“I’m not.”
“Youare.” Gianna poked Benito in the side. “Can I have a milkshake?”
“From where?”
“Maccy D’s. I’ll pay you back.”
“With what?”
“Erm... your phone? I still have it in my pocket.” Gianna flashed a bright grin and took off like a rocket, darting out of the Apple store before Benito could stand.
Little shit. He rose and followed her, trailing her out of the store and into the throng of weekend shoppers. Her dark hair bobbed up and down as she ran, but knowing where she was headed, Benito didn’t rush. He was too old to be charging through the shopping centre without attracting attention, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with overzealous rent-a-feds.
Fuck that noise.
He caught up with Gianna at McDonalds. Her smile was blinding, but Benito was distracted by the stare of a lone figure loitering outside Nando’s. Hood up, head down, but his eyes seemed to track Benito’s every move, his slow-moving gaze like pin pricks in Benito’s skull. Just a couple at first; then they spread like wildfire and set every sense ablaze.
Growling, Benito speared the teenager with a glare, daring him to keep looking. The teenager slid his attention away, but another replaced him, then another, and another, until Benito couldn’t keep up.
Calm your tits, man. You’re paranoid. But it didn’t feel like paranoia, it feltreal, and for the hundredth time that day, Benito couldn’t breathe.
“Beni?” Gianna’s soft hand grazed Benito’s fingers. “Do you want one too?”
“No,” Benito said absently. Even without the fact that he couldn’t stomach any more sugar without hitting the gym for an extra hour, it was a sad fact that after paying Rosetta’s monthly arrears payment, two shitty milkshakes was probably pushing it.
He dropped a handful of change into Gianna’s palm and waited outside, back to the wall, surveying the crowds. Hoodie kid was back, but so were a hundred other slingers. McDonalds was the place to be. Benito glared at the hoodie kid anyway, though. It suited his mood.
Gianna came back with a banana milkshake that smelt like hell.
Benito grimaced and backed away. “Don’t spill that shit in my car.”
“Don’t swear. And don’t drive next time. I could’ve met you here.”
“You’re not getting the bus to the city centre on your own.” Another hooded figure breached Benito’s peripheral. Taller this time and built like a man. Benito tracked him as he led Gianna back to the multi-storey where he’d left his car, trying not to flinch as the devil on his shoulder argued with itself.
Double back. See if he follows.
Idiot. He’s going to Subway like every other dickhead who doesn’t want nuggets.
What if he isn’t, though? What if he jumps you in the stairwell and takes Gianna?
Taking a child in broad daylight was a stretch even for the monsters Benito created in his head, but he avoided the stairs anyway and bundled Gianna into the lift.
She eyed him over her milkshake. “You hate lifts.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Uh, yeah you do. I haven’t been in one with you since I was a toddler and it got stuck and you punched the security guard who let us out.”
“That didn’t happen.”
“Yes, it did.”
Benito made an impatient noise and willed the lift to hurry the fuck up to the uppermost parking floor. He couldn’t clearly recall the incident Gianna was talking about. It had happened in the weeks after Roberto had given him a concussion, and months and months had gone by in a blur of headaches and shaky hands. His skull throbbed now just thinking about it.
The lift dinged at the top floor. The doors opened so slowly Benito wanted to kick through them, but he made himself wait, holding Gianna back until the lift had emptied out.
At the car, she leaned against the bonnet, grinning.