Page 17 of The F*ck-It List

“What the fuck, man?” Connor hisses.

“I’m giving you the opportunity to do the right thing here, Con. Don’t let me down,” August growls and I nearly shrink in on myself, but this teenager seems to have no fear, throwing his hands out wide in an exasperated question. Clearly disappointed by the response August shakes his head and delves into the pocket of his stone wash jeans, his fist retreats and he holds it under Connor’s nose before slowly uncurling his fingers. In his palm is a small enamel pin, black with a skull and flame design. “This is yours, right?”

Connor eyes the badge warily. “Uh, yeah? Where did you find it?”

“In here,” August says, and if I squint, I swear I can see steam coming from his ears.

“What?” Connor’s face screws up in confusion.

“Right after it was discovered to have been vandalised,” August practically shouts.

I’m stood awkwardly the other side of the counter watching them like a tennis match, back and forth, back and forth, with the occasional glance at the espresso machine to check if the smoking has stopped. It seems to have, thank God, I feel a full-blown fire would ignite the short fuse August appears to be working with right now.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Connor says, his own frustration rising, and I flinch at his use of language out of instinct because if I’d sworn at an adult at that age, my grandmother would have blown a gasket, much like my poor espresso machine.

“You did this, Connor. You broke in here, probably with one of your little shithead friends and caused hundreds of pounds worth of damage,” August shouts.

Neither of them has acknowledged me for a full minute, and I feel like I’m witnessing something I shouldn’t. But also, I’m too shocked to do anything because August’snephewruined my books.

“Oh, did I?” he asks with no small amount of sarcasm.

“Do not start with that bullshit.” August points an accusing finger. “You’ve done stupid things before, Connor, and I’ve always been able to at least understand why, but this? This is pointless and criminal. I should call the police myself.” August is vibrating with anger, and I watch the boy’s face as it momentarily flashes hurt and devastation before he seems to build up his defences.

“Fine, do that then.” Connor shoves his hands into his sweatpants pockets and shrugs, looking to the floor and sweeping his foot over the wood.

“Connor,” August’s warning has me stepping forward as I feel someone is about to do something they regret.

“Um.” My voice comes out a little squeaky, and I actually raise my hand like I’m in school. They both turn to look at me and August frowns at my arm still above my head, so I quickly pull it back down to my body. I look to Connor, he really is quite young, tall and gangly for sure, but I can’t help but look at him and feel…protective, maybe? “Did you really get in here and ruin all my books?”

He stares as me for a second, likely trying to read me in the same way I’m trying to read him before he answers, “Obviously.”

“Why?” I ask desperately curious and trying to fight the tears threatening.

He shrugs again. “I’m a good-for-nothing, it’s what we do.”

“Connor,” August grits out between clenched teeth, his eyes promising hell if his nephew doesn’t adjust his attitude.

“I’m sorry,” Connor mumbles and I can only frown at him. I don’t know this kid and he doesn’t know me. Why on earth would he do this?

“You’re going to work for Bea in any capacity she needs you to make up for this,” August tells him, and both Connor and I snap shocked gazes in his direction.

“What?” Connor barks.

Yeah, what?

“For free,” August commands.

“What the hell? You want me to work for no money?” Connor’s voice is getting higher and more desperate.

“Um, maybe—”

“Yes,” August cuts me off, seeming to not even notice I’m here. “Until she thinks you’ve paid off the damage you’ve caused.”

“Unc,” Connor says, and the kid looks close to tears, it’s almost enough for me to feel sorry for him. Almost.

“I mean it Connor, you’ve gone too far this time, you need consequences. Actual consequences. And don’t for one minute think your mum is going to try and get you out of it, she’s had it up to her eyeballs with your mess too.”

Connor’s eyes are red and damp as he glares back at August with seething anger, and I watch a moment of guilt cross August’s features. Connor turns to me and huffs.