“Good friend,” he says slowly. “A rich friend.” His eyes drift over the room, and he looks towards the bedroom. I flush when I see him taking in the mess of tangled sheets and the bottle of lube lying in clear view on the floor. His eyes are full of suspicion when he turns back to me. “Wes?”
“What the fuck have you been doing?” I burst out. “Ben told me you were sacked.”
“Bloody Ben and his loose mouth. I asked him to keep it quiet.”
“Was that before or after you pinched his life savings?”
Shame washes over his face, but only a half second later his mouth sets and his eyes narrow. Stubborn as ever. “It’ll be fine. I’ll make it up to him. It’ll all be okay when…”
“When what?” I say wearily. “When you win big again?”
“Oh, don’t fucking sneer.”
“Why not?” I snap.
I thought I’d be sympathetic if I saw him again. And there were times during the last few days, when I was terrified that I’d never see him again.
Now he’s standing here looking like shit, obviously judgingmychoices, and, as usual, in denial about fucking up and fucking over his friends and family. My relief at seeing him is flooded by a hot surge of anger.
“What thefuckis the matter with you, Tyler? Ben is your best friend. You took his house money and didn’t even stick around to say sorry. What about our family?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Don’t nag.”
“Don’tnag?” My voice is getting higher. “Oh, I’m so sorry that you spaffed our house away, and my voice offends your ears.”
“Myhouse.”
My head feels like it might explode. “Whatdid you just say to me?” He winces. “You’re the one who assured me again and again that Mum meant the house to be both of ours.”
He shakes his head, an apology on his face but also a trace of impatience. As if he’s irritated by me pointing out what he knows is the truth. I should have remembered this about my brother. When he’s cornered, he never admits liability.
“I’ll get it back.” He waves an expansive hand. “I’ll get something better.”
“When? After you’ve stolen from someone else? What’s next, Tyler? Maybe you should mug an old lady. Really put the seal on this shit show.”
“Don’t be so fucking ridiculous. I—” He inhales deeply through his nose. “This isn’t productive.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say sweetly. “You said it was sorted.”
“Yes, but?—”
“Reader, Wes was to learn that it wasnotin fact sorted.”
“Pardon?”
I scrub my hands down my face, feeling weariness tug at my bones. “Nothing. It’s just a literary device. I was trying to be funny and?—”
“Shut up for a minute.”
I start to sputter my outrage, but he takes a swift step towards me, an urgent expression on his face. “Listen, I came here to warn you.”
A chill shivers down my back. “About what?”
“John at the pub says you’ve been asking around for me.”
“So? I wanted to know if you were okay. Is that a crime?”
He scrubs his hand through his hair. “Wes, you need to leave things alone. Word is you paid Ben back.”
