Lockdown Day 22: Monday 13th April, 2020
Planet Earth tae Trick.
Anyboady in therr?”
The HoneyMonster towered above me, six feet six inches of tattoos, sinew, muscle, scar tissue and metal plates. A cross between Barry Sheene, Ossie Osborne and Charles Atlas, limbs mangled through high-speed tarmac-surfing bolted back together at multiple break points. He was difficult to miss. Muscles with a steel-pinned exoskeleton, as close to a bionic man as you were likely to get outside the TV studios. He did walk funny though.
“Shift up, man. There’s nae room doon therr.” he grunted.
I shifted, slid off the second keg and turned my back to the stairs. He joined me, perching on the cold steel. “Fuckin’ uncomfortable these fuckers.”
Honeymonster was a walking trouble magnet but as sound a guy as you could ever hope to have your back. He was a good five or six years older and worked in Yarrows shipyard north bank of the Clyde. We’d had a few chuckles on more than one occasion. He appreciated my weird sense of humour even if no-one else did.
“How’s it hingin’? Boys no in the night?”
“No, they’re down the Howf. Meant to be a good band on.”
“They no talking tae ye then or ur ye jist bein’ Billy-nae-mates fur fun?”
“I’m waiting for someone. She’s not here yet though.”
“Like that is it. An’ how cuid ye no tek her oot wi’ the boys? Bit o’ a dog is she? Howls at the moon? Are we talking Hound o’ the Baskervilles here?”
“Would you take anyone out with my mates first night you went out?”
“Aye. Point taken. Yuir mates ur a bit daft. Nearly as bad as mine, jist no as wide.”
I agreed as the sweet acoustic chords of Sugar Mountain muted the background noise, the raucous clamour of an electric Saturday fading for a minute or two. Any regular night I would have chilled immediately, slipped away in the sirocco melody and honed the so-ambient zone, but my skin was tight, my palms were damp and my nerves were totally out there, total disfunction. Mellow was not on the menu. I was a wreck, still dazed and confused. Sometimes the song remains the same no matter how hard you try to change the tune. I couldn’t get my head around this. We sparked up, sat back to watch the waking underworld and chilled.
Seconds passed like hours.
“Well Honey, you not going to introduce me to your cute friend?”
I turned expectantly, melting again incoherently at the silk-stocking tones. I really, really had to stop doing that.
“Hi Angie. Sorry, ah thought youse knew each other.
Trick. This is Angela, everybody’s favourite brown eyed girl.
Angie – Trick, though ah’m no sure about the cute bit, specially when he’s gone this shade o’ red.”
He shook his head at me, muttering, “Daft wean.” under his breath.
“Hello, gorgeous.” she purred, slipping her left arm around my waist and running the other hand through my hair, softly down my cheek, lingering around my neck and pausing on my shoulder.
“Well, well. Whit’s goin’ oan. Huv ah missed something? If you’re no careful boy, you’ll make me an’ the guys very jealous.”
“Give over, Honey. You know Caroline would kill you if you so much as looked at another girl. Anyway, how could you not think this is the cutest wee darling you’ve ever seen? He’s gorgeous.”
“Ah cannae see it masel’. He always looks a bit girlie tae me.” He grinned over my discomfort, “But if you say so. Here, take a pew, ah’ll get the bevvies in.”
She clambered delicately onto the keg he had vacated, “Evil man. Don’t listen to a word he says. What would he know?”
She tilted her head gently and stared deep into my questioning eyes.
“Hi”
“Hi, gorgeous. Miss me?”
More than you’ll ever know, I thought, and I’ve only known you five minutes. I’m in trouble. What the hell am I doing?
“Angela, what’s the score here? I’m a wee bit confused.”
“About what?”
“About this. About why you’re here. About what’s happening tonight. Here. Now.
I know why I’m here, let’s face it who wouldn’t be, but I have no idea why you are. I mean … I mean…” I trailed off, wordless again.
She sighed, “I’m here because you’re gorgeous, because you’re just a little bit out there, because you are so cute. And the fact you don’t even know it just makes it worse. It’s irresistible.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Are you really going to make me spell it out? I heard you were smart. I didn’t realise you were such a slow learner. I like you. You’re gorgeous. I can’t say it any clearer.” She paused, “Here maybe this’ll help.”
She leaned across slowly and kissed me gently, tracing her tongue lightly across my lips. She tasted of sundew and cherries. Sweet in the scent of surprise I was lost, lost in non-comprehension, lost for words, lost in her.
She smiled deeply, “I’ve so wanted to do that for an age.”
“How do you mean? I know I’ve seen you around, but we’ve never met.”
“Ah, but we have. You just don’t remember. I’m deeply offended. How could you forget me?
You know Kit?”
“Kit? From school?”
“That Kit. Knud Ignatius Thorfin Pedersen. Your regular partner in crime from what I hear about your Norway trip, but we’ll get onto that later. He lives next door to me. We met at that birthday bash he had at his house last year.”
“Never. No way. I’m sure I’d remember. I’d never forget you. No way. Never.”
“Ahh, but you have. There you go. Forgotten already. And we’ve only just kissed. I hope that’s not to be the story of my life. That would be so, so tragic. Never to leave a lasting impression, to be only a footnote to some other life of high times high adventure.
Well, I live next door to Kit and I was helping his mum out. It was just before the exams and I came in late from school so I went straight round even though I was still in uniform.”
I vaguely pictured a pig-tailed schoolgirl in a tight white blouse on the fringes casting me what I took to be a funny look, Moron, I had met an angel and mistaken her divinity for disdain.
“You were squatting in the garden with Kit, Psycho Don, Jim, Muff and the boys. You had a bit of a folk session going, Dylan, some traditional stuff, a couple of woolly-jumper jigs, Neil Young. Your hair was spilling over your shoulders and blowing in the wind but all I could see were your eyes sparkling in the sun. Chocolate kisses of the soul. Melting. Then you went off on one, taking the piss until everybody was in tears of laughter and Don looked as if he was going to kill you. I wanted to talk to you, but you were with Muff and I was trying to avoid him. I hung about but you disappeared. So. I pestered Kit. Kit told me all about you. And… well, here we are.”
I was dumbstruck, lost for words. I had no idea what to say, what to do, where even to look. Luckily, you never had to wait long when the HoneyMonster was getting a round in. Crowds parted like the Red Sea when he came through and bar staff knew better than to keep him waiting long. He shuffled up the three stairs with one enormous hand firmly clenched around the rims of two dimpled pint pots of Tartan Heavy and the other dwarfing a long, iced Bacardi and coke.
“So. Whit’s happening the night?”
My heart missed ten beats when Angela replied, “We were just going to have a couple before heading back to mine.”
As she said this, I knew that if I pinched myself at that moment I’d wake from my dream naked in the middle of Sauchiehall St with all my friends, family and the entire school laughing at me.
“What you up to?” she continued.
“Ah’m waitin’ for Big Jas an’ Thommo. Jas’s gaunna have some sweet stuff wi’ him whin he gets in. Grade A Lysergic Acid Di-ethylamide. Nothin’ but the best. Sweet as honey an’ straight fae the hive. Red an’ the queen Bee are cookin’ up some sugar-coated good times these days. Ain’t that right Trick lad?”
Angela winked across at the man mountain, “They don’t call you the Honey Monster for nothing, do they?”
“No my fault if ah’ve goat a sweet tooth fer sugary trips.
An’ here we go. The man himself.”
BJ squeezed through the crowd, another monster of a man, broad as the Honey Monster was tall and only a few breaths shorter, more Jack Bruce than Robert Plant, more Jake La Motta than Muhammad Ali, a dark scarred bull, no pretty boy.
“Angel, Trick, Honey. How’s it gaun? All’s well oan God’s good earth ah hope?”
Angela hopped off the keg, “Couldn’t be better Jas. Coming through.” She squeezed past and into the Ladies.
Jas brushed past his friend just as he was about to sit and hopped onto the keg before him, “Tired legs H, ah’ve bin workin’. Need tae rest ma weary bones.
Whit’s up. Ye look like yuir about tae split. Spill it, boy. Whit’s the story? Whit cin possibly huv happened in the two hours since ah last saw you?”
“Well, ah’m no too sure but ah think therrs somethin’ gaun oan here”
BJ looked around the bar furtively, checking out the drinkers, “A bit more info, if ye please. Should ah be worried here? Ah’m seriously carrying.”
“Well, Billy-nae-mates here wis sittin’ here all oan his tod waiting fur his dreamgirl whin ah turned up.”
“Yuir no much o’ a dreamgirl. I get that. So?”
“Then Angie trips in ‘n’ Trick goes beetroot. Redder than, well, somethin’ that’s redder thin a very, very red thing.”
“And?”
“Then Angie announces they’re aff back tae hers eftir a couple o’ drinks.”
“Party?” Big Jas’s face lit up.
“Naw. Jist them.”
“These two. Angela an’ Trick?”
“Yeah. Back tae Angie’s.”
“Wi’ Trick??”
“Uh-Huh.”
“Trick and Angela?”
“Uh-huh.”
BJ grinned across at me, “Trick. Ye nivir cease tae amaze me. Ye keep getting me in trouble, an’ your jist a kid an’ ah should know better, but you still never cease tae amaze me.”
“What are you on about?”
BJ gave me his deepest, deep questioning look, “Trick, Trick, Trick. Bit o’ a dark horse ur we no?”
“Jas, Jas, Jas. I don’t know what you mean, she just asked me out for a drink.” I saw little point in even trying to act macho, they were both twice my size with ten times more living under their belts. The world was full of folk bigger and harder than me so I always went for a laugh and an eye on the emergency exit.
“She asked you? Well, well, well. Stranger and stranger.”
“We’re just friends.”
I could see Jas was working something over in his mind, and I was praying it wasn’t me.
“Jist friends? Well, you watch yuirself. Angie’s great, but be careful, she’s a handful. Nae disrespect, but yuir still jist a kid. Still. After whit she’s bin through she could dae wi’ some fun. An’ yuir no a bad laugh once ya get rollin.”
He rummaged in his pocket and pulled a couple of red dots out his psychedelic pouch. “Here you go. New batch. A little taste o’ California sunshine for ye both.”
He handed me the two tiny red tabs, “Don’t plan on sleeping till Monday.”
When Angie re-appeared Jas bowed mockingly, “Lady and Gentlemen, or should ah say Beauty and the Beasts, the night is young but ah’m getting older. Ah need tae make some beer money and these tabs willnae sell thimsels. H, if ye would? Mind the door fer me willya. Gie us a shout if the busies appear.”
He was off, Dr Sweetdreams doing his feelgood rounds, the Reverend Red ministering to his sunshine flock. It wouldn’t take him long to offload his stock. The quality of the gear from the hive was legendary and there had been a small drought in the last month as they relocated the factory. Absence had made the heart grow fonder as rainbow memories grew a life of their own.