The first thing they did when they got home was set up the litter box in the storage room off the kitchen, the food in one of the cupboards—after moving things around—and the bowls in the corner next to the kitchen table.
Only then did Darren open the carrier to let Smokey out. The cat immediately began exploring the ground floor and then upstairs.
“He should have been named Nosy-Parker,” Rob said when the cat crawled under Darren’s bed, coming out on the other side.
By that time, since it was after twelve, they went down to the kitchen. While Rob made them sandwiches, Darren filled Smokey’s bowls with both kinds of food, and water. Rob half expected the cat to gravitate to him to beg for some lunch meat. He didn’t, going straight to the bowl holding the moist food, which he scarfed down. Then, he came to sit by Darren’s leg while they were eating, looking hopefully up at him.
“Sorry, cat. No human food. It’s not good for you, or so Mrs. Smythe said.”
Rob would have sworn the cat pouted at Darren’s words.
After lunch, the men spent most of the afternoon playing fetch with Smokey.
“He’s insatiable,” Darren grumbled at one point.
Rob laughed. “Wait until he finds a mouse in the basement and brings it to you.”
“There hadn’t better be any down there, but just in case…” He went to close the basement door, which he habitually left open. Smokey followed, looking miffed when the door shut. He sat there for a few minutes before coming back to the living room. By then the men were watching TV. The cat jumped onto the sofa, lying between them, his head on Darren’s thigh.
Wish that was me. Rob was shocked at that thought. Still, it was the truth, he realized. It won’t ever happen, though. I’m sure I’m not his type. Even if I was, I’ll be gone soon enough, so I’ll never find out.
When the TV show ended and the news came on, Rob went to fix dinner before Darren had to leave for work. Again, Smokey was there, watching and hoping for something to hit the floor. Rob was tempted to give in to him, but didn’t.
Darren came in to set the table and make coffee. They ate, paying as much attention to Smokey, who was now chasing one of his toys around the kitchen floor, as to their food. Afterward, Rob did the dishes while Darren went to change for work.
When Darren came downstairs, going to the front door, Smokey was right there. “Behave,” he told the cat. “Do what Rob tells you.”
Rob laughed. “He’s a cat. I think that goes against their code.”
“I’m sure,” Darren agreed, bending to scratch behind Smokey’s ears. “See you in the morning,” he said. “You, too,” he added, smiling at Rob.
Then he was gone. Rob wandered back to the living room, flopping down on the sofa. “He’s got you, now,” he said when Smokey settled in the other corner of the sofa. “What do you want to bet, the second they arrest those punks and they’re safely in jail, he suggests it’s time for me to move on.” The cat cocked his head. “Don’t ask,” Rob said. “It’s going to happen, so first thing tomorrow, after he’s gone to bed, I have to see if there’s a chance in hell I can find a job. Any job, as long as it pays enough for a cheap apartment.”
As if understanding Rob wasn’t happy—and maybe he did—Smokey crawled into Rob’s lap. “At least you care about how I feel,” Rob said, stroking his fur. “You’re probably the only one who does.” He knew he was indulging in a bout of self-pity. It didn’t stop him from doing so, until the cat jumped down, coming back with the ball they’d used for playing fetch. After a rousing game, Rob felt better. Turning on the TV, he found a movie, watched until the end, then went to bed.
Chapter 7
“Rough night?” Rob asked when Darren came into the kitchen early Wednesday morning, after changing out of his uniform.
“You can tell, huh?” Darren poured a cup of coffee then leaned against the counter. He glanced down when Smokey rubbed against his leg, bending to pet him. “Rough, but productive. Someone spotted the punks who beat you up. Problem is, they got away before our guys could arrest them. At least it tells us they’re still around.”
“Downtown, I take it,” Rob said as he took the meatloaf out of the oven.
“Yep. No reports of them attacking anyone last night, but since they’re around, it’s pretty much a given they will eventually. Then we’ll have them.”
“If one of your guys is in the right place at the right time.”
“True, so let’s hope they are.” Darren got his and Rob’s coffees and sat. Rob moved the meatloaf onto a platter then put it, and bread and butter, on the table and joined Darren. Of course Smokey immediately came over to sit beside Darren, who ignored his pleading gaze.
As always, once dinner over, Darren went into the living room to catch the news. When Rob joined him, they played with Smokey for a while before Darren headed up to bed, with Smokey racing up, beating him to the bedroom.
“Mind reader?” Darren asked.
“Shut him out if he’s bothering you,” Rob called up.
“Naw, we’re good. I’ll leave the door open a crack in case he wants to get out later.”
Rob puttered around downstairs until he was certain Darren was asleep. Then he went to change into his only good pair of jeans and the button-down shirt. After making certain he had everything he needed, which for once didn’t include his backpack, he left the house, heading to Oxford Avenue, the main street a few blocks away. Then he started working his way down it, stopping at every business he thought might have a job he could handle, from restaurants to coffee shops to small stores that might need a clerk. He filled out applications at a diner, one of the coffee shops, and a store that sold used electronics, using Darren’s home as his address and the number of the phone Darren had given him as a way to contact him.
He didn’t hold out any hope that they would call, but it was worth trying. He was about to give up, because he was getting tired of all the ‘we’re not looking for anyone’ replies from the majority of the places he stopped at. He decided to go to the end of the block he was on, just for luck, then call it quits.
The shop on the corner had an array of pet items in the window. If nothing else, I can get Smokey something. He snickered. Not that he doesn’t have enough toys already.
Pushing open the door, he entered. The shop was small, with a counter at the front manned by an extremely harried looking woman who was, he guessed, in her mid-fifties. The shelves along the walls held pet foods, bowls, and more toys. A display on the floor in the middle of the room had various types of litter boxes and carriers. Leashes and collars hung on a standing display board next to them. Two women were checking out the bags of dog food while three kids, all under the age of ten, had a dog ball they were playing catch with.
Rob went over to the kids, catching the ball when one of them threw it. “Not to chill your fun,” he said, “but this is for sale. If you want to buy it, then you can play with it. Okay?”
“But…” the oldest kid said.
Rob smiled. “You ever heard of ‘you break it, you buy it?’ If one of you misses a catch and it lands there and knocks one of them down and it breaks—” he pointed to a shelf holding some small ceramic dogs, “—your mom’s going to take the cost out of your allowance. So, why don’t you help her carry things to the counter so she can pay for them?”
“She’s not my mom,” the kid replied. “She is.” He pointed to the younger of the women.
Rob patted his shoulder. “Help her, anyway.”
He was surprised when the kids did as he told them. Going over to the shelf of pet toys, he picked up a plush fish. Smokey will probably tear it apart in five minutes, but what the hell. He took it to the counter, waiting until the women had paid and left, with the kids helping them carry the bags of food and litter they’d bought.
The woman at the counter sighed, smiling at him. “I don’t know how you managed it, but thank you. They come in once a week and it’s the same thing. The kids run crazy while their m
om and her friend shop.”
“Not sure why they listened to me, but…” He shrugged setting the fish on the counter. “I’ll take this.”
“It’s yours, as a thank you.” She looked him over with a knowing gaze. “How long have you been homeless?”
Startled, he asked, “How did you know?”
“Honey, I do some volunteer work at one of the shelters. I know the look. You may be wearing your best duds, but they still came from a near-new shop. How long has it been?”
“Too long,” Rob admitted.
She nodded, still studying him. “Okay, maybe I’m taking a big chance here, but you seem like a good guy, from the way you handled the kids. I had a clerk who helped me out part-time, but she quit a couple of weeks ago. If you’re interested, it doesn’t take a brainiac to show people where things are when they ask and help them if they don’t know what they really need for their pet. It would only be four hours a day, five days a week, and I can’t pay you much more than minimum wage, but…”
“Are you serious?” he asked in shock.
“I am. I won’t let you run the register until I’m real sure of you. But I could use the help, and it doesn’t hurt that you’re a man because you can do the heavy lifting when I restock. You do have ID, I hope, and a phone so I can get in touch with you.”
“I do, and even an address for the moment, though that could change at any time.”
She looked as if she wanted to ask why but was too polite to. “Let me get all the forms the government needs you to fill out.” She frowned. “You aren’t, umm, on the run from something are you?”
Rob chuckled. “No. Just from life.”
“Oh dear. Still, I suppose that’s to be expected.” She patted his hand. “Oh, I never introduced myself. I’m Sarah. Sarah Newland.”
“Rob Tanner.” It felt strange, using his real last name, but he’d had to on the other applications he’d filled out—because it was the one on his ID. He wondered, briefly, if the report he’d filled out at the police station would be null-and-void since he’d used his street name, then figured the police were used to the homeless not giving their real names if they could help it.
She dug through a drawer in a filing cabinet behind the counter, coming up with the requisite forms, handed him a pen, and he filled them out.
When he finished and handed them back, he almost cried in relief. Not that he was a man given to crying, but knowing he had a job after all these years almost overwhelmed him.
She must have seen something in his expression because she took his hand, saying, “This means a great deal to you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Now I can have a real life, and in time a place of my own.” He paused, then added, “Until recently I was, well, not happy, but at least resigned to how I’ve been living. I convinced myself being my own man was a good thing, if that makes sense.”
“Of course it does. You still are, but now you’re moving on to something better, and helping me out in the process.” She took an empty folder from the filing cabinet, put his name on it, inserted the forms, and returned it to the drawer. “There. You’re officially my employee,” she said with a smile.
“What time to you want me here tomorrow?” Rob asked.
“Eleven. That way you’ll be here over the lunch hour and leave at three. Can you work weekends?”
“You bet.”
“Good. So let’s say eleven to three Wednesday through Sunday. That covers my busiest times and days. I’ll pay you every Friday.” She hesitated. “Okay, don’t take this the wrong way, but unless I miss my guess, what you’re wearing is probably the best you own. Right?”
“Yes.”
She opened the cash register, took out twenty dollars and gave it to him. “Consider this an advance on your first paycheck. There’s a near-new shop a few blocks from here.”
“I know the one. It’s where I got what I have on.”
“Good. This won’t buy you much, probably just a couple of shirts, but I rather you wear them instead of T-shirts.”
“No problem.” He took the money, thanking her profusely for both the job and the advance. “I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
She laughed. “Try for eleven. I don’t even open until ten.”
“Eleven it is.”
He barely refrained from dancing when he was back on the sidewalk. I did it. I got a job. And not in some sleazy diner.
* * * *
“You look like the cat who got into the cream,” Darren said when he came downstairs late that afternoon. Rob was sitting on the sofa, Smokey was lying in the center of the floor, batting at a plush fish.
“Me?” Rob shrugged casually. “Maybe.”
Sitting at the other end of the sofa, Darren asked, “What’s going on?”
Rob broke into a broad grin. “I got a job!”
“Fantastic. Where?”
“At a small pet supply shop on Oxford.”
“I know the one. How did you end up there?”
“I was job hunting, which was not fun, trust me,” Rob replied. “It might have been better if I’d shaved, but anyway, I was about to come back here, saw the shop, and decided to get Smokey another toy.”
Darren snorted. “Like he needs more.”
“Yeah, I know. Anyway…” Rob went on to tell him why the woman hired him. “She even advanced me twenty on my first paycheck so I could get a couple of new shirts, which is a good thing since I wasn’t panhandling today,” he said in conclusion.
“Sounds like you found the right place for you,” Darren replied. He wasn’t certain how he felt about it, though. Not the fact that Rob had gotten a job, which was good for his morale. It was what might happen, now that he had, that worried Darren. He’ll save enough to get a place of his own. Then it’ll be just me again. He knew he was being selfish, but the idea didn’t sit well with him. I like having him around to keep me company. Hell, I like him, period. I know, if…when he moves out, we can still be friends. But it won’t be the same.
As if he’d read Darren’s mind, Rob said, “I’m not going to desert you, even when I find an apartment I can afford, which I will because I’m sure you want your life back. Well, after you catch those guys. I know I’m safer living here until that happens.” He cocked his head. “You said they’d been spotted. I take it they haven’t been picked up, yet.”
“I’d have told you if they had,” Darren replied tightly as he got up. “I’d better fix breakfast.”
“Hang on a second. What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy about this.”
“I’m happy for you. It’s what you wanted. What you need.”
“But?”
Rather than replying, Darren went into the kitchen. He’d gotten out eggs and sausage when he became aware of Rob, leaning against the doorjamb, watching him.
“Talk to me,” Rob said.
“There’s nothing to talk about. I suspect you’re going to be moving out soon. Sure, we’ll probably remain friends, but that’s it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Then Rob smiled slowly as if understanding what lay behind Darren’s words. “You were hoping I’d get so used to it here I wouldn’t want to move. That you’d have a permanent house guest.”
Turning away, busying himself by putting the sausage on to fry, Darren mumbled, “Yeah, that, too.”
There was a long silence before Rob said quietly, “You think there could be more between us than mere friendship.”
Glancing at him, Darren saw a speculative look in his eyes. “Perhaps,” Darren admitted. “Not that there will be. It takes both of us wanting the same thing, for starters.”
Rob laughed. “No kidding.” He sobered. “To be honest, I’ve…considered the idea. Never seriously. I mean, look at me. I’m hardly someone that a nice, upstanding guy like you would want to get involved with.”
“I already am. We’re friends. We have been for quite a while now.”
“Yeah. But it takes more than that and you
know it. You’re friends with a lot of people. Some of them might even be gay.” Rob chuckled. “Not Malcom, your son’s hopes to the contrary. Anyway, being friends and hopping into bed—or more—are two very different things.” He crossed his arms, looking dead at Darren. “Just so you know, I will not be your flavor de jour because you haven’t had any sex in more time than you like to think about.”
“Do you really believe I’m that shallow?” Darren asked angrily.
Rob took a step back, shaking his head. “No. I…Honestly, I don’t know what to think.”
Darren took a deep breath. “Let’s forget it. I was wrong to bring it up.”
With a small, brief smile, Rob replied, “You didn’t. I did. You’re right, though. Let’s forget I even mentioned it. It won’t happen.”
Unfortunately not. Darren sighed to himself. Would I want it to? I think so. But he’d never trust that there’s more to my trying to make it happen than what he said. That I want a fuck buddy and he’s handy and gay.
“You might want to take the sausage off the stove before it becomes inedible,” Rob said.
Darren did, grimacing. He fried the eggs, made toast, then put everything on plates before setting them on the table. The meal was tense, with neither of them saying much except to Smokey, who was in his usual position by Darren’s leg with a hopeful look on his face.
As soon as they finished, Darren went upstairs to put on his uniform and get ready for work. He moved slowly, trying to kill time until he had to leave. Smokey had followed him into the bedroom, giving him another reason to be pokey by playing with him. Eventually, however, he had to go downstairs.
Rob was watching the evening news. He looked questioningly at Darren. “Are we okay?”
“Yeah. We’re good,” Darren replied. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Stay safe.”
“I’ll sure try.”
* * * *
“What’s going on with you?” Zack asked Darren, halfway through their shift.
“Nothing. Why?”
“Nothing my ass. You’ve barely spoken unless you had to. That’s not you. Something’s bothering you. If you want to talk about it, it might help.”
Lonesome Men Page 8