Bedlinen Boy

Excerpt from “Bed Linen Boy” published in Fifth Wednesday

Big Jake and Briggsy wait for Rory under the loading bay overhang behind Littlewoods department store. Windy rain pelts in at an angle. Rory ducks under the arch, hair dripping. He opens his coat to let everything fall to the ground, then rests his hands on his knees. Briggsy starts stuffing the packets into an Adidas sports bag.

—Did you get the pillowcases? Big Jake asks.

Rory looks up sideways.

—The matching pillowcases, says Big Jake. I canny sell it, if it’s no a set.

—Fuck’s sake, says Rory. He spits. Do they no come with the covers?

—No, you’ve got to buy them separate.

—Why’d they no just stuff them in the same packet?

—Cause they wouldn’t make as much money, ye daft wank.

—Well, I canny go back. They saw me leave the first time.

Big Jake raises his arms like one of those sinners at the Billy Graham crusade that overran Bellahouston Park the week before. Folk pitched tents days in advance to get a shot at the confessing, repenting, and baptismal dunking in the scummy pond.

—In the name of the wee man, he says. I’m trying to run a business here!

—OK, OK. Rory re-buttons the oversized coat. I’m sweltering in this but. Wool’s smelly when it gets wet and all. He flips his collar up against the low-slung weather, pulls his neck in like a turtle.

—Hold on a minute. Big Jake tugs him back. Geez one of them out again, he says to Briggsy. See you’ve got to get the right kind, Rory. They’re no all the same.

Big Jake shows Rory a picture on a packet. Curtains flap at an open window behind a brass bed with a flowery duvet slithering to the floor.

—See these y’uns? He points at two pillows. These y’uns with the square corners? Only your poofs like them, they’re no romantic enough for the mammies and grannies. Get these other y’uns — he stabs at a smaller picture — with all they frilly edges and the wee ribbons.

—Aye, whatever. Rory dips into the rain.

—And we’re gonny need at least two per cover!

Rory flips the finger without looking back.

—Why’d anybody need more than one pillow? Briggsy asks, zipping the sports bag shut.

Big Jake snaps open a cigarette box. He selects one using his teeth. I am surrounded by wanks, he sighs. Anyone wi’ a bit of sense, Briggsy, knows yer queen bed doesnay look right wi’ less than four.