Chapter 16 Tessa
TESSA
I’d almost, almost, asked Lily to go with me when I left Seattle Saints’ Shelter on a mission to use my voucher and spend some of my cash on Josie.
I was lucky that both the diner and the pet store I had in mind were both on Eighth; I didn’t think I had it in me today to walk a thousand miles, despite feeling more rested than I had in forever.
The day was overcast, clouds intermittently blocking the sun, and I felt a little cool as a light breeze blew against me, cutting right through the summer weight suit.
If I ever did see Beta Love or any of those other Cupid Company yahoos, I’d tell them that they seriously needed to reevaluate the kind of clothing they provide people with at the end.
If other Omegas that answered their ad were like me, living in a bad situation with few resources, something heavier weight and durable made the best sense.
A few blocks from the shelter, I let Josie free.
She’d been in the bag so much lately that she’d protested a little this morning when I’d had to squirrel her away inside again.
We strolled, pausing once for her to use a tiny patch of grass that sported a single, forlorn dandelion, and I had to fight the urge to dart down alleys behind particularly good restaurants in hopes a dumpster would offer a passable meal.
I was full without being queasy from questionable food; it was a feeling nearly as foreign as stretching my legs out against a real bed.
By the time we reached our destination, the day had warmed a bit, and I felt more comfortable.
Picking up Josie and cradling her under my arm instead of forcing her back into the bag, I went to the pet store first. I almost changed my mind when I saw the fancy window displays and spotted a sign in the left bay near a bougie set of cat bowls that boasted fifty percent off the original ninety-dollar price tag.
“This may be an old life Tessa store,” I mumbled to Josie, frowning.
The alternative though was to walk miles and miles in the opposite direction to the only other pet store I remembered.
So, I pushed through the front door with its carved glass and welcome sign, and hoped they’d have a sensibly priced collar.
A perky Beta with neck tattoos launched into action almost immediately.
I hated that kind of thing; it always felt predatory and made me want to leave a store, even when I was wealthy.
After returning his greeting, but politely refusing his help, I started aimlessly browsing.
It wasn’t a large store, thank goodness, so locating what I wanted wasn’t a problem.
My heart sank when I found the collars. A floor to ceiling display of brightly colored circles. Some glinted with gems, while others were studded or embossed. I held up my free hand, tracing the air near the ones at eye level and reading off the prices.
“Twenty-five… thirty… nineteen… thirty-eight.” They were all out of my price range.
I had to use the two hundred carefully. I couldn’t be foolish.
Feeling defeated, I walked away from the main display and moved towards the back of the store.
The name tag machine was there, bright red with glass on three sides at the top.
That was only five dollars to use, plus the cost of the metal pendant.
I eyed that display of little hanging bags.
A bone. A star. A basic square. I cringed when I saw a red heart.
Definitely not that one. Finally, I picked up a plain circle.
It was $3.99. But it made zero sense to engrave her a tag if she had no collar.
I moved again, past the machine to a shadowed area near a gourmet bone display.
My pulse quickened when I saw a ‘final sale, no returns’ sign over a jumbled basket of random items on a shelf.
I picked through it methodically. It was filled with mostly silly things for owners.
Dog themed socks, cat themed pins, vinyl stickers, headbands made to look like cat ears.
Finally, I saw a flash of pink webbing. Hopeful, I pinched it between two fingers and lifted it out of the chaos.
A size small collar. And it was less than ten dollars.
It wasn’t fancy like the others on display, but it had an embroidery of tiny black paws trailing across the pink.
The metal circle for hanging the tag was matte black and it boasted a tiny matching bell.
It was perfect. How had my luck changed so much, and seemingly overnight?
“Finding everything you need, ma'am?”
I jumped in surprise, having been so engrossed in looking the collar over that I hadn’t heard the employee approach.
“I’m fine, thank you.” I turned just enough to offer him a perfunctory smile.
Despite my words, his eyes flicked down and locked on the blank name tag. “Ah, allow me to help with the engraving. Our machine can be a little tricky.”
Before I could protest, he’d darted forward, snagged the tag, and moved to the machine. By the time I’d shaken myself from the stupor of being ignored and followed him, he’d already set everything up.
“Name?” He asked, hand poised over the keyboard.
“My name?” I asked stupidly.
“Um,” he shuffled uncomfortably, “The pet’s name, actually.”
“Right, duh,” I pressed my lips together, puffed my checks with air, and blew out slowly. He was just trying to be helpful, and I was acting like an idiot. “Josie,” I said quickly, but then changed my mind. “Wait, do Josie Fortune, please.”
Fortune favors the bold.
I thought of Dad. Of that saying of his that I’d hated for so long. But maybe there was some truth to it, after all. I’d been bold and gone to The Eros Institute… or Cupid Company… or whatever. And now? My luck was changing for the better.
“Great, okay.” He typed quickly, pressed a few buttons and adjusted the lettering size, and then flipped to the next screen. “Addresses are usually too long, so I always suggest a phone number.”
Right, a phone number. The whole point of a tag was so a stranger could get Josie back to me if she was ever lost. Not that I’d ever let her out of my sight, but still. I didn’t have a phone number. Hell, I didn’t have an address.
“Just leave that blank,” I said sheepishly.
“Are you sure? It’s usually best to—”
“Blank,” I said firmly, feeling tears prick. My luck might be improving, but I was still a long way from a real home.
When Josie and I stepped back outside, she was wearing her new collar and tag.
I held a logo stamped, brown bag containing ten dollars’ worth of soft cat food—mostly salmon based.
After tax was added, I’d spent a staggering $29.
56. Funny how I used to spend that much on one coffee and a Danish pastry back in the day without batting an eye.
“Okay, don’t hate me, but they probably won’t let us in if they see you.” I soothed Josie back into the briefcase with a promise of sausage and real eggs.
The diner smelled delicious, and I was seated immediately at a two-person booth near an older couple both engrossed in reading books while their food went cold.
A waitress came by seconds later, setting down a mug and filling it with black coffee.
Her uniform was older, mottled stains dotting the apron, and she smelled faintly of maple syrup.
I wondered if Betas who worked in the food industry ever got confused for Omegas.
Working all day around these amazing smells had to leave you absolutely scent-drenched.
“There’s sugar and cream there,” she pointed at a glass pour container and a ceramic bowl filled with individual, mini creamers. “Do you know what you want?”
I hadn’t looked at the menu, and I knew even if I did, I’d be too overwhelmed to choose.
“Can you bring me whatever is really good? I’m not great at making decisions.”
“Sure, hon. Dick makes a great eggs benny, the fruit salad’s always a winner, and we got a couple slices of apple pie left. Regulars love a big chunk of cheddar on it.” She rattled off her recommendations.
“Sounds good.” Before she could turn away, I stopped her. “And sausage. Can I please have some sausage?”
“We’ve got chicken, pork, and turkey. What’s your poison, hon?” She arched a dyed eyebrow, mouth slightly open. Her red lipstick was flaking off a bit.
“Chicken, please. And I have a voucher to pay. Will that be okay?” I opened the briefcase just enough to access the inner pocket and pull out the sleek paper.
I was glad it was glossy, harder to confuse with the papery money.
Josie batted my hand playfully while I was doing it, probably to remind me of my sausage promise.
I presented the voucher and the waitress took it, flipping it over several times and nodding. “Yeah, this one’s legit. We got a lot of fakes. You can pay for the meal, but it won’t cover tip. Boss don’t like to pay us out when it’s a pre-paid meal.”
“Oh, okay. That’s fine.” My brain went over the remaining cash in my bag, and how much the bill might be. I’d always tipped a lot when money wasn’t a problem. I didn’t want to be rude and not give her enough at the end.
“Okay, hon. You keep this until it’s time to pay. I’m going to put that order in for ya. I’ll make sure that pie is on the house too.” She winked at me before leaving.
The food arrived quickly. The hollandaise on the eggs Benedict was slightly off color and the fruit salad was just halved grapes and strawberries several days past fresh, but I ate vigorously, enjoying every single mouthful.
Every few bites, I’d break off a piece of sausage or a nibble of cheese and sneak it into the briefcase.
I saved the pie for last—sans the cheese since most of that went to Josie—and sort of wish I’d asked for it a la mode.
The bill was twenty-three dollars and twelve cents.
She’d comped the pie as promised. The gift voucher was fifty.
I was going to have enough left over to come again someday.
I could come back several times if I ordered less.
I only left a four-dollar tip in cash. I was glad The Institute had paid me in twenties.
I’d broken a second one to pay at the pet store, which had left me with a five dollar bill and five ones, plus a few coins.
I wasn’t sure why the tatted Beta hadn’t just given me a ten, but since he had, I didn’t have to ask the waitress to give me change back.
Leaving less than she deserved was already embarrassing enough.
She was worth twenty percent or more. But…
I wasn’t that girl anymore. I had to think about myself first.
Belly full and sloshing, I didn’t rush back to the shelter. Josie, likewise, seemed content to just lazily march.
The minute I walked back into the joint room, Lily pounced.
“You were gone so long. I seriously thought they got you.” She hugged me, as if we’d known each other forever, rather than a day.
“Yes, the boogeyman got me. I have now gone poof.” I tease, pushing her gently off.
I don’t love being hugged or having my personal space invaded without warning.
Maybe that’s just a product of street life.
I’m in this box. It’s mine now. Go the fuck away.
This is my food, I found it. This is my body, don’t touch it.
It’s hard to chill out your flight and fight response when it’s used to being on twenty-four seven.
“I know you say it’s not real, but you should still be careful. You shouldn’t go out alone anymore.” She looked so concerned, that I nodded.
“Fine, next time I go out, I’ll take you with me. A boogeyman can’t beat the buddy system, right?” I genuinely smiled at her. When was the last time someone worried about me? The last time someone cared enough to want me to come back home in one piece?
“Exactly. Buddy system.” She gave a quick, jerky nod and then threaded her arm through mine to pull me towards her bed. “Now, I need cat cuddles.”
The minute she said cat, the two boys rushed over. I let Josie free and watched the scene unfold.
I could get used to this.
Things could really be okay now.