He turned to her, mouth slack. “Are you saying you’re keeping shit from me?”
“And? You act like you have the right to be completely in the know. Christ, you have a lot to learn.”
He shook his head, eyes glazed, and stared at the carpet, appearing dumbstruck. “But I thought… I thought…”
“What did you think? That I’d be divvy enough to show you all my cards? That’s not how it works, sunshine, not how my dad taught me, and if he told me one thing, it was to keep those cards close to my chest. Never let the opposition know you’re on a winning streak.” She didn’t think he’d get what she’d really said, he was too drunk.
“So I’m the opposition now?”
“Oh, get a bloody grip.”
“You can’t do this without me. You need me. You’ll fail if I’m not there to make sure you don’t fall.”
“Talk about a massive ego. I can run the place alone if I choose to. Or there’s Glen, he could come back. It doesn’t have to be you—Dad appointed you to work with me while he was ill, but it doesn’t mean I have to keep you on.”
He twisted to face her, his features screwing up. She sensed he was on the verge of letting rip, telling her exactly what he’d planned, and it took a lot of effort for him to hold it inside. Yes, he wanted to tell her all right, downturn her smug smile, but something would be urging him not to—the voice of his inner demon: “Don’t give it away. You’re so close to having it all…”
“This date isn’t working.” He manoeuvred round so he presented his back to her.
What a sulker.
She struggled not to laugh. He’d played right into her hands, the greenhorn.
“No, it isn’t, and I told you it wouldn’t many times, but you didn’t listen—as usual. You always think you know best. Maybe now you’ll see you don’t. If we can’t get along regarding work matters, we certainly can’t get along as a couple. I’m not into a relationship where we’d fight a lot.” She drank the rest of her lemonade, rising, slamming the empty glass down. “From what I’ve seen this evening, Glen may well take your place. Unless you smarten up your act, you’ll find yourself working back at the meat factory where you were before—if I decide to give you a job there.”
She flounced from The Donny, rushing outside and leaning against the wall between the pub and the hairdresser’s. Laughter flowed and clarity came—she finally saw him for what he was, an incompetent fool playing at being the hardman. A few drinks inside him, and his true self had peeked out. Maybe that was why he didn’t drink in front of her; he couldn’t risk her seeing beneath his well-constructed outer casing, one she’d also shrouded herself with. Except she hadn’t let hers slip, exposing the softness beneath. She’d maintained control throughout that conversation, but Jason, he’d fucked up.
Cassie, satisfaction winding through her, walked along to The Pudding, a visit she hadn’t managed earlier in the day. Inside, she smiled at the ding of the bell above the door, a sound she connected with childhood. Dad had brought her in here to choose birthday cakes or desserts for a treat. It always smelt the same no matter what was baked, a mixture of vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate.
A large glass counter spanned the shop three-quarters in. Four square tables with duos of ladderback chairs dotted the space in front, pretty flowered tablecloths on top, vases with a fake pale-lemon rose in each. Behind the counter, black-haired Nicola Faraday glanced up from writing in a notepad, her dyed bun wonky at her crown—she was too old to not have any grey, so it had to have come from a bottle.
She frowned momentarily then swapped it for a smile. “What can I get you, Cassie?”
“I’ll have a whole strawberry cheesecake if you have one.” Cassie eyed the single slice left behind the glass, sitting next to a beige butter-icing confection, walnuts decorating the top. “And half of that coffee cake for Mam. What does Doreen Prince like?”
Nicola’s frown came back. Maybe she wondered why Cassie wanted to know, but to be honest, it was none of her fucking business, was it. How quickly Cassie’s good mood had died, her old self retreating, making way for the monster’s return. She read body language, a given in her profession, and didn’t like the way Nicola had silently queried Cassie’s question.
“She usually has a slice or two of Black Forest.”
“Have you got a whole one of those an’ all?”
“In the fridge out the back.” Nicola hesitated in going out there. “You’re paying for them, yes?”
Cassie’s blood thundered. If she wasn’t, again, none of Nicola’s fucking business, but what did she take her for? “Of course I am. You stump up protection money, there’s no need for extras, and if Dad took stock from you, he was wrong. Besides, since when have I not paid?”
Nicola squirmed. “It’s just that… Oh, don’t mind me.”
“No, spit it out. You start shit, you finish it.”
“You seem tense, like I’ve done something wrong.”
Am I that obvious? Or has she done something wrong and she’s trying to deflect? “I do have a question for you, but let’s get the sale out of the way first. Can you pop the cake boxes in a bag, please?”
Nicola pushed into the back room, and Cassie felt a tiny bit bad at stringing this out, getting the woman all worried, but if she’d done nowt, she didn’t have to fear her, did she.
Cassie admired a birthday cake, white, red roses on top, a spectacular lily nestled close. Nicola crafted them all herself, and the lily had shading on the petals, looked real. Lilies were for death, an apt
