He couldn’t help it though. The clean, pretty fountain was so much better than putting his feet in the squishy, icky water of the lake. What was the point in trying to get clean in dirty water? And he hardly ever took any coins from it. That was stealing someone’s wishes, which was very bad. Francesco had a rule. If it was the end of the third day in a row that he hadn’t had anything to eat, he then figured that the people who made the wish wouldn’t want him to starve.
Francesco carefully counted his leftover money from the fin Theo had given him. He hadn’t had that much cabbage all at one time in forever, and he kept going over it again and again to make sure he’d added it right. It was a good thing he’d learned his numbers and how to read pretty well before he’d dropped out of school. Counting cash was an important skill to have and so was reading street and shop signs.
The very first thing he’d done with his crisp new money was buy a bowl of baked beans with buttered bread. What he’d really wanted was a hamburger sandwich, but that had been ten cents more and he was trying to make the money last as long as possible. If he was lucky, he might be able to eat off it for a whole week. It would mean just one week in the flophouse, then right back on the streets, but he hadn’t had it so good in quite a while. And anyway, he’d only promised Theo he’d find a place to sleep for the week, so he figured it was okay. If he was the type of fella who Theo would ever want to be honest to goodness friends with, he’d keep all of his promises to him, no matter what Theo wanted.
After he’d gone to the secondhand shop and bought a pair of socks, shoes with only one hole in the bottom of the left one and a shirt that had all its buttons and still appeared blue, he’d stopped to get a piece of chocolate from the confectionary store. He figured he wouldn’t look that spiffy for long, what with sleeping on the streets most of the time, so he took the opportunity to go inside a real store for once. He usually got tossed out on his rear. He guessed it was because of him not being allowed in polite society, but he’d never been sure because of all the hysterical yelling that always accompanied the tossing.
Sheesh. They act like I have a disease or something.
He didn’t understand people most of the time. They said one thing then did another. Francesco sighed as Theo snuck back into his musings once again. He wanted to understand Theo so very much. If only he was a respectable person, Theo might have taken notice of him and they could’ve been friendly somewhere alone. It wouldn’t have been about money, it would’ve been because they liked each other so much that they couldn’t help it—even if polite society didn’t approve.
Don’t think about him. You’ll never see that fella again.
Francesco went back to counting, but thought he must have messed up, so he started over. It came out the same. Two dollars and sixty-five cents. Almost half gone. His shoulders slumped. Once he’d paid the two dollars for the flophouse, he wouldn’t have enough money for a few days of food—never mind the whole dang week.
The little burning tickly feeling he always got in his nose when he was about to cry rose and he swallowed very hard, taking lots of deep breaths until he’d calmed himself down again. No use going over the top there, Rossi boy. You’ve got a full belly of beans and chocolate. I bet those chumps working for the Traski brothers ain’t got no fancy eats tonight.
He decided he needed to be more grateful. He didn’t have to listen to his mama calling him filthy names while on the hooch and he didn’t have her stinky ol’ goon of a fella throwing him around or doing those other things to him. He shuddered. Never mind that. They can’t hurt you no more. Thinking about the ones on the streets of Los Angles who could still get to him wouldn’t help him feel any better either, so he returned his attention to his present dilemma.
Francesco glanced around the immediate area from where he lurked in the hedges. Lots of coppers walked the beat near the park at night, so it wasn’t the best place to sleep. He aimed to only stay there long enough to wash up then get out. But he had used it to sleep in a couple times before when there hadn’t been anywhere else.
But I promised.
It was stupid. Why bother to keep his promise? He could use that money to eat real good all week and maybe take a few days off from messing around with guys in alleys and bushes. He went back to wishing that Theo had wanted to get friendly with him. He knew he would’ve enjoyed it with the handsome gentleman. Theo had been so refined and swanky, his dark brown hair slicked back with pomade, and with the type of fair skin which meant he didn’t work outside. And his eyes? They were a bright green with an intense stare that made Francesco want to melt in his arms. Theo was so tall and regal that Francesco bet he was also very strong. Theo had even smelled better than the candy store he’d been to earlier. Theo was sugary and earthy and manly and Ivory soap all at once. He’d never met such a swell guy before.
He let out a sigh of resignation. It was unlikely, but in case he ever saw Theo again, he’d love to run up and tell him that he’d stayed somewhere with the money he’d given him just like he’d asked. He fantasized that Theo would tell him again how proud he was and it would make Francesco as happy as it had earlier. The burny feeling came back and Francesco swiped under his nose.
He scrambled out of the bushes then wiped off his butt and knees. No use tromping around downtown looking like something the cat dragged in. Not when he had spiffy new clothes and all. They might not be as new as if he’d been to Walker’s department store, but he thought he looked pretty keen all the same.
As he strolled down the sidewalk along Wilshire Boulevard, headed to the closest flophouse he knew of, the coins leftover from the money he’d already spent jangled around in his pocket. He grinned. It was a great sound. Hardly ever a time existed when he had enough of the metal pieces at once to make any noise.
About fifteen minutes later, he trotted up the stone steps of Sunshine Manor. It was a cheery name for a dreary hovel. But it had a bath tub on each floor of the five-story building and the stink of piss mixed with booze was only really bad in the summer, and they were past that now. Even the cockroaches didn’t bother him. It wasn’t as if bugs didn’t crawl all over him outdoors when he slept on the ground anyway. But rats? Rats loved the alleys with all the smelly trash and he hated rats.
“Hi, Mister.”
Francesco grinned at the grizzled man who wasn’t the usual manager and who was slumped over the dinged-up wooden counter in the reception area. Behind the toothless old man, whose beard looked as if someone had yanked random tufts out of it, were the wooden cubicles that had probably once held keys. The single use that remained for the slots was for whoever might decide to stick around long enough to get mail. Sunshine Manor never bothered with keys.
Francesco dug into his pocket and fingered the two bills that were left. He licked his lips then pressed them together as he contemplated his next move. I can still leave. I haven’t shown him the money yet. “Uh…” He acted as though he was having a tough time clearing his throat.
“Out with it already.”
Francesco arched his eyebrows. If anyone needed their throat cleared, it was that fella. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and pictured Theo’s face. He’d do anything to make Theo proud. Even if he never saw him again, he would know that he’d done it for Theo.
He fished out the two one-dollar bills and slapped them down on the wood surface right under the man’s nose.
“Room please. Cash up front like the sign says.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph. The little queer can read.” He grunted with a sneer. “Didn’t know your kind had a brain between two a ya put together.”
Heat rose up Francesco’s neck and into his face. He’d learned the hard way that sassing back or trying to defend himself meant trouble that wasn’t worth it. The bad man could take his money then kick him out anyway. No police officer would listen to his plight if he tried to get help. The flophouse manager would likely say he’d tried to mess around with the other fellas staying there or something, so then
where would he be? Probably being hauled away in a paddy wagon, that’s where.
“Yessir. I’ll try real hard to be good.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, except maybe if the bad man thought he wouldn’t be any trouble, he’d be more liable to give him a room and not steal his money. Theo’s money. That would make him even more upset.
The flophouse manager had been scrutinizing him, but finally responded, “Well, see that you don’t give me no headache this week and I’ll let you stay.” He jabbed a finger at him, his wrinkled face twisted in a scary mask. Francesco reared back to escape the spittle flying from his lips. “But the first sign of any hullabaloo, and I find out you’re the cause of it?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Then out on your ass you go. No refunds. Got it?”
Francesco nodded enthusiastically. “Yessir. I got it, you can count on me.”
The man grunted again and pursed his lips. “Room 3A.” He swiped the bills off the counter and stuffed them into his trouser pocket. “Now get outta my sight.”
Francesco didn’t answer. Instead, he whipped around then scrambled up the stairs. He wanted to be out of the guy’s sight right away in case he changed his mind.
Once he’d made it to the third floor, he saw that his designated room was the first one on the right. He paused for a moment to catch his breath. And even though keys weren’t used, it was considered flophouse polite to knock before entering. Not that everyone followed rules the way he did, but he wasn’t about to turn into one of those people who didn’t care. He might not be much of anything in society, but he had his standards. If he couldn’t be anything else, he could be good. Or at least try to most of the time.
Francesco lightly rapped on the door a few times. Not loud enough to scare anyone if they were asleep—he hated loud banging noises, so he understood about that—but enough to give a warning that someone was about to enter. He turned the knob then peered around the side.
He’d been to Sunshine Manor a few times, but hardly ever for a whole week. Rooms were a pricey fifty cents to stay for just one night—the two dollars for the week was a lure to get guys to cough up more dough. However, he rarely had that much dough at one time that he could afford to give away without knowing for sure when he’d have enough to eat again. He felt a little bad about it, but he hadn’t told Theo one of his other secrets. The reason he’d asked him for the dollar was because he’d seen the ritzy car he’d been driving. Fifty cents was his usual rate. It was the only way he could compete with the boys the Traski brothers controlled.
Sure enough, it was the same layout as before. A tiny room with a battered dresser that separated two bunk beds boasting thin, ratty mattresses and no bedding. A single bare bulb hung from the middle of the ceiling, with a string hanging from it that had likely long ago lost the pull on the end. The one bathroom for that floor was down the hall and he hoped he could sneak in that night for a bath. Drat. Forgot to buy a bar of soap. He’d had a blanket a few times over the past couple years—the rare instances when he’d have some belongings, he’d find a hidey-hole in an alley or the park to stash them—but his things would always disappear after a while. He didn’t have anything at the moment.
But thanks to Theo, I got these nice new clothes and shoes just in time for the upcoming winter. He hadn’t bothered to waste his money for any over the summer after his last pair had disintegrated.
Two men were in the room, one on the bottom of one bunk, one on the bottom of the other. If he was lucky, a fourth wouldn’t join them that night. He might even get lucky enough to have the room to himself at some point, or with only one other guy for at least a night that week.
“Hiya fellas, I’m Francesco. What’s your name? I’ll be here the whole week. Did you guys just get here, or is this where you live?” Francesco gave them the biggest, most sincere smile he could muster.
The older man of the two peered over his shoulder from where he’d been curled on his side facing the wall and made a snuffling noise before turning back. The younger guy sat on his mattress with his legs over the side, picking at his toes with a pocket knife. He didn’t bother to look up.
Francesco shrugged. He was pretty used to hobos and bums keeping to themselves, but once in a while he’d find someone friendly like him. Although, that didn’t always work out well if the other person used it as a ploy to pull a scam on him. That was how he’d been found out by the Traski brothers. One of the boys from their stable had pretended he didn’t know about street hustling and had asked for help. When Francesco had filled him in because he felt sorry for his new friend, the guy had in turn told the brothers that Francesco was working their territory.
It had been real scary when they’d tried to lure him to go join their gang. They’d threatened to hurt or kill him if they ever found out he was taking their customers again. That was why he never worked the Hollywood streets anymore, which was unfortunate. Over by the studios was where the best money could be had. So, he’d been forced to go downtown, and the pickings were real slim. He’d thought about jumping a train to San Francisco, which was supposed to be a city full of carousers, but he was afraid of the railroad bulls catching him. He’d heard stories about guys sleeping on the train who got pumped full of lead for hitching a free ride. Then they were tossed overboard like a pile of trash, and Francesco didn’t want to end his days like that.
Francesco climbed up the side of the bunk the older man was snoozing on until he reached the top. He clambered onto the mattress and thought about trying to fall asleep, but it was too early. As it was, he barely slept more than a few hours at a time. He had to be extra careful sleeping out in public, even if he was hidden real well, just in case someone tried to hurt him. It had become a habit and anyway, he couldn’t help his nervous energy. Yet another thing that had driven his mama crazy about him.
Francesco unbuttoned his new shirt and almost balled it up to put under his head the way he usually did, but thought better of it. He wanted to keep it nice for the next time he saw Theo. His stomach clenched as he frowned at himself. You’ll break your own heart if you don’t stop this nonsense. You know better. Another thing he’d learned a long time ago was not to get attached to people. They always went away. It was easier if he didn’t care too much about them in the first place. A little bit of caring was okay, but not a lot.
He decided to treat the new shirt well, despite any other consideration. It wouldn’t hurt for him to learn some respectable-like behavior. And not because Theo suggested it. Just cuz. Francesco folded it as best he could then laid his head on it. It didn’t do much for him as a pillow anymore, but at least no one could steal it. He didn’t take his shoes off for the same reason. Footwear was at a premium on the streets. Even if someone didn’t need a pair for themselves, they could still sell them.
While he lay on his back mulling over where he might like to spend the next day, he ran his fingers through his curls to untangle them. He should definitely buy a soap bar first, then he could wash his body and hair. Figuring out where to hide things in the flophouse would have to come first, though. He could keep the bar in his pocket until he used it, but once it got wet…
He wiggled his toes inside the shoes. Since he hadn’t worn any for so long, they kind of bothered him. His feet felt like they were being suffocated. Maybe since he looked pretty decent now, he could afford a nickel to take the trolley somewhere. He’d decided he really would take a few days off from messing around with men for money. Who knew when he’d get that chance again? Then he remembered that it would cost a nickel to come back from wherever he went, so that would take him up to a dime. A dime or a cheese sandwich? He’d been curious about the ostrich farm in South Pasadena for a long time—riding on the back of an ostrich sounded magical—but it would probably cost all the rest of his money to do that plus the trolley ride. And nothing to eat.
“Ow!” He’d yanked too hard on a tangled curl.
“Hey. You.”
Francesco rolled his eyes as he gazed up at the ceili
ng. What a big palooka. Didn’t he hear me say my name? Francesco turned onto his side to peer down at the young man still picking at his toes. He was too restless to sleep and bored out of his skull. He’d already dumped the idea of ostrich riding, so he was ready to move on to another subject anyway.
“My name’s Francesco. What’s yours?” He yawned. Maybe he’d get some good sleep after all. He knew he could use it.
“Eddie. You gotta smoke I can have there, Francesco?”
“Sorry. I don’t do that. Never have enough money to spare.”
Eddie closed his knife then put it in the case of the pillow he must’ve brought with him. He’d undressed down to his tank the way Francesco had, but he’d also removed his pants, so the only other thing he had on was his boxers. Eddie’s hair was a dirty blond and he wore it tucked behind his ears. Francesco thought he might use grease on it during the day from the way he had it combed back, but he didn’t know for sure. He guessed they had to be around the same age, though, so maybe they could chew the fat for a while.
Eddie snorted. “Yeah, ain’t that the truth.”
Eddie regarded him while licking all around his teeth as if cleaning them. His face squinched up into so many different expressions it made Francesco giggle.
“Whatchyou laughing at, huh?”
Francesco slapped a hand over his mouth to make himself stop or he’d keep going until he was out of control. He always forgot that some people didn’t like laughing. They would mistake it for Francesco mocking them, and he really wasn’t. He just found a lot of stuff funny.
“Nothing. Sorry.” He pressed his lips together in case the chuckles came back for no reason and he couldn’t stop them. That happened a bunch too.
“Yeah, well.” Eddie squinted as he continued to stare at him and Francesco wondered if Eddie needed glasses. He sure as heck wasn’t going to ask him, though. “I was thinking you could get some if you wanted too, ya know. Kinda like a welcoming gesture, a way to say thanks for us letting a puff like you stay here in the same room as us real fellas.”
Finding Sanctuary Page 3