Saturday Night / Sunday Morning.


It’s Saturday night and everyone’s on my case.

Tanya wants nine hundred quid to get the car fixed. I wanted a Ford but, oh no not her, she wanted a fucking Mercedes. Just so she could look good in front of her mates. I told her if it went wrong it would be expensive.

But does she listen? Does she fuck.

Then she tells me Ryan needs money for the school trip to New York. Fucking New York? When I was fourteen I was lucky to go to my aunts’ caravan at Clacton. She comes out with crap like “It will make him grow as a person.” He’s fourteen and already nearly six feet fucking tall, how much more can he grow?

All this before I saw the credit card bill this morning. Okay, so some it’s mine but Jesus, she bought two pairs of shoes that came to almost a grand. For shoes! That’s without the new gym membership and her “must have” dental work.

Then I got the phone call from Mum. Dad’s getting worse.  Yesterday he went into the kitchen and put his dinner plate in the washing machine instead of the dishwasher. Then he forgot her name. He kept pointing at her trying to say it but he couldn’t.  Full time care is gonna be expensive. But I’ll have to sort it.

Money’s coming but not yet.

Billy Reed owes me big time. We did a bit of business up west last week. Those Chelsea boys really know how to party. Three kilos they bought. All cash. Then wanted another two the next day. Billy collected the money and now he’s gone all quiet on me. I’ve known the low life since we were kids so I trust him. He’s probably off his face celebrating somewhere with a couple of birds.

We aint even paid for the gear yet and if we’re late…well, best not think about that.

I saw Stevie Smith in the pub yesterday. He blanked me. That’s cos he owes me six hundred quid. He’s overdue. That’ll cost him another ton. Need to get that soon before it gets out of hand.

I could call Razor Reynolds. He’d get it for me. He’d pick up Stevie by his ankles and wave him about like a tree in a hurricane. And if that didn’t work he’d cut him for me. Oh yeh. He’d get it allright. But then I’d have to pay for his services. No fuck it. I’ll wait. I’ll give Stevie another day.

My phones ringing. Great it’s Billy Reed.

“Hi mate. Where you been? Shagging some brass?”

“I was out of it man. Real wasted. But now I’m back. “

“Got the dosh?”

“Yeh man. Come round in the morning and pick it up.”

“Shit. Can’t do.”

“Why man? You need the money..right?”

“Yeh but…I got Church in the morning!”




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