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The flare of panic along my spine didn’t agree.

Casey whined her furry head off as I left, big brown eyes following me along the path. I looked back over my shoulder at the low swing of her tail, the tilt of her head as she waited for the whistle.

And then I kept walking.

***

Callum

“Thank fuck you’re here.” Vicki was in her usual spot, puffing like crazy on a roll-up. “Had Ty over here again. He said we’ve got three days, Cal. Three bastard days!” Her hands were shaking life a leaf, tiny and white. “Where we gonna get fifteen hundred from in three days?”

“Fifteen hundred?!” I snapped. “It’s twelve we owe.”

“Interest,” she said. “They want fifteen or there’ll be trouble. He weren’t messing around, Cal. I know him, he looked wired, but he weren’t bluffing. They’re coming for us. Oh God, Cal, what about Slay?”

“Chill the fuck out, Vick. Ain’t nobody coming for you, I’ll sort it.”

“How?” Her eyes were desperate, scared like Casey’s were when I found her on the street, wet and cold and hungry and so fucking sad. “I should pack, go to Mam’s. You could come too, Cal, hide out til we get it together. Maybe your mate Sophie could get us one of them mutual exchanges? We could move. We could put you on the tenancy too, if you wanted.”

I reached out for her tobacco, itching for a roll-up. “Gotta talk to you, Vicki. Been needing to say it for a while. Sophie ain’t just a mate, Vick. Not anymore. We won’t be getting no exchange, neither. You’re staying here.”

She stopped breathing, I swear. Just hovered without any words, staring at me like I’d taken a crap on her doorstep. “Youwithher? Like Facebook-official?”

“Not like on pissing Facebook,” I groaned. “But, yeah, official. Said she loves me.”

The memory felt warm in my chest, a good feeling.

Vicki made this horrible scoffing sound, just like my mam used to make when I said I was gonna be an artist one day. It went right through me, pulsed straight to my fists. Then she laughed, a cackley laugh. Didn’t suit her like it suits Raven. “Loves you, does she?! Pissing hell, Callum, I’ve heard it all now.”

“She does,” I snapped. “Ain’t nobody ever said that to me before, Vicki, nobody. I love her, too. Gonna get her to help us out, just until this art stuff comes through.”

Her mouth shrivelled up like she’d been chomping on something sour. “Have you even listened to yourself lately?Sophie loves me, says I’m her boyfriend. Whatever, Callum. Like someone like her’s ever gonna be with one of us. She don’t even bloody know you, Cal.”

“I am her boyfriend, Vick. I swear down.”

She jabbed her hands in the air like some kind of crazy. “Where is she, then, this girlfriend of yours? Why ain’t she come over with you, sat down and met your friends? Where’sherfriends? Have you met them? Met the family? Where’s her Facebook status, eh? Last time I checked it said ‘single’, Cal, I’ve been checking her out. Bet she ain’t gonna be changing it, neither. Posh bitch like her ain’t gonna admit to being with someone like you, Callum Jackson, she’s playing you for a fucking fool, man.”

“Dunno about her status, Vick, you know I ain’t on that shit. I’ve met her friends, though. They’re cool.”

“What about her fucking family, then? She’s from that Harding lot, saw her old man in the paper last week selling that mansion down Billionaire’s Row to some foreign king or some shit. Think he’s gonna have you round for family dinner, do ya?Oh, Callum, pass me a cucumber sandwich, will you? There’s a good fellow.”

“Don’t be like this, Vick,” I hissed.

“Someone’s gotta be!” she snapped. “Someone’s gotta give a shit enough to talk sense into that thick skull of yours. She’s messing with you! Likes a bit of rough, no doubt, wants to feel like a bad girl. She’s a stupid, selfish, stuck-up bitch.”

“She ain’t,” I barked. “She fucking ain’t, Vicki.” My temper was flaring, getting close to the edge. “Don’t be jealous, alright? You’re my best mate, always will be. Ain’t nothing gonna change just ’cause I got a girlfriend.”

Her eyes were so angry. “Jealous?! Of her?! I ain’t fucking jealous, Cal, I’m fucking looking out for ya.”

“If you say so.”

“I do fucking say so. You ain’t all that much, Callum, and it’s no good thinking you are. Just ’cause you got yourself a posh fuck buddy and some crappy garage down Haygrove. It don’t make you Brad bloody Pitt. You’re Callum bloody Jackson from East Veil, always bloody will be.”

I stayed quiet, fighting back the urge to punch her spiteful little mouth. I felt that twinge in me, right down deep, the one that says I’m no fucking good and never will be. Vicki just kept on going.

“What the fuck you doing here, then, eh? If you’re so bloody in love?”

“Came to see you.”

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