Porno (48 page)

— Don’t you think it’s a bit patronising to tell Curt what young people think? I say, but it feels pathetic, it lacks conviction in the face of his harsh certainties.

— I’m calling it as I see it. I’m trying to direct a movie.

— So consent means nothing to you?

— Consent is elastic, it has to be. If not, how do we grow? How do we evolve? There has to be development, a shifting of perspectives over time, there has to be an elasticity of consent.

— There’s not going to be an elasticity of my arsehole, Simon. Accept that. Live with it.

— Nikki, it’s not an issue. If you don’t want to do anal, then fine. You have that right. But as a director of this motion picture I reserve the right to tell one of my leading actors what an unprofessional prude they’re being, he smiles.

That’s what he does, gets his serious points over as a joke. He thinks he’s won the fucking argument, but he’s not. — We’re
having
sexual activity, not
faking
sexual activity. The whole point about any sexual activity is consent. If there’s no consent, it becomes coercion, or rape. The first question is, will I be raped to make a film? The answer is no. Maybe the other girls will. That’s up to them, I say, and I can’t look at Mel. I’m still staring right at Simon when I ask: — The second question is, will you become a rapist in order to make this film?

He looks at me, and his eyes open wide. — I won’t make people do anything they don’t want to do. That’s the bottom line.

I nearly believe him until I overhear what he says to Curtis in a coke-fuelled rant in the taxi back down to Leith in between shouting at Rab on the mobile. — You fuck with your cock, but you make love with your body and soul. The cock is fuck all. In fact, I’ll go further: the cock can be your worst enemy. Why? Because the cock needs a hole. That means the lassie is always in control, as long as the relationship is kept on a purely physical, i.e. shagging, basis. No matter how big your cock is or how well you use it, it’s replaceable. There are thousands, millions of cocks queuing up for the berth yours is occupying and a good-looking lassie with any savvy knows that. Fortunately, most lack that awareness. No, the way to wrestle control of the relationship back from the lassie is by getting into her head.

God, I’ve been warned. It’s not my arse I should be worried about, it’s my head.

But now it’s Mel’s arse I’m worried about. I’m feeling as protective of it as I would my own. I pull back, realising that I’m turning into Lauren. Mel’s game; she’s even told me that she likes it. So we’re back down to the flat and the gear is set up again.

Simon’s been doing more coke and I can hear him with Curt as Melanie’s getting changed. — Curtis, pal, you’re gittin good with that weapon ay yours. Ye respect lassies, aye, fair dos, but for this scene we need a bit mair oomph. Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘make the bitch suffer’?

— Naw, but ah like Melanie . . .

Sick Simon shakes his head. — Gently tae start, but once ye get it in, crank it up, they love the pain. They can take it better than we can. They can huv bairns, for fuck sakes.

— Not out our arseholes, I cut in.

He realises that I’ve been listening to him and he slaps his head. — I’m trying to direct Curt, he spits, — will you please let me do my job, Nicola, darling?

— Make the bitch suffer, is that where you’re coming from, that kind of misogynistic cack?

— Nikki, please, let me do my job. Let’s finish the movie, let’s have something to debate about.

Thankfully, it only needs one take in each of the arse-fucking positions: legs pinned back frontal, from behind and reverse anal cowgirl. Then we sit down with Mel. — What was that like? I ask.

— It was sair, so fuckin sair, she purses, blowing through her lips. — But good as well. Just when ye thought it wis unbearable it got good, just when you thought it wis good it goat unbearable.

— Wow, says Sick Boy, putting his arm round her. — Well done, folks, that’s the final brother, Juice Terry, shagged. I’m going to get Terry and you to simulate the positions, Mel, and we’ll use Curtis’s cock for the penetration close-ups. We need some more stuff for the orgy scene, a few establishing shots, but that’s all the brothers done.
Seven Rides
, it’s a kick-in-the-arse off being a wrap!

57

Clarinet

I
t wis great seein Mark again n it wis barry gittin some encouragement aboot the book. Ah wis that up whin ah goat hame, thit even though ah wis a bit wrecked, ah goat ma manuscript oot n went ower that last chapter again. It’s like Rents hud sort ay inspired ays, man. The last bit’s aw aboot skag n Aids n that, aboot aw the boys thit wir wiped oot; the pure bams n the decent cats, gadges like Tommy.

N eftir lookin ower it ah couldnae believe it, man, cause that wis it finished. Ah mean, the spellin’s no up tae much, but they kin sort aw that oot, dinnae want it too polished, cause it gies they poor cats in the publisher’s nowt tae dae whin it comes tae the edit.

Ah realised that it wis nearly mornin n ah pure wanted tae git doon tae that post office n send it oaf tae they publisher’s, thaim thit dae aw that Scottish history stuff. Then ah wis gaunnae see Ali n tell her aboot the money, tell hur thit wir gaunnae book up fir Disneyland, fir the bairn n that, ken. Ah tried the other day doon the Port Sunshine bit she wis busy n ah wis pished n ah couldnae talk proper. She pure wanted ays tae go. Ah thoat it’s too late tae go tae bed n ah’m pure buzzin, so ah pit oan the Alabama’s tape n bopped aroond tae masel fir a bit.

Then it wis doon tae the stationer’s fir a big padded envelope, then straight roond tae the post office. Ah kissed that package as ah stuck it in the boax.

Ya beauty!

Ah thoat the best thing tae dae wid be tae pure git in some feather n flip then git a hud ay Ali n Andy when she goes tae pick up the wee man fae the school, tell thum aw the news aboot Disneyland! N mibee no the yin in Paris, mibee the yin in Florida! Aye, ower thair in the sun would be barry, especially wi this crap weather. Terry Lawson wis tellin ays he wis ower thair n it wis cool as.

Then ah thinks, well, ah’m entitled tae a wee celebration now, cause that’s me pure done wi the book! Yes! Aw ma debts peyed oaf, money in the tail, me Ali n Andy away tae Disneyland soon. Jist a couple ah beers likesay. So ah’m thinkin, whaire tae go tae celebrate? N yuv goat tae watch Leith, man, cause Leith pure isnae Edinburgh. Thir’s aw they pubs in Leith n yi’ll find company, whether ye want it or no, n it might no be the right company. Yuv goat tae watch who ye celebrate wi.

Fae Junction Street ah turns oantae the Walk past Mac’s Bar. Ah look acroass at the Central Bar then up the Walk n ah ken that beyond it thir’s the Bridge Bar, EH6, the Crown, Dolphin Lounge, the Spey, Caledonian Bar, Morrisons, the Dalmeny, the Lorne, the Vicky, the Alhambra, the Volley, the Balfour, the Walk Inn or Jayne’s as they call it now, Robbie’s, the Shrub, Boundary Bar, the Brunswick, the Red Lion, the Old Salt, the Windsor, Joe Pearce’s, the Elm . . . n that’s jist off the toap ay ma heid n jist oan the Walk itself, no countin side streets or nowt like that. So naw, man, naw, every Walk boozer contains the prospect ay a huge sesh. Same wi Duke Street n Junction Street n even Constitution n Bernard strassers. So ah head fir the mair trendy, sedate and gentrified Shore, man, whaire a Leith man ay letters should be drinkin.

It looks different doon here, man, aw redeveloped; the docks now aw smart bars and restaurants, loads ay yuppie converted warehooses. It wis sayin in the paper thit they moved the prossies fae whaire they eywis worked cause ay the complaints fae the residents. That tae me’s pure no fair, cause thuv eywis worked thair n cats ken what the place is like before they move in.

Ah gits intae this big auld bar, aw sortay wid-panelled, n orders one ay they cauld Guinnesses. Ah looks outside tae whaire the seagulls are swirlin, n ah kin see thit a cruise ship’s come in.

Thing is, ah’m sittin thair n Curtis heads in. — Thoat ah saw ye comin in. Ah says t-t-t masel thit . . . n the perr wee gadge goes aw spazzy n the face, ehs eyes blinkin, — . . . Sp-Sp-Spud widnae come in here.

Well, man, ah made a big mistake. Wi me gittin guttered wi Rents last night, the peeve wis still in ma system n eftir a few pints ah started tae feel a bit pished. Wee Curtis is pure celebratin n aw cause eh’s been in some orgy wi they lassies fir this film thit Sick Boy’s makin now. Ah pure dinnae like tae think aboot Ali workin in that pub wi aw thaim roond thaire. Sometimes ah think aboot him tryin tae git hur involved, git her intae aw that, n ma blood just goes pure cauld. Cause eh kin make people dae things they pure usually widnae dae. But no Ali, man, naw, no ma Ali. N ah pure didnae want tae go roond thair tae the school tae see her n Andy aw listless n stunned, so ah take some base speed offay Curtis tae try n straighten masel oot.

Whin ah git roond tae the school, ah feel barry, bit right away Ali’s eyes telt ays thit it’s one ay they yins whin ye think ye feel good bit yir really wrecked. She’s wearin this hooded, fur-lined jaykit ah’ve no seen before n a jumper n leggins n boots. She looks barry. The wee gadge is wrapped up well, skerf n hat n that.

— What do you want, Danny?

— Hiya, Dad, the wee man goes.

— Awright, sodjir? ah goes tae the boy, then tae Ali: — Barry news. Ah’ve come intae some dosh n ah want tae take yis tae Disneyland . . . Paris . . . or Florida if ye want! N ah’ve finished the book, it’s posted away tae the publishin cats! N ah met Mark yesterday, Rents, like! Eh’s been in Amsterdam but wi went oot n hud a few beers. Eh thinks it’s a barry idea, the book n that . . .

Her face husnae changed at aw but, man. — Danny . . . what are you on about?

— Look, lit’s jist go tae the café n wi kin talk aboot it, ah sais, smilin at the wee man. — A milkshake at Alfred’s, eh, pal?

— Aye, eh goes, — but in McDonald’s. Thaire milkshakes are better.

— Naw, man, naw, cause Alfred uses only the best ay stuff, McDonald’s milkshakes are aw sugar, thir bad fir ye, man, thir evil. Globalisation n aw that, man, it’s aw wrong . . . n ah sees ah’m rantin n Ali’s lookin daggers at me, — . . . but wi kin go tae McDonald’s if ye want, likesay . . .

— No, Ali saws coldly.

— Aw, Mum, the wee chap goes.

— No, she goes, — we’re too busy. Auntie Kath’s expecting us back, and I’m working tonight, she says. Then she turns tae me and goes up aw close, n fir a second ah think she’s gaunnae kiss me but she whispers in ma ear: — You’re oaf yir fuckin face. Keep away fae ma son when you’re on drugs! Then she turns n takes Andy by the hand, n they walk away.

Eh turns n waves a couple ay times, n ah force a smile n wave back, pure hopin thit eh cannae see the tears in ma eyes.

Ah go back tae the Shore, tae another pub. It’s busy n thir’s a jazz band oan. Ah’m down, man, the life’s been ripped ootay me. Ah’m jist thinkin what’s the point in havin cash whin the people ye want tae spend it oan dinnae want tae be wi ye? What huv ah really goat wi thaim away?

Naw, man, it’s aw fucked.

Ah look roond at the band, the young lassie oan the clarinet, whae’s really good, makin such a beautiful sound ye could jist likesay greet, man. Then ah see the auld boy at the bar, wi a big smile oan ehs face. At that point a horrible thought hit ays; everybody in this bar, everybody here, n Ali n ma wee Andy even, they’ll aw be deid soon. In ten or twenty or thirty or forty or fifty or sixty or whatever years it takes. Ah, they beautiful people, man, and aw the weird and horrible and mental yins, they willnae be here, they willnae even exist. In nae time at aw really.

Ah mean, what the fuck is aw that aboot, likes?

Ah head up fae the Shore, back hame. Ah dinnae ken what tae dae. Ah’m no long in the hoose whin Franco phones me up, tellin ays tae meet him in Nicol’s the night. Says eh needs tae talk tae me aboot June. Mibee Franco’s noticed that she’s no lookin sae well either. Mibee the cat does care, eftir aw. Eh tells ays Second Prize is oot wi him. Be good tae see Secks, like. — Be thaire at eight bells. Ah’ll fuckin well see ye.

So ah’m sortay thinkin aboot it, but ah’m no that much company the now, likes. Then thir’s another call n it’s Chizzie the Beast. Straight eftir Franco n aw. Must be something aboot jail time. Chizzie but, ah’ve been avoidin that bad cat. — Mental the other week thaire, eh. No comin oot for a wee drink, chav? eh goes.

— Nah, man, takin it easy, eh, thinkin thit ah’m no gaunnae be in
his
company again anywey.

Ehs voice goes that sortay nasal, creepy wey. — Ah saw yir missus the other night thaire, chavvy, that wis hur workin behind the bar in that Port Sunshine. She’s pretty tidy. They tell ays youse huv split up but, eh?

Ah feel ma blood runnin cauld, man. Ah cannae say nowt.

— Aye, ah wis thinkin thit ah might ask ehr oot sometime. Ah bit ay winin n dinin. Ah ken how tae show a burd a good time, me, eh! Aw aye, that’s one thing ah ken awright.

Ma hert’s gaun pure thump thump thump, man, bit ah laugh n make light ay it n then ah say: — Eh aye, ah’ll come oot fir a pint well. It’ll dae me good. Mibee hit the toon again. Kin ye eh, meet ays in Nicol’s pub in Junction Street? Thir’s a couple ay tidy burds work behind the bar. One’s meant tae be game, likesay.

Eh bites it. — Now yir talkin, Murphy. When?

— Eight a’cloak.

But ah’m no gaun, no tae that Junction Street shitehoose, ah’m gaun doon the Port Sunshine tae keep an eye oan things.

58

LUCKY BONUS

A
h’ve dragged that cunt Second Prize oot, n uv phoned up Spud Murphy cause ah want tae git tae the boatum ay this shite wi June. Some cunt’s goat the wrong end ay the fuckin stick here, or some cunt’s tryin tae fuckin well wind me up. Mates. Nae cunt’s yir fuckin mate, ye see that the aulder ye git. Second Prize, oan the pool table, aw fucking edgy, tryin tae drink a fuckin tomatay juice like a fuckin poof. Ah’ll gie the cunt tomatay juice. Fuckin anti-social cunt. — Aw that stuff aboot alcoholism’s a load ay shite. Ye kin manage a fuckin pint, it’s no gaunnae kill ye. One fuckin pint!