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There was no point denying it was me. It was too pissing obvious. He’d captured me perfectly, from the point at the end of my nose to the awkward bit of hair that would never stay flat on my head. I guessed it was his heart I’d been eating in the picture, and he’d captured that perfectly, too.

Suspended on full pay, at least they’d granted me that.

It wouldn’t take them long to find the missing articles from the files, or locate Callum’s garage.

My career was screwed.

“Don’t ask how I am, Bex,” I wheezed. “Just don’t fucking ask.”

“Shit, baby, that good, hey?”

“Everything’s fucked,” I cried, no longer giving a shit who could hear me. “I fucked things up with Callum, I fucked things up with work, I fucked things up with my parents.”

“Back up,” she hissed. “Just back the fuck up a second. You fucked things up with Callum, when?!”

“Friday,” I said. “Would have let you known, but I was kinda tied up sobbing my heart out.”

“Where is he now?” she said. “You did give him the money, didn’t you? For the Stoney brothers? Please fucking tell me he’s got the money!”

I froze.

“What fucking money?”

***

Callum

I watched Vicki’s place from the wall across the way, just in case the Stoneys showed up early. She was going to her mam’s for the afternoon.

I was fucking done for.

I’d been heading over with Case when I noticed them at the garages, them people from Sophie’s work. They padlocked it up tight, writing on their stupid pads.

Another dream over.

My phone had been flashing all morning, but I didn’t want to answer. Not until it was time.

It was time now.

“Yeah,” I said. “Where’s the meet?”

But it weren’t Trent Stoney that answered me.

“Don’t you fucking dare, kid, you hear me?! You go anywhere near them before I reach you and I’ll skin you my fucking self.”

I didn’t know whether Raven was going to hug me or hit me as she charged across the street. As it turned out she hugged me first, then hit me. A hefty punch as well, right in the arm.

“You fucking dipshit,” she snapped. “Why the fuck didn’t you come to me? I’m not that pissing hard to find.”

I shrugged, and she sighed so fucking loud, slamming an envelope in my hand. I raised my eyebrows.

“Twelve hundred,” she said. “From the dealer. Call it an advance.”

“What?”

“He loved your shit, kid, just like I said he would. Wants to put you on at the Southbank opening. Media viewing is tomorrow night so you’d better get your fucking act together.”

I stared blankly at the envelope, too stunned to open it. “What’s this for?”

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