Page 51 of One Day Like This (Excess All Areas 1)

“Can you not just work harder for it?”

“Steve is flexible. Will let me have time off for gigs. I’m worried if I go somewhere else, they might say they will but then won’t. Let’s face it, most of the gig work and bar work is weekends. Not sure why I’m explaining myself to you. But I’m worried about Nan. Did she tell you she had a dizzy spell last night? She spent the night on the sofa. I popped over to see her an hour ago.”

“Fuck me. Is she okay?”

“You know what she’s like. Said it was nothing. Said she’d take it easy for the next couple of days. But then she’s up on her feet trying to make me some tea before I head into work. I told her no and came here first.”

“Why didn’t you lead with that then, instead of barging in here in a mard?”

Jase sighed. “Because I was worried. This nice weather isn’t going to last. It’ll be pissing down on the constant before we know it. And she gets worse when it’s damp. I passed the travel agent, and they had a special on, and then I realised I couldn’t afford to buy her a trip because I’m skint. And somewhere in the elevator, I realised you had the power to fix it.”

Jase finished the beer and rinsed it out before putting it in the recycling. It seemed like such an absurdly normal thing to do in the middle of a fight. The action reminded him Jase hadn’t always been a jerk.

Matt ran his hands across his face. “I’ll have another look at the numbers. And I’ll go stay at Nan’s tonight. Make sure she’s okay.”

“And I’ll see if I can get some more shifts from Steve.”

Without another word, Jase walked out of Matt’s apartment, and as the door slammed shut, Matt slumped back down on his sofa. On the table was his T-shirt, bundled up to go in the wash.

Coming to the sound of Iz describing how she’d suck him off seemed like forever ago.

And he couldn’t figure out why.

9

“Is it as beautiful as the pictures were online?” Izabel asked Gemma, balancing the phone beneath her ear as she shoved two large pans of lasagne into the industrial oven.

“Better,” Gemma replied, the line a little crackly. “White sand and the bluest water you’ve ever seen. And so hot, I broil myself every day.”

“Urgh, I hate you. It’s rainy here. Did you get the pictures I sent you?” Pictures Gemma had messaged her to go take.

Iz. Dad’s gone to Mallorca, and I need pictures of the progress on the new yoga studio. The contractors are there from seven in the morning. Thanks.

Not so much of a request as an instruction.

“Yeah, I did. Thanks so much for popping over to take them. I know I should be excited and check-in more about the new opening, but ...” Gemma said.

Izabel laughed. “Gem. It’s your honeymoon. Anyway, I must go. I’m late getting dinner going. See you at the weekend, okay?”

“Okay. And grab me some basics, would you? Milk and stuff, so I don’t have to shop straight away.”

“Will do.”

When she hung up the phone, she realised Gemma had instructed her to pick up groceries like she was her assistant. There was nopleaseat the end of the request. The irony was, she’d already planned to. She’d held the spare key to Gemma’s Northern Quarter apartment forever. But suddenly it felt like an order that overstepped the boundaries of friendship.

Ibrahim walked into the kitchen and began to wash his hands. “After dinner is served, can you help Jon out?”

“What’s the matter with him?” Izabel asked as they put the hot food into the containers they served from.

“Toothache, I think,” Ibrahim said, straining the mixed vegetables.

“Is it okay if you finish up here and I go talk to him?”

“Sure. But be quick.”

Izabel grabbed a pack of Jon’s favourite biscuits and headed in his direction. “You’re looking pretty glum, Jon. Everything okay?”

Jon shook his head, a fractional back and forth.

---