Read Online Gutted by Tony Black - Free Book Online Page B

ever. Day I see a student paying for a bag of chips with a cheque, I’ll dispense a lesson he won’t forget.
    The walking bit wasn’t for me. I jumped in a Joe Baxi. Turned out I had my times wrong anyway; I was running about half an hour late. Hoped Debs would believe my ‘on the way’ text message and hang fire.
    Taxi driver said, ‘You’ll get an on-the-spot fine if you don’t put on the seat belt.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘It’s the new law – fines for not wearing the belts.’
    Was I in the mood for this? Clue: no. ‘City’s full of radge ideas.’
    I saw eyes appear in the rear-view mirror. ‘Y’see, that’s what I get for trying to do you a favour – nothing but abuse!’
    ‘ Abuse? I only said—’
    ‘Yeah, well, don’t . . . or you’ll be fucking walking.’
    It was a classic ‘It’s my ball and I’ll say who’s playing’ statement. Got my goat. ‘It’s your empire, pal. You make the rules.’
    A screech of the brakes.
    ‘Do I look like I’m taking the fucking piss, boy? Always the same with you fucking winos.’
    What was with this guy? He had the full-on kebab-meat complexion, about to tip me on the street for answering back. I felt my blood surge. ‘You sound like you’re full of shit, is what you sound like . . . Why don’t you try throwing me out of your fucking cab?’
    ‘ You what ?’
    I fired a hand through the cash slot, grabbed his ear and pulled his head into the Perspex. The cab shook with the thud of it.
    ‘Hearing better now?’ I said.
    He slunk back, cowered against the wheel, then grabbed up the radio.
    I got out.
    Had to catch the bus on the slow route. By the time I got to the caf in the West End, Debs seethed.
    ‘I’m sorry, I ran into some transport difficulties.’
    She said nothing – always a bad sign. I ignored it, asked if we should order.
    The waitress came. I said, ‘Two coffees.’
    She asked, ‘What kind of coffee?’
    ‘Oh, Christ, this rigmarole . . . Brown ones.’
    Debs crossed her legs, smiled sweetly at the waitress, said, ‘Two lattes, please.’
    The waitress left. There was a sign up in the shop, balloons either side of it read: HAPPY 21ST SHONA . I felt a pang of guilt for loading her with grief on her birthday. She looked a good kid. Cute. Might even have had class underneath the sunbed tan and the home-do streaks. Just knew that ten years from now she’d be living in a scheme, saddled with five kids of her own and a part-time husband who once had a Suzuki but now had nothing but convictions to his name.
    Morbid? You bet. That’s how it is. I had no other way to see it. What else did these girls have to look forward to? Marrying the next Wayne Rooney? Christ, those ones I felt even more sorry for.
    Debs wasn’t for thawing. ‘That’s some whisky breath you have.’
    I felt sweat form on my top lip. Touched the bottle of scoosh stashed in my inside pocket. ‘Debs, look, I’m really sorry for keeping you waiting, but I don’t remember telling you I’d jacked the booze.’
    ‘I just thought you might, well . . . I saw your story and I thought you might be clean again.’
    Not exactly the reaction I wanted, but what did I expect? Flags? Bunting? I held schtum.
    The waitress brought the coffees, laid them down gently. I tried to smile, paper things over. With Debs too. ‘You look well.’
    ‘You look like shite.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘Does that bother you?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘What I think?’
    ‘Not really. Maybe once it did.’
    ‘Gus, there are people who do care about you.’
    The coffee was too hot; I put it down. ‘I know.’
    ‘Well, why do you keep throwing their concern back at them?’
    ‘I didn’t ask for their concern.’
    Debs crossed her legs the other way, stared out into the street, said, ‘I’m getting married again.’
    I felt my heart stop. My blood surged. ‘ What ?’
    ‘I wanted you to hear it from me, not from Mac or Hod or whoever.’
    My nerves shrieked; I didn’t know what to think. ‘They know