Irvine Welsh - Skagboys

I feel myself tearing up. — Sorry, Simon, I … and I cannae speak, as music and people swirl roond us. Eventually I hear myself think out loud: — Why is life such a fucking mess?

— Search me, he says, gripping my hand tighter, his own eyes misting up. Then he looks around in distaste as the Style Council’s ‘You’re the Best Thing’ comes on.

— Dae ye no like this tune?

— I like it too much — it’s far too good for the poseurs and pricks in this dreary howf, he spits. — I hate that these people are actually allowed tae listen to music like this.

— Ah ken what ye mean, I nod, bewildered; lookin ower at Esther, I sortay git the gist. She’s makin her escape fae the rabid bluster ay Mark and that wee Asian lassie, whae I remember is called Nadia.

— Listen, I’ve a suggestion. Why don’t we go round to Swanney’s, get a wee something, then head back tae yours or mine and have a little of what we fancy and just hang out and talk? We’ve both got a lot ay shite gaun oan and this crowd in here are startin tae dae my nut in. Mark’s going a bit crazy wi the skag n the Lou Reed; I’m no saying I’m an angel, but he’s got so fucking myopic …

We watch Mark rantin away wi that mental wee Nadia, baith ay them aw ower the place on the speed.

— Now there’s a marriage made in powder, Simon smirks, then says, — I’d rather get sorted before he shows up at Johnny’s, or we’ll never get rid ay the fucker.

I don’t take any persuading at all. A coffee and poetry night wi Hamish will have tae wait. And Alexander had left a message sayin he wanted tae hook up, but now that’s off tonight’s agenda n aw. — Sound. Let’s go.

We walk outside into a chilly night. Something unnameable turns behind my eyes. Simon’s hand feels warm and his hot breath is like the whisper ay angels in ma ear.

Johnny’s stair door’s open; somebody’s blootered in the lock and the security intercom — a spaghetti of wires spews oot a black hole where the aluminium grille box used to be. We can hear him on the first-floor landing, arguing with this guy, who shouts back in a voice I sortay recognise: — You’ve nae fuckin idea, mate!

Simon pulls me back into the shadows at the bottom of the steps.

— Yir mate’s been huckled, Michael, we hear Johnny’s low heckle, — you’ve no, you’re still in the game. Find another fuckin wey tae git it oot!

— Ah telt ye: that cunt’ll grass us right up. Watch this fuckin space, the boy half whispers, turns away, then we can hear him comin doon the steps. He stops, cranes his neck and shouts back up the stairs: — It’s game ower, and he twists roond and nearly walks intae us, pushin past us wi a nasty look on his face, but daein a quick double take when he sees me. Johnny’s followed him doon the stairs tae the first bend. He looks a bit surprised tae see us, then shouts a stagey cheerio tae the boy, who doesnae answer back. Thing is, ah ken where I’ve seen that guy before: in this pub in Dalry Road wi Alexander’s brother.

— Fuckin business, Johnny shrugs at us, but he’s aw tense and bothered. — It’s gettin like Waverley Station up this fuckin gaff. How we’ve no been busted by the polis, ah dinnae ken.

— This is Edinburgh, Simon laughs. — The cops in this city aren’t particularly big on law enforcement.

We go up tae the flat and make the deal. Johnny wants tae dae some wi us right now, but we’re anxious tae get away. Then the door bangs and it’s Matty. Johnny cheerlessly lets him in and heads back through the front room. Matty follows him like an anxious lap dog. — Ali. Si.

— Matteo, says Simon. — How goes? Lookin a wee bit peely-wally there, my old chum.

— No bad, he says, n he does look terrible, his eyes are rid n it’s like the side ay his face is streaked wi dirt. He barely acknowledges us as he glares at Johnny. — Cunt, ah need sorted oot, Mikey Forrester tae.

— Let’s see the colour ay yir dough then chavy, Johnny says coldly.

Simon gies me a ‘fuck this’ nod and we’re off. As we depart Johnny and Matty start arguing and it seems tae get mair heated as we head doon the stairs, where we run right intae Mark, charging up towards us wi demented octopus eyes as we hear Johnny’s door slamming shut. I wonder which side ay it Matty’s oan. — Marco … Simon says, raising a brow, pointing at his ghastly green fleece. — What the well-dressed man about town isn’t wearing … No luck with the girlies, I take it?

— Whaire are youse gaun?

— A party. For two. As in you ain’t invited, Simon emphatically says. Then he nods upstairs, adding, — If you want sorted oot, I’d get in there sharpish. Young Matteo’s just arrived wi a horse-choker ay a wad, dropping Forrester’s name like it was premium acid. I think he wants tae sort oot the whole ay Muirhoose.

Mark needs nae mair encouragement, pushing past us and storming up the stairs. We hear him hammering on Johnny’s door, stifling our laughter as we exit into the street.

We walk for a bit, step by step across the black pavements in the incessant rain. We’re soaked through by the time we get a cab doon tae my place at Pilrig. I put on the fire and go to the bathroom tae get some towels. Alexander’s shaving bag is still sitting there on the cistern. I put it in the linen press, in case Simon sees it. Heading back into the front room, a towel wrapped round my heid, I hand him another and switch on the answerphone messages.

— It’s Dad, princess. Just tae let ye know that Mum had a good night last night. Very peaceful. She was a wee bit agitated and confused cause ay the stuff they’re giving her …

Sweet Simon tightly grabs my hand.

— … but she sends her love and she’s looking forward tae seeing ye. Bye then, darlin … love you .

Simon intensifies his grip and kisses the side of my face.

— Hi … it’s me …

Alexander.

— … I was wondering if you’re around … Obviously not. Not to worry. Anyway, see you Monday .

Simon lets go my hand. An eyebrow raises, accompanied wi a wry smile, but he says nothing. Kelly’s up next, sounding squeaky and excitable.

— Whaire did you get tae? Saw Mark at the Hooch. Had a bit ay a fawoot wi Des. Too radge! Call us when ye git this message!

Simon looks at me, but we both know there’s no way I’m calling Kelly or anybody else right now. — She’s still with Des, then?

— Aye, but guess what? She telt us she kind ay fancies Mark!

— Hmm, says Simon, — the words frying pan and fire spring immediately tae mind.

I’m noddin in agreement as I go tae the fridge n pour some neat voddy ower they rocks ay ice, so cauld they make a sound like bones cracking. I look at the white powder in the placky bag Johnny’s gied us.

— You desperate? Simon asks.

— I’m okay, I tell him sharply. I like a bit ay skag now and then, but it’s no like I’m some fuckin junky like Johnny, Mark or Matty.

— I think it would be great tae go tae bed first, he says. — Make love.

I’m right into that. We go through tae the bedroom, and I’m taking my damp clathes off, struggling with this top, it’s stuck tae me wi the wet. Then it’s gone and I’m watching Simon slowly undress, carefully folding each garment, and thinking how, apart fae him, the best sex I’ve had is with Alexander, who’s aboot thirty-four or something. Older guys are better cause they really ken their way aroond a lassie’s body, but it took me ages to get him tae ride me. He let me suck him off, but it was like he kinday thought a blow job didnae constitute infidelity. Then he went doon on me, which was good, but I thought, ‘Fuck sakes, it’s Nora aw ower again,’ but the first time we shagged it was barry (as first times go). Then he sortay ruined it by talking about his separated wife eftir, and I telt him straight, if we’re daein this again, I didnae want tae hear any ay that shite. I don’t know if it’s because he’s no been with many women, or not for a long time, but it’s like he thinks I expect him tae fucking well mairry me! He’s giein his mind a wee treat, n that’s pittin it mildly. A barry lay, though. But Simon fucks like an aulder guy, like he’s got aw the time in the world, and he gets ye in a fair auld lather before he pits it up ye. He switches fae making love tae fucking and back again, so you’re eywis oan yir toes. Ye spend a night wi him, ye git yir money’s worth. And ye don’t think ay anything else for a while, and that’s what I need: no tae be thinking ay anything else.