‘Git tae fuck!’ he shouts, tryin tae cover his face. He jumps back in his motor n sinks it. The BMW’s diesel engine roars n flies away back intae the mist. A glance towards hur. She’s shaken but smilin a wee bit. ‘Yi awright?’ A ask her.

‘A’m fine, Azzy. Cheers but, he was being a fuckin dick.’

‘Pleasure wis aw mine.’

‘Aw, what a wee gentleman! Yi in a rush?’

A grab ma twoz ae a nipped joint fae behind ma ear n light it wae a Clipper. A take a fat puff. ‘Never.’

‘Walk me up the road then.’

Patricia slips hur arm, in a black blazer, under the blue sleeve ae ma Berghaus n we start the walk. She’s stumblin a bit in her heels but takes a puff ae the joint on the way. We’re walkin up intae the cold n dark fog. ‘No seen you for ages, Azzy. Did yi enjoy Fantazia? Yi always lose yir pals in there, don’t yi?’

‘Aye, A just jumped aboot wae Wee Toffey the full night. Ended up oot ma barnet!’

The roughness is forgotten noo in the shadow ae the next event.

‘Same, was some laugh. Yi goin to Fantasylands next month?’

Everywan’s awready talkin aboot the next wan, Fantasylands, a bigger event up at Ingliston in Edinburgh. This wan is the real deal – twelve thousand ravers instead ae nine, n twelve hours instead ae nine. Big Kenzie n the elder wans said the first two wur mental. Different kettle ae fish fae the Braeheed Arena. Ingliston is where they used tae hold the Rezerection raves in the early days, the stuff ae myth n legend.

‘Aye fuck, you?’

‘Defos!’

‘Good shit. Wit yi dain the night then? Nae casino wae the high roller!’ A say, laughin.

‘Eh, naw! It was with aw his big cousin’s pals. They’re aboot thirty, bunch ae fuckin creeps. Pure stare like fuck at yi!’

‘Wit’s that cunt like? Thinks he’s fuckin James Bond in that suit n aw that!’

‘He think’s he’s somethin now, Azzy! Cos he drives a flashy motor n sells gear. A few folk are gettin too big for their boots these days, son.’

‘Oh aye? Like who?’

Danny n Kenzie spring tae mind. Nuhin fae McIntire on the stolen green – we wur aff scot-free, this time. We might huv got away wae it aye, but it’s another thing at the back ae yir mind tae be para aboot. Sometimes revenge would come days, weeks n months later when yi think everyhin’s furgot aboot n yi git snipered walkin doon fur a haircut or at a party. Yir heed always over yir shoulder, lookin fur aw the toes yi hud stepped oan over the years. The paranoia is real. Yi end up wae the fear, man. Tellin yi.

‘Gemma …’ she says, wae a cheeky look.

‘She’s actually awright, by the way.’

‘Aye, obviously you’re goin to say that! You pure liked hur!’

‘So wit? It wis just casual n that.’