Mateo looked at the clock. He had delayed going home long enough. Daniella would be upset. There would be questions. She was suspicious of Mateo, of the long hours he spent with pretty waitresses. She had been a waitress herself, once. She knew what he was like.

Maeve knew what he was like, too. She knew how to push his buttons. ‘Profits seem to be falling,’ she’d said at the management meeting. ‘Why is that, Mateo?’ It wasn’t that she cared: her income from the restaurant was minimal. Pocket money. She just enjoyed seeing see Mateo squirm. She’d raised a worrying question, though. They weren’t making money like they used to. And Mateo wasn’t sure why. 

*

‘Don’t forget to set the alarm,’ Mateo said. Sergio nodded. ‘And no lock-in.’

‘No lock-in,’ Sergio agreed.

‘Not just tonight,’ Mateo said. ‘No more lock-ins, full stop. I’m tired of paying for your pals to get drunk.’

‘Yes, Dad,’ Sergio said. ‘You can go now. You don’t want to keep Daniella waiting.’

Mateo was annoyed, Sergio could see that, but he left without another word. He climbed into the big, shiny, brand-new car he kept outside the restaurant, heedless of the parking tickets piled on his windscreen.

I’m tired of paying for your lifestyle, Sergio thought. His father lived in comfort, while he struggled. What was a lock-in—a few bottles of vodka, a couple of pints—to Mateo?

Katie brought a tray of empty glasses to the bar. ‘You still up for a lock-in tonight?’ Sergio asked, taking them from her.

‘Yes,’ Katie said. ‘If that’s still OK, if…’ 

‘Of course it is. What about your flatmate? What’s she doing tonight? Would she want to join us?’

*

Angel was at a large table in a noisy pub, surrounded by her classmates. They were, most of them, privately-educated, rugby-playing, white, middle-class bores. Angel rarely socialised with them, but tonight they were her best friends. Tonight she was having so much fun. Tonight she was the centre of attention, talking animatedly, laughing loudly.

It wasn’t because Ryan was there. It wasn’t because he was at the other end of the table, maybe watching her, maybe not, Angel didn’t care. Angel was enjoying herself. She wasn’t thinking about him, or his new girlfriend. She wasn’t thinking about how she’d ended things with him. She wasn’t thinking about how it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. She wasn’t thinking about how stupid it seemed now. She wasn’t. She wasn’t.

*

‘I think I’m going to go,’ Katie whispered. She was standing at the restaurant’s back door, sharing a cigarette with Angel. It was late, and cold. When Katie had stood in the same spot earlier, phoning Angel, it had been mild, spring-like, the air whispering possibilities: maybe something’s going to happen. But nothing had happened. Sergio hadn’t talked to her all night. 

‘Don’t go,’ Angel pleaded. She was wasted, her pupils wild and unfocused.

‘I’m tired,’ Katie said.

Angel cupped her face, leaning in close. ‘You’re scared.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘You are. Go and talk to him.’

‘No,’ Katie said, shaking her head. ‘I’m too tired.’

Angel rolled her eyes. ‘You know, it’s possible to have sex with someone and it not be a big deal.’

‘You would know.’

‘What? You mean Ryan? That’s not… you don’t…’ Angel waved her hand, waving the topic away. ‘I’m not ready to go,’ she said. ‘Do you mind if I stay?’

Katie looked over her shoulder. Sergio was at a table in the middle of the restaurant, flanked by a couple of waitresses. He glanced up as she stared. A frown crossed his face, as if he couldn’t place her. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind if you stay.’

*

Sergio handed Angel a rolled-up ten pound note. She bent forward and snorted. The coke was bitter at the back of her throat.

‘What do you think he meant?’ She said, wiping her nose. She’d told Sergio about Ryan, about meeting Nicole, about how he’d said she made him laugh. ‘Do you think he was trying to say that I didn’t make him laugh? Do you think he was trying to make me jealous, or…’

‘I think he’s an idiot,’ Sergio said.

Angel didn’t know how long they’d been alone, drinking, smoking, doing lines. One by one, the waitresses and the chefs had left, until it was just them, in Sergio’s office, sitting side by side.

‘I mean it, he’s an idiot,’ Sergio insisted. Angel realised that his knee was touching hers, that it had been for some time. She realised the night had been heading towards this from the start.

She leaned closer to him. He kissed her.