Chapter 1 #2
“You did the work,” the man replied, gruff. “Honestly, I thought you’d tap out in an hour.”
Yeah, I had known just from the look on his face when I showed up and announced I was here for the snow removal job.
When he asked me where my warm clothes were, I pointed to my coat with the fur-lined hood.
He seemed doubtful, and I thought for sure he’d tell me to get lost. Instead, he handed me a pair of gloves and a shovel, and I was determined to prove I was stronger than I looked.
“Thanks,” I said, tucking the money inside my coat and quickly zipping it back up to my chin.
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if he would need more help tomorrow, but I held back. Pride was one thing; stupidity was another. Two consecutive days of hard labor in the winter elements were more than I could handle. Every step I took was a sharp reminder.
I managed to make it down the block before I started limping, then ducked into the first diner I saw.
Not one of those chain restaurants. They were too expensive.
Just a local spot with hot coffee and faded, sticky menus.
I slid into a booth away from the drafty door, the scent of frying food and coffee making me queasy.
The heat was nice, though, and I relaxed into the padded seat, my entire body weeping with relief.
Tipping my head back, I let out an exhale, eyes slipping closed. I didn’t know how long I stayed like that, but a clearing throat popped my eyes open.
A middle-aged waitress wearing a black apron, pad and pen in hand, cracked her gum. “What can I get ya?”
“Ah, coffee? And some water please.”
“Sure, hon. Want any food?”
I hadn’t even looked at the menu. “Do you have any soup?”
“Chili. Best in Buffalo.” She pointed to a large sign on the wall that backed up her claim.
“Sure. I’ll have that.”
Her gum smacked again. “You want a sandwich with that?”
I did, but I wasn’t sure I could afford it. “Um, no, thank you.”
“All right, hon. Back in a jiffy.”
She left, and I turned my face toward the empty seat across from me, grateful to look at something besides snow.
After this nice meal, I’d try my luck at snagging a bed at the shelter tonight instead of spending money on a motel room.
Since the weather was so bad, they’d likely have opened more spots.
The shower might not be as hot there, but it would still be warm.
I could use their internet to look up bus schedules and see how much a ticket down South would cost me.
It didn’t matter where as long as it was warmer.
Then I could save up for the ticket and a little extra for some food and maybe a night or two in a cheap motel.
I’d take the first job I could get and start saving for a room to rent.
It wasn’t much, but it was a plan.
The glass of the entrance door rattled in protest, and I peeked around the side of the booth as three rough-looking men strolled in. I knew them immediately. Well, I didn’t know them, but I knew them. Know what I mean?
I saw their type all day, every day on the streets.
The kind who used intimidation to survive and wore arrogance like cologne, the bad kind that lingered in your nostrils and made you want to gag.
They would not hesitate to throw a punch—or worse—to get whatever they wanted, which was usually your money.
One time, I even saw them strip the clothes off someone’s back.
They fanned out into a V-shape, sizing up the place. A pair of eyes flicked to where I was spying, and I dove back into the booth, hiding myself from view.
God, I was tired. Exhausted all the way to my bones. The last thing I wanted was to deal with them. The two hundred dollars in my pocket suddenly felt a lot heavier, less like a blessing and more like a bold red target on my back. Grabbing a paper napkin, I started shredding it into tiny scraps.
You know how sharks can smell blood? Well, criminals can smell cash.
A large bowl of chili thudded on the table, and the waitress slid it in front of me. Steam curled beneath my nose, carrying with it the tantalizing scent of chili powder and browned beef. My stomach clenched painfully, the promise of food almost overwhelming.
A small plate joined the bowl. On it was a pile of shredded cheese, sour cream, and a few packets of crackers. My mouth literally watered as I looked up. “Oh, I didn’t order all—”
“It’s included.” The waitress cut me off almost as though she knew what I was going to say. “It’s the best in the city for a reason.” She winked and set down another plate. “This isn’t included, but it is on the house.”
My eyes must have doubled in size when I saw the grilled cheese sandwich on Texas toast, cut down the center with melted cheese oozing out onto the plate. “Seriously?” I asked, glancing up at her.
“The cook messed up an order. Had to remake it, and this was headed for the trash,” she informed. “Figured you could dunk it in your chili.”
“Thank you,” I said, emotion lodging in my chest. I wondered how I would swallow my food.
She patted the edge of the table and went to get my coffee and water before taking off again.
Impatient, I added the cheese to the bowl and watched it begin to melt before scooping on a dollop of sour cream.
I was too anxious to mix it all together, so I dove in, shoveling up a big bite and making sure it had a little of everything included.
The second it hit my taste buds, my eyes rolled back in my head and I sighed in appreciation.
Warmth and flavor spread across my tongue, and I took another huge bite before reminding myself to slow down.
Unable to convince myself to release the spoon, I lowered it and chewed thoroughly.
I took another large bite and remembered the grilled cheese, probably the only thing capable of convincing me to abandon the spoon.
It clattered against the edge of the white porcelain as I grabbed up a triangle of the gooey sandwich and dipped the corner into the chili.
A sound of appreciation filled the booth as I bit into it, my body involuntarily swaying with contentment.
I was no food critic, and this was the first hot meal I’d had in days, but I was confident in saying the sign on the wall was right. This was the best chili in the city.
An odd sense of awareness washed over me, disturbing enough to make me pause chewing and glance up, but the only thing back here was the bathroom and a memorabilia-lined wall to my right.
Still feeling a little tingly, I peeked around the edge of the booth at the counter, noting the only occupied stools were nearer to the door and the thugs were busy giving their order to the waitress who’d helped me.
Feeling silly, I turned back to my meal, only to realize it wasn’t as appealing as before. I’d eaten less than half but already was so stuffed it felt like the food was sitting in my chest. Consequences of not eating regularly.
Instead of admitting defeat, I grabbed my water and took a sip, opting instead for an intermission.
I’d been exhausted before, but now I was almost lethargic.
The cozy interior of the diner, accompanied by the unexpected kindness of the waitress and the nostalgic song playing over the radio, left me feeling almost safe.
Don’t let your guard down. This isn’t home.
A sobering thought, considering I had no home and hadn’t for a while now. Not because I hadn’t tried, but when you’re underage and have no high school diploma, it severely limits your options. But now that I was eighteen, getting a job should be easier. Right?
God, I hoped so.
A shadow moved across the table, and I glanced up, right into the eyes of one of the thugs who’d come in before. I looked away almost instantly as he continued through the archway that led to the bathroom.
The food in front of me turned even more unappealing, so when the waitress appeared, I asked for a to-go container and a bag.
My instincts were screaming for me to get out of there, but I wouldn’t just leave my unfinished meal behind.
For someone who’d spent more time hungry than full, wasting any amount of food was against the laws of nature.
My instincts would just have to take a back seat to practicality.
There was so much left, I’d have a whole other meal for tomorrow. Maybe even two if I rationed it well.
As I was waiting, the man exited the bathroom, and I felt his eyes before I even glanced up. If I looked away too quickly this time, I’d appear weak. So I held his indiscernible gaze, throwing up a shield against the way he tried to measure me.
Thankfully, the waitress returned, sliding between us and providing a credible reason to turn my attention elsewhere. “Here ya go, hon,” she said, handing over some containers. “There’s a cup for your coffee too.”
I started to thank her, but as the man passed, his knuckle dropped two sharp raps on the end of the table. They were hard-edged and quick, gunshots fired right into the lethargy wrapped around me, shattering it instantly.
The waitress turned to watch him as he continued, pausing long enough to wink at her over his shoulder.
He did not look at me. He didn’t need to. The wooden tabletop still vibrated from his attention.
Time to go. “Can I have the check please?” I asked quickly.
Reaching into her apron, she pulled out the small pad and ripped off the ticket. This place was so old-school that they still did everything by hand.
“Can I just leave the money on the table?” I asked, dragging the paper closer.
She slid her eyes in the direction of the thugs without turning her head. “You know them?” she asked quietly. So quietly I almost missed the words.
“No. I’d like to keep it that way,” I said low.
“I can just take it for you.”
I nodded once and looked down at the total. It wasn’t quite ten dollars. All I had were twenties, so I pulled one out of my coat and handed it to her with the bill.
A few moments later, she returned with the change, handing over a small stack of singles.