Disclaimer: Trainspotting either belongs to Danny Boyle or Irvine Welsh depending on how you look at it and I'm too lazy to find out. None of the characters are mine I'm just having some fun with them
Spud's legs were bouncing up and down at an impressive rate, he knew he was annoying Begbie but he couldn't make them stop.
"You're gettin' right oan ma tits Spud, stop that fucking shaking for fucks sake!"
"Ah canny help it man whit if he's done a runner wae oor dosh? Dae ye think we can really trust Sick boy?"
Renton maintained his position at the window trying his best not to join the conversation, Begbie would only end up being a cunt to Spud and it would make him feel like shite. Or more shite if you consider that at this precise moment he was rattling for a hit so bad that his fucking eyeballs were sweating.
"Haw you ya deaf cunt I asked you wit you thought about this gay boy and his fucking constant greeting?"
"Leave him alone Begs he just needs a hit and let's be perfectly honest here it's not as if Sick boy has a good track record is it?"
"That wee wank widnae dare get wide wae me I'd smash his fucking face in."
Spud joined Renton at the window and his nervous rodent like little eyes darted up and down as he scoured the street for any sign of their friend.
"Will ye's come away fae that fuckin windy he's no gonny come any faster wae yews two dicks hovering aboot waiting oan him."
"Aye aw fucking right Begbie calm the fuck down." Renton turned from the window and dropped sullenly onto the couch. He fucking hated having to back down to that prick but what choice did he have?
Spud joined him on the couch and tried to be the voice of reason. "I'm no wanting tae cast aspersions on his character or that like but he's a thieving cunt and I gave him ma whole giro and given his past record I wid huff tae say we've maybe been a wee touch naive."
Sick boy knew a man who knew a man who worked at the race course and apparently there was a bit of an inside job under way. A horse had been drugged to under perform long enough to get his odds of winning nice and high and then the drugs were stopped, "Slap all you have on this boys because it is a sure fire fucking certainty." Those had been the words that persuaded his friends to throw every bean they could gather into the pot. Sick boy said the man he knew wouldn't appreciate a bunch of "Gadgy looking skagheads hanging around the course." So he had gone alone dressed as he always did when he wanted to look less like his true self - in his suit and coat.
Begbie stubbed out his cigarette and opened his pack for another. "Oh that's just fucking great, none left. Chuck us a fag Rentboy."
Mark reached into his top pocket and tossed the pack over to him. "I think it might be a good idea tae head to Swanney's just in case he's there?"
"Ahm no goan anywhere near that fuckin death dealers hoose. We'll wait here and when that cunt get's back wae the winnings yews kin dae whatever the fuck yews want."
An hour later and still no sign of Sick boy and Mark was seriously close to being as nervous as Spud.
You see an hour to a junkie with no smack isn't really an hour at all, think of the time waiting for your next hit in dog years an hour is actually more like seven, well no quite dog years but fuck doing that maths. I'll do the maths anyway what else is there to do? 24 multiplied by 365 is 8760 times that by seven is 61320 that's how many hours there are in a dogs year. Divide that by 365 and you get to 168 the number of hours in a dog's day. Of course that number could have been reached far quicker had I simply multiplied 24 and 7...
He heard footsteps in the street and almost knocked Spud through the wall to get to the window first, "Here he comes now we should never have doubted him really."
The three men stood in the middle of the room watching the door, listening to the footsteps banging on each of the stone steps in the close. Spud wiped his dripping nose and ran to the door throwing it open. "Oh look who it is man. It is the man himself the man with the plan. C'mon in Sick boy and spread the love."
Simon smirked as he strolled past that idiot Murphy, fucker was gouching. He on the other hand had just paid a leisurely visit to Swanney and even had time to indulge in some post heroin coitus with Allison. "Alright lads sorry I was bit longer than expected but Lenny was in no rush to pay out our winnings." He pulled a bundled up wad of notes from his front pocket and spread them on the table.
Spud made an instant beeline for the cash but his progress was halted by a solid backhander from Begbie, "I'll fucking divvy it up ye ken am no gonny trust a fucking junkie to share oot the loot."
Mark stood to the side of the table itching to grab a handful of the money and run but his eyes were watering so bad from the lack of opium that he doubted he would grab the right bundle; he was seeing at least three of them. He rubbed his sweaty palm down his jeans and waited for Begbie to... "Move your fucking arse Begbie, I would like to get my share while I'm still young enough to squander it." He flashed a wide grin at the psychopathic fucker to convince him it was comment made in jest but in his mind oh God in his mind...
"Hawd yer fucking hoarses Rentboy we will get there sooner if ye's dinny fucking harass me."
Renton looked at Sick boy and grinned, 'I know you've kept a large chunk of this behind but I don't care because it was your scam and frankly I'm relieved you came back at all.'
Sick boy licked his lips and returned the grin, 'We both know it then don't we?'
None of those words were actually said but both men knew what the looks meant.
His attention was pulled back to the table by Begbie painfully flicking his nuts, "Will you stop fucking hitting my baws man I might want to use them to produce children one day."
"There's yer fucking share noo away ye go and get yer veins packed nice an full ah that shite you canny live waeoot."
He took the money but held his hand in place for a few seconds just long enough to show Begbie that he wasn't so desperate he would snatch, "I'll wait for ye doon stairs Spud we'll head over together."
Spud's head bobbed up and down making the sycophantic grin now gracing his ugly wee face even more pathetic, "Sure thing Marky boy I'll be right behind you."
Mark patted his shoulder on the way past and looked back at Sick boy, "Will you be coming too or would it be safe to assume you have no immediate need to visit with the mother superior?"
Sick boy pulled his light coloured coat tighter against his body and cocked his head to the side, "Fuck it I'll come, after all it's not as though I have anything else planned." He grinned as he followed Mark into the close, "Shift yer hole Spud with all this money flying around Swanney might be all out of stock before you get there."
Spud's head spun nervously to the closing door, he heard their laughter fade as they made their way to the street. His feet shifted as his gaze drew back to Begbie, he was making this longer than he needed to because he knew he could after all it's not as though Spud was going to make him move any faster.
"Here cunt face take it and get tae fuck oot ma sight." Begbie all but threw the money at Spud but the subservient little man had taken money in far more humiliating circumstances, "Cheers Begbie mi'be see ye doon the pub later eh?"
He never really listened to his reply as he backed out the door nodding and saying "Aye" in what seemed like the right places, Spud's body might still be there but his heart was on the floor in Swanney's living room cooking up a nice wee batch of heaven.
No other reason to submit this than someone I know wants to read it :D
The title of this story is not meant to be heroin as in the drug but the female hero type of heroine I will maybe add another chapter later which makes that more relevant :)