Mickey understood why Benito’s mind went there. Anyone who’d seen that tower block burning would never forget it. “It’s not the same cladding as Grenfell. Trust me, it was the first thing my bosses checked when we took these flats on. But the firebreaks are just as important, so we’re having them installed at the end of the month.”
“What if there’s a fire before then?”
Mickey held up the leaflets. “I’m making sure everyone knows to get the fuck out.”
Real worry creased Benito’s handsome face. Mickey felt terrible. He stole a glance around, saw no one, then stepped into Benito’s space. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. The building is safe; I wouldn’t leave my tenants here if it wasn’t.”
“Bet the Grenfell housing officers thought that too. How do you know those corrupt fuckers aren’t lying to you?”
Mickey didn’t, and they both knew it. All Mickey could do was kiss the worry from Benito’s lips.
Actually, there were plenty of other things he could’ve done, but he kissed Benito anyway, trusting the shadows to hide them from the outside world.
Benito trusted them too, or perhaps he didn’t care. For the split second their lips pressed together, he kissed Mickey back as though starved of oxygen and Mickey was his only source of air.
Then he was gone.