Nine Foot Tall Page 10

  With the Charlie now in me brain, I knew he was right. Go in at nine. No bouncers till ten. Make some money. Watch bouncers get destroyed by Steve and Clockwork John’s fool friends. I like it. A lot.

  So that’s it sorted.

  I fly home in a taxi and get cleaned up, make myself look hot to trot, and Steve goes off to wherever he has to go in his crazy world of dodgy deals. He gave me a bag of pills to offload in Asia, and he gave me them for free. What a mate.

  Saturday Night, 9pm

  Steve was right. As I approached the club I couldn’t see a single bouncer. There were long queues of people at the door but no bouncers, just some woman in a long blonde wig letting ’em all in at about ten at a time. Good. My turn to go in. Straight through and down the stairs. My heart was still beating as if it was gonna jump out of me chest though. You never know, the bouncers might be inside, having a drink before they start. You never know.

  Once inside, my fears became unfounded – there wasn’t a single bouncer in sight. Not even any meatheads, just beautiful people wanting to have a good time. And to take lots of MDMA.

  I’m pretty wasted by now, I’m talking Pelican Fly Wasted. The Charlie from earlier on and the three pills I took an hour ago are all takin’ their desired effect. I seem to know everyone in the place, and those I don’t know seem to know me. The odd stranger prancing around but no-one that looks like the police. I bump into a crowd of girls that I know and sell them a few pills. They love me now. Everybody loves the Pill Man.

  My plan is to stay with these lasses until Steve gets here, have me self a laugh and a dance before all hell breaks loose. Then, when they do arrive, I’m not gonna have an active part, just watch and laugh me little bollocks off. Me bollocks that were in severe pain until I ate all these drugs.

  After a few more happy people came and relieved me of some of my medicine, I sat down alongside one of the girls who was falling asleep on the seats. How she was falling asleep with the music this loud, I’ll never know. But she was.

  I looked down at my watch. Quarter to ten. My heart’s pounding a little more now. Only fifteen minutes till they get here. What if it goes pear-shaped? Stop it, Gaz. You’re gettin’ paranoid, that’s all. It won’t go pear-shaped.

  Spoke too soon!

  A great crash sounded at the side of me, broken glass showering down from above, all over my sleeping friend.

  I jumped up. ‘What the fuck was that?’ Where had it come from? I looked up above the seats and there was an elevated pathway behind them. On the pathway were three guys I’d never seen before. They were laughing and breaking bottles for fun, then kicking them down onto the seats. I could tell looking at them that they were out for trouble. My friend was awake now, cut slightly from the tiny shards of glass in her cheek. She was ranting and raving like a woman possessed. Fuck. I don’t need this, man. Steve’ll be ’ere in five minutes and it’s gonna kick off now. I looked across the room and noticed some of the bouncers arriving that had done me over. Fuck. C’mon, Steve. Where the fuck are ya?

  CRASH! More glass comes flying down. These cunts are kicking it all over with no regard for anyone. I turn and stare at the biggest one of the three, the Charlie getting the better of me.

  ‘C’mon, fellas, pack it in. We’re all trying to have a good time ’ere. Leave it out.’

  I think I was quite genial the way I asked them to stop. The big one then put his arms around his friends, leaned forward, sneered and shouted at me:

  ‘And what the fuck are you gonna do about it? Ya little cunt!’

  It was at this point that I knew they meant business, they weren’t gonna leave it. I had no option now. They were gonna do me in. I had to use reasonable force, preself-defence, just as Steve had taught me. I lunged at him and cracked my full bottle of Budweiser clean over his skull. The bottle smashed into a million pieces. It felt as though his head did too. A stream of blood squirted from the top his head as he fell to his knees, screaming like a baby. His mates were offskis. Ha. What sort of mates were they? In my drugged and drunken state I didn’t even attempt to leave, I just stood there dancin’ like I thought I was some kind of superhero. The girls thought I was too. I’d just got rid of the pests. The tall one was still writhing on the floor clutching his skull as though he was holding his head together. Get up, you tosser, it’s only a flesh wound.

  I looked at my watch. Five to ten. C’mon, Steve. Where are ya?

  You know when sometimes you look back, and you wish you’d done something differently? Well, this was one of those times. Hindsight is a wonderful concept. I wish that:

  a.I’d fucked off home as soon as I cracked me Bud over that cunt’s crust; or

  b.I’d never gone out in the first place.

  It all happened so quick. The night before replayed all over again. The bouncers descended on me like the Zulus at Rorke’s Drift. They used my head as a battering ram again. Only this time they threw me into an office with the manager and some other staff wandering around. Good. I’m not gonna get me knackers kicked even more inside me guts than they already are. Then it dawned on me. I’m in the office. They’re gonna call the feds. I’m gonna do the Big Bitch. I can’t go to jail, man, I’m not like Unsolved Steve who’s in and out the Big House more than his own house. Fuck, they’re gonna call ’em.

  And they did.

  They called the law.

  Then one of the fuckers from last night’s demolition job on me bollocks gave me a jab to my jaw so that I wouldn’t run away. Knocked me clean out.

  It was about five minutes later when I came back around. I was still on the office floor in Asia. The police hadn’t yet arrived. I was completely out of my face. Obliterated. There were three meatheads stood towering over me.

  I looked up at them and said, ‘Fuckin’’ell. You cunts are ugly!’

  That was it. They pulled me to my feet and one of them, a real tall but skinny fucker, just pressed my neck and did some mad ninja thing that doesn’t hurt but sends you back to sleep again. I was fucked after that.

  The next time I woke up I was in a police cell. It was Sunday morning at 10.50am.

  My head was fuzzy as fuck. But not fuzzy enough to not understand the charge.

  Malicious wounding with intent. Carries a sentence of five years in jail.

  One of my worst fears had come to fruition.

  I had turned into Steve.

  Chapter Seven

  -

  Best Mates

  AND GOD SAW THE LIGHT,

  AND SAW THAT IT WAS GOOD

  Genesis 1:4

  13th July 1985 – Aged 18

  They say that there is a time in everyone’s life when you turn the corner, a defining moment if you will. When you escape from the confines of childhood and become a man. A moment when your whole outlook on the world is completely changed forever. Today was that day.

  Unless of course you count the time way back in 1978 when, at the tender age of eleven, I first saw Debbie Harry burst onto the screen wearing nothing but a tee-shirt.

  Mmmmmmmmmmm.

  Today was that day for the simple reason that, not only was it the day when Live Aid was transmitted and everybody in the world tuned in, or that it was the first time I ever told my girlfriend, Jenny, that I loved her, it was also the day that I did my first ever night on the decks.

  Nothing on God’s green earth could prepare me for the metamorphosis I was about to undergo.

  It was the night that I became DJ Gaz.

  4:07pm

  ‘I absolutely love Bryan Ferry, Jen…’ I peeped over Jenny’s shoulder as we kissed and cuddled on the sofa. We were watching Live Aid at her house and Bryan Ferry had just walked on stage, ‘But not as much as I love you…’

  It was the first time I’d ever told anyone that I loved them.

  Apart from me mam.

  Jenny was my baby. We�
�d been going out for a good three years now. I’d had the odd fling with other girls when I first started seeing her, but now, nothing could get in the way of me and my Jenny. She was, like I say, my baby.

  She whispered back that she loved me too and all seemed well in the world. Bryan was doing his thing, Saint Bob Geldof was making millions for the starving in Ethiopia and I had a girl who loved me. We melted into the sofa and kissed some more.

  ‘Gaz…’ Jenny pushed herself up from me into a press-up position, ‘you know I love you… a lot… and I know that you love me… but…’

  Oh no man, she was gonna chuck me, I could sense it. She’s just told me that she loves me and now she’s gonna break my poor little heart. I couldn’t stop myself from putting on a sad face and, ‘You’re not gonna chuck me, are ya?’

  She smiled in the sweetest way, stroked my face and giggled, ‘No! Silly. Course I’m not gonna chuck ya, yer daft prat. I love ya, don’t I?’

  My heart jumped back into gear after the sinking feeling from five seconds ago. Good, I’m not gonna get blown out. Whatever she says now will be wonderful. No matter what it is.

  ‘Gaz, I love ya, and I want to be with ya forever, for the rest of me life. But you’ve been with loads of different girls…’ I hadn’t, I’d only been with about six or seven, but I did have a reputation as a bit of lady-killer, ‘…and I’ve only ever been with you. That’s good, coz I love ya, but I often wonder what it would be like to go with someone else. Y’know what I mean?’

  I was horrified, man.

  ‘Y’mean ya wanna shag someone else?’

  She shook her gorgeous head furiously, ‘No no no, I don’t want to shag someone else. I just wonder what it would be like, that’s all. That’s all. I’m not gonna go wi’ no-one behind yer back or owt. I never would.’

  Although I was mortified, I could understand what she meant. How was she expected to only go with me for the rest of her life? I’d had some experience of other people, so why shouldn’t she?

  I had an alarming brainwave.

  ‘Right then, Jen, just to show ya that I really love ya I’m gonna sort it out for ya to shag someone else. How’s that sound? How do fancy shagging my mate Mel? He’ll be up for it, I know he will. You’re gorgeous so why wouldn’t he? Eh, what do ya say to that idea? Then you’ve got it out of your system and we can carry on being in love. Forever.’

  Now, seeing as Jenny was so sweet and gorgeous and beautiful and innocent, I knew full well that she wouldn’t accept this ludicrous offer. She’d just shrug it off as stupid and I’d look as though I was a really nice, understanding bloke for saying it in the first place. Nah, she wouldn’t accept. No way.

  ‘Yeah. Why not? It’ll be fun. He’s very handsome is Mel. Gorgeous blue eyes. Yeah, good idea, Gaz. Sort it out. Soon.’

  She had the cheesiest, dirtiest grin on her face, really excited about the prospect of shagging me best mate. I could have sworn I saw her lick her lips. Fuck. I wish I hadn’t said a word now. I felt sick. The apparent ease with which she accepted this somewhat ridiculous offer was, what shall I say, unsettling, to say the very least.

  ‘Er… right then… I’ll phone Mel and sort it out.’

  At that I jumped up, did my lovely hair and made my way out of her house and back to The Fanny. For my first ever night as a DJ.

  13th July, 7pm

  I sat staring through the television. Live Aid was still on but I wasn’t listening to it, I was just staring. The butterflies in my stomach must have weighed two stone each. I had to be a DJ in half an hour. How the fuck was I gonna pull that off? I’d never touched any record decks in my life before. I’d never spoken over a microphone. And I only had twenty records.

  Fuck, Dad, what have you done?

  You see, up till tonight my dad had always had live music in the pub. Irish singers and folk groups and the such. But for the past few months the clientele had started to get younger. So, in his infinite wisdom, last week my dad announced to me, ‘We need a DJ, son. What do you think? For the young ’uns that are coming in these days.’

  It was a good idea. A DJ would make a great change from the leprechauns we’d had murdering The Fields of Athenry recently.

  And it’d attract the girls too. I agreed with him. It was a fantastic idea.

  ‘Good then…’ He gave me a knowing wink. ‘You start next Saturday. OK?’

  I nearly hit the floor. Fuck that, man. No way. I didn’t think he meant me. I shook my head and said no what must have been a thousand times. But he had ways of being persuasive did me dad.

  ‘Ah c’mon, Gaz, you’ll be great. You know all about the music for starters, you have a gift for the blarney that only I could match and, and I’ll give you thirty pound a night, Saturday and Sunday. If it’s a success I’ll have you working Fridays too. And, Gazzy boy… you won’t ever have to serve behind the bar again. Oh…and all the girls’ll love you even more than they already do. Girls always love the DJ. C’mon, whaddya say? Do it, Gaz. You’ll like it, I promise ya.’

  That was it. He’d twisted my arm. Bloody hell, it was sixty to ninety quid a week, on top of me day job at the council offices. That only paid me a measly forty-nine quid a week and I had to work bastard forty hours for that. I had no bills with living in The Fanny. The money tempted me. But the girls was the one that really did it. I know I was in love with Jenny and all, but adoration from every girl that would ever enter the pub was too much for me to resist. I wouldn’t stray from Jenny of course, but the attention would be nice.

  So I agreed. The next day, off he went and bought me some second-hand decks and a crappy old microphone. If it took off he said he’d get me some better gear. It better take off, this stuff is bleedin’ ancient. I nearly thought I was gonna have to wind them up like a gramophone.

  7.15pm

  ‘C’mon down, Gaz, there are people pouring into the pub, they must have seen the posters. C’mon,’ my dad shouted me from the bottom of the stairs as I sat petrified in the flat above, my head in my hands, heart pounding away.

  People pouring in. Oh no, man, I can’t do it. I’ll make a right twat of myself. I felt sick again. He’d put posters up all over the pub announcing “The Newest and Most Talented Star DJ to EVER grace the record decks. They call him Gaz… DJ Gaz… A Legend in the making!”

  Nice poster, Dad. I’ve got nothing to live up to with that scrawled all over the place, have I? I rushed to the bathroom and threw up everywhere. I wish my Jenny was here, she’d look after me. She had some sort of family do to go to, so couldn’t be with me.

  Pull yourself together, Gaz. I placed a hand on my hip, sprayed on some Kouros by Yves Saint Laurent, straightened my jet black quiff, adjusted the collar on my silk paisley shirt, looked in the mirror, blew myself a kiss and said, ‘Get yerself downstairs, you clown. Go on stage and knock their fuckin’ socks off!’

  Then I wiped some sick off me chin and swaggered downstairs.

  7.30pm

  The place was packed out when I got down there – must have been a hundred and fifty people in. Fuck.

  I grabbed myself a pint of Guinness and a double brandy and strutted over to the decks.

  There was a huge gang of girls sitting right in front of my equipment. Right stunners. I can’t fuck up. I just can’t. I’ll never be able to go out in public again. Ever!

  I dimmed the house lights and switched on the turntables, my hands shaking like jelly as I placed my first disc on the mat. I picked up the microphone and held it up to my mouth, everyone looking at me. Fuck. What do I say? What do I do? Please God… please help me, I promise I’ll go to Mass more often.

  I flick the deck switch and the music blasts out from the speakers, it was the opening electronic gymnastics of You Spin Me Round by Dead or Alive, an excellent choice of opening song, Gaz. Raucous and engaging, just what the girls wanna hear. I put the mic back down. I hadn’t said a word. W
hat the fuck was I supposed to say? Everybody was singing along and seemed to be having a good time, drinking and chatting and dancing about, but I would have to say something at some point. I’ve only got twenty records and they’ll only take an hour or so to play before I have to start repeating them. These people need entertaining. The only person that can do that is me. I was dancing along to the song, making shagging movements and pointing to the girls and grabbing my crotch every time it got to the bit about coming section. They seemed to like what I was doing. They could listen to the jukebox though, if all they just wanted to do was hear music all night. I needed to say something. Something entertaining. Something funny.

  There were about thirty seconds left to play of Dead or Alive.

  Then, as if I’d been hit by a thunderbolt of inspiration from the heavens, it came to me. Forget the old routine employed by all the other DJs, the routine that involves announcing the name of the singer and the song, the routine that asks people to come for requests. How could I ask people to come for a request that I would most definitely not have in my grossly underequipped collection? No, I had to do something different.

  Take the piss out of people.

  Would it work? Was I gonna finish my DJing career as soon as the first record I ever played had finished? Would I get killed by the customers? No time to think, the last chord of the song played, I pulled the microphone up to my grinning face and…

  ‘There you go, kids…’ I had a kind of mid-Atlantic drawl in my voice that I’d heard other DJs using all the time, real cheesy. ‘Welcome to The Fanny, I’m Gaz and if you’ve got any requests…’ I suddenly shouted in the broadest Yorkshire accent that I could muster, ‘KEEP THEM TO YER FUCKIN’ SELVES! IT’S MY DISCO AN’ I’LL PLAY WOT I BASTARD WANT!’