Page 48 of A Box of Wishes
He had to pack. His uncle, or more likely a bunch of his cousins, would be here in the morning.
Kitchen first,he decided.Empty the cupboards, wrap everything and stuff it into boxes.
After that, he’d pack the clothes he needed until he found a new place and throw the rest into bin bags for storage. His living room mostly held books and games, plus his paintings and sketches. The rest was furniture.
He got to work packing his possessions until his phone interrupted his industry.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Alastair bellowed as soon as Ryan answered the call. “I just had to hear it from my uncle.”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t know, my arse. Your landlord throws you out and you don’t know why you didn’t tell me?”
Ryan clutched the counter to stop himself yelling back. A loud argument might be a good stressbuster, but it would also wake his neighbours. “Alastair.” He forced calm into his voice. “Can I explain?”
“I don’t know. Can you?”
“Jackass.” Ryan fished a tin of beer from the fridge and popped the top. He took a deep pull to steady himself. “The notice to leave was in my letterbox last Friday, but because I felt like shit, I didn’t see it until Sunday night. Then all I could think about was that I didn’t want to tell Ben.”
“Why not? I thought the two of you were on the way to… you know.”
“That’s exactly why. I don’t want him thinking I only keep him around to help me out.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not. I met him when he came to investigate the break-in. He’s helped me buy new office furniture and put it together. He checks on the courtyard every day and when Cara told him I was sick, he turned up to cook me soup and feed me pills. The fuckinglastthing I want is him hearing about this mess and offering me a place to stay!”
“You wouldn’t want to stay with him?”
“Alastair Donohue. If you’re too fucking drunk to understand English, get the hell off this phone and sleep off the booze.” The silence at the other end was so profound that Ryan pulled the phone from his ear and checked the line. “Alastair?”
“Right. I get you. This sucks.”
Ryan swallowed more beer. Three towers of taped and labelled boxes blocked half his kitchen, but his cupboards were bare now. Two, maybe three, boxes would take care of the rest.
“What about Ben?” Alastair asked.
“What about him? He’s busy with work.”And I’m not exactly at my most inviting, putting him off every time he asks me out.Ryan kept that bit to himself. He knew what Alastair was asking. Since Ryan had pointed out that he could manage his own affairs, Ben had kept his Samaritan tendencies to himself. For now. “I don’t want to scare him off,” Ryan said. “Or make him think I’m using him.”
“Keeping him out of the loop isn’t a useful tactic, either.”
“I know.” Ben might walk away when he found out that Ryan was keeping secrets. Ryan didn’t want that to happen, but he was too tired to negotiate this minefield. “If you have any helpful ideas, I’ll listen.”
“Let me think about it. First, we’ll get you out of that place, then we’ll sort out what to do. I’ll be over with the guys first thing.”
“Thanks, Al. The kitchen’s ready to go. I’ll do—”
“Get some sleep,” Alastair said. “There are five of us. We’ll get this done.”
This was the Alastair he’d known growing up. The general who devised all their crazy adventures and bossed them around until one of them complained. He hadn’t heard Alastair sound like that in far too long.
“You still owe me a story,” he said, and heard his cousin chuckle.
“I know. Let’s get you sorted out first. My story is six years old. It will keep a few weeks longer.”
“Hm.” Alastair was good at ducking and diving, and his own drama had distracted Ryan too much to pay attention. “I won’t let you get out of telling it this time.”
“That’s the last one.” Alastair folded down the lid on the box and ran the tape dispenser around the seams. “A job well done,” he said, lifting the box to his shoulder.
