Page 72 of Into the Dark

Alex mentioned her parents don’t know her brother’s gay, and though I’m certain I’m not gonna accidentally spill it I stuff my mouth with the last of my cheesecake, just in case.

I’ve wondered a lot about her brother. I know he’s a couple of years older than her, lives in Camden, and does a job related to marketing, but that’s the extent of it. He’ll be protective of her, no doubt—so he’s bound to be suspicious of the tattooed nightclub owner hanging off his baby sister’s arm. I’m also worried he might have heard my name before, but I guess I’ll cross that bridge if and when I get to it.

“Oh, goodness!” Eve exclaims. “I almost forgot! I got a delivery yesterday—you will never guess who from!” It’s a question for Alex because her dad seems to already know. Alex’s mum is the sort of excited Caleb gets over ice cream. “Wine from Laurent! Twelve bottles! He shipped them over—isn’t that so sweet of him? Oh, and he sent the most charming letter. Remind me to show you it before you go home.”

Beside me, Alex stiffens, lowering her glass back down onto the small slate coaster.

And there it is. The thing I was determined to keep buried tonight. Clawing its way out from the pit of my brain where I put it.

Fucking Laurent.

Eve is still talking, oblivious, while Alex moves her spoon around her bowl, looking uncomfortable. “He found a few crates in the depths of the cellar from the vineyard itself. They must be about fifty years old, he said in the letter…a thank-you to pay us back for drinking us dry the night he came for dinner.”

I grip my spoon hard then. She introduced this guy to her fucking parents? So, what, two weeks ago she sat around a dinner table just like this, except with him? How fucking serious was this?

“So what do you do, Jake?” Tom asks.

It takes me a second to realize he said my name, so focused I am on wine and dinners in France. I drag my focus to her dad, who’s smiling at me, warm and genuine. He reminds me of one of those rare authority figures I came across in my youth who actually did what they said they’d do.

What do I do? What a fucking joke of a question. Lie, steal, hurt people, break the law, lie some more. Then I come home and fuck your daughter senseless because it’s the only thing that makes me feel good.

Eve takes a sip of her glass of red wine as she waits for me to elaborate, and I wonder if it came from the French cunt’s cellar.

I clear my throat. “A nightclub. I own a nightclub in London.” I lift my beer to quench my sudden thirst as his eyes widen with interest.

Under the table Alex slides her hand across my thigh and links my fingers with hers. “It got a five-star review from The Standard. It’s been a massive success,” she says.

“How interesting,” Eve says, though by the look on her face I’m not sure she finds it that interesting at all. Not as interesting as fifty-year-old wine in any case.

“Yeah. It’s been doing pretty well.”

“It’s doing better than well—it’s doing amazing.” Alex’s voice is full of pride now. I try to remember a time when anyone other than Fred was proud of me and come up short. “It was where we met,” she adds. It’s funny how true the lie sounds coming from her perfect fucking mouth. I hate it. I hate that she’s lying to her parents about me. I hate that because of me she’s lying to people she loves.

She’s lying to you too, mate. Ask her about Laurent.

“So you’re a businessman then.” Tom nods, looking impressed—genuinely impressed.

I shrug again. “Nah. I own a business and pay some talented people to do the stressful bits.”

“He’s too modest,” Alex mutters.

Tom makes a tutting noise. “Well, there are far worse qualities to have, Alex.” There’s something underlying in his tone that Alex seems to get because she nods. “Well, Jake, I would say that I’d love to see this nightclub of yours, but I’m sure two pensioners like Eve and me turning up would spoil the look of the place.” He chuckles.

I smile and shake my head. “Nah, not at all. You’re both more than welcome anytime.”

“Owning a nightclub business must be very challenging,” Alex’s mum says.

“Yeah, I guess so. Definitely keeps me busy.”

“And you live in London? You grew up there?”

I nod, unable to respond with a mouth full of beer. Which is lucky, because my instinct to tell people to mind their own fucking business isn’t going to wash here. “London, yeah.” I nod. “I live in the Docklands now but grew up all over. East End mainly.”

She nods, thoughtful. “I see. And your family still live there, in the East End?” She says “East End” like it’s another fucking planet. Suppose to her it is.

I take a deep breath and shift in my chair. Family.

“His little boy does,” Alex cuts in before I can answer. “Jake has a little boy, Caleb.”