Pure Angst by Stephen Scarcliffe

Author:Stephen Scarcliffe [Scarcliffe, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stephen Scarcliffe
Published: 2019-02-25T16:00:00+00:00

23

Billy and George muscled in at the front of the queue for the Venue, as the powerful beats made the rain soaked ground beneath them shake. Billy had copped half before the car ride up and he could already feel the early signs rising in his stomach as the rest of the team barged their way into the queue behind them. Dollars were on the menu now, and as always Billy had been assured by Andy Riley that they were dynamite.

Riley had proven the ticket into all kinds of raves and parties in the weeks since the first batch had been purchased and they had taken full advantage of his network of E-heads. Now, however, ecstasy was pushing its way into the city’s nightclubs, with The Venue on Calton Road at the forefront of the scene. The place looked like a stony sweat-soaked hole, filled with dirty techno and probably at least a couple of hundred folk looking for sweeties. The only problem with that picture was that the word on the street was Dale Alscott had the place sewn up, using Hibs casuals to push his product.

A well known gangster around Edinburgh, and an all-round sadistic bastard, Alscott was also a trained Thai boxer with a reputation for using swords on his enemies.

With hundreds of eccies between them, Billy knew that he and George may well be leading their mob into a world of danger, but they had managed to punt so many in the first few weeks of custom that they were already onto their second thousand and looking for anywhere and everywhere that they could push them. The danger was part of the excitement. The raves were a cakewalk, far too wide open for anyone to fully control. It was a breeze. The Venue on the other hand presented a challenge, and that challenge was providing a buzz similar to the feeling he had felt inside when they took to the Astroturf at Pilton all those years ago to exact revenge upon the unfortunate Kevin MacDonald, who now lived with a daily reminder on his face as to why you shouldn't fuck with the Muirhousers.

The bouncers didn’t look familiar; that was a relief, at least. Chances were, they belonged to Dale Alscott. One of them who was grinning childishly wore an Ellesse tracksuit, a hefty beer belly and a nasty tan down his cheek. The other smaller built one was a little smarter looking with a white suit and tie and pinstripe trousers. He was stone faced, well chiselled. Looked like one of those wee cunts that could fight like fuck with folk far bigger.

“Ye sorted, boyos?” said the tracksuit wearing bouncer as Billy and George arrived at the door. This was a new breed of bouncer altogether, that was for sure. Billy and George looked at one another and back at the wired wideboy.

“What a shitehole, man,” declared George as they made their way up the slippery stone staircase. Billy had brand new Nike Air Huaraches that would surely be mocket by the time they left.

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