Or Rosetta’s.
I don’t hate her.
“Okay,” Benito said. “I need to go to the bank. How much time do we have?”
“Until five o’clock. The housing man said we need to call him before then and make a payment over the phone.”
“I can’t do that, G. Anything I get is going to be cash.”
“Maybe he’ll come and get it then.”
Benito doubted it. He’d never met any fat cat from the social who’d go out of their way like that. “Do you have his number? Mum tore up the letter.”
“I have his card.”
Gianna flitted from the room, leaving Benito alone with his thoughts. His brain thundered, emotions clattering into him from every angle. Rage. Fear. Sadness. Embarrassment that he was going to have to call this prick and beg for more time. He pulled his phone from his pocket and swiped the screen.
Nothing. “Dammit.”
“What’s wrong?” Gianna returned, clutching a crumpled business card.
Benito shook his head. “Phone’s flat.”
“Use your other one.”
“I can’t. It’s for work.”
“So? Why—”
“G.I can charge this one in the car while I get the cash. Can you call this dude and ask him to come over? He might say yes to you.”
Gianna flattened the business card, already tapping the number into her phone. “He’d come if you asked him too. He’s nice, I swear.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Benito made tracks to the front door. “I don’t care if he’s nice. Just that he shows up and takes this money from us without fucking us over for the rest of it.”
“He won’t fuck us over. He already told Mum he doesn’t want us to leave.”
“Good for him. Don’t swear.”
Benito backed up and kissed the top of Gianna’s head, then he dashed from the flat and down to his car. Behind the wheel, he plugged his phone into the charger. It flashed to life as he started the engine, and he tapped into his banking app.
The online personal loan application took four minutes. The response came back in twenty-nine seconds.
Your credit application has been refused.
Fuck.A heavy weight settled in Benito’s chest. He put the car in gear and gunned the engine.
He had a hole to dig, and somehow it felt symbolic.
Literal.
As if the only direction he’d ever go was down to the fucking bottom.