‘Aye nae wonder! Wae cunts like you chuckin theirsels on it fur ten year!’

‘Ya cunt yi!’ he says wae an eld smile that A know.

‘Yi gawn the night then, Azzy?’

‘Tae Danny’s empty?’

‘Aye, man.’

‘A dunno, mate, tae be honest.’

‘Is it cos Kenzie’s gawn?’

‘The company wis wan reason, aye.’

‘Mate, it wis me that invited Kenzie n Gunny.’

‘Aye?’

‘Aye, man. A just want aw the boays the-gither. Cunts ir movin on n aw that. Wid be a fuckin shame no tae huv wan last party. Just fur …’

‘Fur eld times’ sake?’

‘Exactly, mate. That’s wit A’m talkin aboot. Just aw the boays, know wit A mean? Git a few bottles n a few cans n a few laughs.’

Broonie’s powers ae persuasion ir unintentionally strong. A light a fag maself n blow the smoke oot the windae.

‘Yi gawn then?’

‘Aye fuck, A’ll go.’

‘Cool beans, mucka. Fuck A’ve been up aw mornin makin CDs fur the night, by the way. A made yi wan, mate. Wae loads ae A State of Trance tunes n that oan it. The wans yi like n that.’

‘Aw cheers, man. Stick it on.’

Broonie jumps up tae the eld silver CD player ma maw bought us oot Woolies aboot ten year ago. It’s still workin fine. He’s fiddlin aboot wae the side openin n stickin it in n puts the tunes on low. A wee trance prayer starts tae whisper in the corner, driftin doon n around us. Broonie looks back tae his usual self, as much as yi kin. He contents himself pokin aboot yir room n messin it up as he goes. Lookin in yir bedside drawers, huntin fur suhin n nuhin. If yi hud tae ask him wit he’s lookin fur he’d just say dunno n laugh. That’s Broonie awright. Then, he’ll sit perfectly still n stare n talk slow. That’s just grief A suppose … and withdrawal. As far as a knew the cunt wis drug free since his da passed. ‘You still aff everyhin, Broonie?’

‘Phftt, mate. Aw A’m dain noo is smokin n drinkin.’

‘Fuck that’s the best way, man.’

‘If A’m gonnae dae anyhin, A’m gonnae keep it legal, couple ae beer n twenty Regal. Cigarettes and alcohoool!’ He’s kiddin on he’s playin the guitar.

‘Wise words.’

He seems tae ponder this a moment, a brief flirtation wae a philosophical imaginin ae his conditionin, then back tae the CD n his fag, smokin away in the ashtray.

‘Wit’s the sketch fur you noo, Broonie?’

‘Wit yi mean? Work n aw that?’

‘Aye.’

‘Fuck A’ve been talkin tae that wee burd fae Coatbridge.’

‘Aye?’

‘Aye, man. We’ve met up a few times n that.’

‘Wit dis she dae?’

‘She’s a dental nurse, but she’s movin up tae Elgin. Hur family stays up there.’

‘Elgin? Away up Inverness way?’

‘Aye, she’s asked us if A fancy it. Said hur uncle’s got a job fur us up there wae his ain company n that.’