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be employed more fruitfully Jay-Go would be a multimillionaire. He was as good a liar and a cheat as any of them.
    Keira tried again. ‘Did you get the bus?’
    Jay-Go stared back at her like he was going to take her on, then changed his mind. ‘Na! I walked it. Where would I get the money to splash on a luxury trip in the back of a cab?’
    ‘You walked all the way from Easterhouse?’
    ‘Aye. “Ah’d walk a million miles” an’ all that. But listen, I can see that you’re busy so I’m no’ gonnae keep ye back.’ Jay-Go stopped abruptly, as though he’d had second thoughts over whatever he was about to say next. He suddenly seemed nervous and started looking distractedly around the bar. Keira repeated his name three times before his focus came back round to her.
    ‘Jay-Go, are you all right?’
    ‘Aye fine. Ye got any smokes on ye?’
    ‘What were you going to say?’
    ‘Let’s go outside for a smoke an’ I’ll tell you.’
    ‘Why can’t you tell me in here?’
    ‘Nae reason; I’m just dying for a fag.’
    Keira lifted a soft pack of Virginia Plain with two roll-ups ready-made and a Zippo from her handbag, then nodded towards the entrance. ‘Okay, let’s go.’
    *
    The traffic on Hope Street was building up as the town-centre office workers spilled on to the streets and started to make their way home.
    Keira lit the two expertly rolled single skinners and handed one to Jay-Go.
    ‘Man! I thought you’d be smoking one eh’ them posh brands like Mayfair, or those French fags that smell of shite.’
    ‘Gauloises is French for shite.’
    ‘Is it?’ asked Jay-Go, thinking he’d guessed correctly.
    Keira gave him a look.
    ‘Aye, well, they’ll be the ones.’
    ‘I prefer to roll my own: I smoke less and enjoy it more. When did you get out?’ Keira drew down a lungful of smoke.
    ‘Last week.’
    ‘And how’s business?’
    Jay-Go flicked her a look. ‘It’s shite, by the way, because Ah wis busted, naebody’ll sell me stock, and even if they did the punters think the cops are still watching me so they’re blanking me too. And the bawbags that moved in on my area of the scheme when I was sent down, they think I’m aiming to chisel my way back in again so they’ve put a marker on me: fuckin’ Serbians. When the Poles moved in it was fine, ’cause they’d deal with anyone. They recognized there wis enough for everybody, but the fuckin’ Serbs are mad. They’re all ex militia, man! Too aggressive, ye know what Ah mean? It’s getting pure lawless up there. It’s a self-limiting business, anyway . . . I know that. How many junkies d’you know over thirty-five? I am planning to start up again, but just till I get the one big score, then I’m fuckin’ off out of it. Off to New York on a cruise liner, pure Titanic fashion, know what I mean? Gonnae do rehab over there. There are more junkies in the States than the population of Belgium, so they know what they’re on about; clinics are better quality. Got a cousin in Dublin’s a fuckin’ riot: take him along for the craic, and the crack . . . if he’s got any.’ Jay-Go half smiled to himself, thinking it was a good line. ‘But that’s no’ the point,’ he continued. ‘When the economy is on the downturn, recreational drug use is on the up. There’s plenty business out there for us all to have a share. But now I have to watch ma back the whole time, man: carry a shooter, just in case, you know what I’m saying?’
    ‘Don’t tell me things like that‚ Jay-Go,’ said Keira coolly. ‘Chances are your parole officer will be writing to me to sign-off on all the papers, which I won’t be able to do if I know you’re walking around with a gun in your pocket selling drugs.’
    ‘You asked the fuckin’ question, Miss,’ he retorted.
    ‘I know I did, but I didn’t mean it literally, I meant how are things in general?’
    ‘Aye, well, in general, things are pure Gauloises . . . So there you are.’
    The two stood in