Chapter 12 #2
A third server entered, pushing a cart. Whistles and cheers rose when the room spotted the perfectly roasted quail sitting on a bed of wild herbs.
People the color of ash were roaming the streets. Society had crumbled. Life, as we knew it, had changed, and it would take decades to resemble anything close to what it once was.
Yet, we were eating quail.
A server set a plate, along with mashed potatoes and vegetables, in front of me. My potatoes had been arranged to look like a heart, and I smiled.
Mae.
Mae and I first met when, one night, I got so desperate for food that I tried to break into her diner.
Usually, I’d manage to find something to eat, but I’d gone days without so much as a scrap.
It had felt like my stomach was consuming me from the inside out.
Then, a few hours before I showed up at Mae’s, a businesswoman had offered me a few dollars to spend the night with her.
And I’d heavily considered it.
Despite the way my “parents” left me, I used to imagine that they loved me but weren’t able to provide for me. So, they’d had to give me up.
In my mind, those mythical parents could have forgiven me for breaking and entering to avoid death by starvation. Selling my body, however, would break their hearts. Plus, by then, I’d seen too many similar arrangements go from one night, one person to multiple nights and multiple people.
Mae had overheard my attempts at lockpicking, along with my groans and sniffles of frustration. I’d been so focused on the lock that when I finally noticed her shadow in the glass front door, I fell backward and bruised my tailbone.
Twenty years ago
“I’m s-so sorry, ma’am,” I said, scrambling to my feet.
“It’s not…I don’t…I’m not here for money.
It’s just that I pass this place all the time, and it always smells so good.
I don’t even need fresh food. I’ll eat whatever you were planning to throw away, or what people didn’t finish on their plates. I’m not picky, I promise.”
Beaded earrings dangled from her ears, and both her hands and the apron draped on top of her long yellow dress were covered in white powder. She wore her hair in a braid that reminded me of a halo, the dark plait contrasting against the silver coils along her hairline and temples.
She’d caught me in the middle of trying to steal from her, yet she didn’t look angry. I’d gotten reasonably good at reading people, a necessary skill for a street kid, and she almost looked concerned about me. But this lady didn’t know me. Why would she be concerned about a nobody like me?
“I promise I would have left the money alone,” I went on. “I’m just hungry. So hungry.”
She scanned me, her eyes glossy. “I’ve seen you.”
“On your cameras?”
I looked up.
Stupidly, I hadn’t checked for cameras.
“No, no. I’ve seen you around. You’re the boy who always stops and smells the air.”
“Because it always smells good here.”
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen or fifteen, I think.”
“You think?” Her eyes grew even glossier. “You don’t know when your birthday is?”
I scratched my head. “I forget sometimes, but it’s on record someplace. My first foster dad told me where I could go to get my birth certificate if I ever need it. I want to join the Navy, so I might need it for that.”
“And where is your foster dad now?”
“He died a while back. I tried some different foster homes after that, but…” I reeled in what would have been too much truth for a stranger. “They didn’t work out.”
“And your parents?”
“I never knew them. Somebody found me as a baby at a Waffle House, and they took me to the hospital.”
She made a choked, gasping sound. “A Waffle House? Where do you live now?”
“Nowhere,” I said. Then, I waved my arms, eyes wide. “No, wait! I mean, I have a home. I live someplace. I’m not homeless.”
She beckoned me with a flour-covered hand. “Come here, baby.”
“Please, ma’am. I’ll leave if you don’t call the police. I’m not a troublemaker, but I can’t go back to foster care.”
If they sent me back, I would simply escape again.
“I’m not calling the police.” She motioned again. “Come here. Let me look at you.”
I limped closer.
“Skin and bones.” She tsked, studying me with soft brows and the kindest eyes I’d come across in a long time. “And look at your hair. I wonder if I can get Trey to cut it for you. I’ll have to call him. Oh, sweetheart. My heart breaks just looking at you. Are you in school?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I almost never miss a day. I’m not usually this hungry, honest. Summer’s just harder because I usually eat at school.”
“Come inside and let me feed you.”
“Ma’am?”
“Come inside. I’m going to feed you. And, if you promise to stay out of trouble, you can always come here for something to eat, okay?
Even when it’s not summer. Plus, we have a full bathroom in the back with a shower, and I can probably clear out one of the storage rooms and put a bed in there. What’s your name, baby?”
My vision blurred. “Dez.”
“Dez what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lord…” Her head momentarily fell, and she stroked my arm the way I’d always imagined a mother would.
“I’ll help you find out, okay? And we’ll figure out how old you are.
I might be able to give you something to do around here.
For now, come on in and let me fix you something to eat.
And what you have on? That’s not enough for how cold it’ll get tonight.
Let me call my sister and see what we can find for you.
I have a son who’s fourteen, and as much as he eats, he’s just as skinny as you are. ”
A tear dripped onto my cheek. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Mae,” she said. “Call me Mae.”
Her name was actually sort of perfect. “Mae” had the same number of letters as “Mom.” To me, that made it close enough to “Mom.”
And I really, really wanted one.
I looked up into the server’s face. “Did you say something?”
“Just that dessert will be up shortly,” she said. “It’s apple pie.”
“Oh. Thanks. Actually, can you bring me two slices?”
“Of course.”
She bowed her head and left to serve another table.
I started on my lunch.
Once I was done, I would request that Larke be escorted to Juniper. Moments like today, when I was reminded of all I’d overcome to get where I was, I craved seeing her. I wanted to touch her skin, feel her arms wrapped around me, and suck on her lips.
I also wanted to fuck her through the mattress.
The bracelet around my wrist flashed with my credit balance, which was so large that it couldn’t fit on the screen.
Then, it showed me a second account with a zero balance.
I wasn’t aware of a second account, but it didn’t take long for me to figure out whose it was.
Something also told me that I had full control of this account.
Considering I’d had no idea, I was sure Larke didn’t either, and it was lunchtime.
I transferred more credits than she would need to buy an adequate lunch. If she wanted to treat coworkers, it was enough that she would be able to do so for the rest of the month.
A few minutes later, my radio chirped:
“Captain Harding, this is Wade Marshall, over.”
“Go for Harding,” I answered.
“Captain, I have Miss Tapley with me in the Woodhaven mess hall. She needs to speak with you. It’s an urgent matter.”
“Marshall, go to 9 and give the radio to Miss Tapley.” I left the table and returned to the empty conference room. “Good afternoon. I hear you have something you need to say to me, Counselor?”
“Yes, I do,” she spat. “I don’t want your blood money.”
Hearing her voice alone made me want to go downstairs, even if only to watch her fill her lunch tray while I lurked in a dark corner.
“You will take it, and you will eat.”
“I’d rather starve.”
“You’re no use to me dead, and you’ve proven very useful for my needs when you’re alive and warm. Now, I won’t repeat myself.”
The way we parted this morning didn’t explain this sudden argumentative approach, at all, so I knew she was trying to tell me or clue me in on something.
Perhaps she missed me. Perhaps she wanted me and couldn’t wait any longer to see me again, the same way it had been a challenge to be away from her these last several hours.
“Marshall?” I called.
“Sir? Yes, sir?”
“Please escort Miss Tapley to the conference room.”
“Yes, sir—”
“Oh, are we going to eat together or something?” she hissed. “Don’t take a bite without me, asshole. I’d hate to miss an opportunity to see you choke.”
“Over,” was the last thing I said, but by then, I was speaking to dead air.