Chapter Nineteen Si
Si was about to point out where there was a table available so they could make themselves comfortable, but Adam strode off to the far wall of the pub. They ended up standing by a pillar with a ledge to rest their drinks on. Si took a hefty gulp of his pint. He reckoned he’d need it.
“What was all that about?” Adam demanded, getting in Sasha’s face.
“What was what about?” She narrowed her eyes.
Adam backed off, but his chin was still up. “You. Buying that bastard a drink.”
Si wasn’t having that. “Oi. Zig’s my mate, so no calling him names, all right? And Sasha can buy drinks for anyone she wants to.”
Corin darted glances between them, like he was worried it was about to start kicking off.
Sasha heaved a high-pitched sigh. “Si, I know that. Adam? We’re on the same side here, so calm your fucking tits.”
Si frowned. “And what side’s that?”
“Yours,” she said, and gave him a twisted smile. “You know, I can see why you like him.”
“You—” Adam’s voice cut off abruptly, like maybe someone’s elbow had made a short, sharp visit to his ribs.
Si sent Corin a suspicious glance, then mentally shook himself and turned back to Sasha. “You can?”
“Well, yeah. All that cheeky London charm. And the looks don’t hurt.”
Warmth spread through Si’s chest, then cooled as she raised a hand.
“But that doesn’t mean I trust him. Not with anything important. Which, in case you ain’t realised, you are.”
The warmth was back, bringing with it a prickling in Si’s eyes. “Sash . . .” he said, and didn’t know how to finish.
“As I understand it,” Corin broke in, “none of you has seen him since you were all teenagers, is that right? And, well, no offence, Scratch, but teenage romances don’t often last. So why is everyone so down on him for a break-up—even a bad break-up—that happened all that time ago?
If Scratch is happy to have him here, why can’t we all be happy too? Or at least, you know, be friendly?”
Adam got a constipated expression on his face.
Si folded his arms and waited to see if Adam was going to call Zig a thief in front of his face.
“It’s . . . complicated,” Adam said at last. “It wasn’t just a bad break-up, okay?”
“What was it, then?” Corin asked, bless his oblivious little heart.
Si took pity on both of them. “He hung around with a bad crowd, back in the day.”
“Yeah, and some of ’em might have ripped off my dad,” Adam said.
Si shot him a grateful smile for his restraint.
“Oh.” Corin brightened. “But people do change, and if he’s moved away from all that . . .”
“We don’t know he has, though, do we?” Sasha murmured. “And I can’t be the only one wondering why he’s turned up here after all this time.”
Corin frowned. “But . . . what could he hope to get out of Scratch? No offence,” he added quickly.
Seemed like him and Adam both were falling over backwards to give Si no offence, but they were making a right pig’s ear out of it. “Maybe he simply needs a place to stay for a while, that’s all. For whatever reason,” Si said as Adam opened his mouth. “And I’m not gonna turn him away. End of.”
Adam still had that expression on his face like someone had shoved a bung up his arse. “Just . . . don’t get involved, all right? Promise me that. Whatever shit he’s in this time, however much you like him—and I know you still like him—don’t get involved. Please?”
Sasha nodded. “What he said. Looks and charm aren’t gonna make up for him being a shit to you.”
Si’s chest was tight. “I’m not gonna, all right? I ain’t daft. Not that daft, anyhow. I know me and him, it’s not . . . But I ain’t gonna turn him away. Not if he needs me.”
Adam and Sasha shared a glance. It wasn’t a happy one.
Sasha put a hand on Si’s arm, sending him a wistful smile. “You wouldn’t be you if you did, would you? But remember we’re here for you.”
For when it all goes tits up, she didn’t say.
Si did his best not to think about that.
The others left after last orders, but Si was determined to wait for Zig to finish work.
It took a while—Si had never realised how much clearing up there was to do—and he dithered over whether he should offer to help.
Deciding he’d only be in the way and would be breaking the terms of their insurance anyhow, he’d found himself a chair.
He was nodding off in it by the time Zig swept over to him.
“You waited? You shouldn’t have. I know me way home.”
Home. He’d called it home. Treacherous warmth spread through Si at the thought. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you walk home alone?”
Zig raised an eyebrow. “Gentleman, eh? Haven’t met one of them in a long while. Should I dye my hair blond?”
“Nah, the blue suits you. Brings out your eyes. Well, one of ’em.”
“Like that’s a recommendation.” It came out like it was second nature for Zig to do himself down, and Si hated that.
He put a hand on Zig’s arm. “You know I like your eyes. I told you, didn’t I?”
Zig looked away. “Yeah, well, takes all sorts. We oughtta be getting home, yeah? You had an early start this morning.”
Si heaved himself to his feet, and they set off, Zig calling out a farewell to Ange as they went.
The air outside was chill after the warmth of the pub. Si wished he’d brought a warmer jacket. He sent a sidelong glance at Zig, who was shivering in a Prince of Wales polo shirt with a black button-up shirt on top. “Ain’t you got a coat?”
“It’s fine. It ain’t that far.”
“You daft bastard. You’ll catch your death.” Si slipped off his leather jacket and went to sling it around Zig’s shoulders.
Zig dodged. “Oi, no way. You put that back on.”
“Got me beard to keep me warm. And there’s nothing of you.” Si lunged again.
Zig danced away. “A bloke could get a complex. Just cos I ain’t got muscles growing out of me muscles.”
“Put the bastard jacket on. You think I’m going to nurse you through double pneumonia?”
Zig grinned as he finally let Si drape the jacket over his shoulders. “I bet you’ve got a great bedside manner.” He slipped his arms into the sleeves, and somehow Si wasn’t cold anymore neither.
“Don’t you believe it. You catch some lurgy, you’ll get nothing but tough love from me.”
“Yeah?” Zig’s grin widened. “Long as it’s some kind of love, I don’t give a monkey’s.”
Si had to take a deep breath. “Stop arsing about and let’s get home, all right?”