When the polis leave, the lawyer debriefs us before he goes n aw, and then Mel goes tae check oan the bairns, whae, eftir sleepin through aw the aggro, got woken up by the cop car sirens. Like there was any need for aw that fuckin fuss when the cunt had been taken care ay!
It leaves me and Renton in the front room. Ah take him tae the kitchen and make him a cup ay tea. — Dinnae keep peeve in the hoose, ah tell him when he pills a wee face. — So, what’s aw this aboot?
— They cannae fuck aboot wi the YLT, mate, he sais, half laughin, the bones ay his face defined in the moonlight comin through the windae. Always was a skinny cunt.
Ah hus a wee giggle at that, as ah pours, intae they Hibs commemorative Scottish Cup mugs ah goat fae Terry. — I meant what brought ye here?
— You wouldnae believe this, he smiles, — but ah came here tae have a row wi ye aboot the money. Was even gaunny offer tae fight ye for it! Seems a bit pointless now.
— You’d huv fuckin done me now, mate, ah laughs, taking another sip ay tea. — Violence just isn’t my bag any more. Never led me anywhere but jail. Ah looks him up and doon. — But when did you git tae be such a tidy cunt?
— That’s thanks tae you as well, Renton sais, his sly eyes burning away. — Was practising for you coming for me. Then it happened and a car got in the way first. Just as well, cause I fuckin froze!
— Well, thank fuck ye never this time. Come wi me, ah tell him, and pick up the pot, milk n mugs, n stick them on a tray. We go back intae the studio, and tae my desk in the recess, where ah set it down. Ah pull an envelope out the drawer. It’s his money, the fifteen grand, still in UK dosh. — Ah wis gaunny gie ye it back, ah tell um, although that’s no exactly true. Fact is, it was gaunny sit in my desk forever, tae remind ays that there’s other ways ay getting even wi a smart cunt. — Jist wanted tae hud oantae it for a while, teach ye a wee lesson aboot rippin yir mates oaf. How it feels, ay?
— Thanks. He takes the envelope and slaps it against his thigh. — Helps me out a bit. Means a lot. And, aye, lesson learned, he goes.
Ah sortay realise that ah’ve been a bit hard oan the cunt, cleaning him oot wi the Leith Heads, cause eh came through big time. And ah suppose eh really did just want tae make things right, even if ah wisnae struck oan the wey eh went aboot it. — Good, cause ah’ve found a buyer who’s interested in the Leith Heads. If ye ever fancy sellin them, like.
— Seriously?
— One ay ma regular collectors. Boy named Villiers. Very wealthy. If you’re of a mind to sell I’ll get you what ye peyed plus twenty-five per cent on top.
— I’ll sell, the cunt goes, a bit too fucking quickly, then adds, —… no offence tae the works, Frank, but I really do need the money. But ah don’t get it, ah mean…
— Why is he peying that much for a pile a shite I’ve just cast, and huvnae even given ma signature mutilation?
Renton looks at me for a wee bit, raises the mug, takes a sip. — Well, aye.
Ah huv a wee laugh at that wi the cunt. — You dinnae get how art works, mate. It has zero value other than what people are prepared to pay for it. By paying what you did for it, you gied it that value. You also outbid a cunt whae doesnae like to be outbid. Ever.
— So why was he?
Ah pour us some mair tea fae the pot. — He instructed his agent tae go tae a certain price, thinking, like every cunt else, that the bidding would fall way, way under it. Then you come along and scooby every fucker. The agent, this boy Stroud, that cunt bidding against you, he was huvin kittens trying tae get the radge on the mobby before that hammer came doon.
— And he would have paid…
— Whatever it took. It fucks his heid that he didnae even ken who you were. Nae social media presence or nowt. Ah sits back oan the workbench. — He probably thought you were working on behalf ay some rival whae wis tryin tae stiff the cunt! But what ah want tae ken is, what the fuck was Mikey Forrester daein biddin it up?
Renton blows on the top ay his mug ay tea. — That was our auld buddy Sick Boy’s doing. I think he felt I needed a bigger financial hit. He was daein you a favour and me a bad turn. And Mikey and I never got on since back in the day. I rode this bird fae Lochend he was intae. He smiles in memory.
It sounds plausible enough. Everything in life is distorted by wee irrational jealousies and daft impulses. Ye huv tae get control ay these cunts or they destroy ye. So best thing tae dae – n aw they politicians n business cunts get this – is fuck up people that have nae real connection tae ye.
Renton looks around the studio. — I’m in the wrong game. All those years fannying around in music wi nae talent for it.
— Talent is way, way overrated, mate. Timing is all. And that’s maistly luck, and a wee bit ay intuition and savvy. I point tae him. — And thank fuck you’ve got that, bud. Ah owe ye big time. That cunt would have made ma bairns orphans.
— Ah’ll settle for us being square. Finally, he smiles.
Ah extend ma hand. — Square it is.
He gies a cheeky wee smile, which reminds me ay the way he looked as a kid. — And you were always quite good at art, back at school, before ye got flung out the class!
— That was the only class ah minded getting bounced oot ay. Ah lower ma voice cause ah kin hear Mel talking tae the bairns. — The best rides were in the art class.
— They still comprise twenty-five per cent ay ma wanking material, he grins.
— That’s quite low.
— I’ve been working in clubs for years. That’s steadily reduced it.
We just laugh, the baith ay us, like we used tae dae comin hame fae school. Doon Duke Street, along Junction Street, towards the Fort, pishin ourselves, just talkin aboot some daft shite or other. — Ken the funniest thing? We’re now both rich enough tae never let money come between us again.
It’s probably the nerves but Renton starts laughing like a fucking loony. Ah join in. Then he suddenly goes aw serious. — Ah want ye tae come down tae LA sometime, tae meet somebody.
Fuck knows whae, but it’s the least ah kin dae. — Sound.
40
SICK BOY – HUCKLED
The meal was eaten in stilted circumstances, but the job was done. Euan is, hopefully, once again isolated from Carlotta. That was just phase one: next that bastard is out of my family for good. This town ain’t big enough for the both of us! Then Marianne and I head back to the hotel to celebrate, and I’m straight online.
I thought it might be a bitty unwise to get Jill along to the room tae help Marianne and me celebrate our love. That somewhat unedifying bit of history from Christmas. Best make those accessories purely business ones. Jasmine, sadly, seems to have vanished. I was almost even tempted to call Syme to pull a favour, but I’m staying away from that grotbag. Instead, I get on to a wannabe Colleagues agency, and I’m ogling their app. My preference is for an African princess, black as coal, or even a raven-haired, dusky-skinned Romany maiden, in order to provide a contrast to Marianne’s Nordic Nazi. She looks over my shoulder and pulls a face. — Why can’t we get a guy? I want to be done by you and another guy! I want an uncircumcised dick with a big fat cherry bursting onto the scene.
I feel my brow crinkle in distaste, and lower the phone. — But, darling, I hate men. I can’t look at another man’s naked body without feeling sick. I can barely talk to them, I insist, as I’m psychologically scythed by a horrible image of Renton, fucking her, my soon-to-be wife.
— Maybe you need desensitivity training. C’mon, let’s get a guy!