Gordon gave the front door a stiff boot which splintered the lock away from the swamp green door as it swung wide open. A gust of rancid air escaped from the flat, repulsing George as he jammed his bicep hard against his nostrils to block it out. There wasn’t a spot of furniture in sight, just a few bare walls covered with manic felt tipped scrawls in memory of Shirley. A vile looking grey mattress lay on the ground and there were flies everywhere.
“Come oan Deek we’ve no got aw day! Come oot an face the music. Ah’ve no got time fer games of hide an seek.”
After checking the rooms they walked into the bathroom. George looked down and noticed a quivering, shaking heap in the bathtub, pathetically hidden by a ragged towel which looked more like an oversized dishcloth.
“Come on Derek pal the game’s up. Oot ye get.”
The pitiful junky wearily lifted his head out of the bathtub.
“Did ye think we’d jist ferget aboot yer little debt?”
“S-s-sorry Gordon, really Ah, Ah um.”
“Ah’m sure ye are. Get yersel ootae that bathtub fer fuck’s sake, have some dignity eh.”
Deek crawled out of the bathtub trying desperately to cover his face. It was clear he hadn’t shaved in weeks. His face was covered in thick, dirty brown hair with nervy bloodshot eyes darting around full of fear and paranoia.
Gordon shook his head with disgust. “What a fuckin sight you are eh? Ye got nae fuckin pride? Stand up, git through tae that kitchen, an make us a fuckin brew.”
“P-p-please dinnae hit me Gordon, please.”
“Dinnae worry, Ah’ll no hit ye.” Gordon turned and raised his eyebrows at George with a demented grin on his face.
Rennie slowly made his way to his feet. He was a tormented looking creature with an arched back. His spine was twisted and humped like that of an eighty-year old even though he was still in his forties. Ten years of hardcore heroin abuse had clearly taken its toll. As he stumbled out of the bathroom and turned his back on the menace that had invaded his foul flat, Gordon gave him a heavy kick in the backside, forcing him to crumple to his hallway floor. Gordon laughed as he observed the sight that lay before him.
George reminisced about times gone by, sitting at the dinner table with Gordon as Lorraine served up the food, viewing him as a truly well mannered gentleman. He was under no illusion that his old dear knew how her husband provided a roof over their heads, yet he wondered what her opinion would be if she saw him now, surrounded by the true horror of it all. Rennie struggled through to the kitchen before filling up a pan and sticking it on the cooker. He spilled half its contents as he shook violently in fearful anticipation. Gordon pulled out a fag and lit it up before blowing a cloud of smoke in Derek’s direction. “Aw aye did Ah ferget tae introduce ye? This is Dougie’s laddie George.”
Rennie extended his hand, unveiling an arm covered in red blotches and needle marks. It was clear his veins had taken a wasting over the years. George had seen smackheads like this wandering about the scheme since he was a young boy, baldies they used to call them. But up close and personal like this was almost too much to bear. He pondered the fact that it was his father that had introduced heroin to the area and with it all the suffering that stood embodied before him, before swiftly blotting out the shameful notion by reminding himself that if it hadn’t been Dougie it would only have been someone else. Someone had to cash in.
“Awright pal,” said Rennie as George looked him up and down with repugnancy. Neither his lips nor his hands budged an inch.
Rennie gazed despairingly at the cigarette that hung from Gordon’s fingers. “Ah- Ah- dinnae suppose Ah could have one ay those oaf ye could Ah Gordon?”
Goggs blew a stream of smoke into his face before pulling out a cigarette and dropping it on the floor. Rennie bent over with great difficulty and picked it up with his trembling hand.
“So what’s the deal wae this cash then Deek? Ye were supposed tae cough up the readies a couple ay weeks ago. Yer makin Dougie look like a fuckin bam. That’s no very clever now is it?”
“Ah know Gordon Ah’m sorry pal. Ah-Ah’ve jist hud a really bad back an that eh.”
“Bad back?” Gordon laughed. “Hear that George? He’s got a bad back! Been in hospital wae the virus, payin the bairns’ school lunches, bad back? Best excuse Ah’ve heard in a while that.”
George stood silent, eyes fixed on Rennie who nervously fiddled with his right ear.
“What ye daein Deek, searchin fer a vein? Think ye’ve used thum aw up by the looks ay things. On a serious note now, dinnae insult ma fuckin intelligence. Where’s the money yer due?”
“Ah- Ah’ve been meanin tae pay it. It’s jist money’s been a wee bit tight an that.”
“Derek are you tryin tae take the piss outae me? Ah’m gonnae ask ye one mair time. Where’s Dougie’s money?”
“Look jist give me until next week Gordon, come oan.”
Gordon stood there for a moment staring a hole through Rennie with that cold dead eyed stare of his. He flicked the half smoked cigarette in the junkie’s face, before grabbing the full pan of water and cracking him square on the forehead with all his might. Rennie dropped to the floor, trying desperately to avoid the inevitable punishment.
“Gies yer hand.”
“Naw Gordon please pal!”
“Gies yer hand, NOW!”
Rennie folded his arms stubbornly.
“Right.” He grabbed his wrist and yanked him back up to his feet, before slamming his right hand down on the surface of the cooker, forcing it hard against the scalding pod.
“AAAAAAAAAGGHHH!! AAAAAAAAAGGHHH!!”
“Are ye gonnae git the money?”
“AAAAAGGHHH!!”
“What was that? Did ye hear somethin George? Did ye hear somethin?”
“Didnae hear a thing Goggs.”
“AAAAAAAGGHHH! AAAAAAAAAAGGHHH!!” Trevor cranked the cooker up to full heat as Rennie shrieked for mercy.
“Are ye gonnae git the money? An stop treatin Dougie like a silly cunt!?”
“Aye! Aye! Aye! Let ees go! Ah’ll git yer money!! Ah’ll git it!”
Gordon finally let go of Derek’s arm. He dropped to the floor, pulling the burning flesh off the red hot cooker as he went. He held his hand as he rocked back and forth on the dirt ridden kitchen floorboards, weeping uncontrollably.
“Right answer. Now I’ll be back here, nine am sharp tae collect the cash, an if ye dinnae have it, yer face goes oan that cooker awright? Dinnae make a cunt ootae me Deek. Think yersel lucky Ah’ve given ye any time at aw, must be gone soft in ma auld age.” Trevor readjusted his leather gloves, not for a second looking at the fallen mess that lay in front of him. “Ah dinnae gie a fuck if ye have tae rob yer ain granny tae git it, ye’ll have that money. Now get yersel the gither an smarten up! An fer fuck sakes get yersel checked up if ye havnae done so awready. Dinnae wantae wind up in the morgue wae yer beloved dae ye? Dinnae ever bite the hand that feeds ye Derek. It bites back a hundred times harder.”
As they began to leave, Gordon stopped for a second on the way out of the door to fire a parting warning. “Aw aye an dinnae think about daein nae runners Deek! Ah’ve got eyes oan ye! Try anythin stupid and they’ll find ye in a ditch wae holes up an doon yer body, an Ah’m no talkin aboot needle holes. See ye in the morning!”
“Dae it now! Put me ootae ma misery!”
They made their way from the stairwell, and once they were out of sight of the block Gordon turned to George.
“What’s eatin you the day?”
“What ye talkin aboot?”
“Normally you would have done a bit ay roughin up yersel. Ye seem preoccupied.”
George sniffed. “It’s sixty quid we’re talkin aboot here, an the cunt looks like he’s practically on his last legs anyway. You had it handled, hardly worth me breakin a sweat is it?”
Gordon stopped in the street. “Doesnae matter if it’s sixty quid or if it’s six grand laddie, it’s this kindae enforcin that’s helped
us keep a fuckin cast iron grip oan this area fer close tae a decade son.”
“Ah ken that, it’s jist—”
“Spit it oot son. Ye can tell yer Uncle Gordon.”
“Ah’ve been doin the collections for what, three years now? Does he really need the two of us oan the job? You’re big enough an ugly enough tae take care eh business by yersel, Ah’m jist thinkin its time Ah wis used in other ways is all.”
“Ah hear ye son. But it’s no me ye need tae be tellin is it?”
George could barely make the old man out as he sat in his familiar spot at the end of the bar in The Gunner. He had the last part of a Hamlet chugging between his teeth, half hidden by the Evening News he was engrossed in, his specs perched on the end of his nose. The place was dead and that was just how Dougie liked it when there was any business to discuss, not that a single soul who entered the pub would dare repeat a word they had heard. Not if they knew what was good for them anyway. Dougie slapped a hand against the paper and slammed it down on the bar as they approached.
“See that? Another bloody recession they’re sayin. That’s all we fuckin need. Government starts puttin the squeeze on all these local businesses, then what does it leave fer us? Bloody peanuts.” Dougie shook his head as he attempted to wipe away the strain before dropping his specs down on top of the paper. “So, what ye got fer me?”
“There.” Gordon dropped a roll of notes on the counter. “Only cunt that didnae cough up was Deek Rennie, but we'll have his tomorrow, rest assured.”
Dougie chuckled. “Derek fucking Rennie. He no deid yet?” Gordon smiled. “Calendar material by the looks ay things.”
Dougie shook his head as he untied the notes and proceeded to count out the two shares before handing them over and demanding three pints. “So anyway. Next line ay business we need tae discuss.” Dougie glanced up at his son. “Your good friend, Curtains, Billy Wright.”
“What about um?”
“Ah’ve been hearin he’s been very busy recently. In particular a jewellery store in Stockbridge that got turned over a couple weeks back. Him an is pals Joe an Jimmy so Ah hear, maybe Danny Walker too. You wouldnae ken anythin aboot that would ye son?”
“Naw why would Ah?” said George defensively.
“Well, pals or no we all ken what happens when someone fae this area starts plantin their own flag an makin money oan ma watch. Needs tae be taxed before he starts gettin too big fer is boots.”
“Come oan Dad eh? The cunt’s just tryin tae make a livin like everyone else in this shithole. What’s it got tae dae wae us?”
“Got everythin tae dae wae us. If Ah turn a blind eye an leave thum tae roost what’s next? Loans? Drugs? Ah’m daein um a favour clippin is wings a bit before he starts thinkin he’s a serious name. If he wants tae operate he needs tae pay is dues like everyone else.”
“Steady Dad, he’s ma fuckin best mate...”
“An we’re family. Besides the order comes fae me. All you an Gordon need tae do is go over there the morn an lay it down in plain English. Make sure he gets the message.”
“Fuck that.”
Dougie’s eyes widened. “What did you say tae me?”
“Ah says fuck that, the orders no comin fae me. You wantae start takin his money you go an tell um yersel.”
“Ye know son if Ah didnae ken any better Ah’d think maybe you’re in bed wae them.”
“He’s a mate awright? Ah work fer you but they’re ma fuckin mates. Ah dinnae fuckin agree wae it.” George glugged back the full pint in one go before slamming it down on the bar, gathering up his cash and making for the door.
“Hey! Son you fuckin come back here!”
“Handle this one yersel!”
13
Billy jumped awake when he heard the loud banging at his flat door the following day. And the moment he heard “POLICE, OPEN UP!” coming through the letterbox he knew it was time to panic. Both he and Joe arrived back at his flat the previous night after a two-day bender on the speed, swallowed some valleys and said good night to the world, but now that same world was in danger of coming crashing down around them.
Billy dived underneath his bed as the banging continued, snatching up a gold watch that he’d kept. Not a thing was getting flung until he found out if they had a warrant or not. He hadn’t put all that planning into the jewellery store job just to flush it down the toilet the moment there was a knock from polis that were probably trying to put the shitters up them in the hope that their arses would fall out. And besides, this little visit could be to do with any number of things.
“OPEN THIS DOOR OR WE’LL KICK IT IN.” Again the deep voice bellowed through the letterbox as Billy scrambled through to the living room where Joe Harrison lay crashed out on the sofa with half an unlit joint hanging between his fingers. Billy trampled barefooted across the empty bottles on the floor before yanking at Joe’s leg to wake him up. “Fuckin wake up ya cunt! The polis are at the door!”
“What? The polis? Fuck!”
“Where’s the hash?” Billy frantically gathered up several loose wraps of speed from the mantelpiece and a block of hash that lay on the coffee table, swiping away any loose powder as he went. “We’re gonnae have tae swallow this shit.”
“Here gie me a couple ay wraps then!”
“Go tae the door, have a word wae thum through the letter box, stall thum.”
“What am Ah gonnae say tae thum?!”
“Ask thum if they’ve got a warrant cause if no they’re getting telt tae fuck right off!”
Joe hurried to the door whilst pulling on a T-shirt and stuffing two wraps of speed down his throat at the same time. He shuddered before addressing the situation, as the bittersweet and heavily sour taste of base and glucose slid down his throat.
“Hello?”
“Open the fuckin door! We’ve no got aw day. That Billy Wright?”
Joe peered through the spy hole in disbelief at the two figures standing with hands clasped to their mouths trying desperately not to laugh. As soon as he unbolted the door and reluctantly opened it he was met by a barrage of laughter and the sight of Dougie and Gordon doubled over in the stairwell.
“Ye invitin us in sweetheart?” said Gordon, struggling to regain his composure.
Billy appeared behind Joe. “This some kind ay sick joke Ah take it?”
“I’ve got a warrant in ma backtail. Now let us in will ye,” said Dougie before barging his way through to the living room.
“So, what can Ah do fer ye’s now that we’ve got aw that hilarity out the way?” Billy sat down, as Joe began nervously pulling on his trainers.
“Woah, woah, what’s the bloody hurry Joe? It’s both ay yous we wantae talk tae. Have a seat.” said Dougie with a sternness that suggested the hilarity had ended. A nervous looking Joe sat down, his leg hammering itself against the floor like a pneumatic drill. He began gnawing at his fingernails as Dougie sat forward.
“Ah wis just curious as tae whether or no you could confirm these rumours Ah’ve been hearin recently,” said Dougie.
“What rumours?” said Billy.
“That jewellery shop on St Stephen Street. Ah hear you boys turned it over a couple eh weeks back.”
“Who told ye that like?”
“Doesnae matter who telt me son. Let’s just say it wis a reliable source. Now you can sit here an speak oot yer arse an say it wisnae yous or ye can confirm what I already have on good source.”
Billy sat back in his chair as he pondered Dougie’s motives. “Awrite. It was us. Good fuckin job we done an aw,” said Billy cockily as Joe stared at the ground. Gordon coughed away the last bit of laughter.
“So Ah hear. The thing is, Ah’m in charge round here. An when someone in this area starts gone aboot daein this an daein that waeout comin tae clear it wae me first, or offerin me a slice ay the pie ootae respect, it makes me edgy. Ye might think it’s no ma business but Ah make everything that goes on around here ma business. Whether you young cunts like it or no.”
>
“Even if Ah wanted tae come tae ye wae something like that how could Ah? Ye made it clear where we stood years ago.”
“That still a sore spot is it son? Ye still feelin that sting of rejection after aw these years?”
Gordon sniggered as Billy tried to swallow an ever-rising anger.
“Ye’ve got yer father tae blame fer that son. If he hadn’t tried tae be the cowboy in front of every cunt in The Gunner all those years ago then maybe there couldae been a future fer me an you. But that’s the past an this is the present, an Ah’m no gonnae let a bunch of upstarts like you an aw yer pals like Joe here think that ye can walk aboot, dae whatever ye want an no have tae worry about answerin tae me. Yer auld enough tae ken better now. Joe!”
He looked up in an instant. “Aye Dougie?”
“Ah’ve known you since you were a bloody bairn an aw. You know how it works around here better than this cunt don’t ye?”
“A-aye Dougie.”
Billy flashed a wicked glare at his fearful pal.
“At the end ay the day it’s me that runs the show round here, an it’s about time Ah reminded ye’s ay the fact. So what Ah’m wantin is a forty percent cut ay your take.”
“What?”
“This job ye done oan the jewellers, forty percent goes tae me. An that goes fer any other jobs ye might dae in the future, everythin gets back tae me eventually, don’t you ferget it. An don’t forget either Ah’m responsible fer aw the hash ye smoke an aw the powder ye stick up yer nose. Ye can leave the area if ye dinnae like it.”
“You havin a laugh?” said Billy.
“Dae Ah look like Ah’m laughin son? Ah’ll give ye yer due, you’ve got some fuckin balls tae even think aboot questionin me on this. I could be a real bastard an just say Ah’m takin the whole shebang. Truth be telt, maist cunts speak tae me like that wouldnae walk outae here. But outae respect tae ma laddie George, who for some fuckin unknown reason thinks the sun shines out of your arsehole, Ah’ll cap it at forty percent. And Ah’ll let ye walk.”
Billy leaned forward and put his head in his hands as he gritted his teeth even harder. The speed was rushing to his brain already. He had ingested so much of it his teeth felt like they were going to crumble under the increasing pressure of his gurning jaw.
Pure Angst Page 6
