Chapter Four
Stephanie
I’d been working with the same set of volunteers since I took up the mantle of the director. I was honestly impressed they kept showing up at the cold building to spend the whole day freezing their asses off while begging for money from strangers or wrapping gifts with glove-clad hands.
And while people did stop in to drop off gifts or money, we hadn’t had any new walk-ins offering to help with the day-to-day operations. Part of that, I was sure, was because most people had to work.
So seeing someone show up and offer up their time? It was rare, generous, and desperately needed.
Even if nothing about the man who stood in the warehouse said he was the usual do-gooder.
He was on the young side compared to our other volunteers.
Maybe late twenties. He was tall and had a frame I felt inclined to call ‘scrappy.’ He carried himself the way a lot of the street guys I used to know did, all swaggering confidence and forward-hunched shoulders, like he was always looking for a fight.
He had sharp bone structure, dark hair, and the most unique eyes I’d ever seen—one was fully brown, the other half brown and half green.
Then there were all the tattoos.
Gorgeous.
He was gorgeous.
He was dressed in jeans, a leather jacket, and Timbs that were darkened a bit from the snow outside.
He looked like someone who was about to shake down a convenience store, not wrap presents for unhoused kids.
But, hey, I would take every set of hands I could get.
Especially ones who were willing to do the hard work. Like beg people for money on the streets.
Though, just a few moments into the actual training, it became pretty clear that this Venezio guy was not meant for the act of humbling himself to ask for donations.
The man glowered, scowled, criticized their cheapness, and heckled those who passed by in designer clothes and didn’t even drop in a dime.
As someone who thought and felt the same frustration, it was amazing.
As someone who was running a respectable organization, it became clear pretty quickly that Venezio was not going to be our bell-ringer.
Though, I had to say, his methods made for the best single-day donations we’d gotten in a long time.
And his company was kind of nice.
He wasn’t much of a talker.
He also kind of scoffed at all the things I liked most about this time of year—the Christmas music spilling out from open doors, the gaudy lights, the crowds of wide-eyed tourists just looking for the spirit of the season.
Still, it was nice not to be alone.
Life had been isolating a lot the past couple of years.
Changing careers meant I didn’t have coworkers to chat with all day or go out with at night.
My mom was gone, and with her my whole family.
Sure, I had Andy and Sammy (and Meatball), but they were busy women with their careers and families.
And at the charity, I was busy on the phones begging for money, so I didn’t really get to interact with the other volunteers.
Just having someone by my side was surprisingly nice.
Nice enough that I felt a growing sadness in my chest as our feet smacked in the slush of the parking lot as we made our way back to the warehouse.
“You didn’t have to walk me all the way back.”
“You got a lot of cash on you,” Venezio said, shrugging his shoulders.
“Are you going to fight off these nonexistent muggers you’re worried about?” I teased.
“If I have to, yeah.”
He wasn’t teasing.
Of course he wasn’t. Because those big hands of his? They had scars all across his knuckles. This was a guy who wasn’t a stranger to physical altercations.
What was he doing volunteering at a homeless shelter?
Had he been a homeless kid too?
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why are you volunteering here?”
“What? I don’t look like a do-gooder?” he asked, lips quirked up.
I sidestepped that. “Were you a shelter kid?”
“Me? No. Parents didn’t do shit else for me, but they did keep a roof over our heads. Though, fuck knows how.”
So not a shelter kid, but clearly not from a good background either. Maybe he just wanted to give back to other kids who had it hard. Since no one had given that to him.
“Didn’t have anything else to do with the holiday season,” Venezio admitted. “Figured this was as good as anything.”
“You’re not close with your family?”
“Well, technically, I guess they’re kind of around. A little bit.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“They’re dead. Got ‘em cremated. Ashes are probably scattered around in the soot of the city somewhere.” My eyes must have widened at his coldness because a low chuckle moved through him.
It may or may not have moved through me too—a delicious little shivering sensation.
But we were just going to pretend that didn’t happen. “Did I shock you, darlin’?”
“Uh, well, it was a little… cold.”
“So were my parents. Trust me, they don’t need your sympathy. I once saw my old man kick a homeless guy because he lost the last of his money on some shitty sports bet.”
“Oh, wow. Yeah, that’s… awful.”
I’d seen plenty of cruelty toward fellow unhoused people when my mom and I had been struggling.
People mocked, screamed at them to get a job, called them drug addicts and alcoholics, laughed at them, taunted them with food only to pull it away at the last second.
The cruelty people were capable of never ceased to amaze and horrify me.
I wasn’t going to blame Venezio for feeling indifferent toward people like that.
“Yep. Descended from real scumbags. Anyway. You’re here. Get that money locked up,” he said, nodding toward the building.
“I will. Thanks for your unusual crowdfunding methods.”
“Not good at begging,” he admitted. “Much better at the whole intimidation thing.”
“And heckling. We can’t forget the heckling,” I said, getting his eyes to warm and that smirk of his to stretch just a little bit wider.
“I have my skills.”
“Thank you for coming with me today. I honestly really hate the bell-ringing part of this job.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because kids are innocent. They can’t do anything about their circumstances. And they all deserve the magic of Christmas, regardless of what difficulties their parents are facing. I can tolerate a couple weeks of discomfort if it means these kids have good memories to look back on.”
To that, Venezio nodded at me while rocking back on his heels.
“So, well, thanks for coming out. I appreciate it.”
“Why you talking like I’m not coming back?”
“You’re coming back?”
“Yeah, got nowhere else to be.”
“Oh, okay. Well… great.”
“Could sound a little more enthusiastic about it,” he said with a little chuckle.
“No, really! It’s great. I’m just trying to think what job might be best for you. Since I don’t think asking for donations is your calling.”
“Probably not. What about the trucks?”
“The trucks?” I asked, brows pinching.
“Figure the toys come in from somewhere. Probably on trucks or something like that.”
“No, they do. We order in bulk as much as possible to save money. There are some small shipments coming in. Until we get some bigger donations, it’s kind of drips and drabs.”
“You don’t get a big shipment?” he asked.
“We do. Well, hopefully. Usually right before the holiday. Which means everyone has to be here working overtime to get it all wrapped so we can get them out to the shelters in time. But unless things pick up soon, I’m worried that shipment might not come through.”
“It will.”
He sounded so sure. Almost firm. Like he wouldn’t allow the shipment not to come in.
“Well, I appreciate your confidence. And, yeah, I guess that would be a good job for you: unloading, sorting, putting in the bins to be wrapped, that sort of thing.”
“I can handle that.”
“Great. Well, I’ll see you around then,” I said, giving him a smile.
“Yeah, you will,” he said, pulling open the door.
Not for the first time, I wished for a rush of warm air. But it was just slightly less freezing inside as I walked through.
Did I turn and watch Venezio swagger away? Yes, yes, I did. Did I feel a certain little pressure in my core as I did so? Well, I was just not going to let myself acknowledge that.
“How’d it go?” Craig, one of the volunteers I’d inherited, asked.
He was middle-aged, with a little pepper in his dark blond hair, summer-blue eyes, and a somewhat bulky frame from spending way more hours in the gym in a week than I’d gone in a year.
“Pretty good!” I said, putting some extra pep in my voice. It was my place to set the morale of this charity. Even if I was starving, my feet hurt, and my fingers had long since gone numb.
“Yeah? Good. Glad to hear it. More happy kids on Christmas morning.”
“How’d it go around here?”
“We got some small donations. Got lots of presents wrapped. But we ran out of paper.”
“Oh, okay. I will pick up some more. Thanks for letting me know. You should head home. You’ve been here almost as long as I have.”
“Yeah, I’m about to head out. Get a hot meal. Take a hot shower. Basically, get warm.”
“I know. It’s bitter today.”
“So… who’s the new guy?” Craig asked, trying desperately to come off casual.
“Just a new volunteer. He’s going to be unloading and sorting the trucks from now on.”
“Yeah? Where’d he hear about us?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Weird, isn’t it? He just shows up here?”
“I don’t know. People tend to find their sense of charity this time of year. And thank God for that.”
To that, Craig just grunted.
“How about you leave early for a change too? I wouldn’t mind sharing a meal with someone.”
Craig had been low-key hitting on me since I took over the organization. While I considered it harmless, I also didn’t want to entertain it and give him false hopes.
“I’m afraid I still have at least another hour here. And then several hours of my real job to go tonight. But thanks for the offer. Have an extra hot course for me.”
“Alright. Will do.” If his ego was bruised, he didn’t show any signs of it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask again. “Be safe, you hear?”
“Always,” I agreed, giving him and a few others a smile as they made their way out.
I followed behind, locking the door, then letting out a deep sigh before going over to the phone bank to check out the donations everyone had managed to pull in.
It was a couple grand.
Not great.
But every dollar got us closer to more gifts.
I wasn’t complaining.
I sat down to count and sort the cash I (well, Venezio) got, filled out a slip, put it in my bag, then made my way out, ready to hit the bank to deposit the cash before I finally got to go home.
I was dreaming of a too-hot bath with a cup of hot cocoa, maybe some gentle, crooning Christmas music playing, when a movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention.
I whipped around but didn’t see anything.
Though, as weird as it sounds, I could have sworn I’d seen Venezio.
But that was likely my imagination playing tricks on me.
Later, with my belly full of canned soup, and my mind full of the steamy scenes in the book I’d just narrated, the warm water lapping around my skin as I shifted in the tub, thoughts of him returned.
This time, just this once, I let them.