Angel 80 (lock up)

The taxi driver had the engine running and the Hackney cab was warm. He barely turned his head to look to at them, voice like falling gravel, ‘Where you goin’?’

Angel panicked, she couldn’t remember the address. She lifted Adam from her lap and pulled the holdall closer, reaching over for the door handle. ‘Paisley Road, West,’ it just came to her.

A slight jerk as he let the handbrake off and she pulled Adam closer, and they were moving, indicator clicking as the cab went to make a right turn against oncoming traffic.

‘Whit number?’ he asked.

‘796, I think.’

He burped, loudly, made no sign that he’d heard her and spun the cab around and into the flow of the traffic. The number of Paisley Road got mixed up in her head. Halfway through Clyde tunnel and she wondered if she should tell him it was 697, or 966? The driver looked in the mirror whether at her or the traffic behind her head she wasn’t sure. He didn’t give any clues away. She was used to older guys talking to her, what her mum used to call ‘chatting her up’. She often wondered what she did wrong.

Adam perked up, he enjoyed the cab ride. She held him up as they passed the fooball parks, a faraway solitary dog walker trudging through the rain. Her eyes were glancing at the meter and it was up to a tenner and seemed to jump with every spin of the cab’s wheels. They went through the town and out again and her heart began to beat faster and faster and she was shaking and out of breath by the time the cab parked outside a block of two-storey flats.

He glanced at the meter. ‘£14.50’ he growled, out of the side of his mouth.

She had her purse in her hand, mostly change with under £8 in it, her hand shaking. ‘I’ll need to nip in and get my pal to pay.’   

‘Whit was that?’ he turned his broad shoulders, dark eyebrow slanting as he scowled. ‘I wouldnae have fuckin’ brought you across here if I thought you’d nae fuckin’ money.’

She tried the handle and stepped out onto the pavement. ‘No be a tick,’ she tried to sound upbeat, went to lift Adam from the back seat.

‘No,’ the driver barked. His footfall heavy, as he flung open the door stepped out of the cab and stood looming over her in the rain. ‘Leave ‘im there.’

‘I cannae, he’s only wee.’

He squinted at her, ‘I’ll keep an eye on him.’

She ducked under his arm, he was holding the back door open and ran up the stairs two at a time. A metallic buzzer system on the door, scratched metal. She pressed all the buttons quickly, one after the other.

‘Who is it?’ a robotic-sounding woman’s voice answered.

She bent down to speak to the intercom. ‘I’m looking for Tony or Bruno.’

‘Nah, hen, wrang number.’

She spoke quickly before she hung up, ‘Do you know them, but?’

‘Tony or Bruno - who?’ she sounded suspicious.

Rather than give a meaningless surname she described them as best she could. ‘Tony’s got blonde hair and Bruno’s fat and he’s dead gay.’

‘Nah, hen, nae poofs here, I’d know.  I think you’d need to go to Clarkston for that type of thing.’

The intercom went silent. She jabbed all the buttons again and heard the jarring sound as the catch on the heavy door was realised. She pushed it open wondering if she should chap doors and ask about Tony and Bruno, but realised most neighbours if they hadn’t seen Bruno, would have heard him. And she’d ran out of time.

The taxi driver’s thick fingers drummed on the door and he glared at her as she jumped down the steps. She could hear Adam greeting.

‘You get the dough?’ he took a step towards her, blocking her way.  

‘No,’ she couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘It’s the wrang place.’  

Adam howled louder. She dipped a shoulder to get past him, but he grabbed her wrist.

‘Thought so,’ he shoved her away and she stumbled on the kerb. ‘Fucking wee cow, I’m taking you and your fucking screaming brat to the police.’

He stood aside as she leaned into the cab so Adam could see her, then stepped up into the cab. She heard the click of the door being locked behind her, as she picked Adam up and rocked him, kissing his forehead and cheeks. ‘You’re alright, You’re alright,’ she whispered into the nape of his soft neck and her son settled into a soft whine that signalled wait-and-see.

The cab jolted as the driver got back into the front seat. ‘Don’t try anything,’ he hissed, head tilted listening to the hiss of messages on the two-way radio.

‘I’ve got about eight quid,’ she said.

‘Right,’ he said, ‘Gie me it.’

He stuck a thick wrist and cupped hand through the Perspex sliding window.

She put an arm across Adam’s chest and pulled her purse out. She glanced at it and his face before stretching and tipping the contents.  

He didn’t bother counting it, tossing the change carelessly onto the passenger seat. He glanced at the meter and his eyes travelled up and down her body. ‘How you gonnae pay the rest?’

She cradled Adam to her chest, squeezing his shoulder and tried not to look at him.

‘Dunno,’ she admitted.

‘Unbutton your blouse,’ he said, after a few moments.

She fumbled with the top button and let her blouse fall open.

He looked up and down the street, pissing down, nobody about. ‘Lift your bra, so I can see you wee tits.’

She held Adam’s head so he couldn’t see and lifted up her bra.

‘Open your legs and lift your skirt.’

She had to kick the bag away with her feet, stretching her legs open. His face was at the grille and he was leaning over wanking.

‘Move your knickers to the side so I can see your snatch.’

She heard rather than saw him wanking and could smell his unclean cock. Suddenly, he whiplashed back into the front seat, straightening and zipping himself out. ‘Cover yerself up,’ he shouted in warming as two young boys wearing baseball caps ambled past, carrying a blue plastic bag that swung against their legs. The one nearest the door slowed and Angel wasn’t sure if they’d seen anything, because then they continued on, normally.

The driver shifted in his seat and looked in at the back seat. He sounded a little spooked, ‘that was close, eh?’

She wasn’t sure what to say, ‘Can I go now?’ her voice was a throwback to when she was much younger and Jaz made her do things.

He looked over his shoulder and turned the key in the barrel of the lock and the engine started. ‘I’ll take you somewhere and fuck you good up that wee tight arse. Then I’ll drop yous off.’