“You don’t need to promise. I know you’d get me one if you could.”
“And I will. I just need some time.”
“I could ask my dad—”
“No. You don’t ask that wanker for anything except to light himself on fire and die.”
Gianna bit her lip, laughter warring with the graveness no twelve-year-old should have. “All right. Keep your hair on. I don’t think his number works anymore anyway. I haven’t tried it since last Christmas.”
You weren’t here.She didn’t say it, but she didn’t have to. Benito hadn’t been home for Christmas since he was sixteen. But he was here now, and he’d drive every night until the end of time if it kept Gianna away from her arsehole father.
He gave her a hug, burying his face briefly in the soft, dark curls that were so like his own when he let his hair grow out. “I’ll sort it. Just give me some time, okay? Don’t ask that bastard for anything.”
“I won’t. It was just a thought.”
“Well, stop thinking it.I’mhere, G. For whatever you need.”
A hollow promise, but he meant it. Gianna deserved the world, and he’d happily die trying to give it to her.
“It’s getting late,” she said. “I should go inside. Are you coming up? Just to the front door?”
Benito glanced at the block he’d spent most of the afternoon glaring at. “Not today. I have to work, and you have homework.”
“What about dinner? When are you going to eat?”
“Later,” he promised. “There’s a hot dog place at the airport I really like. I’ll get something there.”
“But—”
“No. I’ll come up another day, when I’ve got more time.”
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s the truth. Tomorrow, I’ll come up tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“On Sullivan’s life, I swear.” Benito held out his finger for a pinkie swear on the life of a cat who’d clawed a hole in Gianna’s bedroom carpet a week after Benito had got on his hands and knees and laid it himself.
Then it was time to go. Benito hugged Gianna one last time and walked her to the entrance of the block, giving the loitering slingers side-eyed warnings to stay out of his way. His street rep was years old and out of date, but badass enough that no fucker looked at him twice.
Gianna unlocked the door. She hesitated, but Benito pushed her gently inside. “Go,” he said. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Breakfast?”
“I’ll meet you at the bus stop.”
“With croissants?”
“If that’s what you want.”
Gianna kissed his cheek and left his side. Benito watched her climb the stairs until she was out of sight, then made his escape, jogging away from the concrete prison as if the lies he’d told Gianna were a demon chasing him down.
There was no airport run tonight. Only an itch Benito had to scratch. A soul-deep desire to be somewhere else, somewhere no one knew his name or his face or needed anything from him that he couldn’t give.
He got back in his car as darkness fell, and it seemed symbolic. Benito spent most evenings driving to and from the theatre district, ferrying drunk idiots home from rowdy nights out in the city, but tonight he had other plans.
Road life had sucked him dry. This was all he had left.