‘Fair doos … Looked like a bam anyways. Where yi wanty go?’

‘Dunno, you tell me, Azzy Williams.’

‘Just the shop at the top ae the hill, mate.’

‘Nae bor, wee man,’ the taxi boy mumbles over Smooth Radio n Elvis, ‘Always on my Mind’. We’re lookin intae each other’s eyes, sayin fuck aw. Monica’s givin me that same look again. It’s as if she’s tryin tae figure me oot, but cannae yit. A think she likes us n A think A like hur tae. Hur lips ir magnetic n mine ir metal. A’m lookin at hur n she’s lookin at me. The two emerald circles ir sayin, ‘Wit ir yi waitin fur?’ The smile confirms it. A go in slowly n she tilts hur heed the right way. We’re nippin like fuck in the back seat n the Azzy boay is a legend.

We reach the newsagent n look aboot fur somecunt tae bounce in fur us. There’s a rough-lookin boy standin ootside, waitin on somebody like me. He walks up tae us, aw smiles n chat. ‘Awright, son, some weather ae? Wit yi needin oot the shop?’ At this point they’re always weighin yi up. If yi wur a gimp, it means a free cargo fur them n a sore face fur you. ‘Awright, el sannn … in that shop, two bottles ae wine n twenty Mayfair,’ A say, wae a wee bit extra force than usual.

‘Nae bother, pal.’

The guy walks oot the shop n starts ramblin pish while he hands us the bag. He bumbles aff wae his can ae Super bought wae the change. We’re still doon the main street but noo we’ve nae money fur a taxi. The twenty quid ma maw geed us hus done us well. Twenty Mayfair, two bottles ae Tonic n a taxi tae bang intae Monica Mason. A score well spent, ma full week’s pocket money.

‘Thanks for the wine, Azzy! Buzzin!’

‘Nae bother, gorjis! Gittin back up this road then?’

‘Aye, son, it’s getting late … let’s drink these on the way n we kin go a walk.’

The phrase ‘go a walk’ hus certain connotations. Lassies like that yi hud done it before n they kin always tell by the way yi look at them. Means yir no just a desperate virgin, usin them as a conquest n obviously that yi huv a vague notion ae their pleasure, as opposed tae just yir own. Like the Azzy boay, ladies.

We start the long trudge home. The sleet hus stopped, but the ground is soakin n shiny under the orange street lamps n the purple sky. The Toi lies tae the east ae the main road where we’re walkin. There’s three wee residential side streets they kin appear fae. We’ve passed the first but there’s still two tae go, that lead intae their scheme. Should a full team ae them walk doon wan ae these, then yir caught. There’s more gangs than just the YT n the Toi tae contend wae. Any wan ae these wanderin on a drink-fuelled crusade intae the centre ae town could result in a kickin fur a lonely traveller such as maself.