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 shook my head. I didn’t care. I barely knew the meaning of privacy. “It’s okay.”
I fished out my actual wallet, not that it contained anything of value. I didn’t know when I’d find use for my driver’s license again. Out of the other cards, I supposed my library card was the most important.
“Lemme get that for you.” The kid bent down to grab my phone.
I didn’t want him to be too nice to me.
Once in a blue moon, I ran across someone who evoked stronger emotions in me. They were usually passionate about helping out. Most recently, it was a nurse. I didn’t remember her name, but she’d had this kind smile I’d been unable to look away from. In one big swoop, I’d felt envious, bitter, angry, sad, hopeful, grateful, and overwhelmed. I couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t attraction or anything like it. But I had a hunch this guy would be similar. Only, it was his eyes, and it wasn’t necessarily kindness. His pale-green eyes were framed by dark lashes, almost too long to belong to a man, and they carried charm and an edge.
I could tell people liked this young man.
So I didn’t.
Besides, what the hell did he know? Anyone who offered to call 3-1-1 was about as useful to me as a wet paper towel. Maybe he was new here.
CHAPTER TWO
Trace Kalecki
Jamaal soon came back with a box of clothes for Ben, and he told the man, “See if you can find anything here. If not, we have more.” He also handed over two pills, presumably painkillers. “Water’s in the sink.”
Ben was visibly overwhelmed, so I gave him some space and took his jeans and socks upstairs to my place. After putting the clothes in the dryer, I went back down and stopped at a supply closet for a couple Ziploc kits, and then I made sure Chip was doing all right in my office.
He was busy with the iPad. “Yeah, I’m killing zombies!”
Got it, got it. No more pop for him today.
By then, I saw Ben poking his head out of the bathroom, so I told him to follow me. He’d found a pair of jeans and a hoodie that fit well enough, and he was back in his boots. Hopefully with new socks on, ’cause we had a lot of those.
The Clover was in the thick of it. We had contacts all over, and we partnered up with three churches and two charity organizations regularly to swap supplies, assistance, and information. They could hand out info about our soup kitchen, and we got clothes and hygiene products that people donated. There was always someone in line whose coat was too thin or who needed better socks. Occasionally, we could also hand out vouchers, gift cards, and CTA passes.
In the kitchen, I snatched up the to-go bag Petey had put together.
I let Julie and Tonya head out first, their hands loaded with food orders, and then I followed. We bypassed the bar, and I veered right toward the Green.
Tonight hadn’t been as slow as I’d feared. The majority of the tables in the main dining area were filled.
“In here.” I pushed open the doors to reveal the most Irish area in the joint. Large flat-screens behind plexiglass shared the dark-green walls with Irish sayings and my family’s timeline from County Clare during the famine to Chicago today.
I’d lost count of people saying, “Kalecki? That ain’t Irish.”
No fucking shit, but my grandmother had married a Polish guy. You’re welcome for the sausage.
Twelve booths in total lined the eastern and western walls, and I picked one of them for Ben.
“Have a seat.” I emptied the bag of three containers and two beverages. “I don’t know how you like your coffee, so I brought creamer, milk, and sugar too.” We didn’t shy away from high-energy and high-fat in the winter when an unsheltered person came in. I left the packets next to his food. One big grilled cheese, our famous pizza soup—
“What is that?” He pointed at the soup. “Is that pepperoni?”
I nodded. “Try it and fall in love. I’m tellin’ you.” It was spicy tomato soup with pepperoni and melted mozzarella, and it came with cheesy bread fresh out of the oven.
Ben sat down and carefully put a hand over his wound. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
In the winter, I did. Otherwise, I’d toss and turn all night.
During warmer months, it was easier to offer a menu of simple soup, bread, and the occasional hot dog. But right now? It wasn’t just a matter of freezing. The cold burned calories too fucking fast.
“Do you mind if I sit?” I asked, unpacking the last of his meal. A Coke, fries, and bread.
The bread had been the last change I’d made when we’d ordered new menus. Now it was called Chip’s Cheesy Bread, much to the excitement of my nephew.