Home With You

by Everhart, Allie

  Home With You

  Allie Everhart

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  27. Six Months Later

  Note from Allie

  Also from Waltham Publishing

  Home With You

  By Allie Everhart

  Copyright © 2020 Allíe Everhart

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Waltham Publishing, LLC

  Cover designed by Jersey Girl Design, www.jerseygirl–design.com

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, things, and events are fictitious, and any similarities to real persons (live or dead), things, or events are coincidental and not intended by the author. Brand names of products mentioned in this book are used for reference only and the author acknowledges that any trademarks and product names are the property of their respective owners.

  The author holds exclusive rights to this work and unauthorized duplication is prohibited. No part of this book is to be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

  1

  Raine

  "Score!" I say, snatching the sandwich from the green metal can. It's still in the wrapper and hasn't been touched. I reach in the can again and pull out a half-eaten bag of chips.

  Something whizzes past me, bumping my arm before landing in the trash. It's a bottle of soda with no more than a sip missing. I turn to see who threw it but whoever it was blended back in the crowd. It's a weekday and the downtown Denver streets are bustling with people, all talking on their phones.

  "Too late," a guy says.

  When I turn back, I see Levi drinking the soda. The soda that was supposed to be mine.

  "You following me now?" I reach around for my backpack and stuff the sandwich and chips inside before Levi tries to steal them too.

  "Yeah, right." He laughs. "Like I don't got better things to do?"

  Planting my hands on my hips, I glare at him. "If you have better things to do, then what are you doing on my corner?"

  "You don't own the damn corner. It's open to whoever wants it and I'm thinking it's about time you share the wealth."

  "A sandwich and some chips isn't wealth. It's survival, and it's not just for me. You know I share with Gladys."

  "Which I still don't get. Why share with some old lady who could die any day now?"

  My gut clenches just hearing him say that. Gladys is all I have and she's not leaving me anytime soon. I won't let her.

  "She's not gonna die," I say. "She's only 70 and there's nothing wrong with her."

  "The old bat can't even remember her own name. And as for her age? Seventy on the streets is more like 90, maybe 100."

  I don't want to agree with him but it's true. The streets age you. And not just older people, like Gladys, but young people too. Levi's only 25 but looks more like 35. As for me? It's hard to tell but I'm sure, appearance-wise, I've aged beyond my 23 years in the six months I've been here.

  Every day on the streets is a struggle. Finding food. Protecting your shelter. Being badgered by the cops. Harassed by other homeless people trying to steal your stuff. I haven't had to endure a winter here yet but that'll be my next struggle. It's September and the nighttime temps are starting to drop, giving me a taste of what it's going to be like in the months ahead.

  "You're not really going to stay here, are you?" I ask Levi. "On my street?"

  He guzzles half the soda down, and I watch as it moves down his long thin throat. He's not even enjoying it, drinking it that fast. When I'm lucky enough to get a soda, I savor each sip. Gladys does the same with coffee, her drink of choice. Liquid gold, she calls it, because it's so much better than our usual source of hydration, which is water from a bathroom sink or the drinking fountain in the park.

  Last week I saw a drunk guy pee in that drinking fountain and haven't taken a sip from it since. It was some rich asshole out with his friends who dared him to pee on the faucet. Of course it didn't cross any of their minds that the faucet was one of the few sources of water for people like me.

  Levi pokes his cane inside the metal trash can, leaning over slightly to see inside.

  "There's half a Snickers bar at the bottom," he says. "All yours if you want it."

  "Really?" I lean down to the can and look but all I see are discarded cups, newspapers, and other trash. "I don't see it."

  "It's at the bottom." He moves some of the trash aside with his cane. "You gotta dig for it."

  I dip my hand in the can, feeling something slimy. Probably a banana peel, or that's what I tell myself because a banana peel is less disgusting than the other possible options, like the used condom I accidentally touched while searching through a can last summer. Living out here, I've encountered a lot of disgusting stuff but I've gotten used to it now. When you're trying to survive, touching disgusting things is the least of your worries.

  "I still don't see it," I say, extending my hand as far as it'll go in the can.

  Suddenly, Levi’s cane whips up, whacking me in the chin so hard I'm forced back up to standing.

  "What the hell?" I say, rubbing my chin with the hand that isn't coated with sticky, slimy trash.

  He smirks. "That's for you telling me what to do. You don't own nothing around here. If anything, I own this street more than you do. I've been here longer."

  "That's why you hit me? So you can have the street?" I turn and storm off, my chin burning where his cane hit. He doesn't even need a cane. He just uses it to make people feel sorry for him when he's begging for money. And sometimes he uses it as a weapon, like he did just now.

  Asshole. I've never been anything but nice to him, and then he does stuff like hit me in the face with his cane. What if he'd broken my jaw? I don't have insurance. I can't get medical help. But Levi doesn't even consider that, or the pain he caused me. He has this damn chip on his shoulder because of his past and he chooses to take his anger out on whoever's around him.

  Levi was kicked out of his house when he was 16 after telling his parents he liked boys instead of girls. He's been on the streets ever since. He never finished high school and couldn't find a job but he can sing well enough to draw a crowd. That's how he makes a living. He sits on the corner two blocks over next to a high-rise office building and sings songs people know or ones he makes up. He sets out a can for money, and although he won't tell me how much he makes, I know it's more than he'd make working some minimum wage job. I've seen men in suits drop twenty dollar bills in the can and one time this lady left him a fifty.

  Levi makes enough money to buy his food at an actual restaurant. It's usually fast food or a food truck but still, it's fresh and hot and didn't come from a trash can. He sleeps in the same spot where he sings and collects his money, but sometimes I've gone by there in the morning and he's not there and neither is his stuff. Gladys said he has friends he stays with, but the way she says friends with a disapproving tone tells me these "friends" are guys seeking sexual favors in exchange for money. Levi doesn't talk about his little side business but doesn't try to hide it either. A few weeks ago I asked him where he got the new jeans he was wearing
and he said his latest boy toy bought them for him.

  Gladys tells Levi what he’s doing is a sin, which just makes him laugh. I really don't care what he does. I'm not one to judge, especially since survival often means doing things you wouldn't normally do, like eating food from a trash can. But unlike Levi, I'm never going to sell my body to get stuff. I'd rather starve than do that. I'd never even let it get to that point because my situation is temporary. I don't know how yet, but I'm going to get a job and get off the streets. And it's not going to be years from now, but months.

  "Hey." Levi catches up to me.

  "Go away!" I yell at him. "You broke my damn chin, asshole!"

  He grabs my arm, yanking me back, and leans down to inspect my chin. "It ain't broken. Don't be such a baby. You gotta toughen up."

  "I AM tough but that doesn't mean you should hit me with your cane. What the hell's wrong with you?"

  He shrugs. "I thought it was funny. And you should've seen all the guys checking out your ass when you were bent over that trash can."

  "Great." I roll my eyes. "Just what I need." I adjust my backpack and continue down the busy street.

  It's almost one and the office crowd is heading back to work after their lunch hour. Noon to one is the best time to scavenge for food. People buy too much and never have time to finish it. On most days, I fish out enough leftovers from the trash to cover lunch and dinner for both Gladys and me. Well, it's not always enough for me but it's enough for Gladys.

  "You need to get yourself a boyfriend," Levi says, swinging his cane. "Some little rich boy who'll buy you pretty things."

  "I don't want pretty things," I snap. "And if I did, I wouldn't sell my body to get them."

  He shoves my shoulder, pushing me into the lady beside me. The lady's wearing a black suit and sunglasses, her blond hair freshly highlighted and smelling like flowers. She turns and gives me a disgusted look. She'll probably go sanitize her suit jacket now that it’s contaminated by the brief touch of my arm.

  "Stop shoving me," I say to Levi in a hushed tone.

  He holds his head up, making his long lean body seem even taller. "You deserved it."

  I shake my head, having no clue what he's talking about.

  He grabs my arm, stopping me. "You think you're better than me?"

  "What?" I glance around at all the suits going by. They see our ratty clothes and dirty appearance and veer away from us, as far as they possibly can, then rejoin the crowd once they're past us.

  "I do what I gotta do," Levi says. "And how do you know I don't got something going on with one of them boys?"

  I sigh. "Levi, I really don't care what you do, but just because you do it doesn't mean it's right for me."

  "You don't get what I'm saying. I'm not talking about a night. I'm talking about forever." He looks me up and down. "Pretty girl like you? You could get yourself a man. A man who'd take care of you. Get you out of here."

  "I don't want to be taken care of," I say, trying to free my arm from his grasp. "Let go of me."

  He releases his grip on my arm and his hand moves to my shoulder as he turns me toward the crowd. "Guy in the navy suit. The one with the red hipster glasses."

  "What about him?"

  "That's the kind of guy you need. That designer suit says he comes from money and the glasses say he's got a rebel side."

  I turn back to Levi. "And by rebel you mean he'd date a homeless girl to piss off his parents."

  "Exactly!" He smiles. "You're finally getting it."

  "Not interested." I start walking, hoping Levi will go back to his begging corner and leave me alone. But he doesn't.

  "So what?" he says. "You just want to live out here forever?"

  "No. It's not going to be that much longer. I have a plan."

  "Which is what?"

  "None of your business."

  "You don't have a plan," he says.

  He's right. I don't, but I'm working on it. If I could just get some clean clothes and a haircut, I could maybe start looking for jobs. I've worked in restaurants before. There's got to be a restaurant that would hire me.

  "Would you just leave me alone?" I say. "Why'd you show up and bother me today anyway?"

  "I was checking out my new spot."

  "You're seriously moving here?" I ask, sounding annoyed, although it wouldn't really affect me. I scavenge trash cans for food. I don't beg for money, so I really wouldn't be competing with Levi. I just don't like the guy and don't want him around. He's always picking on me, making fun of me. I avoid him whenever possible but if he's on my street, that'll be harder to do.

  "I'm staying where I'm at," he says. "I don't like the energy on this street."

  "Energy?" I look at him, confused. "The street doesn't have an energy."

  "You don't feel nothing, girl, do you?"

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means someone did you wrong so bad you're too closed up to feel the energy around you. I bet you don't feel anything anymore."

  I keep walking, ignoring him. What he's saying might be true but it's true for a lot of people living on the streets. We've all been hurt, and that hurt is usually what got us here.

  "It was a guy, wasn't it?"

  I stop and turn to Levi. "Seriously, what is your deal today? Why are you suddenly so interested in me?"

  "I wasn't, until I saw your ass sticking out of that trash can." He laughs. "Girl, you'd really eat some nasty candy bar that'd been sticking to the bottom of the can? There's dog shit in there. You know that, right?"

  I do, but I try not to think about it. Usually the dog poop is in a bag but sometimes it leaks out. Maybe that's what my hand touched earlier.

  "Some of us don't have money to buy food," I remind him. "In fact, most of us don't."

  "Only the people stupid enough not to beg." He looks around at all the suits passing by. "You know how much money these people make? They see us and feel guilty about all that money." He smiles. "And I'm here to relieve that guilt."

  "I'm not asking for handouts," I say, my voice lowered. "I can take care of myself."

  "By eating dog-shit-covered food from the trash." He laughs.

  I sigh. "Would you please just leave me alone? I was having a halfway decent day until you showed up."

  He smiles. "You know I'm your ray of sunshine. You only pretend not to like me because you know you can't have me."

  I walk off, and this time he doesn't follow me.

  "Raine!" he yells as I'm about to round the corner.

  Reluctantly, I stop and turn around. "What?"

  He takes something from his pocket and tosses it at me. Afraid of what it might be, I step back and let it land on the ground. I look down and see it's a candy bar. One that hasn't even been opened. And it's a big one, twice the size of a regular candy bar.

  "What's this for?" I ask, picking it up. But when I look up, Levi is gone.

  I don't understand that guy. He's almost always a jerk, but then he has these rare moments where he does something nice.

  When I get back to the alley next to the coffee shop, Gladys is sitting on her lawn chair, sipping what I'm guessing is a cup of coffee. Zoe, one of the managers at the coffee shop, always gives Gladys free coffee. She only works at this location on Tuesdays, which makes Tuesday Gladys' favorite day of the week.

  "Did Zoe bring you coffee?" I ask, sitting on the plastic crate next to Gladys. We only have one chair and I always let Gladys have it because she's old and should have the better chair.

  "Pumpkin spice!" Gladys says, her tired brown eyes lighting up. "It's new for fall."

  "Do you like it?"

  "My goodness, it's heavenly." She takes a big sniff of it through the hole in the lid. Her wrinkled hands are wrapped tightly around the paper cup, making sure she doesn't drop it. Last summer, she dropped her coffee and cried for ten minutes straight. It was a day Zoe wasn't working so Gladys used the change she'd saved up to splurge on a cup of coffee. And then it slipped from her hands and
spilled all over the ground.

  "Ready for lunch?" I take my backpack off and set it between my legs.

  "What are we having today?" she asks, beaming like she always does when I show up with food. It's less about the food and more about me. She gets lonely when I'm not here. Next to coffee, I'm her favorite thing.

  I pull the sub sandwich out. "It's only a six-inch but it's loaded up with meat and cheese." Keeping it in the wrapper, I gently tear the sub in half and set Gladys' half on the cardboard box between us. It's our dining table until it rains and ruins the cardboard, but we always find a replacement.

  "Looks delicious!" she says as I unwrap mine.

  "I have chips too, but not very many." I shake the chips out on the sandwich wrapper. There's only five but it's better than nothing.

  "You can have them, dear," she says, sipping her coffee. "I already have my treat." She closes her eyes and smiles.

  "I got us another treat," I say, my hand on the candy bar that's still in my backpack.

  Her eyes open wide. "Butterscotch?"

  Gladys loves hard candy, especially the butterscotch ones. Last July, there was a parade nearby and people on floats tossed candy into the crowd. Apparently nobody likes the butterscotch ones because they were left behind. Knowing how much Gladys loves those butterscotch candies, I found a plastic bag and gathered up every one I could find. I searched every street on the parade route, then I searched the park in case some kids went there to sort through their candy and tossed the butterscotch ones aside. Sure enough, I found more butterscotch candies littered across the lawn and playground area.

  I give Gladys one butterscotch a day and she always acts surprised and excited, like it's the best gift she ever got. I counted them out and have enough candies left until the next parade, although I’m hoping I’m not still here by then.