The Human Squirrel (A Novel of Temptation, Addiction, Love & Redemption)
Chapter One
The Hunger
The city never really slept. It just changed appetites. By midnight, the streets outside Ronald “Squirrel” Davis’s apartment had traded commuters for hustlers, lonely hearts, and people chasing something they couldn’t name. The glow from liquor store signs washed over cracked sidewalks while bass-heavy music drifted through open car windows, mixing with laughter, sirens, and the smell of rain on hot pavement. Inside Ronald’s apartment, the air carried the scent of expensive cologne, weed, and yesterday’s decisions. Designer sneakers were tossed beside unopened bills. Empty bottles of Hennessy crowded the coffee table beside stacks of cash wrapped with rubber bands. A Rolex box sat open, though the watch itself rested carelessly beside an overflowing ashtray. On the kitchen counter sat untouched lobster tails from the night before, already beginning to spoil. Ronald collected things.
Money.
Jewelry.
Women.
Dreams.
He collected everything except peace.
People called him The Human Squirrel because he was always chasing something—always storing away cash, hiding secrets, and believing the next score would finally satisfy the hunger inside him. It never did.
His phone vibrated across the armrest.
Then again.
Then again.
Three different women.
Three different conversations.
Three different versions of the same empty night. Ronald looked at the screen and smiled to himself. “Y’all don’t ever sleep,” he muttered. Neither did he.
The first text came from Tasha.
You still awake?
The second came from a number saved only as . Miss you already.
The third made him laugh.
You better not be with nobody else.
He locked the phone without answering.
The truth was almost funny.
He’d already spent the evening with one woman. Another had just left less than an hour ago. And someone else was probably on the way. At thirty-something years old, Ronald had everything most men claimed to want. Money in his pocket. Women calling his phone. Respect in the streets. Yet every night ended exactly the same. Alone with his thoughts.
He walked into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. Fresh haircut.
Gold chain.
Athletic build.
Dark circles beginning to settle beneath tired eyes. On the outside, he looked successful.
On the inside…
He looked like somebody running from himself. “You doing too much, Squirrel.”
He laughed quietly.
“Yeah…”
His reflection didn’t laugh back.
A knock echoed through the apartment.
Ronald already knew who it was.
He opened the door to find Jasmine leaning against the frame in a tight black dress, smiling like she owned the night. “You gonna let me in?” she asked.
“You already halfway inside.”
She laughed as she brushed past him, her perfume filling the apartment. “You always got music playing?”
“Gotta keep the house alive somehow.” She looked around.
“You ever clean?”
“When I expect company.”
She smirked.
“So… never?”
Ronald laughed.
“Something like that.”
For a little while they talked.
About music.
About Baltimore.
About vacations neither of them had taken. For a few minutes Ronald almost felt normal. Almost.
Then instinct took over.
He moved closer.
She didn’t step away.
Their conversation disappeared beneath the silence.
An hour later Jasmine slept peacefully beside him. Ronald didn’t.
He lay flat on his back staring into the darkness while the television painted blue shadows across the ceiling. He reached for his phone.
Luxury cars.
Private jets.
Oceanfront villas.
Celebrities wearing watches worth more than houses. He scrolled for nearly twenty minutes before locking the screen again. Every picture whispered the same lie.
Almost there.
He had made more money than anyone in his family ever imagined. And somehow…
He was broker than he’d ever been.
Not financially.
Spiritually.
His grandmother used to tell him something when he was a boy. “You can feed your stomach every day and still starve your soul.” He never understood what she meant.
Now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The phone buzzed again.
This time it wasn’t another woman.
It was Nate.
Meet me tomorrow. Two o’clock.
Big opportunity.
Ronald stared at the message longer than he expected. Nate wasn’t just another hustler.
He was the man who had shown Ronald what success looked like. Designer suits.
Steak dinners.
First-class flights.
Money stacked higher than common sense. But Nate had also taught him something else without meaning to. A man could have expensive taste…
…and still be trapped.
Ronald tossed the phone onto the mattress and rubbed both hands over his face. Something about tomorrow felt different. Like life was standing at a fork in the road. He just didn’t know which direction he was about to choose. Outside, the city kept moving.
Inside, Ronald finally closed his eyes. The hunger was still there.
Waiting.
It always was.