and tired, face drawn. He nodded his recognition and stretched long legs out in front of him.
Paolo leaned on the bus shelter and folded his arms. “When did you get out?”
“Out?”
“Yeah. I know who you are.”
“That why you wouldn’t give me a job?”
“There is no job.”
“Why’s the sign still up then?”
“I forgot to take it down.”
Luis nodded again and went back to staring at the ground. Paolo straightened up and tried to make himself move. The one-in-a-million possibility that Luis wasn’t who he’d thought he was had been dispelled, and his reasons for sending him packing still stood, but something kept him anchored in place. A pull in his gut he couldn’t decipher. Luis Pope was nothing to him but a notorious name and a tired face. What did he care if he was washed up at a bus stop like he had nowhere to go?
I don’t care.
It was true. And yet he didn’t move. “Look,” Paolo said. “I kinda thought you were taking the piss earlier, but if you’re serious and you promise not to bring any of your gang bullshit to my door, maybe we can talk.”
Luis said nothing.
Paolo sighed and turned away.
“Wait.” Luis stood and ventured out of the bus shelter. “I’m not in a gang anymore. So if that’s why you blanked me, it’s not true.”
“I thought you had to die to get out of your gang?”
Luis snorted. “Then you watch too much TV. I’ve been away for six years, and I don’t talk to anyone from Moss Farm no more.”
“What about your brother?”
“What about him? You see him anywhere round here? I’m waiting for the bus, man, to take me back to my shitty bedsit on Crawley road that I ain’t got no Ps to pay for. Think about that before you judge me.”
He stepped around Paolo and strode away. Startled, Paolo called after him. “What about your bus?”
Luis didn’t answer.
Luis woke with a jump. For a moment, he lay still, legs tangled in second-hand sheets, and waited for the lights to come on. But nothing happened because he wasn’t in his cell anymore, and if he wanted the lights on, he had to get out of bed and flick the switch his damn self.
Or maybe not, since he’d forgotten to buy tokens for the electric metre. And it was cold in the bedsit, something he’d rarely felt crammed into the overcrowded prison. He’d rarely been alone, too, and had spent long days and nights craving solitude, but now he had it, the shine had worn off. Trying to fall asleep in utter silence had made his heart race, like it had in the job centre. He’d worked out for hours to take the edge off, but all he’d gained was sore muscles and a dizzy spell that had sent him to his knees, his empty stomach heaving, crying out for the meals he’d missed since the prison gates had opened for him. Toni’s tea had been magic: hot and sweet. Shame it had come at a price.
Shivering, he rolled over and wrapped the duvet the housing charity had provided tighter around himself. The mattress on the divan bed was lumpy and old, but a world away from the padded shelf he’d slept on in prison. You should be grateful. And he was. Didn’t make his current situation any easier to swallow, though. The charity had fronted him a month’s rent. After that, he was on his own, and if the kid from Toni’s reaction to him was anything to go by, getting a job in the neighbourhood was going to be tough.
And the dude fronting Toni’s was hardly a kid. Tall and lean, he was the kind of man Luis had spent his entire adult life fantasising about. Dark hair, dark eyes, and strong, capable hands. Luis had watched him work in the cafe, taking orders, cooking, and cleaning tables like a one-man machine, and it had lit something in him he hadn’t felt in a long time. Attraction. Desire. And crushing disappointment when recognition had dawned in the other man’s eyes and his derision had kicked Luis in the nuts.
Luis closed his eyes, hoping to ward off the reminder, but all he got for his trouble was a flashback of their second encounter at the bus stop, and it was too early—or late—for that shit.
He gave up on sleep and swung his legs out of bed. The carpet felt strange against his bare feet. He dug socks from his bag and took two