‘Yi calm, son?’ Broonie asks him.

‘Aye well, A’m only stickin up fur Kenzie.’

‘John’s fuckin lettin you run aboot n dae his dirty work cos he’s git a problem wae Azzy n he’s too much ae a fuckin shitebag tae dae anyhin aboot it! He’s just jealous cos the tap man hus fuckin returned tae the Y T fuckin P.’

‘Right, sorry fuck, Broonie. A’m no tryin tae git wide, big man.’

‘Fuckin say sorry tae Azzy, no me, ya wee dick!’

‘Sorry, Azzy.’

Broonie waves his hands aboot in an appeal fur diplomacy, like a Roman senator. A want tae punch that Wee Gunny cunt in the mouth but A leave it, this time, n just breathe.

Old Friends

A’m sittin starin oot ma windae intae the street. A hud left Broonie n Gunny earlier at the Orange Hall. The rest ae the troops wur due but after ma reception A thought it wid be better tae make ma reintroductions slowly. They started their mad rush tae chase tick in, chasin up aw the wee cunts that owed them money then goin tae meet the McIntires tae pay them. Cunts thought they wur mental sellin shit n talkin the talk like gangsters. The brutal truth, drugs ir misery n nae bravado or chat or new age wisdom or scientific fuckin reasonin kin ever convince me otherwise noo. A cannae listen tae that shite anymore. It started tae drive me insane n A feel a rage deep within me aboot the whole miserable occupation.

The door goes doon stair n A bounce doon tae git it. A think again aboot Wee Kenzie, likely fuckin postin aw over the internet that A’m back. Maybe the cat’s awready oot the bag n this is the Toi tae huv their go or another wan ae ma eld pals wantin tae fuckin start. ‘Who is it?’ A ask without openin. Nae answer. A kin see a lassie. Fur a minute A shite maself anaw, in case Patricia hud drove up here n wanted tae huv it oot wae me aboot leavin so abruptly. Maybe it’s oversellin it tae think she would bother.

A pull the door open slowly tae huv a peek. The lassie turns. ‘Hi.’ Monica’s changed. She’s twenty-four noo n looks aw grown-up. She’s aw dressed up wearin a wee grey blazer, white top, skinny jeans n heels. The studenty look n the band T-shirts ir away. A feel like an underdressed prick, just in a bog-standard T-shirt n jeans. She looks as if she’s headin oot fur the night intae the toon.

‘Yi comin in?’

‘If that’s OK?’

‘Course!’

She walks up the stairs n stands opposite me in ma hall, where we used tae nip each other. A cannae help smilin at hur. Yi kin see she’s changed. She looks elder n A kin see her checkin me oot. We huvnae seen each other in those full three year. We text a couple ae times but just chat, nuhin heavy. ‘You want a tea or coffee?’