“So? I gave you the day off and you worked anyway. You’re a fucking loose cannon.”
Lenny shrugged. “Guess that means I’m working, then.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know, but I might as well. Got nothin’ else to do. Night, mate.”
Lenny stubbed the joint out and drifted away, leaving Nero to murmur his good night to a silhouette that seemed too ethereal to be real.
Nero pried the tongs from Lenny’s hand. “Seriously, take a night off.”
“I don’t want to.” Lenny jumped, swiping at the tongs Nero held high above his head. “I’m learning, aren’t I? I did all the grilling yesterday, and I didn’t hear anyone complaining.”
“That ain’t the point.” Though Lenny was right. He’d run the grill the previous day with the poise of a man who’d been doing it years, not weeks, and the only gripes had been Nero’s own as he’d spent the entire service dressing plates with the artistic flair Pippa’s guests had come to expect since Lenny’s arrival. “You’ve worked every service since . . . shit, I don’t know when.”
“So have you.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Yes, you have, ’cause when you’re not in here cooking, you’re doing shit for Cass.”
Another point to Lenny. Nero was so busy his brain hurt, but he liked it that way. Meant he fell into bed too exhausted to dream, and that was never a bad thing. Besides, he was used to it, more at home on the grill than in his own bed. But Lenny? He was tired. Even if he wouldn’t admit it.
So why won’t he stop? Nero stared into Lenny’s bloodshot eyes, and something clicked in his brain. Busy. Distraction. How many times had Lenny told him he had nothing better to do? He won’t stop because he can’t.
Nero relinquished the tongs. “Fill yer boots, mate.”
He strode away without another word and went straight to the office, thankful to find it empty. Cass’s mobile went to voice mail, so he called the big old house in Berkhamsted.
Tom answered. Nero sighed, irritated. “You never answer this phone.”
“Nice to hear from you too,” Tom said dryly. “Everything okay?”
“Yup. Cass there?”
“He’s asleep.”
“Asleep?” Nero checked the time. Half past six? Seriously? “What’s the matter with him?”
“Nothing, as far as I know. He nodded off earlier, so I left him to it. Is it important? I can wake him up if—”
“Nah, it’s fine.”
“Is this about Lenny?”
Nero paused. Cass hadn’t asked him to keep Lenny from Tom, but that didn’t mean much. He might’ve assumed Nero and Tom wouldn’t cross paths—
“Stop fretting, Nero. It’s fine. Jake and I know all about him. It was Jake’s idea to send him to you.”
“It was?”
“Yes. He seemed to think you’d be good for each other.”
Nero scowled. “In what way?”
“I have no idea, just like I have no idea why we’re having this conversation. Care to enlighten me?”
“I don’t know what to do with him.”
