A Proposition

The walk back tae the motor is slow an contemplative. An wet.

Scanlon’s right. Ah’m in too deep wae this cunt. He’s goat his claws in an he’s no fur lettin go. At least no until ah’m ay nae further use tae him, which means ah need tae kerry oan earnin; takin aw the risk, dain aw his draps an bringin in the dough. Firin aboot meetin aw sorts ay cunts who, fur aw ah know, could be rid fuckin hot!

The coppers could be tailin thum. At any given time, fuck knows whit yer walkin intae. Every drap; every car park ye pull intae; every coarner ye turn, is a risk, an if yer in the wrang place at the wrang time kerriein a bag - wae anythin between an ounce, an a bar ay charlie - an a poakit full ay used notes oan ye, yer fucked.

Serious time ah’ll dae, cos it’s oan me. He knows ah’ll no grass. If he thoat that, ah widnae be dain this. He’s awready takin a chance placin trust in me no tae just fuck off oer the horizon, never tae be seen again, wae his gear every time ah pick it up.

He knows ah’ll no though. Ah’m no that fuckin stupit. Shaftin cunts like that, wae connections — the fuckin Templetons fae Barmulloch he gets it fae! — will inevitably lead tae ye gettin done in somewhere doon the line. Ye kin fuck off, aye; bolt doon tae the big smoke or whitever but sooner or later, ye’ll huv tae come back fur somehin. Family matters: a funeral, yer sister’s weddin - fuck knows. Ye’ll tell yersel it’ll be awright, it’s just this wance, naebody will find oot. Ye’ll keep tellin yersel that until ye turn a coarner wan day an BANG, yer done in. Ye’ll no even see it comin.

Naw, ye canae run away fae yer problems. Keep it comin he sais. That’s aw that matters tae a cunt like McNulty, so fur the time bein, that’s whit ah’ll dae.

 

The motor’s sittin oan the street ootside the flat when ah get there, as ah knew it wid be. Efter bein soaked right through, ah’ve dried aff tae a mare bearable, uncomfortable dampness in the time it’s taken tae walk back.

There’s a wee guy; a wean just, sittin oan the kerb, flingin chuckies oot oan tae the road. Seein me approach, he stauns up, ‘You McShane?’ he sais.

‘Aye.’ ah sais, lookin aboot fur whitever next the day’s gonae throw at me.

‘Here,’ he sais, flingin me the car keys, ‘Big Monty sais ah wis tae wait an a guy called McShane wid come an get the motor. He sais ye might no though. Ah wis tae gie it an ooir an if ye didnae show, take the keys up the stair an post them through the door.’

He turns an walks away, the boay, an ah’m left staunin, wonderin whit tae make ay it. Whit the fuck did he mean, ‘ye might no though?’ It’ll just be that fuckin Monty bastart tryin tae put the shitters up me ah tell masel, an turn the key in the ignition.

Efter stoappin an gettin a couple ay rolls an sausage an a boatle ay Irn-Bru at The Roll Inn, ah head back tae ma gaff tae get masel squared up afore gaun tae see this fuckin Zander Patterson arsehole that’s caused me aw this grief, the greetin faced cunt.

There’s a level ay entitlement that comes wae these small-time coke dealers; the wans that dae it tae support their habit. Wans like Zander.

He hoovers enough ay it up his ain beak every week wae his parties - showin aff tae his cohorts he tries tae impress wae the Billy-big-baws act - that whit he punts just aboot covers whit he’s usin. An so the cycle continues.

The problems happen when there’s a break in the cycle. If they’re runnin low or worse - they’ve run oot.

See, charlie bandits think they’re sophisticated; like they’re a cut above other recreational drug users. Posh, some cunts call it, daint they? Well no aboot here, ye’d get yer baws parted fur that patter, but its perceived as bein the drug ay choice fur cunts wae a bit ay dough. Synonymous wae bright lights an glamour an aw that shite.

Mibbe it is associated wae aw that Hollywood pish but when ye get doon tae it, a coke heid might no be jaggin it in thur airm but they’re as much ay fuckin addict as any other, know whit ah mean? It just so happens that the drug itsel propagates such lofty ideas ay wan’s self-importance. It’s a cycle awright, a self-perpetuatin wan.

Ah text the fuckin slimy bastart an tell him ah’ve spoke tae McNulty an ah’ll be there soon, afore stickin another line oot. Just a wee wan, tae keep me oan ma toes. Ah need ma wits aboot me dealin wae this cunt.

 

When ah pull up tae his hoose, the street’s quiet. Nae parties in full swing this time, that’s fur sure. He’s awready staunin in the porch when ah get tae the door, wearin another two-sizes-too-wee Lacoste polo shirt an some fuckin wanky three quarter length cargo troosers wae they wee lassie’s ankle soacks cunts huv startit wearin. Ah think the concept is that the wearer will no longer huv tae endure the horrors ay an unwanted tan line where the soacks wid usually be; no a particularly manifest problem in the Glesga area, in ma experience. ‘Stevie, ma bro-ski, mone in son!’ he sais, like we’re bosom buddies.

He directs me through the kitchen an oot tae the garage-cum-bar set-up he’s goat, gesturin taewards a stool. ‘Sit doon,’ he sais, pourin a gless ay MacAllen single malt an gien us it oer.

‘Single malt, eh? Never let it be sais, that ye deprive yersel ay the finer things in life, Zander.’ ah sais, haudin the amber liquid up in the gless tae the light, inspectin it, as if ah know whit the fuck ah’m dain.

‘Whit, this? A client gied us it as a wee “thank you” fur a joab we done fur him. A small boutique hotel, as they’re callin them these days, oot in Bridge of Weir. All the windows, doors and a state of the art kitchen fit out. Ah kin take it or leave it personally, but ah thought, seein as ah’ve goat a bit ay a proposition fur ye, ah’d break it oot.’

‘Whit dae ye mean proposition? Ah thoat ye were just efter yer usual. . . ah’ve goat it here.’ ah sais, noddin taewards the bag. Ah’m never sure if it’s the best idea, kerrien it aboot wae me everywhere, but the truth is, apart fae when ah know it’s left in the hoose, behind loack an key, ah’m feart tae let it oot ma sight.

‘Aye, well ah dae, we’ll get tae that soon enough. It’s another matter ah really needed tae see ye about.’ he sais, conspiratorially.

‘Enough tae phone McNulty an kick up fuck because ye couldnae get me immediately last night? That wis oot ay order man, somethin came up. The phone wis aff fur a reason! Ma coat’s oan a shaky nail as it is wae him.’ ah reply, indignantly. Ah get the feelin he’s no used tae bein talked tae like this as he shuffles awkwardly oan the bar stool he’s sat doon oan, next tae me.

He runs his finger roon the rim ay the gless like he’s thinkin ay whit his comeback should be, ‘You’re right Steve’, he sais, business voice fully implemented, ‘It’s just that, this proposal I’ve got. . . it needs tae be for your ears only.’ He looks me in the eye, presumably tae hammer it hame. ‘It’s delicate, but I don’t see how a couple ay smart fellas like us cannae work it oot between us?’ he sais.

‘Look, Zander. Ye’ll huv tae stoap talkin in fuckin riddles fur a start. Whit is this proposition yer oan aboot an where dae ah fit intae it?’ ah sais, gettin tired ay his pish.

Sensin this, he pulls a bit closer an lowers his voice, though ah’ve nae idea why, there’s nae other cunt here. ‘Ye see, whit ah’m proposin here is delicate, like ah sais. Ye remember Coln that wis here the other week there?’

‘Big growlin bastart, wired oot his dial, that stood here, at this bar makin me feel aboot as welcome as a dose ay bubonic plague? That Coln?’

‘He’d been on it fur days that time. He’s alright when ye get to know him. Really, he is but aye, that’s the one. He’s lookin tae buy some gear.’

‘Is that it? Fuck sake, ye hud me gaun there fur a minute.’ ah sais, feelin relieved.

‘Aye, but it’s no as straightforward as that, mind ah told ye no to mention where this gear wis comin fae; who you’re sellin it fur?’

‘It rings a bell, so he disnae like McNulty. Join the fuckin club.’ ah sais, still none the wiser where he’s gaun wae this.

‘It’s worse than that Stevie, he disnae just dislike him, he fuckin despises him. There’s a lot ay bad blood there fae years ago. Coln an his brothers were in a “dispute” wae him, to put it mildly. Tit fur tat stuff. A sizeable debt ay some kind. Ah didn’t go intae details. Don’t know if it’s ever been settled. Gaun oan nothin other than the fuckin sheer, unadulterated hatred in his eyes when ye mention his name though, ah’d say not.’

‘Look, money’s aw that matters tae McNulty. Ah’ll sort Coln oot wae whit he needs, an nae names need tae be mentioned, how’s that?’

‘Good. That’s whit ah thought you’d say. Look, Coln’s a business partner ay mine. We make a lot of money together an in order tae ensure that continues tae be the case, ah want tae help him secure this stuff. You dae this fur me, an ah’ll see ye alright. How does five grand sound?’

‘No as good as ten grand.’ ah reply, the words leavin ma mooth faster than ma brain kin keep up wae.

He starts dain this wee nervous laugh, ‘Seven, an remember you’re the man here. You’re settin the price, as long as we’re in the right ballpark; the going rate or thereaboots -- Whit ah’m sayin is, fur an enterprisin individual, there’s mare money to be made here? Ye followin me?’ Ah’m foalliein him loud an clear, but it’s no sittin well wae me. Whit dis this cunt want tae help me oot fur, know whit ah mean?

He continues, ‘Thing is though, it’s a bit of a larger quantity than we’ve been dealing wae. In fact, ah think at this juncture, it’s probably better he explains himself. COLN! YOU CAN COME IN NOW!’ he shouts, oot ay the blue, ‘Now remember, you’re the guy. Don’t fuckin mention McNulty’s name.’ he sais, his voice a low growl again.

The big Coln character comes in the same waiy we did, through the kitchen. He must’ve been sittin in the front room or up the stair or somethin the whole time. ‘Stevie McShane!’ he sais, ‘You’re the man that can, ah’m hearin.’

‘How’s it gaun?’ ah sais, tryin tae keep it calm an collected, like ah really um the man. He shakes ma haun an looks me straight in the eye. Ah fuckin hate that, like he’s tryin tae get the measure ay me by lookin right intae ma soul. It’s probably ma auld Dutch’s fault, but ah’m a bit wary roon the gypos. Curses an aw that shit. No that ah think this big bruisin bastart’s capable ay aw that caper. Is anybody? He’s mare than capable ay dain the intimidatory routine though as he squeezes ma haun like he’s wringin oot a wet sponge.

He’s goat mad sparklers man, teeth pure gleamin. Ah think he’s hud them chemically fuckin bleached or somehin. They’re no right lookin, fuckin luminescent, they ur. Ah’m imaginin whit they’d look like under wan ay they dark lights when he sais, ‘Stevo, ah’m looking for some of that cocaine yer floggin. Zander here, says you’re the man.’

‘Aye, he mentioned. Of course, if ah kin help ye, then ah will.’ ah sais, gien a reassurin glance in Zander’s direction, ‘whit is it yer lookin fur?’

‘A box.’ he sais, casually, ‘if ye can dae that initially, then we’ll see where we go from there.’

‘A boax? A kilo?’ ah sais, takin a large mooth fae ay the whisky fur the first time, ‘that’s a heavy lump ay ching Coln. Mare than ah usually deal wae in a week. By a considerable margin.’ ah sais.

‘But you can get it?’ he sais, ‘from the Templeton’s, Zander’s filled me in on the supply chain. See, I – we, don’t know them. Never had dealings but you; You,’ he sais, pointin at me like ah don’t know who he fuckin means, ‘You do, and that makes you a very useful friend to me.’ he sais, ‘Zander, the man’s glass is empty, we can’t have that.’ an wae that, Zander’s oan his feet, pourin another hauf intae the gless.

‘Supposin ah could get this fur ye, whit dae ye intend oan dain wae it. . .’

‘Stevie! Ah don’t see how that’s any ay your concern.’ Zander cuts in, makin wee understated shakes ay the heid as if tae say ma line ay questionin is oot ay order.

‘Naw? A key ay high quality gear, just aff the fuckin boat suddenly hittin the streets. Ah kin think ay a few people, the Templeton’s included, that huv a vested interest in knowin where it ends up, know whit ah mean?’ ah sais, feelin it’s in everybody’s interests tae know an it’s exactly the kind ay thing a guy in ma position should be askin.

‘No, Zander yer out of order there. Stevo’s every right to ask the question.’ Coln sais, vindicatin ma position, ‘It’s goin through to the East, Edinburgh mainly – we’ve family connections through there. Some of it might make its way to Fife.’ Ah dae everythin in ma power no tae burst oot laughin at that. Ye’d dae well tae find twinty Fifers willin tae hauf in fur a gram. ‘So, now you know. We good? Can you do this for me?’ Coln sais, lookin aw intense an serious, awaitin ma answer.

Ah take another big stank ay whisky. Fuck that savourin the flavour shite, every nerve in ma boady feels like its coursin wae electricity. ‘Aye, ah kin dae it. It won’t be the morra though. Ye’ll huv tae leave it wae me’ ah sais.

‘Fair enough, Stevo. We’ll leave it with you.’ Coln sais, ‘Slàinte mhath.’ We raise oor glesses an ah feel a hoat flush ay trepidation wash oer me, foallied sharply by a cauld, spine tinglin sweat as ah consider the nature ay whit ah’m gettin masel intae.

Aw ah know is, if ah play ma cairds right, this represents ma best chance tae get oot ay this mess wance an fur aw. It’s just like ah’m always tellin Scanlon, Carpe Diem, man. Seize the day, know whit ah mean?