Page 139 of Pretty Mess

“Hey,” I say.

A man who’s filling his car jerks and looks around. “Me?” he says.

Mac is watching me through the window. “Eat that,” I tell him. “You’re too thin, and life’s too short not to eat chocolate.”

He gives me that wry smile with the gentleness dancing at the edges. Then he inclines his head and walks to his car.

I stare after him in disbelief. “He told me he missed me, and I gave him a bar ofchocolate,” I say out loud. “What the fuck iswrongwith you, Wes Archer?”

“You’re right,” someone says from behind me.

I turn my head to find a customer standing at the counter. He opens his hands, and piles of Bounty bars cascade over the counter. “A little bit of what you fancy doesn’t hurt you.”

I turn my head and watch Mac drive away. “I don’t know about that,” I say hollowly.

A few hours later, I wave goodbye to my coworker Sammy who’s relieved me, and shrug into my jacket as I walk onto the forecourt. Dawn is lightening the sky, sharing space with the cold glitter of a few stars. I pull my jacket closer against the chill of the early morning air and walk towards the bus stop.

A car is waiting near the petrol station, its engine running. It’s a sleek grey SUV, and I eye it nervously, Mac’s words about the crime rate around here coming back to me. I avert my gaze. If they’re doing something they shouldn’t, I don’t want to be a witness. The whirr of a window going down and the sound of my name being called pull me back around.

“Robert,” I say, staring in stupefaction at Mac’s chauffeur. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles at me. “Taking you home, Wes.”

I step closer. “Oh my god, tell me that’s not true.”

His eyes twinkle. “I cannot tell a lie.”

“He made you get up at this time of the morning to drive me home. Is hemad?”

He hums thoughtfully. “I’d say he’s the sanest he’s ever been.” The lock clicks. “Get in. It’s chilly.”

I obey by climbing into the car. I can smell leather and air freshener, but underneath that, a faint trace of Mac’s cologne goes to my head like a strong wine. I inhale it greedily, feeling something settle inside me. Then I realise that Robert is watching me in the rearview mirror, and I flush and sit up straight.

“I’m so sorry you were dragged out.”

“No need.” He signals and pulls away smoothly.

It’s apparent that he knows where he’s going, so I sit back in my seat. “Nevertheless, you’ve got to put in a full day at work after this.”

“Oh no.” He sounds shocked. “Mr Reilly wouldn’t do that. I’m on nights for the foreseeable future.”

“Why?”

He comes to a stop at a set of lights. “I’m on Wes duty.”

I lick my lips, feeling dizzy. “But he needs you, and you’re just hanging around the petrol station waiting to take me home. It’s dangerous around there.”

His voice has a thread of laughter as if he knows something I don’t. “Oh, I can take care of myself, Wes. I’ve been in much worse places than sitting by a petrol station. Now, there’s a Starbucks cup by your seat. I stopped off and got you a tea.”

“A tea?”

“Yes. Mr Reilly thought you wouldn’t want to drink coffee before bed. It’s the breakfast tea. He said you like the Starbucks bags.”

“I do,” I say helplessly. “But I wasn’t aware he knew that.”

“Ah, he knows most things.”

“He shouldn’t have done this.”