Chapter 13

I never went to sleep. The Tequila bottle lay empty and discarded in the bushes to my right, and I sat in the same spot I had the night before. At the base of the bridge, staring at the hill he'd disappeared over and thinking.

He had every intention of coming back. He'd made that perfectly clear. This had gone from a blessing to some sort of fucked up courtship, and no matter how many ways I tried to spin it, the answer to my problem was obvious.

I needed to disappear and avoid it altogether. It wasn't like I had anything tying me to my location. Hell, it didn't even make sense to stay at the bridge. The shop was a long walk away, and I was sure the old man wouldn't mind relocating if I found a different spot.

Problem was, this one was by the bar, which meant cops tended to turn a blind eye to it. The rest of the city was heavily patrolled. Couldn't possibly force those rich suburban housewives to have to look at some random sleeping on a bench, or sitting, or simply existing. It might put a stain on their blissful existence. God forbid we should make them have to think about something real for once.

I heaved a sigh. I was being morbid, even for me. The whole situation had me ready to fight at the drop of a dime. I felt cornered, on edge. My anxiety seemed tight against the edges of my psyche, ready to burst. But I didn't have time for it.

A pink stained sky meant I needed to move. I pushed myself to my feet with a groan and hobbled stiff legged to where the old man lie snoring.

He looked so peaceful. Hands propped under his cheek, knees bent up to his chest. A perfectly, ugly little angel. It was almost a shame to wake him. Almost. Not really. Not at all. It was the only good thing about this morning given his early riser mentality and shitty way of waking me. It only seemed right that I pay him the same courtesy.

I smacked him hard across the cheek.

He spluttered, fists flying before his eyes could even open. I barely managed to pull back before one got me, and when he realized what had happened, his gaze fell on me and narrowed.

"You hit me?"

I shrugged, lips curving. "I thought that's how we did it. Like a homeless morning ritual. You're the teacher, old man. I'm just following your lead."

His chest rumbled as he ran a hand along his haggard face. "What do you want?"

"I want to move."

He cut a look up at me. "Are you frozen or tied in some way? You seem able to get along just fine. Not sure how the hell waking me was supposed to help you."

I snorted. "I mean from the bridge, oh wise one. I want you to come with me. We need a new spot."

"Ain't no new spot."

"How do you know?

He looked ready to knock my feet out from under me. "You ask too many questions. I'm old, girl. Old and tired. This is the best place to be, especially when the temperature drops. You may think those salamanders ain't warming us, but just wait until there's snow on the ground, and you'll notice them."

"Salamander?" I realized too late what he meant. I still couldn't understand why the hell they called them that.

He shook his head. "The flaming can!" He waved a hand out, eyes wide and disbelieving. "You mean to tell me you've been sitting next to that damn thing all this time, and you still don't know what it's called? See? That's my point. We shouldn't move. You young people are always so impulsive." He went about packing his stuff together, still muttering about today's youth and how I probably just wanted a new view.

"I can't stay here, old man."

He turned, and something about my tone made his rough attitude soften. "You shouldn't want to stay here. This place is shit." He kicked my pack over to me, hoisted his over his shoulder, then gave me a long look. "You should ask that guy that gave you a job if he has a spot you could stay in until you save some money. But not me, so don't go getting any ideas about trying to drag me with you. Just you."

I shook my head.

"There's nothing wrong with that. You're young. Young people are supposed to get help. People are supposed to support y'all until you grow out of your stupid."

I shot him a flat look and snatched my pack from the ground. "I'm twenty-six years old." I sneered at him. "And I won't beg my new boss for a place to live."

"Well, its either that, here, or freeze to death." He started walking away.

"Where are you going?"

Without turning, he waved an arm and called back, "The weathers turning, girl. That means Christmas spirit. I'm going to go offer myself as guilt relief and get a buck or two."

I chewed my lip and fixed the straps of my pack over my shoulders. My hand burned like the devil had gotten hold of it, and no matter how much I wanted to disagree, I knew the old man was right. It was either here, or...

They had a shower. Maybe they had a room too. Somewhere. There'd been couches in the break room. Hell, I'd take a closet space if that's all they could do. I could make a cot on the floor. It would be warm, safe. Judging by what I knew about Zeke already, he'd agree.

I took in the many sleeping faces and hollowed eyed stares, the rising brick on either side, and the clip clop of cars driving overhead.

I didn't want to leave the old man, but I couldn't stay either. He didn't need me, anyway. I'd come back and visit, bring him some food. Then when I found a place of my own, I'd take him with me.

I trudged towards the shop, mind made up and spirits lifting.

I made it much earlier than usual, and because of this, I found a much different Zeke when I arrived. His hair was a mess around his shoulders, his face a mask of early morning annoyance. A floral mug looked funny held by his massive hand, and he sat in his station, reading a news paper and sipping as if each one scalded his tongue.

When I stepped through the door, his eyes met mine. "You're early," he grunted. It wasn't an angry sound. More like a caveman who wouldn't evolve until he'd had a few more hours to incubate.

"I wanted to talk to you."

His brows lifted as his eyes did, and he took a much more interested look at my face. "Everything alright?" He sat the cup down.

I smiled. If I didn't know better, I'd think he actually gave a shit. It was a rare occurrence to find someone who did. Most people just looked out for themselves, and rightly so. It was smart. It was what I did. But having him look at me as if I were his kid here to tell him I'd scraped my knee, it felt... nice. Warm. If I was over a decade younger, I'd have clung to it and prayed to never let go. I could only hope it was genuine.

"I sleep under the bridge by Main," I said. There was no point in beating around it. "I plan to save my money and get a place, but it might take me a while. I was hoping..."

"You've been sleeping outside?" His jaw clenched. Lips thinned. "This whole time." He shook his head, dropped the paper, then stood so abrupt the stool almost fell backwards. His eyes ran over me, reminding me of another set, sharp and keen. They landed on my bandaged hand. "And you're hurt."

"It's nothing." I waved it off. I'd expected him to help, not get pissed off.

"You're staying here. I'll find a spot." His eyes darted to the back wall as he seemed to think. "Wait. The old timer. Him, too? I thought he was your relative. I assumed you two were staying at the shelter across town."

"He can't. He's been banned." I left it at that and let him think that was the reason I didn't. It was better that way. If he knew how serious my danger was, something told me he'd be far less hospitable.

"Bring him..."

I cut him off. "I tried. He won't come."

Zeke nodded, face solemn. "Alright. Well, I'll figure it all out." He stepped around, draped an arm over my shoulder and lead me back out the door.

"Where are we going?" I asked when he turned to lock up behind us.

"Shop doesn't open for a couple more hours. You look like hell, girl." He turned and grinned. "I'm taking you out for breakfast. You like pancakes?"

And just like that, I won. Karma lost. She'd thrown a man, more tempting than any other, and I'd dodged it in exchange for the jolly man before me.

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