Nero flushed. Lenny smirked, though it was tempered by a dose of nerves. The real world wasn’t half as scary as he’d imagined, but he’d be fucked if he let Nero out of his sight.
Thankfully, Nero seemed to concur. He held out his hands and yanked Lenny to his feet. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
They left the station and joined the crowds on the bustling pavements. Despite having pored over the plans most nights before he went to sleep, Lenny couldn’t picture the disused warehouse, and so he was surprised when Nero stopped again just a few minutes later.
“This is it.”
There was no mistaking the subtle pride in Nero as he pointed at a building that, to Lenny’s layman’s eyes, looked nothing like a warehouse at all. Lenny squeezed Nero’s hand, taking in the double set of ground-to-ceiling glass doors, albeit still in their protective casings, and the pile of reject timber that had been cut into firewood and shaped into an abstract sculpture, ready for use in the winter. The place, even half-finished, was incredible. “Fuck.”
“That a good fuck?”
“I’m always a good fuck, Nero, but . . . wow, yeah. It’s a good fuck. This is amazing. It’s not what I imagined.”
“Never is. I’m always knocked sideways by how these things end up. Not so much this time, though, ’cause I’ve watched most of it happen.”
Lenny nodded, still awed by the subtle slickness the Urban Soul designers had managed to weave into the rustically utilitarian building. “I love the windows. They didn’t look so big in the plans.”
“They weren’t. Some of the brickwork was rotten, so they knocked it out. It’s good to have more light, right?”
Lenny shrugged. Nero had likely forgotten more about restaurants than Lenny would ever know. “Can we go inside?”
Nero pointed to the side of the building. “Entrance is round the back for now. Come on.”
They ventured around the back of the building, where they found a hive of activity that had barely been detectable from the front.
“They usually try and hide the construction once they’ve got the new frontage on. Makes it intriguing, or some shit.”
It was a good theory, and it worked for Lenny. “Do they know what they’re going to call it yet?”
For the second time that day, heat crept into Nero’s cheeks, and he looked away. “They want me to name it.”
“You? Why?”
“Dunno. Weren’t really listening.”
Lenny didn’t believe that. Nero was a man who missed nothing. “Perhaps it’s because you’ve done all the work?”
“If you say so.”
Lenny rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You gonna give me the grand tour, or what?”
Nero took Lenny around the site, pointing out the newly installed kitchen—complete with the biggest ovens Lenny had ever seen—and the dining area that was in the middle of having a dark hardwood floor put down. With its super-high ceilings and huge windows, the restaurant itself was a work of art, but Lenny found himself drawn back to the kitchen, half of which would be the artisan bakery. “I thought it would feel disjointed in here.”
“Disjointed?”
“Yeah.” Lenny spun in a slow circle. “I guess I figured there’d be some kind of divide between the pizza kitchen and the bakery.”
“Why? It’s all cooking.”
“Yeah, but you’re going to run one side and that lady—what’s her name . . . Efe—will run the other. I couldn’t see how it would fit together.”
“But you can now?” Nero looked amused, though it was often hard to tell for sure.
Lenny considered his question. “I think so. It’ll make sense when it’s up and running.”
It suddenly struck Lenny that life would be very different once the Vauxhall project was complete. Nero hadn’t outright said he’d taken the job there, but him moving on to run the pizzeria would effectively put an end to a summer that had so far been spent in each other’s pockets. Perhaps he’ll be glad of the space—who the hell knew? But for Lenny, the idea of seeing Nero for no more than a cuppa in the morning, and a quick beer at night, was so depressing the sticky cake in his belly turned to ash. And that’s if Pippa’s still wants you without Nero around to carry your arse.
What was left of Lenny’s good mood evaporated. He’d never imagined he’d enjoy slogging his days away in a windowless kitchen, but he’d grown to quite like his job at Pippa’s, even if much of his contentment stemmed from Nero’s gruff company. He didn’t want to leave, damn it.
