is it?”
“Early. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet. But I’ve been thinking about that.”
“What? Your alarm?”
“No. About work. I think you should come with me and carry on like none of this ever happened, any of it, not just yesterday.”
“You mean the weeks and weeks of my fuck-ups, not just this one?”
“Don’t be a prick. I mean all of it, which includes my fuck-ups too, like pushing you out of your job in the first place.”
“That’s not what—”
Paolo clamped his hand over Luis’s mouth. “Whatever. We can argue about that later. At work, where you’ll have been all day after spending the night with me.”
“You’re not lying to the police for me.”
“That’s not what I’m suggesting. I just think it’ll look better if it’s business as usual. Our usual, not Dante’s.”
Paolo glared down at Luis before letting his hand slip away. Luis let his suggestion settle, turning it over in his mind. There was no way he was going to let Paolo tell the police he’d been with him all day yesterday or any other day he’d been elsewhere, but reclaiming his job at the cafe was more appealing than he could ever say. And Paolo’s theory made sense. It was a normal day, right? Whatever that meant. He nodded slowly. “Let’s go to work.”
They rose from their sex pit, showered, and dried off with the half of Luis’s towel they hadn’t cleaned up with the night before. Then they walked to work, side by side, hands brushing, and opened the cafe as if the last few weeks really hadn’t happened. Luis cooked while Paolo served and cleaned up. It felt so right, Luis didn’t know what to do with it, and if not for the two policemen who rocked up after lunch, he may well have believed it was nothing but a dream.
Paolo directed the coppers to the kitchen and took over the grill. “Be nice,” he muttered. “They seem friendly enough.”
“If you think that, then you don’t know coppers.” But Luis wiped his hands and plastered a friendly expression on his face all the same. If the night he’d spent with Paolo had taught him anything, it was that first times came when he least expected them.
He ducked into the kitchen. The policemen smiled in greeting. Case in point. “Afternoon, Mr Pope. Sorry to bother you at work, but I’m afraid we’ve got some not-so-pleasant news for you.”
“Okay . . . ” Luis frowned and leant against the counter. “Get it over with then.”
“It’s about your brother, Dante. He was injured by gunshot yesterday afternoon. Nothing life threatening, from what we understand, but he’s still in the hospital with severe injuries to his foot.”
“His foot?”
“Yes. It seems someone shot him there.”
“Wow.” Luis blew out a long breath. “Do you know what happened? I’m guessing it wasn’t a hunting accident.”
“Not quite. Do you have any idea where he was yesterday afternoon?”
“No. I make it my business not to know where he is.”
“When did you last see him?
“A few days ago? A week maybe? I went to his flat in Moss Farm to pick up some stuff he kept for me there when I went inside.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Clothes. Music.”
“Where did you take it?”
“Nowhere. He’d chucked it years ago.”
“That was nice of him.”
“He’s a nice person.”
A slight smirk graced the police officer’s face. “So I’ve heard. On that note, I should tell you he’s also under arrest for drug and firearm offences, for which he’ll be interviewed as soon as he’s fit to do so. When he’s out of hospital, you should expect him to go straight on remand. I can’t imagine a circumstance where he won’t be charged.”
“Give a shit.”
“You’re not close then?”
“Not since I did my bird and came out. I’m not about that road life anymore.”
“I’d heard that too.” The officer glanced around the kitchen. “Have you been working here long?”
“Since I got released.”
“How often do you work?”
“Every day,” Paolo said as he bustled in with a tray of dirty cups. “And he spends every night with me too, so tell that brother of his to do one.”
The officer laughed. “I’m not planning on talking to Dante Pope anytime soon, but I take your point. It’s nice for us to see an offender making a go of their life on the outside. That’s all I meant.”
Paolo scowled and left as abruptly as he’d arrived.
Luis shook his head. “Sorry. My boyfriend’s Italian. There’s no reasoning with him.”
“I get that. My wife is the same.” The officer closed his