Mikey undoes his Goofy tie, sits on my settee, then stands again. I don’t sense that he’s in any trouble, that his haste is any cause for concern. In truth, Mikey seems excited, like a kid waiting for his turn on the bouncy castle. Maybe he’s been bumped up to Head of Music, but why that’d be of any interest to me is a mystery. Or perhaps Tori’s pregnant again.
‘Jimbo,’ Mikey says, taking a deep breath, a twinkle in his eyes behind his glasses. ‘You can go to Dubai.’
‘Oh? Can I?’ I say with a chirpy sarcasm.
‘You can thank me for it later.’
‘Again, can I?’
‘Do you not wanna know how?’
‘I can hardly wait.’
Mikey throws back his shoulders and splays his hands. For a moment, I think he might burst into some sort of Andrew Lloyd Webber song, but he simply says the name, ‘Leon.’
‘Right …’
‘Leon!’
‘Means nothing to me, mate.’
‘Wrong. It means everything to you, Jimbo.’
‘Y’what?’
‘Leon Taylor.’
‘Your old uni mate?’
‘Spot on.’
‘The fella you slagged off for the best part of an hour at the Pacific Arms the other night?’
‘Didn’t.’
‘Okay, lad. You didn’t.’
‘Leon’s sound,’ Mikey says, his voice ringing into all corners of my little flat.
‘Sure he is,’ I say, calming my mate down by gently pressing my hands onto his shoulders and edging him back into the settee. ‘For a fella who can’t header a ball and falls asleep at the table after four pints. According to you, that is.’
‘Well, he did used to fall asleep after four pints. Doesn’t mean he isn’t sound.’
‘Never said he wasn’t.’
Mikey grabs my arm and pulls me down to sit beside him. The heavy bustle from the flyover outside causes the windows of the flat to rattle, a noise I like to drown out with the velvet tones of vinyl. Mikey’s still holding onto me with a tight grip.
‘Jimbo. Leon knows Zara.’
‘You mentioned.’
‘He’s gonna set you up.’
‘Y’what?’
‘He said you can stay with him.’
‘Oh, can I?’
‘Yeah. He’s got a spare room. Says people stay all the time.’
‘I bet.’
‘He loves having people over, showing them around Dubai.’
‘Who wouldn’t?’
‘He was a bit like that at uni.’
‘I can see how Huddersfield and Dubai’d be similar. From a tourist’s point of view, like.’
‘You’re a massive twat, Jimbo.’
‘Oh, so you were coming over to insult me?’ I laugh, breaking my arm free.
I fall right back into my settee, fold my arms.
‘You heard me, Jim,’ Mikey says, pointing his finger at me as if I’m one of his unruly pupils. ‘Leon Taylor said you can stay at his place in Dubai. In fucking Dubai, mate. For free. I mean, buy him some duty-free ale or something to say thanks. You know the score.’ And Mikey cups his hand around his ear, sticking out his head. ‘I’m listening …’
‘Fuck’s sake, Jimbo. I’m not saying it again. Thank me another time. You piece of shit.’
Straightening his tie and his glasses, Mikey heads to the door and opens it, the Wongs’ antisocial kids peering from the stairs. I try to follow him but the kids block my way, eager to go inside and watch Netflix. I call out to Mikey just before he reaches the back entrance by Wong’s kitchen.
‘Mikey, don’t take the piss. You don’t seriously expect me to go, do you?’
But Mikey’s getting into his car.
‘What’s your excuse?’ he asks.
‘Y’what?’
Mikey slams his door and turns the key. The window slides down.
‘There’s always an excuse with you, Jimbo. What is it this time?’
This silences me. What does Mikey mean by that? There’s always an excuse?
‘We all have it hard, mate,’ Mikey says, revving. ‘But, when you want something, you go for it. Well, some of us do, anyway.’
The revs add to the deafening noise from the flyover. One of the Wongs’ antisocial kids darts past and dumps a load of potato skins into the wheelie bin, its stench filtering outwards. A few loose skins blow into the wind, dance around my trainers.
‘You honestly think I can just pack me bags and go to the other side of the world to stay with some fella I’ve never met?’ I yell. ‘Get set up with some girl I hardly know?’
Mikey revs harder. ‘Yeah.’
‘Do you realise how fucking crazy that sounds?’
‘No.’
‘Mikey, lad. I’ve got no money. None.’
‘We thought you might say that.’
‘Well, I haven’t!’
‘So sell something.’
The car window squeaks on its way upwards, Mikey’s face becoming a blur behind the rain-speckled glass. I run