“You’re not a bad person. Deep down you’re not.”
Billy felt her arms wrap themselves around him from behind. Felt that warmth once again. He turned around so that he was cradling her head against his chest.
“Come oan. Dinnae cry. Dae ye see me cryin eh? Ah dinnae want you or anyone else feelin sorry fer me, awright?”
“I’m not.”
“Well wipe away they tears then.”
“Ok. Can I jist ask you to do one thing for me? Just calm down a wee bit. Slow down, Billy.”
29
George chuckled away as Joe rattled on about his latest conquest later that afternoon in The Gunner, every now and then subtly pawing at his biceps, chuffed at how they were coming along. George had made a conscious effort to increase the intensity of his weekly gym regime in order to cope with his increasing party habits at the weekend. He enjoyed putting his body through hell on a Monday and Tuesday. There was something about the process of grinding his body through a heavy session and sweating all that shite out of his system that he found satisfying, almost therapeutic. As an added bonus he had started punting eccies to a number of the guys in the gym who between them took a good hundred on a weekly basis.
On this particular week, however, there was no chance he was going anywhere near that place. He was still rough as fuck from those snowballs. He had gubbed three in the space of two hours in the Venue on the Saturday night, convinced they weren’t doing a thing, and what had followed was surreal. He had found himself floating homeward where he had stuck the telly on in his room. Next thing he knew he was gripping onto the sides of his seat trying to stop himself from getting sucked into the screen, convinced that on the other side was another dimension. He didn’t like the feeling of not being in control of what he was taking. That was why back when the rest of the boys first started getting tanked in about the acid George would stick stubbornly to the speed. That way he knew where he stood, no freaky surprises. One seriously bad trip when he was sixteen had been more than enough to convince him that acid just wasn’t his thing. Ecstasy was another thing altogether however, and the big man had been swept along like the rest of the mob.
Anyway, the snowballs were a small hiccup that had been dealt with. Happened again and he’d be panelling Andy’s puny wee heid into the concrete right outside college, while the rest of his class watched. That aside, George was happy he had taken John Spencer’s advice and delved into the ecstasy market with or without his old man to oversee it. Him and Billy had a good thing going and he was proving he was more than just hired muscle like big Uncle Goggs. He emptied the rest of the beer down his throat before tuning back into Joe’s story.
“So Ah’ve gone tae shag ur eh. Three fuckin weeks Ah’d been waitin. Ah’ve got her aw spread oot oan the couch an that. An Ah’ve gone tae bury ma mooth in it, eh. She’s like, wait, wait! Ah’m oan ma dabs! Ah’m oan ma dabs! So Ah’ve looked doon an right enough she’s no jokin!”
George spat a mouthful of bevy out as he pictured the scene and cringed.
“Ah’m like, lucky ye fuckin telt ees before Ah went tae go doon oan ye! What am Ah, a fuckin vampire?”
“What did ye dae then, pump er up the erse?” said Jimmy sniggering.
“Ye ken what they say, when the rivers are red just ride the dirt track eh,” said George. They erupted into laughter, laughter that was abruptly cut short as Dougie appeared behind them.
“Sorry tae interrupt the party, girls. What ye’s wantin tae drink?”
“We’re good,” said George, before turning his back on the old man as Jimmy and Joe looked at one another awkwardly.
“Naw, yer no.” Dougie clicked his fingers at the young barman, who dropped his magazine and offered him his undivided attention. “A whisky fer me and three pints fer the youngsters. Speakin ay youngsters, is that you tellin mair stories aboot yer wee rendezvous wae the primary school lassies, Joe?”
Joe let out a nervous laugh.
“Better no catch ye at the school gates or Ah'll chop yer baws oaf. Anyway, if yer girlfriends will spare ye fer five minutes Ah could do wae a word in private, son.”
“Am busy.”
“George. A word. Five bloody minutes awright? Then ye can rejoin the fun.”
George rolled his eyes as he took the pint.
“Five minutes, that’s it.”
George took a seat at a table next to the window as his dad followed suit. They had barely spoken more than a handful of times in the months since that ill fated trip through to Glasgow when he was set up for a mugging in the middle of the Gorbals to teach him a lesson. It was still a huge sore point, and one that George hadn’t forgotten. The atmosphere between them was still so raw with ill feeling and bitterness that George couldn’t even bring himself to sit at the dinner table on the odd occasions that they were both home at the same time. Lorraine had tried to mend bridges countless times but to no avail.
“What ye wantin?” said George as he inspected his fingernails, unable to look Dougie in the eye.
“Come on son. This has gone on long enough. You know it. And I know it. Need’s tae end. Let’s get it all out there an be done with it.” George brushed some ash away from the scratched wooden table surface and looked into the distance as he crossed his big arms defensively. Dougie sat forward.
“Look, Ah get it. Awright? Yer pissed off. Still, after all these months. An okay, Ah hold ma hands up awright? Maybe Ah went a bit too far tae make an example of ye. There ye go.” George shook his head.
“Ye think? That fuckin close.” George pinched his thumb and finger together. “That close Ah wis tae gettin a razor right doon ma fuckin face! Set up fer a doin team handed, nae back up. An ye come tae me now, months down the line sayin ye went too far?”
“Ah made sure Spencer’s boy knew tae jump in before it got out of hand.” George laughed as he sipped his pint.
“Look you have tae understand that when you started goin against me in front of Gordon the way you did that day, it’s like a ripple effect. People see that, see you goin against ma orders an gettin away wae it? Then suddenly Gordon thinks he can start pushin the boat a bit. Then Sean, then Willie, an before ye know it, big Dougie’s seen as a soft touch. Dougie’s losin his grip, Dougie’s past it. Then Dougie’s got a fuckin target on his head that every nut job within a five mile radius is takin shots at. Dont ye see son? Ah had tae make an example. Call it tough love, call it whatever ye want, it had tae be done. How dae ye think it is I’ve kept a grip on these streets fer so many year? By no givin a bloody inch, whoever it may be, family, friend. foe. Tough, sure. Some might call it worse than that. Me? I call it necessary.”
“Awright, so then why didn’t ye show ye had the bottle tae gie me a spankin yersel tae make yer point? Naw. Ye set me up fer a doin at the hands ay a bunch of wee weegie tramps armed tae the fuckin teeth. Al tell ye why. It’s cause ye were scared if ye done it yersel it might backfire on ye. No such a wee laddy anymair am Ah?” Dougie shrugged his shoulders.
“Maybe so son. Maybe so. But look what's happened off the back of it. Ye’ve gone off, ye’ve done yer own thing. Ye’ve had a chance tae grow out of the shadow of yer old man. Tae prove ye can be yer own man.”
“Aw aye so this was all fer ma own good was it?” George shook his head.
“Ah do think it’s been fer yer ain good, aye. But things have changed. An yer wee period of findin yerself or whatever, It’s over.” Dougie looked George square in the eye. “Tae put it frankly, Ah need ye back on side, pronto. Yer Uncle is becomin a fuckin headache. If he progresses tae mair than just an annoyin headache then it could be a problem. Fer all of us.”
“What, so you think after all that’s happened, you can just summon me, an like that I’ll jump tae yer beat? An drop everythin I’ve got goin on? Ive got ma own thing now Dad.”
“You think Ah dont know? Ah need ye son. An besides, I’ve been busy the last few days. Buildin new connections up the town. A guy Ah know has just taken over the Vaults, a
club on Niddrie Street. The problem he’s experiencin is that due to the style of music, ecstasy’s rife, an he’s not getting his cut fae the dealers. He’s asked me tae come in as a silent partner, instill a new order. Not only dae Ah get a piece of the club, but I also take control of all the ecstasy that gets sold in there so long as he gets a piece, but tae have full control of the ecstasy means Ah need tae take full control of the door. There will be one or two qualified bouncers on there, but the head doorman will be the guy that takes charge ay the real dough, the guy that the dealers in that place report to for their orders, the guy that makes sure the only tablets gettin sold in that place are ones he supplies. That head doorman will effectively be the fuckin Gov’nor in that place. He’ll be representin me.” Dougie looked his son in the eye and grinned. “Ah want you tae run this son. You’ll be ma man in the Vaults. Ma eyes and ears, ma fists. Ye said ye wanted more responsibility, more cash, well here’s yer shot. This is exactly what ye’ve been lookin for.”
Dougie squinted his eyes at George.
“Well?”
30
“George. George.”
George was miles away, staring into space, mulling the huge crossroads in front of him as the repetition of his name pulled him back into the present moment. He subtly checked his silver Tag Heuer for the umpteenth time that night before answering Billy back.
“Aye?”
“Ye with us big man?”
“Eh? Aye. Aye. Course, what were ye’s sayin?” He sunk some of his pint.
“Was just saying that I understand there’s been some misgivings about the most recent product.”
The small frame, the specs, the thinning strawberry blonde hair, the shirt and tie, Brian “Specky” Clark, was the guy responsible for a large percentage of the ecstasy pouring into the capital, and it wasn't surprising that a character like this would be able to fly underneath the radar. He looked like a smaller version of one of the Proclaimers, albeit with one of Manchester’s most prolific drug firms behind him.
“Aye. Aye that’s right, they were fuckin pish,” said George, eager to appear wholeheartedly invested in the situation.
“It’s embarrassing, makes us look bad, and it’s bad press we could do without.”
“Makes us look bad tae,” said Billy.
“We’ve had to move over the last few days to provide some reassurances, not just to yourselves. You asked for a face to face and with the amount of weight you boys shift it was only fair, so here I am.” Clark slyly glanced toward the bar area where a massive lump lumbered over it with his back to them. His neck was so big it had what looked like arse flaps at the back. George bit his lip and forced back a laugh.
“And what reassurance are ye able tae provide?” said Billy.
“Well for a start it’s been dealt with at source. We’re not used to getting punted shite like that. Good, strong pills full of MDMA, straight from the heart of Europe where we’re concerned, only the best and purest. Myself and the people behind me are firm believers in giving people what they pay for, keep them coming back. Course when there's delays moving the stuff across the Channel, or a shipment gets busted, what can you do? If you sit on your arse waiting for the wheels to start turning again you risk letting others cut you out of the equation, so we took a chance on an alternative supply rather than our usual, a move that was to our detriment on this occasion. You see in some quarters folk are starting to get greedy. Manufacturing their own pills full of anything from smack to the ketamine that was in those snowballs. Cheaper ingredients, higher profit that kind of thing. It was a wake up call, we got complacent. So, to make up for it, we’re happy to set our next batch at a knock-down rate of four quid a pill, across the board to compensate.” Clark smiled as he mopped the edge of his lip with a napkin, before sipping a little of his gin and tonic.
“It’s no just that though,” said Billy. “We’re sick of havin tae go through middle men. Bampots. We wantae deal directly wae you. Means if we have any issues we can speak direct to the supply rather than having tae go through a bunch of students that dinnae huv a clue, know what Ah mean?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’ve got a contact for me as and when needed should you have any queries about consignments etc. And from now on? No middlemen, direct deliveries, less fucking about. Sound fair.”
“That us done, then?”
“Oh, there was one other thing.”
“Aye?”
“Dale Alscott, the guy you ran out of the Venue a few weeks back. Impressive by the way, very tenacious.”
“What about um?”
“He’s lost a lot of face, boys. He wants your blood.”
“Wants whose blood?” growled George. “Let um come, we’re no hard tae find. Anyway, Ah thought he was facin a sentence fer dealin?”
“He is. But he’s planning on putting a number of Hibs boys on your tail. Guys that don’t fuck about...”
“An ye think we do?” snapped Billy.
Clark raised his hands. “All I’m saying is he has it in for you, and he won’t stop till he’s got his wish. The thing is that we happen to be their main drug supply as well. So all it would take is one word from Big Joe there to the guys at the top of the CCS chain and those same radges would be looking down at the ground when they passed you in the street.”
“Ah appreciate the offer but we handle our own business eh. Dinnae need any cunt fightin our battles or steppin in fer us,” said Billy.
Clark smiled. “Look, it’s in our interest to make sure wars don’t break out between our customers. Before you know it arrests come down, supply lines are disrupted, it’s very bad for business.”
Billy looked round at George, shrugged his shoulders and looked back at Brian Clark. “Fair enough. Do what ye have tae dae, but we’re no hidin anywhere, an ye can pass that on.”
As Billy stood up and pulled his yellow Ralph Lauren Harrington from behind the seat, Clark sat forward. “Oh and one more thing. We might need help with something in the future. A favour for a favour and all that. I’ll be in touch.”
“Eh? Ah didnae ask fer that favour,” said Billy, puzzled looking.
“Point taken. Good evening gents, speak soon.”
“A favour for a favour: What the fuck does he mean by that?” said Billy as they bounded down Lothian Road. George didn’t respond. “Right, dae you wantae tell me where your biscuit’s at the day, mate? Yer no with me mate yer somewhere else.”
George stopped in his tracks just shy of the stone clock that stood in front of the Playhouse and let out a heavy groan.
“Ma old man needs me back on side, mate. This shit wae ma uncle, he’s got a bad feelin about it, needs me close. The downside is he’s asked me tae pull away fae yous. Says Ah cannae dae both. It’s one or the other.”
“Efter all that shit that went down in Glasgow?”
“Akno mate, but it’s ma old man. Cannae hud it against um forever.”
“Mate, yer twenty year auld. He cannae tell ye what tae dae anymair. An besides, you dinnae have anythin tae prove tae him. Trust me. Ah gave up that ghost a long time ago.”
“It’s family, man. What can Ah dae? Look, Ah told um straight if he wants me on side he keeps his nose ootae ma pals’ business. Nae mair taxin, askin fer cuts, nae mair stupid power trips, it ends. He’s got a fair old inkling about what we’ve been up tae. Doesnae Ken the details cause he's been so preoccupied wae other stuff he hasnae stuck his nose in up tae now. Ah made um agree tae keep outae it, leave ye’s be. Says as long as ye don’t sell anythin in Muirhouse, or step on his toes he’ll steer clear. Gave me his word.”
“How nice of um. So yer wantin out?”
“He’s set me up wae the door at the Vaults.”
“Bouncer?”
“Aye. Ah’ll take control ay the gear too obviously.”
Billy smiled. “Sounds like he’s got it aw worked oot fer ye.”
“It’ll hopefully only be till things blow over wae ma uncle. Or go South. Eit
her way.”
31
Sean felt an uneasy tension deep in his gut as he observed Willie gnawing at his knuckles on the other side of the table. He glanced around at the assortment of jakies, wannabe hard men and broken old fools resigned to their fate. This was the institution that had torn his family apart. That bewildered young lad, playing I Spy with his sisters on the ominous visit to Bar L. Trying his hardest to block out the sound of Mum and Dad raging at one another over her plans to emigrate to Canada and take all three of them with her. Scared, worried and helpless beneath the weight of it all, torn between the mother who had carried him, and the father that was determined not to lose him.
He gave his head a shake and tried to focus.
“So, how they treatin ye in here, mate?”
Willie shook his head, as he let out a snigger.
“Just makin small talk, Christ.”
“Well how about, how are you daein out there eh? While Ah take the fuckin heat fer ye in here? How about that?”
Sean pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried his hardest to endure Willie’s shite, all the while knowing that at least three screws had their eyes fixed on the pair of them.
“Ye’ll know she’s close tae crokin it, eh?” Willie pressed his fingertips together. “That fuckin close. If she doesnae pull through Ah’m a fuckin dead man.”
“How come?”
“Ah’ll tell ye how come. Because there’s a bunch ay pakkis in here that are ready tae put ma lights out. That’s how come. Only fuckin back-up Ah’ve got are fannies that cannae fight fer shit. An on top ay that, the smack in here isnae even fuckin smack! Shite!”
“Keep it fuckin cool.”
“Fuckin desperate here, Sean. Ah’m cluckin like fuck.”
“What dae ye want me tae dae?”
“Ah want fucking heroin. Ah’m carryin a lot ay fuckin weight fer yous here, dinnae ferget that.”
“We know. And we appreciate it.”
Pure Angst Page 15
