I stick to my guns. ‘That’s your call. Don’t do me any favours. This isn’t mate’s rates. We’re not mates. Like I said, I’ll pay you another hundred every week when I get work. And I’ve gotta get work.’
He hesitates, looking at me. I get the feeling he’s trying to suss me out, can’t quite place me in a category.
Then he holds out his hand. ‘Five now, then a hundred a week when you’re cashed up. Sounds all right.’
‘Cool.’ I shake his hand. We look at each other warily. I wonder if Amie’s influence had anything to do with Nick agreeing to the low price.
I take stock of my new purchase. The car is like a pitbull terrier: kind of ugly, but functional. I’ll do some investigating under the hood later. Right now I pass over the cash, try not to look pained when Nick takes the money out of my hand. Part of me wants to snatch it back.I could pay off some of the debt with that. I could get Dad off my back.I take a breath, control it.
‘Shit,’ Nick says, eyebrows lifting as he counts the notes. ‘I’ve finally sold the car. Bloody hell.’
‘At least Amie can stop ragging you about it now.’ I receive the keys, run my hand over the racing stripes on the bonnet. In spite of my angst, a happy little bubble forms inside me and floats up into my rib cage: I’ve got a car. I’m free. And I remember Amie’s message. ‘Oh, yeah – she asked me to say you should meet her at the pub after she finishes work.’
‘Uh, right. Thanks.’ There’s a pause. ‘You like her, huh?’
‘Yeah.’ I re-focus and realise what he’s just said, how I’ve just replied. ‘I mean, yeah. Amie’s good value.’ I wince. We’ve just bartered over a car, and this is not a car we’re talking about now. ‘I mean, she’s…she’s great.’
Once again my brain and my mouth aren’t working in unison. I know what I want to say but it seems too huge, too important to just throw around in casual conversation.
‘I was at the hospital the day you were discharged, remember?’ Nick’s voice is so dry it makes me look back. ‘You didn’t have to check her out so obviously, y’know.’
I shove a hand through my hair.Jesus. Am I like a bloody neon sign?
‘Amie’s a nice girl,’ Nick says. ‘She’s a nice person.’
‘Iknow,’ I say helplessly. I swallow, try again. ‘I know. She’s done a lot for me and I’m pretty bloody grateful.’
Nick holds my gaze. ‘You just keep on being grateful, okay?’
My eyebrows hike north. ‘You’re giving me the talk? Seriously?’
‘Look,’ he says, ‘I guess I can’t say anything you don’t already know. And Amie’s her own person, she can make her own choices. Just…don’t fuck up. She’s not like all the other chicks you’ve screwed. Have a little respect.’
My face gets hot. ‘I think there’s a lot of bullshit going around about “all the other chicks I’ve screwed” –’
‘I honestly don’t give a rat’s.’ Nick stands there, staring me down. ‘That’s your business. But Amie’s more than just my ex – she’s my friend. She’s had a crap run these past few years and I don’t want to see her get hurt.’
I rein back hard on my instinct to front this guy. For one, he’s taller, heavier, and in way better shape, and I’m stumbling around on crutches. And for two, he’s talking about Amie like he gives a shit. Like he actually cares about her. Anybody who cares about Amie enough to go in to bat for her with a guy like me is already one up in my estimation.
I put some thought into what to say next. ‘I’m not trying to screw Amie over, okay? Honestly, she’s way out of my league. I’m just grateful for what she’s done. I’m happy to be her friend. And I’m trying to keep it just friendly, whether you believe that or not.’
‘Huh,’ Nick says. He doesn’t look convinced.
‘Really.’ I look away. I don’t want to look at him when I say this next part. ‘I don’t think Amie needs the kind of shit I’ve got in my life right now. I wouldn’t put it on her. I appreciate her enough as a friend to know that much.’
I lean back on my crutches and let him see my face. Chances are he still thinks I’m feeding him a line of bullshit, but maybe he’ll realise I’m being sincere.
‘Right.’ Whatever Nick saw seems to have mollified him. He squints, folds the money I’ve given him into the back pocket of his jeans. ‘Well, I guess there’s nothing more to say.’
‘Give Amie my best when you see her at the pub,’ I say firmly.
He nods, almost formal. ‘Good luck with the car. And I hope you find work soon. For both our sakes.’
‘I will.’ I consider the coaster with the phone number, find it harder to push the thought away now. ‘I will.’
