A Bit of a Domestic 2

Johnboy wiz always looking fur escape routes, or contingency plans tae save him moving aff his arse once he wiz comfy. He didnae mind coming fur a drive no matter whit the time, as long as he got a wee something fur himself, but wiz wary of new faces met through ma relations, especially Jake.

In a family full of black sheep Jake wiz the blackest. In and out of jail since leaving school, he’d caused nothing but trouble fur his maw, and many others, since he could walk. Wae only sisters in his family Ah wiz the closest thing he had tae a brother, so he used tae take me tae Celtic games, and taught me aw the rebel songs. He always stood up fur me whenever Ah got myself intae scrapes, and his reputation ensured Ah wiz introduced as Jake’s cousin more times than as myself. In recent years he’d turned tae drugs and, going by the rate he upgraded his cars, he appeared tae be doing more selling than using, even though Ah’d seen him in some states. But that’s no why Johnboy didnae trust him. There wiz an incident a few years back ootside a pub in The Vale in which Johnboy got glassed aff one of Jake’s pals just fur wearing a Rangers watch.

As me and Johnboy sped past Glasgow Airport he let oot a slight groan and crouched forward, sticking his heid between his legs.

“You alright there, auld yin?” Ah asked, hauf-concerned, hauf-laughing. Ye never knew wae Johnboy. He wiz prone tae impulsive, strange behaviour. “Ah hope yir no goany be sick. Ah just hoovered this last month.”

”Last month, ma arse. Anywey, Ah’m building a joint on the fler. Ah don’t want the cameras tae see.”

Ah looked oot the windae and saw nothing tae worry aboot. “Whit cameras?”

“He lifted his heid up and pointed tae the sky. “They cameras.” Then he crouched doon again.

“That’s lampposts,” Ah said, shaking ma heid and wondering how he sleeps at night.

“Aye, that’s whit they want ye tae think. There’s hidden cameras that can see right intae cars…even in the dark.”

“Get tae fuck.”

“Ah’m tellin’ ye. They installed them right after that daft cunt set himself on fire and tried tae park his jeep in Terminal One. Ah saw a programme on Channel Five.”

“Whit have Ah telt ye aboot watchin' Channel Five…especially when yir oot yir face.” Ah focused ma attention back on the road, but couldnae help steal glances at the lights, wondering if there wiznae something in whit he wiz saying. “You’re just para coz ye look like a fuckin Jihadi.”

Ah heard him tut and close the lid of his tin, then caught him oot the corner of ma eye sneaking back up wae a lit joint held low, bending forward a few times more tae take his share before passing it. “There ye go, youngster. Clyde-built, record time. Keep it doon though. Don’t want tae be seen passing it aboot. Big Brother is watching ye know.”

“You’re fuckin mental.” Ah took the joint and kept it low as possible, but efter a couple of attempts at trying tae smoke it and keep it out of sight and keep one eye on the road and one eye on the lampposts Ah gave up and passed it back. Any other night Ah would’ve just ignored his paranoia, but Ah wanted tae keep him as chilled as possible.

“Ah’ve been thinking.” He regained the foetal position wae his joint. “It’s best we have a cup a tea in Sammy’s. If anybody’s monitoring us it’s probably no a good idea tae be seen pulling aff the motorway at Garthamlock and then heading straight back in the opposite direction five minutes later. Especially if wan ay us just sits in the car. They’re no stupid ye know.”

“Naw, they’re probably no. Mind you, if anybody is watching, they’ll be thinking you’re trying tae gie yirsel a blow job.”

We both laughed and Ah relaxed fur a second before concentrating on the road and remembering aboot Sammy and his domestic. Something wiznae quite right but Ah couldnae put ma finger on it. Johnboy headed aff on one of his spiels aboot Ray Mears, so Ah switched aff and checked ma pocket for the hundredth time; my lock-back wiz still there.

Ten minutes later we pulled up ootside Sammy’s flat. Aw the other hooses in the close were boarded up, the normal people having moved oot some time ago. Even the streetlights had buggered aff, but the moon popped oot fae behind a cloud just in time tae show a way up the litter-strewn path. A feint light on the first floor signalled our final destination so Ah tried phoning Sammy tae let him know we’d arrived, but his mobile rang oot and cut aff.

Ah yanked the close door open, noticing, along wae anybody within earshot, that its hinges could dae wae a spot of WD40, before the smell of pish hit me in the face. Shutting the door behind us, light fae ma mobile phone showed the way; no quite the North star guiding us towards the messiah, but as our Nikes crunched the glass and debris below, it wiz better than nothing. We climbed the stairs like Shaggy and Scooby Doo hunting the bad guy in a closed-doon fairground. Once on the first floor Ah tried phoning Sammy again. Still nae joy. Ah wiz glad Johnboy wiz behind me and couldnae see the fear in ma eyes, but Ah wiz sure he could hear ma heart thumping like a Lambeg drum ootside a chapel in July.

The entrance tae Sammy’s flat consisted of two barriers; a steel reinforced outer door and an inner one with metal bars through the floor fur added security. Ah’d witnessed the door’s secondary use in action the week before when a local posted a tenner through the letterbox and waited for a ticket being passed oot. The satisfied customer never gave me a second glance as he clutched his prize and left in a hurry tae sink in tae himself.

Ah tapped Sammy’s letterbox as quietly as possible, trying no tae disturb the non-existent neighbours. Nae answer. Ah tried again, slightly louder. Still nae answer. Ah phoned again but Sammy’s phone wiznae even ringing. Finally, Ah gave the letterbox a good old-fashioned rattle and kicked the door. The sound echoed up and doon the empty close, giving me and Johnboy such a fright we nearly jumped oot our skins and intae each other’s arms like Shaggy and Scoob. It did the trick though. Footsteps made their way along the hall inside the flat. Ah let oot a quick sigh and tried tae get intae character.

“Whit dae ye want?” an unfamiliar voice enquired through the letterbox.

That wiz a bit of a setback. Ah stood there like a wean wae a burst balloon. “Ah’m...eh...Ah’m lookin’ fur Sammy.”

“Sammy’s busy. Whit dae ye want?”

Ah cleared ma throat and put ma haun in ma pocket. “Tell Sammy, Danny’s here.”

“Danny who?” the voice pressed, still unimpressed wae the answers he wiz getting.

“Danny Mecca.” Ah tried being as firm as possible without sounding confrontational, but the combination of adrenalin and acting the part got the better of me. “Fur fuck sake, tell Sammy it’s Jake’s wee cousin at the door.”

The footsteps trudged back along the hall and Ah tried tae gauge the size of the voice’s owner. The thickness of the two doors made it difficult but as Ah strained ma ears ma imagination took over, warning me he wiz huge and had the people skills of a starving pit bull.

“Who’s that?” Johnboy whispered.

“Haven’t a clue, bud,” Ah let slip, in a quieter tone than Johnboy, as ma mouth dried up quicker than Greece’s chance of getting tick fae the Provvy man.

Seconds later footsteps thundered along the hall, followed by the glorious sound of bolts and chains being unlocked in a hurry. We heard the inside door open. More locks and bolts. The exterior door creaked outwards, forcing me tae step back, somewhat surprised, even though Ah’d been there before. The dark emptiness of the close wiz suddenly bathed in thin rays of musty light escaping fae the hallway, highlighting the swirling galaxy of dust we’d disturbed wae our shuffling feet. Dampness fought wae pish fur the undivided attention of ma nostrils. A large silhouetted figure stood in silence blocking the door. It wiz impossible tae see his facial features or see past him, but even among the foul stench rushing past him it wiz still possible tae pick oot the stale smell of his oxters. He looked us up and doon, probably fur any signs of recognition, weapons or fear.

Ah cleared ma throat, got back intae character and broke the silence. “Awright er, big man? Ah’m Danny and this is Johnboy. Hope Sammy’s got that kettle on; we’re fuckin parched by the way.”

The big man probably didnae know the meaning of bemused but that’s exactly whit he wiz. Ah stepped forward tae enter the flat and he stepped aside, obligingly, much tae ma relief. Ah didnae even turn around tae see if Johnboy wiz following me.

Sammy appeared at the end of the hallway dressed in paint-splattered overalls and black, steel toe-capped boots. Matted black hair clung tae his back and chest. His knuckles were bruised and bloodied, like most days, as he wiz constantly doing ‘home-security’ improvements aboot the flat. His main facial scar ran fae his hairline around his left ear tae the bottom of his chin. Four smaller, but deeper, scars were dotted around his face like The Great Bear constellation. He’d previously shown me where a sword had been driven through his shoulder and exited through his chest, but that wiz hidden by the overalls. His eyes, as they were when Ah first met him, and every subsequent occasion since, had a glazed, distant look that reminded me of an old teddy bear that once belonged tae ma Gran. His smile, as always, wiz hard tae gauge, but his voice wiz warm and enthusiastic.

“Danny boy, ya daft cunt, whit kept ye? Ah’ve been dying fur a brew. Hope ye brought milk.”

Fur the first time since Ah’d spoke tae him on the phone earlier Ah felt quite relaxed. We’d arrived in one piece without falling out, even though Johnboy had MI5, MI6 and every other cunt watching our every move on the way up. Ah tried tae put the domestic oot ma heid and doon tae Sammy just talking shite but, when Ah heard the big man securing the doors behind me wae that multitude of locks and bolts, Ah hoped we didnae have tae make a quick exit. Making ma way along the hall, past the fresh piles of DVD players, car stereos and various shoplifted goods still in their original packaging, Ah reached oot and shook Sammy’s outstretched haun. “Good tae see ye, bud. Ah’m dying fur a brew tae.”

Sammy took ma haun and looked Johnboy up and doon. “Who the fuck’s this cunt? Is he wae you or did he follow ye intae the close? We’ve been getting a lot a roasters hingin’ aboot ootside.”

“Haven’t a clue, Sammy. He looks like a genuinely nice guy; the kind who opens doors fur old women and that, but he took yir milk aff me in the close. Just shows ye how appearances can be deceptive.”

Sammy grinned, cracked his knuckles then scratched the growth on his chin wae his thumb and forefinger. “A fuckin milk thief, ye say? Does he know whit we dae tae thieving cunts up here?”