why would I buy something like that?" Brandon rolled his shoulders back. "Like I need a fuckin ' gun, I got enough going for me ."
Richie nodded. "Aye, I know. But I also know you bought a gun from a charva lad this morning."
"Nah."
"He told us you did."
"Oh aye? What's his name then?"
Richie blinked at Brandon, felt his face burn up. Course he didn't know the lad's name. Should've found that out, shouldn't he? Fuck's sake. Took one beating and his head was all over the fucking place. Richie grinned the embarrassment out of his system, waiting to lose the blush as he stared at the tarmac. "Don't matter what his name was, Brandon, does it?"
"Aye, it does. You don't know his fuckin ' name, you're making all this up."
"I know your name."
"So?"
"Where d'you reckon I got it from?"
"The fuck am I supposed to know?"
"From the lad who sold you the gun. The Magnum."
"Oh, it's a fuckin ' Magnum now, is it?" Brandon's face only half broke into something that could pass for amusement. This bloke couldn't lie for shit. "See, now you got all confused. Because before it was just a converted air pistol, now it's a fuckin ' Magnum? Seriously, I don't know what you're talking about, mate. But I do know, you keep talking to us with that fuckin ' tone, we're going to have issues."
"Why's that?"
"I don't need a gun."
"But you got one."
"There y'are again with the tone."
"How, fuckin ' look at yourself, man. You're lying through your teeth. I know you bought a gun this morning, I was going to offer to buy it back off you, but the way I'm thinking now, fuck it, I'll let Goose pick it up himself."
"Goose? Haddaway and shite , man."
"Nah, I'm telling you. I'm working for –"
"For a goose," said Brandon. "Right. You're out your fuckin ' box, marra ."
Richie stared at the bouncer. Aye, this bloke didn't have the first fucking clue who he was dealing with. And part of Richie wanted to let it lie, sic Goose or whoever Goose sent – probably the heavyweights everyone called the Gallaghers on account of their unibrows – get down here and bray fuck out of Brandon The Bouncer. He was a proper doorknob, this one, with his number two on his head, puffer jacket, signets on one hand, wedding ring on the other.
"You married?" said Richie.
"Fuck kind of question's that?"
He jerked his head. "Noticed the ring."
Brandon bristled slightly. Looked like he was expecting a fight, waiting for the inevitable your-missus-is-a-fucking- hooer slight. When there didn't appear to be one coming, Brandon glanced down at the ring and said, "Aye, I'm married, like."
"Any kids?"
"Fuck off."
"I'm just asking."
"Why?"
"Because," said Richie. "This bloke I'm working for, the bloke whose gun you have, he'll send some lads down here to get it back –"
"Oh aye, right."
"Aye. I'm not one of them lads, either. I'm just a courier. All I did was buy the gun and I'm bringing it to him. I'm not a fighter. Only need to look at us to know that. But my point is , them lads that Goose sends down, they won't just stop with you. Your wife'll get her face mashed up, maybe get a wrist broke into the bargain. I don't know what else. Depends on who's sent. And if you've got kids –"
Brandon put a hand on Richie then, shoved him in the shoulder. There was power behind the move. Richie nearly went on his arse. He held up both hands.
"Wait a second –"
"You threatening us, you little cunt?"
"No, you listen to us, you'll know I'm not. Look at us. You think I'm the kind of lad who'd threaten someone like you? I'm not going to risk it, am I? Only thing that I'm interested in is getting the gun back. I've got money, you can have your money back, full fuckin ' refund. But I need that gun."
Brandon ran his tongue under his bottom lip, breathing through his nose. Richie could tell this wasn't what he'd planned for the afternoon. What Brandon wanted was an excuse to kick off. He couldn't rightly batter the shit out of Richie without Richie kicking off first, though. Some
Richie nodded. "Aye, I know. But I also know you bought a gun from a charva lad this morning."
"Nah."
"He told us you did."
"Oh aye? What's his name then?"
Richie blinked at Brandon, felt his face burn up. Course he didn't know the lad's name. Should've found that out, shouldn't he? Fuck's sake. Took one beating and his head was all over the fucking place. Richie grinned the embarrassment out of his system, waiting to lose the blush as he stared at the tarmac. "Don't matter what his name was, Brandon, does it?"
"Aye, it does. You don't know his fuckin ' name, you're making all this up."
"I know your name."
"So?"
"Where d'you reckon I got it from?"
"The fuck am I supposed to know?"
"From the lad who sold you the gun. The Magnum."
"Oh, it's a fuckin ' Magnum now, is it?" Brandon's face only half broke into something that could pass for amusement. This bloke couldn't lie for shit. "See, now you got all confused. Because before it was just a converted air pistol, now it's a fuckin ' Magnum? Seriously, I don't know what you're talking about, mate. But I do know, you keep talking to us with that fuckin ' tone, we're going to have issues."
"Why's that?"
"I don't need a gun."
"But you got one."
"There y'are again with the tone."
"How, fuckin ' look at yourself, man. You're lying through your teeth. I know you bought a gun this morning, I was going to offer to buy it back off you, but the way I'm thinking now, fuck it, I'll let Goose pick it up himself."
"Goose? Haddaway and shite , man."
"Nah, I'm telling you. I'm working for –"
"For a goose," said Brandon. "Right. You're out your fuckin ' box, marra ."
Richie stared at the bouncer. Aye, this bloke didn't have the first fucking clue who he was dealing with. And part of Richie wanted to let it lie, sic Goose or whoever Goose sent – probably the heavyweights everyone called the Gallaghers on account of their unibrows – get down here and bray fuck out of Brandon The Bouncer. He was a proper doorknob, this one, with his number two on his head, puffer jacket, signets on one hand, wedding ring on the other.
"You married?" said Richie.
"Fuck kind of question's that?"
He jerked his head. "Noticed the ring."
Brandon bristled slightly. Looked like he was expecting a fight, waiting for the inevitable your-missus-is-a-fucking- hooer slight. When there didn't appear to be one coming, Brandon glanced down at the ring and said, "Aye, I'm married, like."
"Any kids?"
"Fuck off."
"I'm just asking."
"Why?"
"Because," said Richie. "This bloke I'm working for, the bloke whose gun you have, he'll send some lads down here to get it back –"
"Oh aye, right."
"Aye. I'm not one of them lads, either. I'm just a courier. All I did was buy the gun and I'm bringing it to him. I'm not a fighter. Only need to look at us to know that. But my point is , them lads that Goose sends down, they won't just stop with you. Your wife'll get her face mashed up, maybe get a wrist broke into the bargain. I don't know what else. Depends on who's sent. And if you've got kids –"
Brandon put a hand on Richie then, shoved him in the shoulder. There was power behind the move. Richie nearly went on his arse. He held up both hands.
"Wait a second –"
"You threatening us, you little cunt?"
"No, you listen to us, you'll know I'm not. Look at us. You think I'm the kind of lad who'd threaten someone like you? I'm not going to risk it, am I? Only thing that I'm interested in is getting the gun back. I've got money, you can have your money back, full fuckin ' refund. But I need that gun."
Brandon ran his tongue under his bottom lip, breathing through his nose. Richie could tell this wasn't what he'd planned for the afternoon. What Brandon wanted was an excuse to kick off. He couldn't rightly batter the shit out of Richie without Richie kicking off first, though. Some
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