Nine months later
The water in the lake was the lowest Benito had ever seen it. The long, hot summer had dried it out, and the shallower end had been exposed as rough concrete banks.
“Man-made lakes are weird.”
Benito tore his gaze from the shimmering water. Mickey was, as ever, three strides ahead of him, leading him around the lake for their early evening run. Somewhere behind them, Gianna was sulking over a can of Rubicon, pissed off at being dragged away from her iPad screen. “You don’t have them up north?”
“Maybe. Just never sought them out.”
“Well, you don’t like mud either, bro, so if you want a paved running track, it’s here or the sports centre.”
“I never said I didn’t like it,bro, just that it was weird. I like you, don’t I?”
Mickey didn’t wait for an answer. He took off faster, leaving Benito behind, and that was how it usually went. Mickey was quicker over the ground, light on his feet, elegant and smooth despite his irrepressible energy. Benito was the patient one, happy to plug away until he got where he wanted to be—which, these days, was wherever Mickey was, as it had been since they’d met.
The loop around the lake was three miles. They ran it twice before Mickey got bored and whisked Gianna into the pub for the milkshake he’d promised her if she came out with them.
Benito watched them go, heart straining with an emotion too complex to be only love. Mickey and Gianna had a friendship that didn’t include him, and he knew why: because Mickey had been there for her in moments Benito hadn’t. He’d kept a roof over her head, coaxed her mother out of an agoraphobic black hole, and scooped her brother off the bathroom floor.
“You did those things too. You’re the best brother she could ever have, and she loves you more than anything in the fucking world.”But it didn’t seem to matter how many times Mickey said shit like that, Benito still had trouble believing it. He’d never been the best at anything, and he had the scar to prove it. A scar that still buzzed and throbbed when his thoughts got away from him.
So don’t let them. You’re stronger than that.
His phone rang as the voice in his head said its piece, an unknown number, but he was less scared of them than he used to be.
He answered with actual words instead of a grunt. “Hello?”
“Martell? That you?”
Benito’s heart froze. He shot to his feet, searching rapidly for Gianna and Mickey.
He found them still waiting in line at the bar, but the panic in his chest remained. “Who wants to know?”
“Easy, mate. It’s Luis.”
“Pope?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
“How did you get this number?”
“Asa. I asked him for it a few days ago.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to tell you something.”
“If it’s business related, don’t bother. I don’t give a fuck.”
Luis laughed. “You think I do? Remember who you’re talking to.”
Benito relaxed a little, but it was fractional. He’d gone to Luis for help all those months ago out of sheer desperation, not because they’d ever been anything remotely close to being friends. “I remember. What do you need to tell me?”
“It’s about my brother. He’s getting out. I don’t know when, but it could be as soon as a couple of months.”
“What? But he’s got years left on his sentence.”
“Yeah, well, time flies, doesn’t it? And he’s coming up to halfway through. Either that, or he’s conned a governor into doing him a solid. You know how he be.”