Angelo said nothing; merely gestured for Theresa to continue while he fought to keep his own temper in check. How could she accuse him of talking for her when she’d been intent on saying nothing at all for solong?
“The house will be sold,” Theresa said. “And the business too. Our debts are vast, but there’ll be money leftover for me, for you, for yoursister?—?”
“Mum?—?”
Theresa held up her hand. “I know that you can’t accept it right now, Angelo. Despite what you think, Idolisten to you, but I want you to know that I will put your share aside until you are able to use it. Also, there is an investment fund that your father paid into for a while when you were younger. I think he had forgotten about it?—though I’m sure Gino knew it was there?—and I’d like you to haveit.”
“Haveit?”
“Yes, to live on while you recover and to pay you back for your workandthe money you’ve been sending to your father all these years. I had no idea about that until the advisor went through the accounts withme.”
Of course she hadn’t. Silvio Giordano had been much better at keeping secrets than he was at anything else. “Mum, that’s amazing of you to offer me money, but it’s the same as the leftover money from the house and business sales. I can’t accept it unless I use it to pay mycreditors.”
“I know, Angelo. And I’ve thought of that. I’ve set up a monthly payment into a cash account in my name. It has a debit card”?—Theresa slid a VISA debit card across the table?—“and a chequebook, and the monthly payments should be enough to feed and house you for a year if you want to stay in Romford when Imove.”
Angelo opened his mouth. Shut it again. Of everything Theresa had done for him in the last fortnight, this was the most unexpected. Damn, a month ago, she didn’t know how to put petrol in her own car. There were snags in her plan?—he’d have to pay his rent in cash and live somewhere where utilities and furnishings were included?—but it was still a lifeline, and the permanent knot of tension in his chest eased atouch.
“The phone is in my name,” Theresa said when Angelo failed to respond. “I got your sister one too so she calls home more than once ayear.”
“I don’t know what tosay.”
“Then perhaps we’ve done enough talking for one day.” Theresa stood and gathered her paperwork. “You are a stubborn boy, and for that I blame myself and your father both, but I also know that we failed you. I told that poor business advisor far more than she wanted to know, and she asked me only one thing. Do you know what thatwas?”
“Um,no?”
“She asked me why you were as ill and alone here as you had been on the other side of the world, and I was so ashamed of the answer that I left.” Theresa laid her hand briefly on Angelo’s shoulder. “Take the phone, Angelo, and the money. And perhaps we’ll all sleep a little bettertonight.”
Theresa swept out of the kitchen, leaving Angelo alone with a debit card and a brand new iPhone. He stared at both for a long moment, and then reached for the phone. Chewing on his lip, he inserted the new SIM card and powered up the phone. While it was booting, he retrieved Dylan’s number from his old phone, along with Harry’s contact details, and entered it all into the new phone. Then he dropped the battered handset in the bin, torn between the long-forgotten excitement of playing with a new gadget and the guilt of enjoying it while his creditors went without theirpayment.
Get a grip. It’s not like you owe a little old lady for her bread. Those insurance companies ripped you off in the first place. Thousands of dollars for a simple blood test?Angelo’s hands shook. Back then, he’d been so desperate to get better that he’d have paid a million dollars for whatever those quacks had suggested. Now? Fuck. Now he was happy to wake up with the ability to walk to thebathroom.
Stop fuckingwallowing.
He picked up the new iPhone and scrolled through the app store, installing Instagram and Facebook and logging into his long-dormant profiles. Facebook was as vacuous as ever, but he’d always enjoyed Instagram?—seeing people’s lives, however staged, through the tiny lens of a phone camera. Most of the profiles he followed were dancers and performers. He ignored them and clicked on the search icon, typing in Dylan’s name in various forms until he scored ahit.
Damn.Angelo scrolled through Dylan’s feed, taking in the black-and-white catalogue of what was clearly a colourful life. Parties, concerts, friends... and maybe lovers. Was that the Dylan that Angelo knew? As he took it all in, he wasn’t quitesure.
Dylan’s infamous BFF?—Sam?—was impossible to miss, though. Tall, dark, and handsome, he had the air of a brooding rock star, and even if he turned out to have the personality of a dead fish?—unlikely, but it made Angelo feel better?—it was easy to see why Dylan had fallen forhim.
Christ, I’d let him fuckme.
The thought warmed Angelo’s blood. He tapped out of staring at Sam and followed Dylan’s profile, hoping that Dylan would return the favour and take a much-needed glimpse at the life Angelo had left behind. Somehow, it seemed easier than explaining it a thousand timesover.
He didn’t have to wait long. His phone chimed with a flurry of notifications a few minutes later. Dylan had followed his profile and sent him a privatemessage.
D:Tell me it’s reallyyou
A:Who would pretend to beme???
D:Good point. But still. Caught me offguard
A:Sorry
D:Nah. It’s awesome. I’m drooling over how bendy youare
A:Was
D:Are
