Welsh Willy
I nearly had a heart attack when I saw the bloody suit. It was all tatty and held together with big stitches with all bits of white stuff sticking out. “Don’t worry,” says Max, “It’s just the first fitting. That’s what they’re always like.”
“Well, I bloody hope it gets better by the last bloody fitting,” I tell him.
“Don’t worry,” he says, “You wait. You’ll turn heads when you wear this suit.”
I think, yes, I wear this suit and people will think I’m Frankenstein’s bloody monster. But anyway, I let them fuss about over me. Max, with his mouth full of pins, keeps tucking a bit in here and loosening a bit there and sticking pins in to hold it all in place and Eric keeps making chalk marks on the material. I say, “Go easy with that bloody chalk, can’t you. I’ll have to get the damn’ thing dry cleaned the way you’re messing it up,” and Max, of course, he just says, “Don’t worry, don’t worry.”
Anyway, after I get back into my own clothes, my jeans and denim jacket, Max slips me the package, as per usual, and I stuff it in an inside pocket. It’s for Frankie Fischer mostly. And also some for Big Pete up in Archway.
On the way out I bump into Welsh Willy. They call him Welsh Willy because he’s Welsh. Not sure if his name is really Willy. At any rate, I don’t think that’s why they call him that.
“How’s things?” I say.
“All right,” he says. He’s not a great conversationalist.
Rumour has it he’s got a boyfriend who’s a pop star. I can’t remember who told me that. That’s what I heard, anyway. Can’t remember which pop stars it’s supposed to be though. No one I’ve ever heard of, I don’t think. Not that I keep up with who’s who in the charts these days.
“Seen Frankie lately?” I say.
“Don’t talk to me about that bastard!” he says.
Welsh Willy used to be one of Frankie Fischer’s boys, until recently. Not sure what the full story is. They fell out is what I heard. There is a rumour that Welsh Willy threatened to blackmail him. Not sure if that’s true, though. If it is, Welsh Willy’s even stupider than he looks - which, as a matter of fact, is pretty bloody stupid.
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