ‘Wee Azzy the playaaa!’ He’s shoutin, dancin aboot.
‘Jealousy doesnae become yi, Tam!’
‘A’ll bite that wee finger aff yi. GEES IT!’ he shouts, divin on top ae us aw.
Dirt Devils, ‘The Drill’ comes on n the livin room goes mental. Everycunt is up on their feet n drinks ir gittin kicked everywhere. Addison’s sittin wasted wae his heed in his hands after five black cans ae Strongbow Super. Too much, too soon on rave day is a fuckin no-no. A knew these fuckin heed bangers wid be hammerin it aw day. They aw came doon too early n ir aw mega fucked noo before the actual thing’s even started. Four ae us ir sittin on the three-seater couch. Eck’s still sniffin Patsys aff the mantelpiece. ‘Wit wan ae yees is geein ma pal Azzy a kiss then?’ Big Kenzie shouts tae Monica n Patricia. A’m shakin ma heed. He’s buzzin oot his nut on the ching, talkin romantic.
‘Aw dunno … we’ll need tae fight over him, won’t we Monica?’
‘Aw we will that, doll! Wee stunner like Azzy Williams!’
‘THAT’S THE FUCKIN BUS HERE, EVERYCUNT!’
We aw bail oot the block ae flats n head fur the mini-bus. It’s a wee rusty sixteen-seater beaut n booked tae take us over tae Braeheed, on the other side ae Glesga. It’s aboot a forty-minute drive roughly. Danny n Kenzie ir takin a last toke ae a joint by the back doors. Everywan’s shoutin n it’s a fuckin riot. The bus driver looks ragin awready. We aw bounce on the bus n grab a seat. A git a text, it’s Wee Toffey. HOD THE BUS A GOT A TICKET!!! A jump up n shout, ‘WAIT! WEE TOFFEY’S COMIN! HE’S RUNNIN DOWN THE NOO!’ There’s cheers aw roon.
The Young Team Page 11