tell you to.”
“And if I don’t?”
Dante leered. “Then I’ll burn your world down, brother.”
15
Luis didn’t come back to work. Paolo closed up alone and left. Sometimes, on Luis’s rare days off, Paolo would find him in the shadows outside his building, clutching a bag of tricks to make them both dinner. But there was no one waiting for Paolo when he got home. Just an empty flat and a rumpled bed.
He kicked around for a while, tidying the things Luis usually did—the bed, the couch, the towels on the bathroom floor. But without Luis, the stillness of the quiet flat got under his skin. He caved and sent Luis a message.
Paolo: going to see Toni in a bit. want me to leave you a key?
Luis: can’t, got to do something
Paolo: k, want dinner later?
Luis didn’t reply, and he hated talking on the phone enough for Paolo to think twice about calling him. Idiot. Even if he doesn’t answer, at least he’ll know you called.
And then what? If Luis had gone to see Dante, the last thing he needed was Paolo blowing up his phone.
The daylight faded. It was dark by the time Paolo admitted defeat and left the flat alone, and the bus ride to see Toni wasn’t quite long enough to zone out from how much he missed Luis, despite the fact they’d been together a few hours ago.
He signed into the care home. Toni was in the rec room at the back, pretending to play solitaire so he didn’t have to talk to anyone, a strange concept for a man who had plenty to say.
Paolo nodded from the doorway. “You want me to come in, or you wanna take a walk?”
“Come here, boy. That programme about the island is on in a minute.”
“What island?”
“The one where the giant lizards live.”
Paolo threaded around the clusters of old folk sleeping, watching TV, or hosting visitors of their own, and joined Toni at his favourite armchair. He found a stool and sunk onto it. Long days were nothing new, but it was hard to believe he had an entire evening to get through before he could go to bed. He didn’t want to think about how he’d feel if Luis wasn’t there.
Why wouldn’t he be there? He’s always there.
Always. Yeah, right. How had a few weeks of companionship turned into a normal Paolo couldn’t give up?
“What’s the matter with you?” Toni grumbled. “And where’s Luis? He owes me a quid from yesterday’s game.”
“What game?”
“The Arsenal game.”
“You don’t follow Arsenal.”
“Luis said they’d win. I said they wouldn’t, so he owes me a quid.”
“He doesn’t even like football.”
“No, but his dad did.”
It bothered Paolo that Toni knew that and he didn’t. They’d had so many heavy conversations recently, the small stuff, like learning what the other liked, outside of epic blowjobs, had fallen by the wayside. “Fine. I’ll tell him when I see him.”
“When will that be?”
“Tomorrow. At work.”
“He’s not staying over?”
“No. He doesn’t do that every night.”
“Why not?”
“Why would he?”
Toni gave Paolo the kind of look that would’ve been better coming from Nonna. “I thought you two were courting?”
“What? When have I ever courted anyone? Have you regressed to your childhood?”
“I don’t know what else you would call it, boy. He didn’t talk about you like someone you’d meet on that sex app on your phone.”
“Grindr isn’t a sex app,” Paolo lied for the millionth time. “And I don’t have it on my phone anymore.”
“Because you’re courting Luis?”
“Because I don’t use it anymore.”
“Because you’re—”
“Stop saying that.” Paolo reached for a biscuit and pretended to shove it in Toni’s mouth to shut him up. “I don’t know if Luis is staying over tonight, okay? He left work early.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He might’ve gone to see his brother.”
Toni sobered. The playfulness in his old eyes dulled. “His brother? He told me he didn’t want anything to do with him.”
“I don’t think he does, but Dante came looking for him today.”
“Where?”
“At the cafe.”
“Oh.” Toni sat back in his chair. “That’s not good.”
Paolo sighed. “I was hoping you’d think it was nothing to worry about.”
“Of course it’s something to worry about. That brother is scum. We don’t want his kind in our place or around Luis.”
“We don’t get to pick his family for him.”
“But he should. He doesn’t want this, you know that. He just wants a quiet life.”
“He won’t get that with us.”
“You know what I mean. He’s not built for the life he’s led, no?”
Paolo couldn’t argue with that. Luis’s tale of what had