“I won’t.” I shove at the sofa, which shows no sign of shifting. It also gives Kev the time to land another verbal punch.
“Promise me, Vince.”
“Promise you what?”
“That you won’t work for free for another rich tosser.”
“Yeah, yeah, I promise.”
“You sure? Because being a soft touch is a weak spot, and what do we know about those?”
“That we don’t let anyone see them.” It’s a cast-iron rule where we come from. I give the sofa another shove. It doesn’t budge even though I’m packing plenty of muscle.
Kev’s had sixteen more years than me to practise never moving unless he wants to.
He isn’t shifting right now. He also isn’t done looking out for my best interests.
“And promise me you’ll keep your lip buttoned.”
“When?”
He rolls his eyes. “When do you fucking think? When you quote for your private job. If you spot anything worth real money, keep your gob shut. That way, you could claw back some of your losses.”
I almost wish I hadn’t let slip the bare bones of that drunk voice note. Kev’s been stewing on that news all day long. I know the signs. He used to brood like this when stand-in teachers who didn’t know me dished out detentions for my silence in their classrooms. He’d take me to work with him instead. Tell me I was useful and not to listen to any doom and gloom about my future. I’d always have a job with him.
He brings up that subject once we’re finished for the day and he parks near a Tube station entrance. “You thought about what I said about getting the van repainted?”
I know what he’s really asking—am I ready to let go of a different future that, like Flynn, turned out to be as substantial as smoke.
“Still thinking about it.” I get out of the van. Kev gets out too. I don’t need him to walk me to the station. No one’s about to mug someone my type of big and beefy. Regardless, Kevshoulders through commuters, carving a clear path for me, then he stops to prove how well he knows me.
“You’re not ready for me to paint over Mum’s name, are you?”
Stacey.
I shake my head, then nod.
He nods too, gruffer than ever. “This job you’re gonna quote for. Tell me what you’re gonna do.”
He’s going nowhere until I give him the right answer. Commuters have to part around us.
“Keep my eyes open for anything worth real cash.”
“For?”
“Me.”
He nods firmly. “And what are you gonna do if you do spot something?”
“Keep my lip buttoned.”
“Or check in with me.” Kev scrubs a hand over his stubbly buzz cut, then grasps the back of my head to knock our foreheads together so, so gently before issuing a final, gritty order. “Come home soon. Marilyn says you’re overdue a haircut.”
I am.
“And she’ll want to talk about you moving in with us.”
I guessed that offer was coming. It has semi-regularly since before Christmas when Flynn first fucked off. And before I knew he never meant to come back. That doesn’t mean Kev and his missus need a lodger. I make myself sound bright and breezy. “I’m fine where I am. The lease is paid up so it’s free, innit? We’ll talk when the lease runs out. I gotta go now. I’m running late.”
