James Kelman - Dirt Road

Murdo turned in the other direction, as though casually, crossing the floor to Sarah’s family table where he was greeted as a friend of the family, which he was anyway. He found a place on the fringe of their table. Gene was sitting close to Sarah who was telling them about some wee incident to do with the gig, and they were laughing about it. Murdo didnt get it, but didnt try to. He was glad just to sit and keep out the road, listen to the taped music. He would have to talk to Dad but not now. The truth is he was tired. His stomach too, his stomach was kind of

Nerves. He needed the toilet. But a shit! Jees, where? This was the worst. He stared at the floor to out-think it, stared at the floor. Things in considering, in considering. Stuff. Things. Two hundred dollars. Pay it back. Obviously he would, that was obvious. He still had some of it left. Everything else he would pay back. Everything, just like everything everything.

There was nowhere to go except sit here. Although it was up to him to go to Dad. Dad would never come to him. Sarah’s family table, he wouldnt intrude. Bad manners is how he would see it.

Oh well. He yawned. It was true but he needed a sleep. That was one thing. Oh but his stomach. Nerves again.

The taped music: the same guy singing as before, a nice swinging blues with piano, sax and drums. Ye could picture the old bartender as the piano player, and if ye interrupted him playing, Where’s my gun till I fucking shoot ye.

Queen Monzee-ay had appeared, over by the backstage door in her ordinary clothes; ready to leave. She was signing flyers and tickets and people were taking photographs. Her and the family were going for a meal someplace. Murdo was welcome. He knew he was but it wouldnt happen. It wouldnt happen because with Dad it would be something else.

Somebody poked him in the shoulder: Esteban from Diego’s band; he whispered: Moordo, come. Beer for you.

Murdo grinned. Esteban gestured to where the other guys were standing waiting for him. Vicenté clapped him on the shoulder. Hey Moordo!

The other two were Santiago and Roberto and it was high-fives: Moordo!

That was about all they could say, Moordo. Murdo liked “Moordo”. Moordo was better than Murdo. Santiago lifted the bottle of beer from the floor, poured it into a polystyrene cup and passed him it. Esteban said, Eh Moordo, you play with a white people band?

Do ye mean like in my own country? In Scotland do ye mean?

Si, Scotland.

Yeah.

Irish music uh? asked Vicenté.

Well Scottish.

Scotteesh! Santiago laughed and whispered something in Spanish to Roberto.

You didnt come to our gig, said Esteban.

No eh the time wasnt good.

Okay.

Moordo, you know Conjunto? asked Vicenté. Conjunto?

No.

You know Tejano? Tejano music?

Tex-Mex? said Esteban.

No.

Vicenté said, You hear us with Diego, is Conjunto. Vicenté pointed to the other three. We are Conjunto band. Looking for people.

No people, said Esteban quickly. Un accordeonista.

Si, said Vicenté, one accordeon. You want to play with us?

What?

Esteban said, Come with us in our band Moordo. We here.

You play with us? asked Vicenté. We have gigs.

Murdo grinned, he glanced from one to the other, and sipped the beer which was a kind of lager and sharp-tasting.

Santiago reached to clap him on the shoulder. Moordo! he said. He had a phone in his hand and gestured with it to take a photograph. Eh Moordo… He took one of Murdo.

You come with us, added Esteban.

Vicenté said, You did not sleep any place. They tell us, last night. This night come with us in motel.

Murdo grinned.

Santiago clenched his fist. You accordeon! Heyy!

Tomorrow we go early, said Vicenté.

Early early, said Esteban.

We go home. Vicenté said, You come with us. You play with us man. You wanna play with us?

Santiago pointed to the ceiling and wagged his finger at Murdo. Dios mío! Un accordeonista.

Is true, said Esteban. We need and you are here.

Murdo laughed but smothered it fast. Yeah, he said, but I dont have anything I mean like clothes and stuff, I’ve only got eh I mean hardly anything.

Vicenté spoke in Spanish to Santiago and Roberto, then to Murdo: You need clothes, we got clothes.

Santiago said, Si clothes, clothes.

Roberto now spoke in Spanish to the others and they laughed. Roberto high-fived Murdo who didnt know what it was about.

Is your accordeon, said Esteban. Roberto says no you — dont give shit for you!

Aw! Murdo chuckled.

Vicenté said, We are good band you know. Hey we got gigs man.

Gigs! Santiago clenched his fist, punched the air.

Murdo raised the polystyrene cup to his mouth, sipped the beer. Joel appeared by his side and whispered, Hey man.

Hi, said Murdo. Across at the bar he saw Dad watching, but acted like he didnt know, and sipped again at the beer. The others were watching him and looking at Joel. Joel said, They ask you the big question? They been talking about you all night man they want you playing the oompah ooompah stuff. Joel winked. Like you are white, they think that is cool man. Joel snapped his fingers: Get more women that way.

Esteban and Vicenté laughed.

Cómo? said Santiago.

Esteban and Vicenté translated for him and Roberto. Roberto made a shrieking noise, pointing at Vicenté. Esteban said, Is true, Vicenté, he dont get no woman!

Seis meses! said Santiago.

Vicenté formed the shape of a pistol with his right hand, pointed at Santiago’s head and made the sound of an exploding gun: Pwohhh! Pwohhh!

Aahh. Santiago staggered, kidding on he had been shot. The others laughed, Murdo too — it was funny, Santiago was funny.

Joel said quietly. Hey Murdo I gotta go.

What?

We all are leaving, gran and everybody. You want to come say hullo? Joel smiled. Hullo, goodbye?

Jees!

And it was noticeable that the tables were full again. A couple of the Zadik Strollers band were onstage footering with the instruments and preparing. They were the headline show, about to start, and people were returning from the interval. Murdo was about to follow Joel who had continued along towards the backstage area but Vicenté was tugging at his arm. Moordo you come with us; we got beds beds beds, bathrooms, shower rooms.

Bars, added Santiago.

More bars, said Esteban. Diego got one big suite. We got two rooms, two rooms, space for you.

Thanks, said Murdo.

Then tomorrow early, nos vamos.

Nos vamos, we leave early, early early, said Vicenté.

Vicenté and the guys were waiting for him to say something. Murdo saw Dad and Declan Pike coming toward him. Declan made a punching movement in salute. Murdo smiled. My father, he said, it’s my father. He indicated Dad who was behind Declan. Declan arrived first and gripped Murdo’s wrist: Sensational man! Sensational! Where d’you learn Zydeco music? you get that in Scotland! He laughed.

Dad was hanging back. Murdo smiled at him by Declan’s shoulder. Hey Dad…

Okay son? Dad reached to him, and they shook hands. Dad said, It was good.

Yeah?

Dad smiled. Murdo leaned closed to him. Sorry Dad, he said. I’m so sorry.

Ssh, said Dad.

Diego’s band were talking in Spanish together. Santiago said something and the others laughed and looked from Dad to Murdo.

Murdo scratched his head and added, Diego’s band eh…

Exactly! Declan chuckled. Now what I want to know boy: how did you do that? Diego Narciso. Declan growled: Thirty years man and boy and I aint ever seen Diego Narciso man in the flesh man know what I’m saying, he dont stray farther north than Austin! Declan kissed Murdo on the cheek. It was a smacker and Murdo wiped at it.

Declan laughed.