I Owe You One: A Novel(110)

Jake’s eyes darken. “You have to be kidding. She’s kidding.” He looks at Nicole and me. “She’s gone nuts, right?”

“My dad and I put a new TV on the wall,” Leila presses on resolutely. “A cheap one. It looks OK. The agent’s bringing a professional couple round in an hour. Three more tomorrow. He thinks if we price it right, it’ll go quickly.”

Jake’s face has gone almost rubbery with shock. He stares blankly at Leila, then makes a visible effort to pull himself together.

“This is bollocks,” he says, pushing past her. “Excuse me, could I please get through to my own home?”

“I’ve changed the locks,” Leila calls after him, and Jake slowly wheels round.

“You’ve what?” he says ominously.

“I’ve changed the locks. Just to … to make things clear.”

“You’ve locked me out of my own home? You can’t do that!” he bellows, erupting, and Leila looks like she might collapse.

“Well, she did it,” I say, putting an arm around Leila. “Jake, you can’t go on like this.”

“What the hell are you two doing here, anyway?” He turns on us like a riled tiger.

“We’re moral support,” says Nicole. “ ‘If you want to go fast, go alone,’ ” she adds wisely, glancing at me. “ ‘If you want to go far, go together.’ ”

I’m fairly sure she got that quote off a cushion, but I nod gratefully at her. The thing about all Nicole’s quotes is that some of them are actually pretty good. Especially the wooden sign she gave me yesterday, which reads, YOU’RE STRONGER THAN YOU THINK. I’ve looked at it quite a lot—and it does make me feel stronger.

“Jakey, do you have any money coming in?” Leila says, her hands twisting anxiously. “Any actual money?”

“I have … I have a stack of potential deals,” says Jake, his face evasive. “There’s a guy in Northampton who deals in wine. I have irons in the fire—”

“You don’t have any irons in the fire,” Leila cuts him off sorrowfully. “You don’t.”

A police siren blares in the next street and for a moment no one speaks, and I suddenly find myself thinking of Ryan. Jake’s too much like Ryan. It’s as if he’s still trying to be Ryan. Just like he always has done, since they were teenagers. All big names and swagger. It was Ryan who made living like a millionaire seem normal to Jake. Of course, Jake was always ambitious; he always wanted money. But even so, I wish he’d never met Ryan. That neither of us had.

“My dad’s here to take me home,” says Leila, raising her chin. Her skinny legs are encased in tight jeans and high-heeled boots and her nails are works of iridescent art. She looks so dignified, I want to hug her. “All your stuff’s in the van. Dad says you’re welcome to come and live with us for a bit.”

“You’ve moved out my stuff?” Jake reels, as though under a fresh blow.

“We’re renting the flat out, Jake,” Leila says, as though explaining to someone very stupid. “I had to.”

“All right, love? I’ve had to move the van, bloody traffic wardens.” We all look up as a gruff voice hails Leila. It’s her dad, Tony. I’ve met him a few times; he has a building firm in Northwood. He’s a big, strong guy with callused hands, and he runs his eyes up and down Jake’s smart suit with barely concealed contempt. I’m not sure they’ve ever really got on. “If you’re in trouble, I can give you a job on the site,” he adds to Jake in short tones. “You’re unskilled, so it would be basic pay.”

“Thanks, Dad,” says Leila. Her eyes fix on Jake like lamps, and I can see her message: “Thank my dad.”

“Thanks, Tony,” says Jake, sounding as though the words are choking him.

“Right. Well.” Tony strides away and Leila totters after him.

“Wait, Dad. I’ll come. Give me a sec.” She turns to Jake again on her clippy-cloppy heel, her delicate face full of a strength that makes it even more beautiful than usual. “We’ll be in the van for ten minutes, OK? You can come to ours—or we can deliver your stuff somewhere else. But if you come with me, you’ve got to want to come. You’ve got to want it, Jakey. You and me …” Her voice begins to tremble. “We can be something. It’s not about you buying me stuff or being a hero or how many clubs we go to. It’s about you and me making plans and enjoying life together and … and being us. But you’ve got to want to be us, Jakey.” She points at him and then herself with her slender fingers. “You’ve got to want to be us.”

She finishes and there’s a breathless beat. Then she turns back and hurries toward her dad, who links his arm in hers and together they disappear around the corner, while I resist the urge to shout, “Go, Leila!”

I risk a look at Jake—and feel a pang of shock. He looks ill. He’s sunk onto his haunches and his head is bent and his shoulders are heaving. At last he raises his head, and he’s not crying but he looks close.

“You fucking ganged up on me,” he says, his voice muffled. “You’re family.”

“That’s why we ganged up on you,” I say. “Because we’re family. Because we care about you.”