Redemption - Garrett Leigh Page 0,32
about you. You left without saying anything.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I had something I had to do.”
“Like seeing your brother?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Luis shrugged. “What do you care? I already told that prick Dante sent not to come up on me at work. It won’t happen again.”
Paolo blinked. It was like talking to someone else. Like talking to the Luis Pope he’d first imagined when he’d looked up to see him waiting at the counter. “That wasn’t what I was worried about, but whatever. There’s your money, bro. See you in the morning.”
He tossed Luis’s cash at his feet and walked away.
Silence followed him, then footsteps, fast and heavy. Rough hands grabbed him and spun him around. Expecting a mugger, Paolo hit out. Luis took the shove to his chest and held firm. “You fucking lunatic.”
The echo of his own thoughts brought Paolo back to reality. He stopped struggling. “You’re the one wrestling with me in the middle of the street.”
“Only because I don’t want you to leave like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like a crazy person who throws money at people.”
“It’s your money.”
“So? Give it to me, don’t throw it at me.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Everything annoys you.”
Paolo rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t make you less annoying.”
Luis cracked a fleeting smile. He loosened his grip on Paolo, then seemed to change his mind and held him tighter, frowning again. “I don’t want you to leave at all, but I don’t want to show you my shitty bedsit either.”
“Why? My flat’s shitty too.”
“Trust me, it’s not.”
“Who do you think I am? Like, really? Some arsehole who looks down his nose at people? Luis, mate. The reason I knew who you were is because we’re from the same place. Why would I judge you?”
Luis searched Paolo’s face, though for what, Paolo had no idea. He waited, perversely enjoying the roughness of Luis’s hold, until Luis seemed to find what he was looking for. “Come on, then.”
He let Paolo go and spun on his heel. Paolo followed him to a terraced house in the middle of the row and through a battered front door. Muffled music rattled the dingy hallway. Luis nodded to a door at the end. “I’m on the ground floor.”
“At the back or the front?”
“The back.”
There was an odd reassurance in knowing he could’ve stood on the street all night and still not caught a glimpse of Luis. That if Luis had been home, he’d never have known Paolo’s madness. But then, he was a perceptive motherfucker. Perhaps he’d have taken one look at Paolo the next day and figured it out.
Luis unlocked the door at the end of the hallway and waved Paolo into a tiny bedsit that was spotlessly clean.
And empty. Only a small divan bed took up the corner of the main room, neatly made with blue sheets. The bag Luis had carried when he’d first drifted into the cafe was in the corner, open with a small stack of clean clothes. There was nothing else, no TV, stereo, or furniture, just a storage heater that looked a hundred years old.
Through another door was a kitchen area with a single-ring hob, a fridge, and a toaster. Paolo frowned. “Where’s your washing machine?”
“In the bathroom.”
“What?”
“It’s in the bathroom,” Luis repeated. “Go look if you don’t believe me.”
Paolo looked, and when he saw the washing machine tucked in next to the shower, he laughed. “Wow. That’s as good a use of space if I’ve ever seen it. Does it work?”
“Yeah, it’s noisy as fuck, though. So I don’t use it at night.”
Paolo turned his back on the bizarre bathroom and re-joined Luis in his kitchen. There was a pot on the stove. “What’s in there?”
“Beans.”
“What kind of beans?”
“Kidney beans, with chilli sauce and bacon.”
“Show me?”
“Erm, okay.” Luis lifted the lid of the pot. Deep red beans were sitting in a fiery sauce of tomatoes, chilli flakes, and sautéed bacon. It was as good a dinner as Paolo had ever seen, and his empty belly rumbled.
Luis laughed. “Hungry?”
“Of course. I’m Italian and I haven’t eaten for more than an hour.”
Luis had bread and a tub of butter. He ladled his bean concoction into two mugs and passed Paolo a spoon. “Sorry, I only had one fork, and I broke it fixing the fuse box.”
“I’m filing that away for the next time something blows at the cafe.” Paolo followed Luis out of the kitchen and sat opposite him, cross legged, on the floor.
The beans were good . . . so good, Paolo finished his in ten seconds flat and