“Yeah, yeah.” Dylan unzipped his beloved Judas Priest hoodie and held it out. “Borrow this. It’s clean, Ipromise.”
After a fleeting standoff, Angelo took the hoodie, and the faded gunmetal grey was awesome against his light olive skin, and warm too, if his contented sigh was anything to go by. “Thanks. I’ve only got the clothes I came in with and some random shit my mum found in theloft.”
“Yourmum?”
“Yeah. She’s retraining as a parent but forgot that I’m not sixteenanymore.”
Angelo said it with humour, but Dylan sensed the tale simmering beneath his wry grin. “What’s been going on with your family? The deli’s been closed for a weeknow.”
“Damn. Is it that long?” Angelo pulled his hood up and propped his head on his folded arms. “The bailiffs turning up feels likeyesterday.”
Bailiffs.That made sense. Dylan had been waiting on a hammer blow to hit the Giordano family business from the start. He poured Angelo more water and gestured for him tocontinue.
“There’s not much to it, really,” Angelo said. “One of our suppliers took us to the small claims whatsit and sent high court bailiffs to collect what they were owed. Add in costs and the fact that all our stuff was so ancient that it wasn’t worth squat, and they pretty much cleaned usout.”
“What happenednext?”
Angelo’s expression darkened. “I was on my own when they came?—obviously?—so I locked up and went home. My mum and my uncle’s family were there talking bullshit about how I hadn’t tried hard enough to make the businesswork.”
“That’s?—?”
“I know, I know.” Angelo found Dylan’s hand. “And for once I didn’t let it go. I threw the keys at my mum and got lairy with my uncle. It kicked off and we had a bit of a punch-up.”
Dylan whistled. “Awkward. How bad did itget?”
“I broke his nose, and he fucked my ribs up.” Angelo pulled Dylan’s hoodie and his T-shirt up to reveal ugly bruising on his torso. “But it was a good thing, I suppose. My mum finally figured out that Gino was manipulating her and sacked himoff.”
“That’s good.” Dylan couldn’t tear his eyes from the bruises. He reached out and tugged Angelo’s clothes back down. “So you’re getting on better with yourmum?”
“It’s hard to tell. I haven’t spoken to her much, but she did peel me off the kitchen floor and bring me here, so I can’t complain toomuch.”
“The kitchenfloor?”
“Yeah. I don’t really remember, but apparently the oxygen in my blood was really low and I passedout.”
Dylan shook his head slightly to disperse the images of Angelo unconscious and helpless on the floor. “Sounds like you’re lucky she wasthere.”
“I am, and she’s visited every day since. Oh, and she’s put the house on the market too. She’s downsizing to a retirement flat inPeterborough.”
“Peterborough? Why on earth would she want to gothere?”
“Because it’s dirt cheap compared to round here and full of Britalian’s like her. Either way, it’s what she needed to do all along; she’s just a week toolate.”
“Wow.” Dylan let out a whoosh of air. “Sounds like your whole world is upside down. What are you going todo?”
“I don’t know. Nothing’s going to happen fast, so I guess I’ll stay put until she moves then see where I’m at. She said she’ll give me some money to help me find a place around here if I want, but I’m not relying onthat.”
“You can’t take money from her,” Dylan said. “Not if you want your DRO to stand. You’d have to pay your creditors in full before you have anything foryourself.”
“I know. I’m still fucked, aren’t I? I haven’t even got ajob.”
Dylan’s mind went into overdrive, scouring his brain for the cases he’d worked on where debt relief orders had been revoked. “That might work in your favour. If we can get your GP and your physio to write letters confirming your condition, the receiver might let the orderstand.”
“We?”
Dylan flushed. “I?—er?—took your case back from Romford. It’s my boss’s name on it, but we’re working on it together. Your order came through a couple of daysago.”
Something akin to relief coloured Angelo’s tired face. “Thank fuck for that. Romford areclowns.”
