Page 36 of Fool Me Twice
“You can tell me anything,”Si had said.
Like it was so easy, baring his heart so that Si would hold him again.Kiss him again.
But if you tell him, at least you’ll know.And fuck, what kind of a cunt was Zig, trying to get Si to love him again without telling him the truth?
He’d lain awake half the night on Si’s sofa, thinking about how right it’d seemed, coming home with him.How he’d yearned to put his arm round Si as they sat on the sofa drinking cocoa.Wanted to kiss him.Take him to bed.
He’d stopped himself from trying any of that, partly because he’d been scared to break the mood if Si wasn’t up for it.But mostly because he didn’t deserve it.Seeing Adam again last night at the pub...it’d brought it all home.Made it real.Si and his mates, they were decent people.
Not like Zig.He belonged with people like Trent and bloody Dad.
“Ain’t you ever wondered what I’ve been up to since you last saw me?”Zig asked, his tone rough in his own ears.“I know what you were up to.Learning a trade.Making a life.”
“I s’pose I reckoned you’d been doing bar work?”Si said slowly.“You know.Learning how to make all them fancy cocktails.Juggling with shakers like in some eighties film.”He smiled weakly, like maybe he was expecting Zig to carry on the banter.Tell a few funny stories about working behind a bar.
Zig couldn’t stand it.“I was in prison.”
Si stilled and pressed his lips together.He didn’t say anything.No swearing, no gasp of horror.His eyes didn’t widen.Like Zig’s news came as a jolt, yeah, but maybe not a surprise?
Which, why the fuck would it be, moron?Si must have known Zig was dodgy.Him, and his dad, and the blokes he hung around with.He’d as good as confessed they’d done over Adam’s dad’s place, way back when.How much of a stretch would it be to imagine him ending up doing, hah, a stretch?
Fuck, Zig hated himself.“Ain’t you gonna ask what for?”It came out bitter.
“You wanna tell me?”Si asked, his tone cautious.“Cos, like, you don’t ’ave to.”
“Not worried you’re sharing your flat with an axe murderer?”
“Nah.You’d’ve got longer than six years for that.Least, I’d bloody well hope so.”
Zig laughed, despite himself.“You’d be surprised.Robbery.”
Si nodded absently, like he didn’t know he was doing it.“Got unlucky?”he asked in a horrible, fake cheerful voice.Zig could feel him drawing away, closing himself off.Reminding himself Zig was no good.Would never be any good.
Zig hated that even more.“No,” he said harshly.
Si blinked.
“There was this job,” Zig forced himself to say, each word like acid in his throat.“Not long after you left London.Construction company.Who’d have thought it, eh?Didn’t go quite how we planned it.”
He swallowed, then took a deep breath and started his tale.
It was just Zig, his dad, and Trent on the job.Dad had fallen out with a couple of the other guys—accused them of having sticky fingers, which was fucking rich—so he’d kept them out of the loop on this one.
It was supposed to be easy, mind.Quick in and out.Trent had been scoping the place out, said the security was shite.And true enough, it was a piece of piss getting in.
Everything was still and quiet, which was what you’d expect at 3 a.m.The management had left a few lights on to make it look like there was someone at home, but they weren’t fooling anyone with that tired old trick.
Dad was sorting something out in the van, so Trent and Zig went on ahead.None of the internal doors were locked.Nothing to keep them from getting to the good stuff.
“I’m gonna start here,” Trent whispered, his eye on some sweet, sweet tech in a large open-plan room.“You check out the director’s office.”
“Got it.”Zig left him to it and set off down the corridor, resisting the urge to whistle cos he knew it’d get him a bollocking.
He rounded a corner, and his stomach lurched.
There was a guard there, an older bloke with grey hair and a paunch.Zig froze, panicked.There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here.
Shit.Time to get out of sight—
