Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I’d checked in on him a couple times once Sarah had picked up Chip, and I had to admit I wasn’t particularly worried about him crashing outside my place. He showed no signs whatsoever of being a user—and I knew all the fucking signs—and he wasn’t one of those who’d lived on the streets for years and years either.
My semi-educated guess…? At some point in his life, not too long ago, he’d fallen on hard times, and he was struggling to get back on his feet. It was the story of many here in the city. Rents and mortgages had gone up, same with food and gas—wages, not so much. The property taxes alone could send entire families out on the street, especially in the suburbs, and then they were forced to double up with family or friends somewhere or jump through hoops to get into an emergency housing program. We hadn’t increased Section 8 vouchers at the rate that was necessary either.
Once we reached the back, I flicked off the last of the lights and activated the alarm. Then I let him head out first so I could lock up.
“Since you’re stayin’ the night, we may as well wash your clothes,” I said.
I turned around and found him glancing up the stairs.
“That’s not necessary,” he replied absently. “Can, uh, others get in?”
I shook my head and pointed at the front door behind him. “That one’s always locked. At this point, it’s probably frozen shut too. I can’t remember the last time I used it.”
I always went through the kitchen back door, and my mail was delivered to the bar’s PO box.
He seemed somewhat satisfied at that.
I gestured for him to go on up first, and that was less comforting for him. I was sure he didn’t like turning his back on potential threats. And neither did I.
“About the laundry,” I said. “Fuck what’s necessary. It’s about comfort. I’mma get something to eat—you’re free to use the bathroom. Take a shower, wash your clothes.”
He reached the landing and peered down at me. “You really do this for others too?”
I chuckled. He got me there. “Rarely,” I admitted. “But you don’t strike me as someone who would knock me out to steal my TV. Which is the only thing I value in there.”
I went ahead next, and we rounded the corner to my door. And the alcove where he’d sleep.
“So this is it.” I unfolded the bed and straightened the mattress. There was just enough space for an old milk crate too, and I pointed to it. “Inside that crate, you’ll find an alarm clock in case you need it. Sometimes, I have guys who gotta get up early for a job interview.”
He nodded with a dip of his chin and left his stuff on the mattress. “I was supposed to be at an interview in Skokie tomorrow, but I’m gonna skip it.”
Because of the car?
“Why?” I stuck my key in the first lock and squinted as I did CTA math. Skokie… So that was the red line up to Howard, and then—
“I wasn’t gonna get it anyway,” he muttered. “I’m not a fuckin’ plumber. And those guys today—they gotta see degrees and certifications for everything. Back in my day? You showed up and proved yourself.”
Christ, he spoke like my old man, yet he couldn’t be a day over fifty.
Third lock’s the charm. I opened the door and glanced back at him. “What are you?”
“Contractor,” he said. He scratched his chin with a bit of a faraway expression. “I spent twenty years building houses, just to end up homeless.”
Damn. That fucking sucked. No wonder he was struggling to find work this time of year too.
I opened the door wider and let him in.
My place was kinda sad, which Adam liked to remind me. Given the previous use of the space as an attic, I had two bedrooms, a front room, and a kitchen forming a neat row, then a long fucking hallway followed alongside, with a fire escape down at the end. One big bathroom, one half-bath. Both bedrooms stood empty, aside from some moving boxes. I slept in the front room, where I had a big pullout couch I never prepared for company. I kept it as a bed. Coffee table, entertainment center, big flat-screen, huge windows you could sit in. Nothing on the walls, much to my sister’s disappointment. She’d given me a photo of Chip, and I’d stuck it on the fridge.
Ma had tried to get me to decorate it more. At the very least, use one of the bedrooms, but I didn’t care. I liked falling asleep to the TV running.
I gave Ben a quick tour—as in, I pointed out the front room and kitchen on our way to the bathroom. There was a second fire escape in the kitchen too.