Page 9 of Too Close To Home

Until they weren’t.

That was the bit he liked. The moment the authority slipped. When the voice dropped half an octave. When the shoulders relaxed. When they stopped trying to control everything and let someone else take over for a while. That was when they felt real.

Jake chewed the inside of his cheek.

Shouldn’t be thinking like that.

Besides, he’d already scratched that particular itch after the gig last night. The pub had been heaving; the toilets even worse. While Raff had been drumming up business for the garage and scrap yard, and Deacon had been chatting up anything with a pulse, Jake had slipped away with one of the lads who’d been watching the band all evening. It was usually that sort who found him. The ones who insisted they were massive fans of live music, then probably went home and stuck Kylie on.

Fine by him. A win was a win.

The bloke from last night had been a one-and-done thing though. Against the sticky cubicle wall, forgotten almost as soon as they’d walked back into the pub.

They all were.

Jake indicated late and swung the van towards town, the engine rattling underneath, another not-so-subtle reminder that he needed to sort the exhaust before winter. Least he had a few more months of easier weather. As that was one more thing to add to his growing list he couldn’t afford to tick off. Then he turned onto the high street and slowed automatically as he caught sight of three young lads loitering outside the Co-op. School uniforms covered by hoodies. Cans in hand.

“Fuck’s sake.” He yanked the wheel and mounted the kerb half on purpose, brakes squealing as the van lurched to a stop.

The boys jumped, one nearly dropping his fluorescent energy drink. And the other, familiar mop of dark hair Jake had known since it had been sticky with baby food and mashed banana, blew out a cloud of vapour.

Jake wound the window down. “Oi. Teddy.”

The kid ducked his head deeper into his hood as if he could hide and shoved the hand, no doubt holding the plastic bit of vape, into his pocket.

“Theodore Leonard Whitton,” Jake called, “don’t make me get out.”

Teddy looked up, face flushed as his mates all jeered and shoved him. Jake didn’t give a toss if he was embarrassing him. He shouldn’t be here. Kid should be in school. Second year of secondary and already thinking he could bunk and take the piss out of his gran.

Not happening.

Teddy shuffled over to the window; hands shoved in his hoody pockets. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me.” Jake rested his elbow on the window frame and looked him up and down. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“Free period.”

“Year eights don’t get free periods, you muppet. You think I was born in this van?”

“It’s enrichment,” Teddy shot back. “Don’t have to go in till later.”

Jake stared at him. “Lie to me one more time and I’ll slap you in front of your mates.”

The laughter behind Teddy died fast.

Jake jerked his chin towards the passenger door. “Get in.”

“I’ll walk.”

“Oh, aye?” Jake widened his eyes in threat. “That what you told my mum this morning? You were walking yourself in? And somehow ended up here?”

Teddy adjusted his blazer.

Didn’t answer.

Jake leaned closer. “Get. In.”

The kid huffed and stalked round the bonnet while his mates jeered behind him. So Jake leaned out the window and pointed.