Broke by Mandasue Heller

Jenny’s name. But before he had a chance, someone called out his.
    ‘All right, Tayls! How’s it hanging, star?’
    It was Clive, a Jamaican guy who had worked with Mark at the paint-mixing shop. They hadn’t really known each other all that well, but Mark had never been more pleased to see anybody in his entire life.
    ‘All right, Lenny.’ Clive walked up to the table and touched fists with the man.
    ‘Killa.’ Yates nodded. Then, jerking his head in Mark’s direction, ‘Pal of yours?’
    ‘Yeah, he’s cool,’ said Clive, touching fists with Mark now. ‘Used to work at our place – till he got sacked.’ He chuckled now, and turned to Mark. ‘I hear the missus wasn’t too pleased about that? Stevo reckons she gave you a right bollocking.’
    ‘Yeah, she did,’ Mark replied quietly, still conscious of the knife despite Yates having slid it back into his pocket.
    ‘Tough break,’ Clive said sympathetically. ‘Stan’s a bastard for kicking you out when you’ve got kids to feed. Have you found anything else yet?’
    Mark shook his head.
    ‘Soon come,’ Clive said supportively. ‘Anyhow, I’ll leave youse to it.’ He rubbed his hands together and grinned widely. ‘Got me a fine lickle lady to wine and dine.’
    ‘In here?’ Yates scoffed. ‘Fuck me, you know how to push the boat out, you lot, don’t you?’
    Mark winced and glanced up at Clive to see if he’d taken offence. But Clive just grinned, and drawled in an exaggerated patois, ‘Man, me c’d tek her t’ Nandos an’ she still be purrin’ like a lickle kitty cat. Darker da bee, sweeter da honey – seen?’
    ‘Me see, mon, me see,’ said Yates, mimicking him, badly.
    Clive laughed out loud and touched fists with them both again before making his way over to the bar.
    Yates turned back to Mark. ‘So you’ve got kids?’
    ‘Yeah, two.’
    ‘And you’ve just been sacked, so I’m guessing you need money to tide you over?’
    ‘Yeah.’ Mark nodded. ‘But I totally understand if you don’t want to give me any after what I said about Coxy.’
    ‘Coxy was a snake,’ Yates said sharply. ‘And you’re lucky you didn’t get your bollocks sliced off like him,’ he added with a sly grin. ‘But now I know you’re mates with Killa, that’s different. How much you after?’
    ‘A-a couple of hundred,’ croaked Mark, licking his lips, which were as dry as sandpaper.
    ‘Address?’ Yates demanded. Sitting back when Mark had told him, he said, ‘I’ll call round in an hour. Make sure you’re there, ’cos I don’t like being fucked about.’
    Mark nodded and stood up quickly. Unsure what to do now, he held out his hand, but immediately withdrew it when Yates ignored it and reached for his pint.
    ‘Thanks,’ he said instead. ‘I really appreciate it.’
    Yates took a swig of his beer and looked right through him as if he was no longer there. Taking that as his cue to leave, Mark walked out, waving goodbye to Clive on the way. Then, head down, he hurried past the Somalians and rushed home to wait for his money.
    An hour later, a shabby silver Vauxhall Vectra pulled up at the kerb outside the house. Mark jumped up off his chair when he saw Yates climb out and ran to open the door.
    Yates walked straight past him into the living room and looked around. Narrowing his eyes when he spotted the framed wedding photo on the mantelpiece, he picked it up.
    ‘The missus?’
    ‘Yeah. Amy.’
    ‘Pretty.’ Yates put the photo down and nodded at a picture of the kids on the wall. ‘They the little ’uns?’
    ‘Cassie and Bobby, yeah.’
    ‘How old?’
    ‘Two and five.’
    ‘Family man, eh?’ Yates smiled and pulled a thick wad of notes out of his pocket. ‘There’s five hundred there.’ He handed it to Mark. ‘Count it if you want.’
    Mark’s eyes widened as he gazed down at the money. ‘Are you sure you want to give me this much?’
    ‘That’s my minimum,’ Yates told him. ‘You’ll pay me back at fifty a week. Bring