Ugly Puggly 84.

My throat was sore from breathing and I made whistling noises in the back of my throat as I trudged along towards Dalmuir West. I stopped for a breather in the square and sat on a bench. A wet arse from the dimpled metallic seat was the least of my worries. I’d one of Ugly Puggly’s daft hats on my head to keep the rain off, but also as a kind of disguise. I glanced over at the bookie and Coop. It was getting late but the lights from inside lit up the path and made it seem cosy and inviting. They kept the drink in fridges near the till. And it wasn’t as if I could run away.

I tottered on down past it towards The Terminus Store we used to call it the Pakis. As if any Asian man or woman of a certain age had to be a shopkeeper. I was going to go into the shop and discuss it with him. But they were even worse than the Coop. They kept their drink in a cage behind the counter which showed that they thought of us customers as some berserker Viking hoard. I didn’t have the energy to laugh, but kept walking.

A Volvo pulled up at the pavement. The window whirred at it uncovered a florid face staring out. Gordie leaned across the seat to tell me, ‘You look like a bag o shite.’

‘At least I’m no a fat bastard,’ I told him.

His crooked teeth settled into a grin. ‘True, but yeh look about ninety. I didane recognise yeh.’

‘Whit did yeh stop for then, yah stupid cunt?’

‘I’m goin tae a meetin.’ He pushed open the car door and rain drifted inside soaking into his nice leather seats. ‘I hink yeh should come.’

He looked up at me like a brown-eyed kid that was asking you to kick his ball back over the fence.

‘Fuck off,’ I cried and tottered away from him, but stepped into a puddle.

I heard the click of the car door shutting. He reversed back the way to laugh at me. His car was in front of me, but he was behind me. He was playing funny buggers. But this time he got out of the car. His fat belly was poking out in front of him as he popped the boot and pulled out a nylon rain jacket with a hood.

It was big enough to fit him or shelter a family of five pygmy elephants. It was one of those designer things with a name. He unfurled it tried to hook the hood onto my head like tying a flag to the top of a flagpole. ‘Put this on,’ he growled. ‘Yer fuckin soakin.’

I batted his hand away. His rain jacket fell from my head. He caught it before the inside of the jacket fell to the ground and became wet. ‘I cannae wear that thing,’ I told him.

‘How no?’

‘Because it’s blue.’

He screwed his face up and took a step back to ponder. ‘Blue?’

‘Aye,’ I licked my lips. ‘Don’t want people hinking I’m a Rangers supporter. Hinkin I’m a hun.’

He bundled up the jacket under his arm. ‘I never thought of that.’

I reminded him. ‘You need tae reach rock bottom. And I’ve no reached that level yet—or ever.’

‘Ok, I get yeh.’ He rubbed at his clean-shaven chin. He was taking it quite well for a hun. ‘I’m gonnae tell you somethin.’ But then he started laughing. ‘I get yeh—’  A guy over at the cash machine turned his head to look at us.  ‘I get yeh—’

‘Will you fuckin shut up?’ I said. ‘It’s embarrasin.’

He settled down with a few less belly laughs and grinned. ‘Aye, it is embarrasin. Man that’s so embarrin.’ But he wasn’t embarrassed. He put the hood of his jacket over his head and wore it like a Batman cape for fat crimefighers. ‘You want me tae take yeh for somethin tae eat?’

I shook my head. ‘Nah, no hungry.’ But the offer of food reminded me of Ugly Puggly and how he’d always tried to feed me up. I glanced at Gordy’s face. ‘But yeh could gee me the money for a fish supper.’

‘Aye, and we aw came up the Clyde in a banana boat.’

I shrugged, it was worth a try.

But Gordy was always buying and selling and trying to make an extra buck. I don’t even think it was the money. He just enjoyed the chase. Getting one up. ‘I’ll tell yeh whit, you come tae a meetin and I’ll gee yeh the money for a fish supper. Nae questions asked.’ He stuffed his hand into his hinterland of his vast trousers and pulled out a twenty pound note. Held it up for me to show the outline of Queen Elizabeth’s mugshot as witness between us.

‘Where’s the meetin?’

A throaty laugh. ‘Does it matter?’ He knew he had me.

I trailed behind him to his car. The engine was still running. The interior like a heat box with heated seats that hugged my legs. I was glad to smudge the leather with my damp arse and pollute his car with my dirty presence.

He turned the music up. Simply Red. Mick Hucknall warbling away. Not caring about anything or anybody but you. You!

‘Put yer seatbelt on,’ he reminded me.

I stared out the window as we passed Mackintoshes, the smokers standing huddled, round-shouldered in the doorway sheltered from the rain as if they were waiting for something or someone to tell them their lives were a joke.

Gordy took his eyes off the road and glanced at me. My hand on the door handle. ‘I’d need tae—’

My hand shifted away. ‘I know, mate.’

I took in a deep breath and my treacherous body soaked in the heat. The shakes lessened. I could tell by the route he was taking we were going to The Hub. I wondered if wee Jim would be there, knowing he would be.

‘Wee Jim’ll be there,’ he murmured in an encouraging voice.

I scratched at the itch up under the ochters. ‘I know. But I’m only here for the beer.’

Gordy let that slide, nodding along to the music.

‘You’ll gie me that twenty quid when we get oot?’ I wasn’t letting him off. A deal was a deal.

He parked the car at the Health Centre car park. Turned the engine off. ‘Aye, but yeh need tae stay for tea n biscuits.’

‘Nah, yeh never said that.’

‘Suit yersel.’ He chuckled. ‘I’ll leave yeh here then, mate.’

He got out and slammed the door. I gripped the doorjamb, eased my feet onto the tarmac, and began shivering again. The high neon illuminated the playground shadows in Kilbowie School and the shut metal gates. A metallic sign asking parents not to be selfish and not to park at the entry and exit points. Road markings shone with a yellowish glare.  Rain washed against the pavements. Gordy pulled on his blue jacket, his hood obscuring his face. He was in a hurry now and I found it difficult to keep up with him.

‘Haud on,’ I shouted. ‘I’ve been aff the drink for about thirty minutes and thirty seconds. But it doesnae get any easier, yah fat bastard.’