A Bit of a Domestic 3

Johnboy fidgeted wae the Co-op bag he’d got when we stopped fur the milk and smiled his new Hollywood smile, lighting the mood as well as the hallway. “Show me where the kettle is. Ah’ll make the brew.”

Ah laughed as a stony-faced Sammy pointed Johnboy in the direction of the kitchen. Just as Ah moved tae follow Johnboy, Sammy gave me a deid erm and recoiled in mock pain. “Ye didnae tell me ye were bringing guests. Ah’d have asked ye tae bring in biscuits. He’ll be thinking we live like tramps.”

Johnboy seized the moment and continued climbing up the social ladder by reaching intae the bag and whipping oot Kit-Kats and Blue Ribands. “Hope these’ll dae fur noo. Ah wiznae sure whit ye liked. But, Ah thought, ye cannae go wrang wae the classics.”

Sammy smiled and tried tae gie me another deid erm but Ah saw it coming and deflected his half-hearted effort. “So Ah ask ye tae bring up milk and ye get some other cunt tae pey fur it? And ye get them tae buy the biscuits. Yir just like that cousin a yours; a stingy bastard.”

Ah nodded in agreement. “But Johnboy’s got a real tax-paying job in the shipyards. He can afford biscuits.”

“Don’t geez that shite. Jake telt us yir rolling in it, wae yir fancy executive job and aw the shite that comes wae it.”

“Ah told ye Ah chucked that job the other week. The cunts want their company car back tae.”

Aye, well, yir probably still loaded though. A smart cunt like yirsel.”

“Ah’m no skint, but Ah’m definitely no loaded either. Well, no yet anyway. Ah’m still waiting on a redundancy cheque.”

“Fuck, that’s a new wan. Roon here Ah’m more used tae cunts tryin’ tae tell me they’re waitin’ on a rent cheque. Stupid cunts don’t even know that rent cheques get paid straight tae landlords’ bank accounts noo.” Fed up wae me he turned his attention tae Johnboy, who wiz quietly going aboot tea-making duties, cleaning as he went. “How long huv ye worked in the yerds? Whit’s yir name again?”

Johnboy pulled his shoulders back and stuck his chest oot as far as it would go without been too obvious. “Johnboy. Ah’ve been there nearly twenty years.”

“Aye? Ye must be well-known and pretty high up noo, eh?”

“Naw, not at all, Ah’m still on the shop fler, so tae speak.”

“Aye, but ye must know how tae get the odd thing oot noo and again.”

“Ah’ve managed a couple a things o’er the years.”

“Whit like?”

“Nothin’ much. Just whit’ll fit in ma bag.” He turned and straightened the mugs wae military precision so that aw the handles faced the same way like a passing out parade.

Ah held a laugh, realising Johnboy had started tae realise Sammy wiz building up tae the crunch; the sixty four thousand dollar question.

The kettle boiled and boiled, turning the kitchen into a steam room until Sammy informed Johnboy that it didnae switch itself aff anymore. Johnboy done the deed and poured the teas. Sammy moved in fur the kill. “Tell ye whit it is. Ah’ve been thinking of building a home-made missile launcher. Nothin’ too fancy. Just a wee wan, but wae enough oomph tae dae the damage. Know whit Ah’m talkin’ aboot?”

Johnboy’s face, as he meticulously squeezed the teabags, told me he wiz wondering if Sammy wiz serious. Sammy’s face, as he followed Johnboy’s every move, told me he wiz serious as fuck. Caught in two minds Ah chose tae throw Johnboy a rope. “Yous don’t actually build any weapons in Govan, dae ye Johnboy? Is that no done elsewhere?”

He grabbed the rope wae both hands. “Eh…aye, Danny, that’s right. We just get the boats floating. Aw the good stuff is done somewhere else right enough.”

Sammy’s face drapped. “Fuck sake. Fat lot a fuckin’ good that is, ya useless cunt. Ah wiz goany offer ye a look roon the hoose, see if there wiz anything ye wanted. It’s nice tae be nice, know whit Ah’m talkin’ aboot? Yir gettin’ fuck all noo.”

Ah felt like giving Johnboy a power fur no helping Sammy build his Scud out of bag-sized pieces, but when he gave me a flash of those teeth and a fly wink, Ah went weak at the knees and decided tae let it go.

Sammy ushered us intae the living room where he took his usual seat by the fireplace that had a Kenwood Stereo instead of a fire, and finally introduced the big chap who’d opened the doors as Gary. With hands the size of Peter Schmeichel’s, and rough enough tae strike a match, he nearly broke ma bones wae his friendly handshake, but Ah kept smiling through the pain. Johnboy shifted a load of Farmfoods bags crammed wae toiletries sticking oot the top and we squeezed onto the once beige two-seater couch.

A glass coffee table stood in the centre of the room, crowded wae two plastic bottles transformed intae crack pipes, strips of tinfoil, kitchen spoons, a blow-torch, razor blades, cigarettes, Rizla papers, overflowing ashtrays, selection of tins, about a dozen Clipper lighters, a bottle of ammonia, an empty syringe, tea-bags and a set of digital scales. There wiz barely enough room fur a mug of tea never mind a line of coke, and much tae the amusement of Sammy, Johnboy still felt the need tae ask. “Is it okay tae build a joint?”

Ah took in the surroundings, pointing out tae Johnboy a sixteen-century decorative sword that Sammy had told me wiz worth over £400, but looked like one Ah’d seen up The Barras for twenty quid. The room seemed more crammed wae shite than the day before. Behind Sammy’s chair a three panel folding room divider had appeared; the kind ye might get in a pharmacy, behind which daily doses of methadone get devoured in relative privacy, dignity intact, as weans look on wanting a wee green drink fur themselves. Sammy saw me staring at it.

“Whit dae ye think? Ah wiz hoping tae get wan wae a nice sunset on it, maybe some palm trees and that, but this wiz aw he hud. It’s awright but innit?”

Ah tried tae think of something positive tae say, but kept expecting some cunt tae shuffle oot fae behind it, looking like an extra fae the Brad Pitt zombie film. “Maybe ye could paint a wee sunset on it yirsel, or a snowy mountain, or a….”

"Don't be sa fuckin stupid." He screwed his face up as if Ah wiz fae another planet. "Whit the fuck dae Ah know aboot painting? Dae ye like it or no? Fuck sake, it’s an easy enough question. In fact, Ah don’t gie a shite whether ye like it or no.”

“Aye, it’s awright. It eh…brightens the place up a bit.”

“Don’t start gettin’ fuckin smart. Anywey, whit can Ah dae fur ye? Ah take it yiv hud a busy weekend.“

Ah nodded. “Aye, shop’s oot a stock.”

“Did ye take it aw yirsel, or did ye manage tae sell enough tae pey fur yir ane this time?”

“Ah sold more than enough. Made a profit this weekend.”

He laughed. “Aye right. So ur ye goany pey fur whit ye take th-night then?”

“Eh, naw. Ye know how it is. Ah’ll no collect that money tae next week.” Ah held his stare, trying to look aw warm and friendly, like a stray dog looking fur an escape route fae the kennels before he gets the bullet. The setting and products might’ve been a bit different fae ma old day job fur UK Media Advertising, but negotiations are still negotiations, and finding a win-win situation remained the goal. “Just take it aff whit ye owe Jake and Ah’ll square him up at the end of the week.”

Sammy nearly choked on his Blue Riband. “Whit the fuck’s it got tae dae wae you whit goes on between me and Jake?”

Ah knew Ah’d taken a bit of a risk by mentioning his business wae Jake, but felt chancing ma luck could save me parting wae cash and make me look just a bit wide. In purely financial terms ma opening offer wiz quite a good one, fae where Ah wiz sitting, but Ah wiped the bits of biscuit oot ma hair and made another. “Ah’ll gie ye some money th-night then.”

He thought fur a while, looking like he wiz calculating numbers in his heid withoot using any fingers, and came back wae a counter offer. “Obviously, Ah would be looking fur full retail value if ye didnae have any money. But if ye gie me hauf the money noo Ah’ll settle fur trade price…plus a score.”

Knowing Sammy wouldnae dae anything fur nothing, it wiz as good a deal as Ah wiz goany get, so Ah made a move that looked like Ah wiz looking fur ma wallet. “How much can ye spare me then?”

“Ah’ve got an ounce ready fur ye,” he replied, reaching fur one of his tins on the table.

“Hope it’s still aw in one piece. Ah don’t want anything jumped on fae a great height.” Ah added a friendly laugh just in case he took it the wrong way. It’s an unspoken rule no tae ask anybody whit they mix their gear wae, or by how much. Failure tae abide wae that rule can get ye a sore face, or worse still, have ye leaving empty-handed. But having already collected an ounce fae the same stock a few days before Ah would know if it had been tampered wae. If Sammy tried tae give me something which wiznae aw it wiz supposed tae be it would prove somewhat embarrassing fur aw concerned. Ah wiznae some random aff the street looking fur a quick fix. Ah respected Sammy because he wiz an ‘associate’ of Jake’s, but that didnae mean Ah trusted him when it came tae taking stock aff his hauns. He gave me a cold stare before pulling a single lump oot the tin and tossing it in ma direction.

“Just fur you,” he laughed. “Don’t think Ah’ll be making a habit ay it. Ah’ve got more than enough habits already. A man’s got tae make a living, ye know.”

He chuckled tae himself before reaching fur another of his tins. Inside laid ready-made rocks of crack cocaine, or freebase, as he preferred tae call it. He’d given me an explanation of the different production techniques, which supposedly differentiated the two, but he lost me no long efter he started. The main difference fae whit Ah gathered wiz in the use of ammonia or bicarbonate of soda. Until then Ah’d thought bicarbonate of soda wiz fur indigestion or toothpastes, and ammonia reminded me of ma maw getting her hair dyed, or having a bottle of smelling salts held under ma nose.

Ah began clearing a space on the table tae get myself sorted. Experience told me Sammy stuck tae his pipe, preferring tae avoid having a sore nose. He’d passed the snorting phase a long time ago.

Gary declined ma offer of a line but asked Sammy very politely. “Is it okay tae huv a wee pipe?”

“Fuck sake!” Sammy huffed. “Have you no hud enough?” He paused fur whit seemed an age before adding, “Aye, go on then, you’ve earned it th-night. Sort me wan oot first though.”

It wiz important no tae look like pussies, so me and Johnboy cleared the larger than usual lines. It might’ve been a school night but sleep wiznae on the agenda. At a quarter tae one in the morning normal people would’ve been in bed, but the day felt like it wiz just starting. God knows how Johnboy managed tae get up fur work every morning at half five. Rather him than me.

Gary and Johnboy started talking aboot the best way tae start a camp fire in the rain withoot matches or a lighter, and Sammy began lecturing me aboot the Battle of the Little Bighorn. Like everyone else Ah knew it wiz famous for Custer’s last stand, but ma history came fae Hollywood, no reference books. Sammy launched intae a ferociously fast detailed explanation, losing me within the first minute. As he continued spewing oot shite Ah drifted aff and thought of myself as Custer and Sammy as Crazy Horse. Behind him Ah spotted a trio of tomahawks on the wall and wondered whit it would be like tae get scalped. Then Ah pictured me scalping Sammy. A smile snuck onto ma face and started tickling it, so Ah tried tae chase it away before Sammy saw it. He wiz in quite a flow and Ah didnae want tae be perceived as no paying attention.

“YE LIKE BOOKS, DON’T YE!” he shouted, stirring me fae ma reverie aboot the wild west.

“Eh? Aye, Ah used tae read quite a bit, but Ah’ve no done much recently.” Ah tried tae capture the moment, his train of thought, and ma place in them. “Whit kind a books?”

“Ah’ll prove it tae ye.” He got up fae his chair and walked towards his precious bookcase, stopping in his tracks and pausing fur a while, as if there wiz something more important needing done first. A more pronounced dazed look than usual spread across his face and he scratched the top of his heid in a manner not unlike Stan Laurel. Ah thought of saying that’s another fine mess you’ve got us intae but refrained due tae the increasing seriousness of his demeanour. Ah kept ma mouth shut and started tae put out another line while he started rummaging.

“Remember wee Stevie?” he asked, as he ran his finger over the spines of his collection.

Ah thought fur a second and wondered whit he had tae dae wae General Custer and the Battle of the Little Big Horn. “Is that the young boy who wiz here the other day?”

His eyes lifted. “Aye, that’s him.”

“Aye, of course Ah remember him. Ah wiz telling Johnboy about how Stevie got a bike taken aff him by two women and a paraplegic last week when he wiz oot fur chips.

“Ah telt somebody at work aboot that th-day. Pishing themselves they were. Getting robbed aff some cunt in a wheelchair,” said Johnboy, before remembering where he wiz. “Ah changed the names, of course.”

“THAT WIZ MA FUCKIN BIKE!”

Ah felt Johnboy jump in his seat as Sammy spat the words out.

“Just because somebody stole it fae them in the first place diznae mean it’s theirs. Ah gave somebody a tenner bag fur that bike in good faith.” Sammy’s eyes darted fae mine tae Gary’s and back tae Johnboy’s. The atmosphere, so jovial minutes before, darkened and thickened so much it would’ve taken a selection of the swords hanging on the wall tae cut through it. Tae try and get the good times back Ah joked tae Johnboy aboot him only getting a wee line this time, as he had work in the morning.

“Ah caught the wee cunt stealing an ounce a kit fae me,” Sammy broadcast tae the room, keeping the mood as dark as the moonless sky outside, and himself as centre stage. “Take him in, gie him a job, aw the kit he can take fur himself, and still he fucking steals…fae the hand that fuckin feeds him. Ungrateful wee bastard. Ah’m goany fuckin kill him.” And then he laughed, “Ah’m no even that bothered anymore aboot the ounce a kit he stole. Ah just want tae kill the wee cunt fur havin’ the fuckin nerve.”

Squinting ma eyes as if tae try and block Sammy’s moans out Ah ended up thinking he looked like a cross between Dick Dastardly and Captain Caveman. Muttley-like smans started sneaking up fae ma guts but Ah managed tae head them aff at ma throat before they escaped oot ma mouth and got me a sore face.

Sammy stared through me as if Ah wiznae there and put me on the spot. “Whit dae ye think Ah should dae when Ah catch him?”