because Jake looks like he wants to lay into someone and he might take it out on me. “So, if you wanted to see him—”
“I don’t,” he cuts me off. He paces over to the window and I watch in silence. His whole body is twitchy, I notice. He pushes a trembling hand through his hair, then turns to face me and just looks at me, and I know what he means. He means: “You know.”
“I saw Leila last night,” I say, to get it out in the open.
He nods briefly. “She told me.”
“Jake—”
“It’s all fucking bollocks. It’s all—” He breaks off, breathing hard. It makes me remember him kicking the can around the street when he was a teenager, railing at everything.
“Jake…” I close my eyes briefly, trying to marshal my thoughts and get rid of my remaining headache. “How much trouble are you in?”
For a while Jake doesn’t answer. He pours himself a glass of water and drains it, his head tilted back. I watch him, mesmerized by his Adam’s apple moving up and down, wondering what on earth he’s going to say next.
“You don’t need to know,” he says finally.
“Maybe I do! Jake, maybe this is the whole problem, that you’re not sharing this stuff!” My words tumble out in my eagerness to help. “We’re your family. We’re here for you. Whatever it takes, we’ll help you. Maybe go to see a debt expert, maybe get counseling—”
“I don’t need counseling,” he lashes back, and I bite my lip. “I need money.”
“You look knackered,” I say, with a wince. “You look like what you need most is sleep.”
“Sleep!” He gives a short angry laugh, and I see a vein throbbing at his temple again. Everything I say is making him cross, but I can’t stop.
“Why don’t you go and have a nap?” I venture. “And I’ll make some soup. And then we’ll sit down and make a plan.”
Just for a split second I think he might agree. There’s a flash of some deep-down emotion in his eyes and I feel as though I’ve got somewhere. But almost at once it’s gone. His guard is back up and he’s striding around the room again.
“I don’t need soup, or a plan, or any bullshit like that. I need cash.” He turns to me again, his face alive and urgent. “So here’s what you do. You go and see your rich boyfriend and you find me some money. Or a new business contact. Something.”
“What?” I’m so shocked, I actually laugh. “I can’t do that!”
“I need it.”
“Jake, I can’t.”
“I need it,” he repeats harshly. “If I can’t get some money soon, I’ll have to go to the guys who break your legs.”
I feel a stab of terror, and the ravens start to bat their wings as hard as they ever have, but I force myself not to cave in. Tough love. That’s what Seb advised. Block him out.
“There has to be another way.”
“I’ve tried every way!” he erupts. “You know what every businessperson needs, Fixie? A bit of luck. One little nugget of luck. Well, you’re going out with this guy Seb, and that’s my nugget of luck.”
“Seb and I had a row last night,” I contradict him. “I’m not even sure if we’re going out.”
“He owes you, though, doesn’t he?” Jake comes back instantly. “You saved his life or whatever? Leila told me the whole thing,” he adds, and I curse myself for blabbing about Seb last night, while Leila was finishing off my topcoat.
“He’s not rich,” I say. “He’s not. He manages money, that’s all. He’s not some flash guy; he’s not like all your millionaire friends.”
“He has access to money,” says Jake. “He knows people. And I’m desperate.” He comes over and brings his face close to mine. “Family first, Fixie. Do this for me. Or do you want to break up the family?”
“What do you mean, break up the family?” I say in horror.
“If you don’t do this for me, that’s it,” he says nastily. “The family’s broken. What, you’re going to watch your own brother sink? You think we can play happy family after that?”
He swings away and I breathe out, my head spinning, close to tears. I know what Seb said: tough love. But I’m not tough enough. I can’t block out Jake’s energy, his aggression.
I have a sudden memory of Mum’s voice: “Just don’t lose the shop, Fixie. Or let the family break up.” And I promised her. I pointed at the