Ugly Puggly 39

I’d one of those terrible dreams, where I dreamt I couldn’t sleep and left the car engine running. Drifting over to the window with a quilt dragging behind like an ermine cape, I’d a quick dekko. A low-slung red sports car made the growling noise. It was parked in Mr McGrorry’s disabled parking bay. I didn’t recognise the car, but the slicked back hair had been whittled to a fine point to hide Jeff’s bald spot. He had on a grey suit and shirt and tie, dressed for a funeral. His eyes drifted upward and I hid behind the curtain and knocking over an empty can, dregs of lager spilling onto the carpet.

Rubbing the side of my foot like a horse’s hoof on the splatter, I pushed open the window to let it dry and to take away the musty smell in the room. Jeff had a black leather suitcase in his hand and marched with his head down towards our front door.

I scrambled to fling some clothes on. An old grey t-shirt covered my paunch and a pair of dark joggies that stretched and bulged in the wrong places, and had a dark stain on the crotch. They might well have been the playboy’s, but I’d no time to look for anything else.

Hurrying down the stairs, he banged on the door. Dave was still in his bed. Ugly Puggly in the living room with his piles of papers and lists, but I knew he wouldn’t answer the knocking sound. When I got to the bottom stair, I could see Jeff’s fingers pushing against the plastic shutter on the inside of the letterbox and trying to peek through.

Slapping my hand against it, I heard a yelp. Pulling open the door, Jeff crouched holding his wrist and cradled his fingers. His expensive leather suitcase was lying across his feet.

‘Sorry,’ I apologised. ‘Didnae know it was you.’

He straightened up and picked up his suitcase. ‘That’s alright.’ He was back using his Bearsden accent. So I knew he was here on business and it wasn’t a flying social visit. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d handed me brochures politicians handed out with their smiling mugshot on it. He stepped forward with a confident gait, but his foot floundered on the misstep.

I stood my ground. ‘Whit is it?’ I asked.

He glanced to his left and right, making me jumpy. ‘Better if we discussed it inside.’

‘Better for who?’

‘Believe me. Better for you.’

I held open the door and he angled past me and into the lobby. He followed me up the stair and into the dimly lit living room. Ugly Puggly frowned as he squinted at Jeff, but that was the only indication that he knew who he was. He continued with his calculations, and I went to open the slats of the venetian blinds.

Jeff pushed some books aside and used his wee bum to burrow into the couch. Placing his suitcase snug on his lap, I heard the click before it sprung open. Like a conjurer’s trick, I expected pigeons or a bouquet of roses to appear, because there was nothing visible inside.

‘I need ten grand.’ Jeff stared at Ugly Puggly, but like me, he’d have just been as well waiting for homing pigeons.

He turned towards me seated across from the broken telly, and licked his lips. ‘Ten grand.’

‘Whit yeh askin me for?’

‘You know.’

‘Nah, I don’t.’

Jeff looked for Ugly Puggly to pay referee, but he seemed too far gone. He dropped his accent and shrunk into himself as if he was going to cry. ‘I’ve been punting again. And I hink they’re on tae me. On tae us.  I’m ten grand doon. If I can jist cover base. We can maybe get away wae it. And back tae normal.’

Ugly Puggly raised a hand. ‘I’m glad tae here there’s a normal. That’s very reassuring.’

I wasn’t so forgiving. ‘I thought you were aff the gambling. Back in Gambler’s Anonymous.’

Jeff eyeballed me, anger pushing him to the edge of the couch as if ready to spring. ‘Don’t gee me that shite. You’re an alky. That other dick that likes the dick is a sex addict.’ He glowered at Ugly Puggly, but stopped there, perhaps remembering what he did with the chopping board.

‘We’ve no longer got it,’ I said. ‘We’ve made investments.’

‘Investments?’

Jeff made it sound as if we admitted to voting Tory and wearing an England top.

‘Aye,’ I admitted. ‘I bought a Bongo van.’

‘You did?’ Ugly Puggly sounded impressed.

‘For taking the wife away. Up North and that. All that kinda shite. Women like that kinda thing. A wee hame fae hame. And I thought it would be good for the fishin.’

Ugly Puggly stuck his pencil behind his ear. ‘But you don’t go fishin.’   

‘Aye, but I might.’ I nodded towards the window. ‘I parked it doon at her place. We’ve went oot a few times for a wee drive. But nae overnights yet—and nae nooky.’

Jeff propped the open suitcase, slantwise, against a pillow and stood up. ‘Much yeh got left?’

I looked up at him with bleary eyes and shrugged. He spun around and glared at Ugly Puggly.

I explained to Jeff how Ugly Puggly had paid out dosh to industrial chemists and bought some kit to develop this new roof tile, but it had proved pretty useless. Although Dave had programmed it to make dildoes. And he’d tried to sell them over the internet in the same way you’d sell hot cakes made of rubberised plastic with balls attached.

‘So whit yer sayin then,’ Jeff sunk back down into the settee. ‘I gave yeh £80 000 and yer skint?’     

‘Nah,’ I said. ‘Dave crowdfunded Howard’s idea for a revolutionary roof tile that would save the planet.’

‘Well, that’s good news,’ Jeff admitted.

‘Early stages,’ I replied. ‘Up tae noo, we’ve hit about £15. But I’m hopin for double digit growth.’

‘I’m hopin you’ll shut the fuck up,’ Jeff rubbed at his forehead and temples. ‘I might huv tae take that van aff yeh and disappear.’

‘I can hire it oot tae yeh, mate’s rates.’ I added, ‘But you’d need tae bring it back and put doon a deposit.’

‘Fuck off,’ he slammed the case shut. ‘Aw I need tae dae is make one wee phone call.’  

‘You wouldnae dae that,’ I cried. ‘You’d put yesel in the shite tae.’

‘Listen, mate, you said it before. The safest place for me noo, would be in prison.’

‘Just gee him the money,’ said Ugly Puggly. ‘Easy come. Easy go.’

‘Nah,’ I shook my head. ‘He’s no gettin mine.’

I left them to it and went upstairs. Looking out the window, I watched his new car reversing backward and out of our lives.