Chapter Two
“Hey, Lenny. It’s Eli.”
Sitting on a bench in Copley Park, the chill of the looming winter reminding him of his dire circumstance, he clutched his phone, wondering whether he should leave a message or not. He still had no idea whether the murderer, or murderers as the case may be, were on to him.
“Umm… Never mind. I’ll try you again later.”
Eli shoved the phone back into the pocket of his hoodie, mentally raging at himself for not choosing somewhere warmer to be homeless.
What the hell was the matter with Florida?
Picking Boston had been a combination of getting as far away as possible and knowing the city in a casual way from visiting his grandparents when he was a kid.
His grandparents were gone now, but they wouldn’t have been a good landing spot anyway.
If a killer were determined enough, they could easily connect the dots from one family member to the next.
Eli wrapped his arms around his body, tucking his hands under his armpits.
Fuck. What should I do? In his fantasies, he’d call Lenny who would tell him, Hey, great news!
They caught the killer, and they don’t need us to testify, so come on home!
But when they spoke last week, Lenny said that not only wasn’t the killer caught, but he hadn’t found any news about the murder online or anywhere else.
Then there was the inevitable: your family is very worried about you, they don't understand why I won’t tell them anything. After that was the requisite warning from him not to say one word about where he was.
Such a fucking disaster. His entire world had exploded around him because he’d been bitten by the ol’ wrong place, wrong time routine.
And now that he’d been busted by his boss, he was officially on the streets and without the small number of things he owned.
No way was he ever setting foot in that place again.
Sure, the owner seemed like he genuinely wanted to help, but Eli hadn’t trusted anyone since that awful night. He’d never been so paranoid.
Besides, what could his boss do? The guy might be rich as fuck, but as much as it seemed as though it could, money didn’t fix everything. Eli pressed his lips together, shaking his head. Nope. His former boss seemed like the by-the-book type. He’d pressure Eli into going to the cops.
Okay, dude. Think this through.
He had to move on, look ahead, and take the next step. No point in wallowing in self-pity.
Eli eyed the people strolling by. Some crossed the park with a brisk pace, others wandered along the path casually, either chatting with someone they were sharing the day with or taking in the sights. He chewed on his bottom lip. Where was he going to sleep tonight?
Eli plucked his phone from his pocket again so he could check how much money he had left from his last paycheck.
Or more accurately, on the card where his pay was deposited.
His gut tightened. Would he get the money for the few days he’d worked before he ran out?
Although he wasn't an expert on labor laws, he was fairly certain they had to. He grunted. Not that he’d ever confront them if they didn’t.
His burner didn’t have a lot of bells and whistles—or memory—so not only did it not have a lot of apps, but it was super slow. Burner phone, burner job, burner life. By now his boss would’ve figured out that the info on his application was a load of bullshit. At least he couldn’t be tracked down.
The info on his account finally loaded, and he wanted to cry. The few hundred dollars he had left from the last pay period probably wouldn’t even get him two nights at the cheapest hotel in the city. The next time he was running from a killer, he’d make sure to find someplace warmer and cheaper.
He rubbed his forehead, staring at the phone as if it held the answers to the universe.
Homeless shelter. That’s what people did in his situation.
At the same time, he had no idea what the options were or how it worked.
There were so many people on the streets that it had to mean there wasn’t any room, right?
Panic clawed at his stomach, his meager breakfast of the day-old croissant and a cup of coffee the hotel cafe left out for the staff threatened to make a reappearance.
He sucked in a deep breath. Time to put on his big boy pants and do some research.
Sitting around a park bench wasn’t getting him anywhere.
If the homeless shelter was a bust, he could always buy a ticket to another place.
Not that he had any clue where he’d go, but at least on the bus he’d have shelter and somewhere to sleep.
After checking out one spot that could only offer him a voucher for a motel for the week, Eli headed to the subway and caught the train to Roxbury.
There was both a teen and adult shelter there, and the volunteer at the first place said they were serving food that night.
Food was good. Anything he could get that wouldn’t draw from his limited funds.
The T rattled through the tunnels, each clank and screech setting his nerves on edge.
Eli hunched in his seat, pulling his hood up despite the stuffiness of the subway car.
Every face that turned his way made his pulse spike—was that person looking at him too long?
Did they recognize him from some wanted poster he didn't know existed?
Stop it. He gripped the metal pole beside his seat. Nobody knows who you are. Nobody cares about some random guy from LA. But the rational part of his brain had been losing ground to paranoia for weeks now. Sleep deprivation and constant fear had a way of warping everything into a potential threat.
The train lurched to a stop, and Eli checked the map on the wall.
Two more stations. His stomach cramped with hunger, reminding him that the stale croissant had been hours ago.
The volunteer had mentioned they served dinner at six—he glanced at his watch and breathed a sigh of relief. He'd make it in time.
The shelter stood like a beacon amid the gathering dusk, a plain brick building with weathered steps leading to a glass door covered in flyers.
Eli hesitated at the bottom of the steps, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The muffled sounds of voices drifted from inside—laughter, conversation, and life continuing despite adversity.
Eli wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and forced himself up the steps, one at a time. The door felt heavier than it should have as he pulled it open, warm air rushing to meet him, carrying the scent of something savory that made his stomach clench with renewed hunger.
Inside, the fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow over a reception area where a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair sat behind a desk. She looked up as he entered and gave him a warm smile.
“Hello. Are you here for dinner?” She gestured to a large room to her left. “Go on in and get in the food line. They’ve just started serving.”
“Thanks.” Eli shoved his hands in his pockets. “Umm, I was wondering. Do you have any beds open tonight?”
Her features fell, and he had his answer before she spoke. “I’m sorry, hon. We’re booked for tonight, but keep trying. Sometimes people don’t show up.”
Eli laughed shakily. “Like standing by for a flight.”
Her brow furrowed slightly. “Well…something like that, I suppose.”
Was he being offensive? “Sorry. This is…” He almost said ‘first time’, but that didn’t seem like an appropriate remark, either.
Her expression softened. “It’s okay, hon. I can see you’re tired. Why don’t you get something to eat? The sooner you go inside, the better.”
She didn’t need to explain. While he was standing there, worried about saying the wrong thing, they might be running out of food in the other room.
After thanking her again, he made his way into the dining area.
Once he crossed the threshold, the space opened up into a large room with long tables packed with people.
The noise hit him first. Dozens of voices overlapped, silverware clinked against plates, and chairs scraped against the linoleum floor.
The smell of hot food made his mouth water and stomach grumble.
Eli hesitated at the edge of the room, scanning the space. A line of people snaked from a serving counter where volunteers in hairnets and plastic gloves dished out what looked like a stew of some sort and bread rolls.
He joined the line, keeping his head down, shoulders hunched. The line moved efficiently, and when he finally reached the front, a cheerful guy with spiky blond hair and an infectious grin handed him a tray.
“Hey there! Welcome to our five-star establishment,” the server joked, ladling a generous portion of stew onto Eli’s plate. “I’m Ryan. First time here?”
Eli nodded, his eyes fixed on the steaming food, ashamed. His embarrassment had nothing to do with being in the same position as all the others in the line were. It was that he’d never truly understood what it must be like not to have a home or enough to eat.
“Are you all right?” Ryan’s voice had softened.
“I’m…” Nah. He wasn’t fine. However, holding up the food line didn’t seem like a good way to feel better. “Sorry.”
He directed his apology to the frowning older man next to him who was staring him down.
Ryan cleared his throat, holding up a roll embraced by tongs.
His smile reached his eyes, and Eli wished he’d met him under different circumstances.
Being so far from home without Lenny around sucked.
Not having any friends was as bad as not having anywhere to stay.
“Thanks,” he mumbled to Ryan, then quickly moved along, only stopping to add an apple and a bottle of water to his tray.