“Do what?”
“Let my shit get to you. I ain’t worth it.”
“Thanks for the warning, but I haven’t got many choices left, so I’m going to hold on to that one if it’s all the same to you.” Lenny’s gaze remained serious for a long moment, then the mischievous gleam returned to his eyes and he poked his tongue out, pushing Nero’s thumb away.
The childish gesture broke through the heavy air. Nero reclaimed his hand and scrubbed his face, wondering if he’d woken to a different world, even with the disquiet of some seriously disturbed sleep lingering in his chest. “What time is it?”
“Early. It’s still dark.”
“Yeah? Why are you up, then?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Lenny bounced on the edge of the bed. “Too much sugar.”
Nero knew a white lie when he heard one, but let it slide. Lenny’s demons were his own. “What are you doing today?”
“Working?”
“No chance.” Nero picked up his phone. “You’re banned from the kitchen for twenty-four hours.”
“But I want to work.”
“I know, but I can’t let you. It’s not safe, especially if you’ve been up all night.” Nero’s phone lit up with a reminder that he was due in Vauxhall that morning, and his heart sank. Really? Today? “I’m not working downstairs either. I’ve got shit to do south of the river. You could come with me, if you want?”
Stupid question. Nero didn’t want to leave Lenny, but Lenny’s expression told him there was zero chance of him leaving the perceived safety of Pippa’s. “Will you be okay by yourself?”
Lenny yawned. “Haven’t got much choice if you won’t let me go downstairs.”
“I’m not saying you can’t go downstairs. You can go anywhere you want.”
“But not to work?”
“Not in the kitchen, no.”
“No point me going downstairs, then, is there?”
Nero sighed. He couldn’t think of a sensible reason for Lenny to hang around Pippa’s kitchen, but the thought of him pacing the flat all day, climbing the walls while his mind got the better of him . . . nah, that wasn’t right either. “How about you do something for me?”
“For you?” Lenny’s glum expression brightened. “What do you need?”
“Well, it’s not me really, it’s the business. Tom asked me if you might be interested in helping them design the Vauxhall project.”
“The bakery?”
“And the restaurant. He wants it kinda urban, like Misfits?”
Lenny nodded sagely, like people spouted that crap at him all the time. “They won’t want it totally like Misfits, though, will they? You guys never open the same restaurant twice. How about a cross between the hipster-concept thing and a proper old-school pizzeria?”
“Er . . . yeah?”
Lenny laughed just as the first strains of sunlight filtered through the curtains. “What does Tom want me to do?”
“No idea. He did mention that mural you sprayed all over Misfits, though.”
“Oh.” Lenny winced. “Was he hacked off?”
“Not that I could tell.” Nero looked around the room for the jeans he’d discarded the night before. “I’m going down Vauxhall this morning. I can take some photos?”
Lenny hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, that would be good. Even if I sketch something that Tom hates, it’ll give me something to do.”
