“As long as you’re careful not to let some homeowner spot you,” one boy said. “They’re not big on us being around at night. They think we’re going to break in and rob them, or sell drugs to their innocent kids.”
Cole took that under advisement. Being able to sleep somewhere in the area would be a hell of a lot better than hiking miles every night, back to where he had been crashing.
After he’d finished eating, Cole gathered up Bull and set out for the shopping center Bret had mentioned. When they got there, Cole went from shop to shop, after telling Bull to wait outside and guard his backpack. At each place he got either, “I’m sorry, we’re not hiring right now,” or “You’re not old enough,” “You don’t have the qualifications we need,” and variants on that theme. Cole wondered, as he left a fast food place, exactly what qualifications were required to flip burgers.
“Now where?” he asked Bull, as he left the last store. He dropped down beside the dog, resting his head against the wall behind them.
“You can’t panhandle here,” a security guard said roughly.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Cole replied tightly.
“Looks like it from here. And get a leash for that monster before he attacks someone.”
“Fuck you, too,” Cole muttered, getting to his feet again. Slinging his pack over one shoulder, he marched angrily out of the shopping center. When he got to the street, he decided to call it a day. “I’m not giving up,” he told Bull. “I’m just…Yeah, I’ve had it with being rejected by stupid people who aren’t willing to give a guy a chance. Let’s head back.”
Apparently Bull had other ideas. He started walking in the opposite direction, glancing back over his shoulder to see if Cole was following. With a shrug, Cole did. Bull led the way to a row of stores behind a low stone wall, and sat in front of it. For a moment, Cole wondered what the dog was doing. Then he got the idea. Sitting on the wall, he retrieved the cup he’d used the previous night, putting it down by his feet.
“You are one smart dog,” Cole said a while later, after yet another person stopped to admire Bull, and toss some change into the cup when Cole told them he was trying to get enough money to buy food for him and the dog.
Bull looked up at him, and Cole could have sworn he was smiling.
It was almost evening when Cole decided it was time to go back to The Haven to eat before trying to find a place to sleep for the night.
“Any luck?” Bret asked when Cole came into the kitchen.
“No job, if that’s what you mean, but we made out pretty well otherwise.” He showed Bret what he’d gotten by spanging, thanks to Bull.
“Not bad. Still, don’t give up on finding a job. The sooner you do, the sooner you can get a place of your own.”
“I know. I know.” Cole sighed, then asked, “Is it okay if I do my laundry here?”
“That’s why we have the washing machine and dryer,” Bret pointed out with a smile.
Smiling back, Cole went down to the basement, dumped his dirty clothes—which were almost all of them—into the washer and turned it on. Then he got a pack of meat and a bone from the fridge to give to Bull. While the dog ate in the backyard, Cole did the same in the dining room. Halfway through the meal, he went back down to put his clothes in the dryer, collecting them again when they were dry. After folding everything and putting them in his backpack, he got Bull and set off toward the park south of The Haven.
He decided it might be better to get there via the alleys. Even though he was dressed better than some of the homeless kids he’d seen at The Haven, and on the streets, his backpack with the rolled-up sleeping bag would be a dead giveaway he didn’t belong in the neighborhood. He didn’t want any of the homeowners hassling him—which he thought they might if he stayed on the sidewalks in front of their well-manicured lawns and nice houses.
They were halfway down the third alley when Cole saw two obviously homeless men going through a dumpster. As he got closer, one of them looked at him, saying sharply, “This is our territory, so beat it.”
“I wasn’t going to bother you,” Cole protested. “I’m just heading to the park.”
The other man sneered. “Taking your doggie for a walk?”
“Umm…yeah.” Cole heard Bull growl and put one hand on his head, whispering, “Don’t make things worse.”
“Then get moving,” the first man said, looking warily at Bull. “You need a leash on that monster.”
“Can’t afford one,” Cole shot back, tired of everyone telling him that.
For whatever reason, the second man reached into the dumpster. Muttering, “I thought I saw…” he pulled out a length of rope, tossing it to Cole. “Don’t say no one never gave you nothing.”
“Thanks,” Cole replied, surprised by the kind gesture. He made a loop at one end as he and Bull walked away, ran the other end of the rope through it, then stopped long enough to put the rope around Bull’s neck. There was barely enough left for Cole to hang onto, but he didn’t intend on doing that anyway, unless he spotted a cop. No sense in asking for trouble if I do. It is a leash. Just not much of one. While Bull didn’t seem happy with the turn of events, he accepted it with reasonably good grace, just giving Cole a ‘Why me?’ look before trotting off down the alley ahead of him.
It was dark when they reached the park. A path meandered through a wide expanse of grass, dotted with benches and lampposts every few yards. At the far side were trees and just beyond them, Cole discovered when he got closer, a wide creek with more trees and grass on the other side.
“We have a problem, Bull. This is real nice, but there’s nowhere we can sleep without someone seeing us.”
Bull climbed down the slope leading to the creek, then started walking along the narrow bank. He seemed to be looking for something. Figuring what the hell, Cole followed. Bull stopped, looking back at Cole and then at the slope. When he joined him, Cole understood why.
“It’s not much, but it is shelter,” Cole agreed when he saw a small cave dug into the bank of the stream. “Probably done by kids playing pirates or something. At least we better hope it’s that and not a spot belonging to some homeless person. I’m really not in the mood for a facedown right now.”
He unstrapped the sleeping bag, laying it out in the cave. Then he took off his shoes, setting them beside the sleeping bag and crawled in, his backpack serving as a pillow—as always. Once he was settled, Bull lay down next to him.
“If I was a kid,” Cole said, “this would be a big adventure. But I’m not, so it’s more like something off that survival program, but with no million-dollar payoff if I win.”
Bull chuffed softly, as if commiserating with Cole. He pressed closer, his warmth seeping through the sleeping bag. It felt good, since—even though it was early summer—the night was chilly.
“Maybe we should quit hanging around the city and go up to the mountains,” Cole said sleepily. “Find a vacant cabin and really live rough.”
He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like.
The next thing he was aware of, someone was shaking him. He sprang awake, fear flooding him. A man knelt at the entrance of the cave, and Bull was nowhere in sight. Cole opened his mouth to shout for help, only to have the man cover it with one hand, while putting a finger to his own lips.
“You’re safe,” the man told him. “I’m not going to hurt you. But they were going to.” He moved aside just enough for Cole to see two men, sprawled at the edge of the creek, apparently unconscious. “The dog took care of one of them, I dealt with the other,” the man said, smiling grimly. “There was a third dude. Your dog took off after him. If I remove my hand, will you stay quiet?”
Cole nodded, and the man did. “Who are you?” Cole whispered, his voice shaking as badly as his body. He clenched his hands, trying to quell his fear—which didn’t work too well.
“The name’s Kyland, though most people call my Ky. And you are?”
“Cole.”
“Good to meet
you, Cole, though the circumstances could have been better.” Ky moved away and stood, offering Cole a hand when the teen crawled out of the sleeping bag.
“Whoa,” Cole said when he was standing beside Ky. “You’re…big.” Cole would have guessed he was at least six-two. His hair was a longish and dark with dark blond streaks and his eyes were hazel, from what Cole could tell. And he’s got muscles to spare. Damn. He makes me look puny—which isn’t that hard, actually.
“So I’ve been told,” Ky replied, rolling his eyes. “More times than I like to think about.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Cole whispered.
Ky grinned. “You didn’t, kid.”
“I’m not…”
“Got ya.” Ky winked, then said, “I should get moving, now that I know you’re safe.”
“What about them?” Cole asked, pointing to the two men by the creek, who were still out cold.
“I suggest you get going too. I’m sure, by the time you get packed up and put your shoes on, your dog will be back. And next time? Find somewhere else to crash. Those guys are notorious for preying on the homeless around here.”
“Then why are they still running around free?”
“Because no one is willing to testify against them. I mean, who believes anything a street kid says? Right? It was just their bad luck I showed up when I did.” With that said, Ky walked away, disappearing around a curve in the bank along the creek.
“That was…weird. Good weird, since he and Bull saved my ass, to hear him tell it, but still…” Cole was tempted to chase after Ky, but was afraid if he did, and Bull came back, the dog wouldn’t know where to find him. So he put on his shoes, rolled up the sleeping bag, and lashed it to his pack.
“Where the hell are you, Bull?” he grumbled. As if saying that had called the dog, Bull appeared seconds later, running down the creek bank and skidding to a stop in front of Cole. After patting the dog’s head, then impulsively dropping to one knee to hug him, Cole said, “We’d better get moving before they wake up. Besides, I’m starving and I bet you are too.”
As always, Bull nodded, like he understood what Cole had said, and they set out to get breakfast at The Haven.
* * * *
“And that was that,” Cole said when he finished telling Bret what had happened. “The guy, Ky, took off and we came back here.”
“You seem to be picking protectors right and left,” Bret replied. “What are you? Some sort of heir to a throne?”
Cole laughed. “Not hardly.” He sobered. “I’m an easy target because I’m still learning the ropes.”
“Maybe. I hate to say it, but you might be better off leaving Bull here at night and going to a shelter.”
“Shelters are only good if they have a free bed, which is iffy at best and you know it.”
“True. Unfortunately.”
“There you are,” Adam said, coming over to join them at the table. “I may have some good news for you, Cole. You know Donny?”
Cole nodded. “Sort of. Blond kid, about my age?”
“Yep. Anyway, he was working at Mike’s Italian Restaurant, up on Thirty-Eighth. He hasn’t shown up for the past couple of days, there or here. Mike’s a friend of mine so when he called here, looking for Donny, and told me what was going on, I suggested you might be a good replacement.”
“Yes!” Cole pumped a fist in the air. “Do you think he’ll actually hire me?”
“Only one way to find out.” Adam handed Cole a slip of paper with the address. “I’ll call to let him know you’re on your way.”
“I have to shower and change clothes.”
Adam looked at him and chuckled. “Yeah, that might be a good idea. So I’ll say you’ll be there in an hour. We’ll keep an eye on Bull until you get back.”
“Thank you!”
Cole dashed upstairs, returning fifteen minutes later wearing jeans—since that’s all he owned—and one of his two real shirts. He went out to backyard to tell Bull he was to stay there, “And behave. Though I know you will.” Then, after letting Adam and Bret know he was leaving, he took off.
“Please, please, please let him hire me.” Cole whispered those words over and over while walking to the restaurant. He said them one last time as he stood outside the rather unimpressive brick building with a sign overhead announcing he was at the right place.
Pushing the door open, he walked in and was greeted by the aromas of Italian food and pizza.
“May I help you?” a woman at the cashier’s desk asked when Cole just stood there, taking in the ubiquitous red and white checked cloths and candles stuck in wine bottles on the tables.
“I’m looking for Mike?”
She chuckled. “Is that a question, or a statement?”
“Both, I guess,” Cole replied shyly. “He’s expecting me, I think.”
“Ah. You’re the kid Adam sent over?” When Cole nodded, she took him to an office at the back of the restaurant. “Mike,” she said to the dark-haired, middle-aged man sitting at the desk, “this is…” She looked at Cole.
“Cole Williams.”
“Come in. Have a seat. I’m Mike—obviously.” Mike smiled as Cole took the chair beside the desk and the woman left. “So, tell me about yourself. I know you’re homeless or Adam wouldn’t have sent you my way.”
“Yes, sir. For a couple of weeks, since my parents kicked me out.”
“Why? If it was because you’re a druggie, I’m not interested in having you here.”
“Oh, no.” Cole chewed his lip, afraid to tell Mike why.
“Let me guess. You’re gay. That’s generally the other reason stupid parents shove their kids out the door. I don’t give a damn if you are, Cole.”
“I am.”
“Okay, we have that out of the way. Now, do you have any restaurant experience?”
“Does delivering pizzas count?”
“Only if you have a car, which I suspect you don’t. Still, it does give you a bit of experience interacting with people. Donny, the guy you’ll be replacing if I hire you, was one of my waiters. Do you think you could handle that?”
Cole swallowed and nodded. “If someone shows me what to do. I did graduate high school. Not, I guess, that that means a lot when it comes to taking people’s orders, but still…”
“It means you have a working brain. Trust me, I’ve had guys here who don’t.” Mike pressed his fingers together, studying Cole. “You have ID and a Social Security number, I presume. For the record, you can use The Haven as your home address. The other guys Adam’s sent me do.” Mike took a sheet of paper from a desk drawer, sliding it over to Cole, along with a pen. “Fill this out. I’ll give you a week’s trial. If you work out, I’ll hire you permanently.”
“Thank you!” Cole sighed in relief as he filled out the form. Handing it back to Mike, he said, “When do you want me to start?”
“Now. Come with me. I’ll have Gino show you the ropes.”
Gino turned out to be a man in his early thirties with wavy brown hair and a ready smile. He gave Cole a dark apron with pockets for order pads and pens, “And any tips you get. At the end of your shift, you put ten percent of them into the pot for the busboys and dishwashers.”
“That’s fine with me.”
For the next hour, Cole followed Gino around, watching how he dealt with the lunchtime customers in his station. He also met the two other waiters and the rest of the staff. Then Gino gave him one table to handle on his own for the rest of his shift, telling him that the next day he’d have two, and after that, he’d be assigned his own station.
Cole managed to make it through the rest of the day with no major mistakes. But then it’s only one table. How badly can I screw up? At least they didn’t throw me to the lions my first time out.
At seven that evening, Mike corralled Cole, telling him he was finished for the day. “Gino says you did very well, for a newbie. Starting tomorrow, you’ll be working from eleven to eight, with a half-hour lunch b
reak at two, like today. Be here by ten-to-eleven, ready to work.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Cole, I’m Mike, not ‘Sir.’ Okay?”
“Yes, Mike.” Cole managed a tired smile.
“Good. Now check out, divvy up your tips, and go home. Or back to The Haven, I guess.”
Cole did as he was told, surprised to find he had made a decent amount in tips. Not as much as I’ve made spanging, but it’s only from one table. By the end of the week…if I don’t screw up…
He left the restaurant, heading back to the street he’d used that morning. He’d seen bus stop signs on it, and decided he wasn’t up for walking all the way back to The Haven. One came along a few minutes after Cole arrived at the stop. He got a schedule from the driver, before getting off two blocks from The Haven.
“I have the job,” Cole announced as soon as he found Adam. “Well,” he added, “Provisionally at least. If I don’t screw up.”
“You won’t,” Adam assured him. “And once you’re on full-time, I’ll see what I can do about finding you a spot in Domicile, a residential shelter.”
“Like, I’d have a room of my own?”
“Yes, or share it with a roommate. They charge rent, but the cost is minimal. I’ll put you on the waiting list in the morning, and set you up with an appointment to talk with one of the counselors. What hours does Mike have you working?”
“Right now, eleven to eight. He didn’t tell me what days, though.”
“He’ll finalize that when you’re officially hired.” Adam looked seriously at Cole. “I know you’ll do fine, as long as you stick with it. Before you ask, yes, we’ll keep Bull here during the day, out in the backyard unless the weather’s bad. Then, he can stay in the basement. It’s not that I don’t trust him upstairs, but some of the kids who come here are afraid of dogs, with good reason, unfortunately.”
“I understand, and he’s kind of scary if you don’t know him.”
“Kind of?” Adam laughed. “He can be downright frightening, to look at him.”
Cole and His Dog Page 3