Dante stacked the empty pizza boxes on top of each other for something to do that didn’t involve eye fucking Sid, but he couldn’t fight the inevitable. In the fading light of the summer evening, Sid was as beautiful tonight as he’d ever been.
Anna waved a hand in front of Dante’s face. “He’s not that pretty.”
Yes, he is. Dante forced himself to look away and face Anna’s amusement as he sipped weird tea from the bottle she’d pressed on him. “Never said he was.”
“You think it, though.”
“Do I?”
“Maybe. You’re hard to read.”
“Why are you trying to read me? Are you worried I’m not a good person to be around your brother?”
Anna laughed. “If you weren’t good for my brother, you wouldn’t still be here.”
“Benjamin would sack me if you asked him to?”
Anna took the pizza boxes to the back door and dumped them in the nearby orange bin. “You don’t like him.”
“Benjamin?”
“He told me.”
“How does he know how I feel about him? He’s never asked.”
“It’s a vibe you give off. He doesn’t mind, though. Sid didn’t like him either for the first hundred years they knew each other.”
“What changed?”
“Nothing. Ben just persisted at being himself and Sid realised he was more than a posh accent and a stupid fucking car.”
“What car?”
“Vintage Fiat 500. 1972, in Tahiti yellow.”
Dante pursed his lips, trying to picture Benjamin Heath curving his lanky frame into a tiny Fiat and achieving it too well to contain himself.
He laughed.
Anna smacked his arm. “Git. I’ve changed my mind. You’re not good for Sid, you’re asbadas him. But for what it’s worth, Ben’s a nice guy, and if you really thought different, you’d have told Sid you know I’m sleeping with him.”
“I—”
Loud knocking at the front door cut Dante off. Then it opened, slamming against the wall behind, rattling the small cottage.
Dante dropped the kombucha bottle. It clattered on the countertop, bouncing across, and skidded off the other side.
It smashed on the floor, but loud voices covered the noise, descending on the kitchen in a booming wave.
Dante grabbed Anna’s arm and pulled her behind him, gaze darting for a weapon, his heart in the garden with Sid, hustling him to safety.How many? I can take two, but what if there’s more and they get to him before I can?
“Dante.” Anna unpicked Dante’s vice-like fingers from her arm. “It’s okay—it’s my neighbours.”
“What?”
“My neighbours. Wes, Saban, and Zamir. They always let themselves in and make as much noise as a herd of elephants so I hear them coming and don’t accidentally flash them.”
Dante heard the words but couldn’t compute them. Three men appeared in the kitchen, big and burly, like rugby players. They filled the small space, sucking out the air, and the cosy kitchen disappeared, replaced by the grimy walls of a derelict snooker club.