‘Nothing.’ I immediately chastise myself for avoiding his eyes.
‘Of course,’ he retorts sarcastically. ‘Because watching you run away and then having the pleasure of a few heavies ram-raid Miller’s flat was all a figment of my imagination. You’ve got nothing to be worried about.’
‘Heavies?’ I home right in on Gregory’s reference to what Miller prefers to call the immoral bastards.
‘Yeah, quite an experience.’ He takes my hand and links it through his bent arm as he starts to lead me towards the exit.
‘You never mentioned anything on the phone all of the times we spoke.’
‘Livy, whenever we’ve spoken since you disappeared to New York, it’s been mindless chitchat. Don’t pretend you wanted it any other way.’
I can’t argue with him, so I don’t. I had no interest in hearing what went down once Miller and I had left, and still, deep down, I don’t, yet the mention of heavies is piquing my curiosity.
‘Mean-looking sons of bitches.’ Gregory only heightens that curiosity, along with adding a mountain of trepidation, too. ‘Your man William – master of the frigging drug world – handled them like they were kittens. He didn’t even break into a sweat when one tapped the holster of a gun. A fucking gun!’
‘A gun?’ I gasp, my heart jumping into my throat.
Gregory takes a cautious look around us, then diverts us down another corridor, out of the earshot of other hospital visitors. ‘You heard me. Who are these people, Livy?’
I retreat a few steps back. ‘I don’t know.’ I can’t feel guilty for lying. I’m too worried.
‘Well I do.’
‘You do?’ My eyes are wide and I’m frightened. William surely hasn’t told Gregory. Please say he hasn’t told Gregory!
‘Yes.’ He comes in closer and has a quick peek each way to check our privacy. ‘Drug dealers. Miller works for the heavies, and I bet he’s in all kinds of shit now.’
I’m horrified. I’m stunned. I’m not sure whether letting Gregory believe Miller’s involved with drug dealers is better than the truth. Gregory has one thing right, though. Miller does work for the heavies. ‘Right,’ I breathe, desperately searching for something else to say and finding nothing, but it’s fine because Gregory continues before my silence is noticed.
‘Olivia, not only is your man a psychotic, OCD-suffering, ex-homeless, ex-hooker/escort, but he’s also a drug dealer!’
My back falls against the wall and I look up to the harsh lighting, not even blinking back the powerful light when it burns my retinas. I’m banking on it burning away my troubles, too. ‘Miller isn’t a drug dealer,’ I say calmly. It would be so easy to fly off the handle right now.
‘And that Sophia bird, I haven’t figured out who she is yet, but she can’t be good news. I mean –’ he laughs – ‘kidnap?’
‘She’s in love with Miller.’
‘And poor Nan,’ Gregory goes on. ‘She welcomed William to her dinner table like they were old friends.’
‘They are.’ I reluctantly acknowledge that I should perhaps find out how friendly they are, but I’m also mindful that Nan is delicate, and stirring up old ghosts would be stupid. I drop my head on a sigh, not that he notices. Gregory is well into his stride, keen to get his conclusions out there.
‘He was there every day when you were . . .’ He finally pulls up, his neck recoiling on his wide shoulders. ‘They are?’
‘He knew my mother.’ I know those words will begin an outburst of questioning, so I hold my hand up when he draws breath. ‘Miller does work for those people and they won’t let him quit. He’s trying to find a way.’
He’s scowling. ‘What’s that got to do with the Godfather?’
I can’t help but smile at his quip. ‘He was my mother’s pimp. He and Miller’s boss don’t get along. He’s trying to help.’
He can’t hide his wide eyes. They’re like saucers. ‘Fuuuuuck . . .’
‘I’m tired, Gregory. I’m tired of feeling so frustrated and helpless. You’re my friend, and I’m asking you not to enhance it.’ I sigh, all of those feelings magnifying anyway, simply because of my own admission. ‘I need you to be my friend. Please, just be my friend.’
‘Well, damn,’ he murmurs, dropping his head in shame. ‘Now I just feel like a hundred tonnes of first-class shit.’
I want to ease his obvious guilt, tell him he doesn’t need to as long as he quits right here, yet the strength to do that is nowhere to be found. I push my back from the wall and drag myself towards the exit. I might be highly pissed off at Miller, yet I also know he’s the only one who can comfort me.
A tentative palm slides onto my shoulder and his legs match my pace. But he says nothing, probably too scared to send me further into despondency. I look up at my best friend as he pulls me a little closer, but he remains focused forward. ‘Aren’t you going to see Nan?’
He shakes his head with a rueful smile. ‘I’ll Skype her on that fancy television. She gets all excited.’
‘It has Internet?’
‘And a phone, but she likes seeing me.’
‘Nan’s been using the Internet?’
‘Yep. A lot. William’s been constantly topping up her credit. Must have cost him a fortune in the past few days. She’s hooked.’
I laugh. ‘How’s Ben?’