“Stop calling me that.”
“Why? We’re blood, man.”
“That don’t mean shit,” Luis exploded. “If we’re blood, where the fuck have you been the last six years? And what the fuck have you ever done for me?”
Dante eyed Luis through a haze of smoke. “I done everything for you. Fed you, clothed you, gave you work on the road so you had your own Ps.”
Luis laughed. “You put me to work to line your own pocket. Don’t be telling it like you were doing me right.”
“And don’t you be getting emotional. We haven’t got time for that. We need to talk business.”
“We really don’t.”
Luis’s bedsit, and the last place on earth he wanted to be, came into view. He closed his hand around the door handle.
Dante reached over him and knocked it off. “We do. Unless you want me to keep coming around your workplace, trying to have this conversation again.”
Whether he knew it or not, he’d found Luis’s weak spot. “You don’t need to come to my work. You know where I live.”
“Bro, you don’t ever sleep in your own bed.”
“What do you care about that?”
“Nothing, if you come by the yard tonight and listen properly to what I’ve got to say. I need your help with something, and it could set you up good. Take you out of that dirt box, man, and into a nice place.”
“Oh yeah? And then what? Police knocking at my door? Dragging me back inside? Nah, fam. I’m okay.”
“Are you?” Dante leaned closer, and finally his gaze fell on the scar rising up from Luis’s skull. “Cos you look like a sad man, innit. And that makes me want to come see you every day, you know? To make sure my baby brother’s doing okay.”
Luis reclaimed the door handle, but even if he opened it and ran away without looking back, he was trapped. Dante wouldn’t give up until he had Luis exactly where he wanted him.
Perhaps he already did.
“What time?”
Dante’s lips turned up. “What time what?”
“What time do you want to see me tonight?”
“Any time after ten, bro. I’ll be there.”
Luis nodded, and right on time, the car eased to a stop by Luis’s front door. He got out and shut the door without looking back. The car pulled away and merged with the city traffic. Luis walked slowly towards his front door until he was sure Dante had gone, then spun on his heel and ran in the opposite direction.
He jumped on a bus and rode back to the high street. Paolo’s front door appeared in front of him five minutes later. He tapped a light rhythm with his fingertips, and it swung open on the latch.
Luis slipped into Paolo’s flat and shut the door behind him with a quiet click. The flat was dark and quiet. Too quiet. Luis toed his shoes off and padded into the living room. Paolo was asleep on the couch, crashed out on his stomach.
His arm was trailing over the side. Luis knelt beside him and took his hand. It was clammy and hot. He squeezed Paolo’s fingers, gently at first, then harder when Paolo didn’t respond. “Wake up, mate. I brought your money.”
Paolo stirred. He cracked his eyes open with a low groan. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Good job it is. You left your door open.”
“Yeah. For you.” Paolo pushed himself up. “Fucking hell. What time is it?”
“Seven.”
“What?”
