Luis fought another eye-roll. He used to miss the Dante who didn’t talk like he’d eaten the script from a bad TV show, but those days had passed long before Luis had swallowed a six-year stretch. “Whatever. Is there a point to this scenic route home?”
“Does there need to be? You got plans, brother?”
“Nah. I’ve just got no plans to be here with you.”
“Burn.”
Luis said nothing. Just breathed in weed smoke and focussed on the roll of notes digging into his ankle. The money Luis was late delivering.
Dante sighed. “You don’t make nothing easy.”
“I don’t have to make anything hard if you’ll leave me the fuck alone.”
“Can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Cos I need you, my brother.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Why? We’re blood, man.”
“That don’t mean shit,” Luis exploded. “If we’re blood, where the fuck have you been the last six years? And what the fuck have you ever done for me?”
Dante eyed Luis through a haze of smoke. “I done everything for you. Fed you, clothed you, gave you work on the road so you had your own Ps.”
Luis laughed. “You put me to work to line your own pocket. Don’t be telling it like you were doing me right.”
“And don’t you be getting emotional. We haven’t got time for that. We need to talk business.”
“We really don’t.”
Luis’s bedsit, and the last place on earth he wanted to be, came into view. He closed his hand around the door handle.
Dante reached over him and knocked it off. “We do. Unless you want me to keep coming around your workplace, trying to have this conversation again.”
Whether he knew it or not, he’d found Luis’s weak spot. “You don’t need to come to my work. You know where I live.”
“Bro, you don’t ever sleep in your own bed.”
“What do you care about that?”
“Nothing, if you come by the yard tonight and listen properly to what I’ve got to say. I need your help with something, and it could set you up good. Take you out of that dirt box, man, and into a nice place.”
“Oh yeah? And then what? Police knocking at my door? Dragging me back inside? Nah, fam. I’m okay.”
“Are you?” Dante leaned closer, and finally his gaze fell on the scar rising up from Luis’s skull. “Cos you look like a sad man, innit. And that makes me want to come see you every day, you know? To make sure my baby brother’s doing okay.”
Luis reclaimed the door handle, but even if he opened it and ran away without looking back, he was trapped. Dante wouldn’t give up until he had Luis exactly where he wanted him.
Perhaps he already did.
“What time?”
Dante’s lips turned up. “What time what?”
“What time do you want to see me tonight?”
“Any time after ten, bro. I’ll be there.”
Luis nodded, and right on time, the car eased to a stop by Luis’s front door. He got out and shut the door without looking back. The car pulled away and merged with the city traffic. Luis walked slowly towards his front door until he was sure Dante had gone, then spun on his heel and ran in the opposite direction.
He jumped on a bus and rode back to the high street. Paolo’s front door appeared in front of him five minutes later. He tapped a light rhythm with his fingertips, and it swung open on the latch.
Luis slipped into Paolo’s flat and shut the door behind him with a quiet click. The flat was dark and quiet. Too quiet. Luis toed his shoes off and padded into the living room. Paolo was asleep on the couch, crashed out on his stomach.
His arm was trailing over the side. Luis knelt beside him and took his hand. It was clammy and hot. He squeezed Paolo’s fingers, gently at first, then harder when Paolo didn’t respond. “Wake up, mate. I brought your money.”
Paolo stirred. He cracked his eyes open with a low groan. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Good job it is. You left your door open.”
“Yeah. For you.” Paolo pushed himself up. “Fucking hell. What time is it?”
“Seven.”
“What?”
“Seven,” Luis repeated. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up.”
Usually, Paolo missed nothing. Every ounce of bullshit flashed in his dark eyes, even if he didn’t say anything. But there was no spark in his gaze now. Just a tired acceptance of Luis’s vague half-truth.
He didn’t ask for the money.
Luis pulled it from his sock anyway and laid it on the coffee table. Paolo glanced at it but blanched before he could speak and bolted up from the couch.
He left the room and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Luis moved to the kitchen to give him some privacy and filled a glass with water. His hands shook, though he couldn’t say why. He gazed out of the small window at the city lights twinkling in the darkness. From a tower block, the neighbourhood had always seemed far enough away for him to pretend it was a magical place. From Paolo’s window, Luis saw it for what it was—run-down, dangerous, and all he’d ever known. Maybe I could leave. Get a job in a different place and be skint and happy there.
But leaving the city meant leaving Paolo, and—
“You’re really here. I was worried I’d hallucinated you.”
Luis spun around as Paolo stumbled into the kitchen. “That bad?”
Paolo stepped into Luis’s open arms and muttered something into his chest. The words didn’t matter. Luis got the sentiment. He hugged Paolo tight and rubbed his back. “You’re still burning up. Did you puke before I got here too?”
“A few times. Think I’m over it now, though. I feel better.”
“You look like you’ve died.”
“Fucking charmer. Maybe I’ll just stay here then and you can move my dead body.”
Luis didn’t mind. He’d have stood there all night if he thought it would help, but common sense told him Paolo was better off in bed. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Paolo raised his head. His cheeks were flushed, and yet somehow, his olive skin was deathly pale. “Hmm? What?”
“You’re going to bed,” Luis said. “Come on.”
He looped his arm around Paolo’s waist and steered him out of the kitchen. The bedroom was exactly as they’d left it that morning, the side Luis had slept on half made, Paolo’s side a riot of rumpled sheets and displaced pillows. Luis’s side was furthest away, but putting Paolo in an unmade bed fucked with Luis’s head.
Freak. Still. He did it anyway and tried not to ogle as Paolo took his clothes off and flopped back on the bed. Luis knew he should go home, leave Paolo in peace, and deal with his own shit, but even thinking about it hurt his chest.
He leaned over the bed and stroked Paolo’s face.
Paolo blinked up at him. “Where you going?”
“Nowhere.” Luis toed his shoes off, stripped his T-shirt, and slid under the covers. He held his arm up for Paolo to duck under and rest his head on Luis’s chest. “I’m right here.”
Paolo knocked out like he’d been drugged. His fever raged on, but in the early hours of the morning, his shallow breaths evened out, and his skin cooled.