Bridge of Doom Read Free

films. In contrast to Fazzo, his night out had been meticulously planned in advance. Three nights before he'd finally worked up the courage to ask a female friend from night school to accompany him to a Saturday night screening of 'Blue is the Warmest Colour, ' at the Glasgow Film Theatre. To his surprise and delight she had immediately agreed. Strictly speaking this couldn't be described as a date, since the pair were simply friends with a shared interest in computing, who often worked together on class projects for a computer science course at Glasgow Clyde College. So, definitely not a date … but still. 
    Jamie had bought the tickets for the French film online and then, continuing the Gallic theme, had booked a corner table for two at a good French restaurant close to the Film Theatre, for dinner before the film. Finally, he’d pre-booked a taxi for 11pm, in order to drop his companion off at her flat, before heading for his home on the South side, where he lived with his parents. 
    So, young Jamie Boyd, you've done all the right things and taken all sensible precautions. You showered, shaved, put on clean underwear, combed your hair and headed out hopefully into the night to have a good time. The odds say you should be alright. Except sometimes it doesn't work out like that. The truth is that bad shit sometimes just happens and there isn't a damn thing anyone can do to prevent it. And sometimes life seems so cruel, so perverse, you would almost believe God has a sick sense of humour and, weary of the boring activities of mankind, He decides to spice things up a little. 'Okay, there's not much happening tonight. Let's put Mr Goody Two Shoes and Mr Wasted Psycho on a collision course, shall we? Just to see what goes down.'
    Jamie was still smiling to himself as he asked the taxi driver to drop him off at the corner of his street, to save the driver the trouble of turning in the narrow cul-de-sac. The evening had really gone much better than he could have hoped. There had been no awkward silences between Jamie and his companion. They had both enjoyed the meal and she had even appeared to enjoy the French film. And as she exited the taxi, there was a warm smile of thanks and a fleeting kiss to his cheek. Life is pretty good, thought Jamie as he quickly sent a 'thanks for great evening' text message to his friend. 
    After handing over twenty-five pounds, to cover the fare and a generous tip, Jamie got out of the taxi, squeezed between two parked cars and turned round to wave goodbye to the driver. As he did so he tripped over the prostrate figure of Fazzo, who was lying flat on his back on the pavement, with arms spread wide and palms facing upwards, as if he'd been recently crucified. 
    Jamie looked around the street for assistance but, with the taxi gone, it was just the two of them alone on the otherwise deserted rain slicked street. He quickly checked the side of the young man’s neck and was relieved to find a strong pulse. Jamie didn't know why he was lying there on the pavement. He could have been taken ill, or even attacked, although there was no-one else in sight. Or, more likely, it was due to over-indulgence involving booze or drugs, suggested by an unpleasant odour of urine and stale alcohol. However, at this point the cause of the young man’s collapse was less important than what to do about it, until an ambulance could be summoned. 
    Jamie made sure the unconscious man's tongue wasn't obstructing his airway and then heaved the short, but surprisingly solid figure over onto one side, into the standard recovery position. He was on the point of dialling 999 when Fazzo stirred, moaned thickly and began rubbing his left side. ‘Hey you … ya bastard, that was fuckin’ sore.' 
    'What do you mean?' said Jamie, taken aback. 
    'You just kicked me in the fuckin' ribs, ya sneaky bastard, that's what ah mean.' 
    'Oh right, I'm sorry about that,' said Jamie, smiling as he held his hands up in apology. 'I