Just a City Boy (Midnight Train Series) (4 page)

Chapter Eight

My day off was shaping up to be crappier than a redneck’s step mama’s pickup truck. I knelt on my bathroom floor, scrubbing the nasties out of corners and wishing I was in Tahiti sunbathing topless. Ray never cleaned up after himself, no surprise there, and I was thinking today was the day that I kicked his butt out on the street. He was a big boy. He could take care of himself. Well, that was debatable, seeing as how he couldn’t seem to hit what he was aiming at.

Once my bathroom was clean, I would have to make a grocery run. My forty three bucks in bills and coins could actually stretch pretty far if I went to the Shop and Save over on Chestnut.

I finished up and stretched, getting that kink out of my back from being on my hands and knees. Then I scoured the kitchen cupboards and the fridge in my galley kitchen. I’d learned that if I made up a menu using things I already had in the cupboards; it would save on my grocery bill. And I was all about saving money. I could squeeze my dollars so tight the eagle grinned. I made note of the bit of cornmeal left in the bag, and the lonely stalk of celery in the fridge. I could have sworn I had more food than this.

Ray.

I frowned. I knew I had six eggs when I left for work yesterday morning. They were gone, along with the rest of my milk, the American cheese slices, and the unopened package of bacon I’d been planning on using today for BLTs. I checked the crisper. The lettuce was still there, but the tomatoes were gone.

I closed the fridge and leaned against the cupboard with a loud sigh.

“Ray?” I called. I heard movement on the couch. Shuffling. Scratching. Yawning. He walked in to see me.

“Hey baby!” He said.

I hadn’t used his name in a while. He probably thought I was coming around.

“Don’t baby me, Ray. You told me yesterday you were moving out. Instead, you ate the rest of my eggs and bacon. You have until 5pm to be out of my apartment, or I will be forced to use harsher measures,” I said. If my voice shook a little, I hoped he didn’t notice. I needed to be firm on this. He could sense any softness in me and exploit it like a professional.

“Lauren honey, you don’t mean that,” he said. He’d softened his voice and stepped closer to me. I used to think his brown eyes and cropped hair made him look like Peter Stoychev, but over time I’d come to notice the imperfections that infatuation obscured before. He had lazy posture, and his left eye had the tendency to twitch when he got agitated. When he was drunk, he shouted and threw things, but his aim was terrible, thank goodness. Now that he’d stopped drinking here, he’d been trying to rekindle those old feelings we’d had for each other in the beginning.

I ducked away from his hand reaching out to touch my hair.

“I do mean it. Don’t touch me. I appreciate that you’ve stopped drinking and all, but it’s over. You don’t pay rent; you don’t help with the groceries or keeping house. You need to pack your things and leave,” I said as firmly as I could.

He had the nerve to click his tongue at me.

“Lauren baby, I’m sorry about your breakfast. Let me take you out to eat. I’ve got some leads on a job. I can help with the rent in a couple weeks,” he murmured while he walked closer and touched my cheek.

“Come on, we had it so good before. What changed?” he asked.

I couldn’t believe I used to think I loved this guy. His touch was making my skin crawl.

“Stop touching me,” I said. “Five p.m. It’s final,” I said, and walked around him. I fetched my purse from the chair and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

Ray was making me so mad. I didn’t want to admit to myself that he was also making me uncomfortable.

I plunked down the steps with my bag banging each post in the stair rail. My phone was still charging on my nightstand and I was still wearing my ‘clean the house’ flip flops. I’d left without thinking, and now I was stuck in my ‘clean the house’ clothes too. I had on skinny jeans with holes in the knee, a T-shirt tied off at my waist, and my hair was up in a ponytail, or at least, the part of it that wasn’t curling wildly out of control around the rest of my face. Speaking of my face, I knew it had to be kind of pale since I hadn’t put my makeup on after I’d had my morning rinse.

Thank goodness I had my spare face in my purse, just one of the reasons my bag was so heavy.

I made up my mind to take the People Mover. I would do my makeup on the ride, so at least my head would be presentable to the public.

Seated in the gently rocking passenger car, I juggled my compact in one hand and my lip liner in the other. There were a couple other passengers, but they ignored me as effectively as I ignored them. Lip liner over a foundation base, followed by Fire Engine red. I used a bit of blusher just to highlight my fine cheekbones and to obscure a freckle or two. I put a finishing powder on everything before I applied my eye liner and mascara. The eye liner was tricky, because every so often the train bumped. I would have to use my spit to clean up any stray marks, so I was extra careful. Finally I trained my compact mirror all over, piecing together my overall look. It would do.

I put everything away and looked at the other passengers.

Everyone had a story. Sometimes I liked to make them up as I watched them. The black man hunched over a laptop was a writer. I smirked slyly. He wrote BDSM under the pen name “Ambrosia Gates”. The old woman with the grocery cart was on her way to get cat food for her cat “Cuddleupagus” and she was the former CEO of a rubber phalange company. The homeless looking guy…actually a model trying to tour the city incognito.

It passed the time. If they seemed alarmed when I gave them a knowing smile, well it was harmless fun. I got off at a stop by the cheap grocery store. I should get one of those handy grocery carts like the woman who got off with me had.

Logic told me we were headed the same way, so I started up a conversation.

“Hi there. Are y’all going to the Shop N Save?” I asked her.

“Why yes I am,” she said with a smile.

“Let’s walk together. I always like to make a new friend,” I said.

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine in this Godforsaken town,” she said nodding and smiling at me.

“Oh I don’t know about that, mother,” I called her out of respect.

“You must be from the South,” she suggested. Her gate was a little slower than I might have gone, but I did love to talk.

“I’m from Texas. I actually just moved here almost a year ago,” I said.

“Oh my. What brought you up north? We’re getting set to have cold weather soon, you know. You’re going to miss your Texas heat, child,” she said with a little laugh. “But I suppose you already had one winter here,” she continued.

“Yes, that was something for this Texas girl! But that’s okay. I wanted to strike out on my own. See if I could make something of myself,” I told her. I left out the part about leaving memories so painful I could barely breathe. She had me second guessing myself, as if I hadn’t already been since the fiasco with Ray. What was I thinking?

“Well that is a brave thing to do. We do have to break away from the apron strings, don’t we? I recall when I was newly married, Stanford and myself moved here from Ohio. We didn’t want our parents looking over our shoulders,” she laughed again.

That made me feel a little better.

“My name is Lauren Beckers. I waitress in a diner and I moonlight as a singer on the weekends,” I told her. She stopped pushing her cart and held her hand out for me to shake.

“A pleasure. My name is Dorothy Porchere. Do you shop here often?” She asked me as we approached the store.

“It’s the only place to go when you’re living on tips!” I said with a laugh. I held the door open for her and we parted ways. It was likely we’d meet up again on the train.

I flip-flopped my way through the aisles, only a little self-conscious of the slapping noise my shoes made on the linoleum.

I decided on simple staples that wouldn’t cost much and that would allow me to keep a few dollars of walking around money.

Potatoes, eggs, rice, tomatoes, bread, beans, lard, cheese, fresh chicken and pork. I could eat like a queen this week, as long as Ray moved his butt out. My food would not stretch if he was still hanging out on my couch.

If he was still there at 5pm what was I going to do next? What if I got rid of my couch? That could work.

The cashier rang me up and Dorothy was not far behind. I snuck a glance in her grocery bag.

Cat food, I noticed with a smug smile.

Chapter Nine

When Zack walked in, Dave was nowhere to be found. He felt relief but also regret. The whole thing was a fiasco and it was his fault.

He spied the gaming system and reviewed the events of the night before.

He’d been agitated without knowing why, and ended up picking that fight with his roommate. He stared at the gaming system. It was the gunfire! He hadn’t registered it, but his agitation had grown throughout the afternoon and into the night. It was because of the sounds of gunfire and men screaming in the background.

He ran his hands through his hair and then scrubbed his face with his calloused hands too. Afghanistan and Pakistan had seen him at his worst. Why was he freaking out now, safe at home, and a million miles away from danger?

A part of him remembered that guys in his same boat had been counseled to see therapists when they mustered out. It seemed like a weakness to have to do that.

But when he looked at his hands, capable of destruction, and what he’d almost done last night to an innocent woman, he realized maybe it wasn’t the easy way out. Maybe it was the only way out.

He took the quiet time with David gone to catch a shower, shave and gather up his belongings. He wasn’t sure where he was going next, but he was fairly certain Dave would want him out now. He got the pistol and put it on Dave’s nightstand.

He got his backpack and stuffed it with his few possessions. He only had a few shirts and trousers, socks and underwear and the one pair of shoes. Comb and toothbrush and he was all set.

He’d stayed with Dave the longest of anyone; they really got along well, since their brothers had been friends in high school. They’d found a mutual need…Dave needed a roommate, and Zack a place to stay. And the other need…he couldn’t think about it right now. His army pension helped with expenses, and when he could get work for long enough, he could splurge on other extras.

All packed up, he sat on the edge of the couch, content to wait for Dave to get back. He figured he owed him the courtesy of saying goodbye if nothing else. And of course, he needed to know if Dave was going to press charges.

He was sitting like that when Dave walked in with a girl.

Dave’s face lit up, in spite of the bandage and splint on his nose.

“Thank God, Zack! I was worried about you!” Dave said with feeling.

Zack was shocked. This was not the reaction he was expecting. He stood up and glanced at the girl, who seemed less enthusiastic to see him. She wore a scowl along with her uptown slacks, kiss-me heels, fitted wool jacket and silk scarf. She was a looker, and Zack was a little surprised she was on Dave’s arm.

“I’m sorry about everything,” Zack said, looking at Dave.

Dave gestured to his nose.

“Shut up. Don’t even worry about it. I was being a jackass too,” he said. “Hey, this is Sandra. Sandra, my best buddy Zack Daniels,” he introduced them.

She smirked.

“Maybe if you lay off the bottle you’ll be less inclined to argue with your fist,” she said.

Dave winced and murmured. “Sandra, not necessary,” he said quietly.

Zack shrugged.

“Dave, I won’t be troubling you anymore. I packed up my things. Your uh,” he quirked his mouth. “That thing I borrowed is on your night stand,” he said.

“Whoa whoa whoa, Zack. Where are you going exactly? You’re blowing this out of proportion. All is forgiven man!” Dave said.

Sandra continued to stare Zack down like he was something she found on the bottom of her expensive shoe.

“It’s okay, Dave. I’ll be in touch,” he said, and nodded at Sandra without smiling. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said. His military training demanded he treat her with respect, but he did get a little perk out of knowing she wouldn’t appreciate being called ‘ma’am’ at her age. He put her at around 28 and Dave was 24. Sandra seemed like a man-eater, and he didn’t really want to be anywhere near her. Hopefully Dave would realize it sooner rather than later.

He gave Dave a little salute and walked out, slinging his backpack behind him.

Zack felt like he left a trail of regrets everywhere he went. He didn’t know where he was going now, but it was nothing new. He’d been wandering since he got back. Staying with Dave had been nice. He’d gotten some stability, some idea that he might be able to settle down and have some normal in his life. His panic attack that drove him to harm his friend…he paused. Dave had called him his ‘best buddy’. Zack swallowed a painful lump. His panic attack that drove him to harm Dave could never happen again. He couldn’t put people in danger.

He would go back to that hostel place and see about saving enough money for the plane ticket. Guys like him might choose to hitchhike back to Maryland, but he couldn’t risk it. He’d been in jail too many times in his youth to get away with hitchhiking. The mostly harmless way to get around wasn’t so harmless as soon as police found out you were a jailbird. They were much harsher at that point.

No, he needed to fly. That was going to be bad enough. But a bus was out of the question.

He’d get another job clearing tables or maybe bouncing at a bar. He was going to make it this time. He fingered the business card that was soft as velvet from his many times caressing it in his pocket. He could do it. He would do it.

He walked on and on, found the hostel with its dingy walls and overheated rooms and overpopulation of hipsters and got settled.

Now he needed to find another job. He was bussing tables at a sports bar a few days a week, but it wasn’t enough and he hated the environment.

He was tough enough that he could work as a bouncer. It meant late nights, but he usually stayed awake nights anyway, trying to get the visions and noises out of his head.

The first couple places he walked to were full. The last guy he talked to suggested a lounge called “Lonely Nights”. He thought they might need a guy.

Backpack over his shoulder, Zack found the place. The concrete block building was painted all black. It was a one story building with a flat roof and had no windows. At first glance, it could almost be a nudie bar, but the sign was free of the usual terms like ‘live girls’ or ‘lap dances’. He walked in to a dim lit interior, scanned the large room and the dais with a grand piano on it, the scattered tables and chairs, and the long glossy bar with the jeweled glasses lining the wall.

A person came out of a back room. It was a petite woman with black hair and eyes, a tight-fitting pink sweater and a scarf tied fifties style around her neck.

“Hiya Boss, what can I do you for?” She asked him.

He couldn’t tell her age, but the military trained him that ma’am would do.

“Ma’am I’m here to see if you need a bouncer. I can start right away,” Zack told her. He was prepared to show his military ID, but he didn’t have a resume to speak of. People had the tendency to turn tail and run as soon as he lifted his shirt to show the hideous scar on his side.

She sized him up.

“Ex-military?” She asked him.

He nodded. “Army Ranger,” he said.

She smiled.

“You’ll do just fine. My last guy failed his drug test. Yes, I do random drug testing, call me a prude. Actually, don’t call me a prude. Call me Brenda,” she stuck her small hand out and he shook it, mindful not to crush her bones in his grip.

“If I may ask, how could you tell I was ex-military?” he asked her. This was starting to bug him. First Lauren, now Brenda.

“Your posture. Okay, come on back and we’ll get your first drug test done. No time like the present,” she announced and walked away, obviously expecting him to follow.

Imagine that. He was gainfully employed only a day after making one of the dumbest mistakes of his life. Drug tests didn’t worry him. He was clean as a whistle. Another thing the army had done for him.

He looked around the place as he walked the long hallway. Framed posters of the black and white movie greats lined the deep purple walls. Elegant wall sconces cast long shadows on unmarked doors. The last door proved to be the office where he signed paperwork. She made copies of his ID and held up a cup.

“Bathroom’s across from my door. I don’t need to escort you because my job applicants never know to expect this as part of the application process. Either you’re clean or you’re not,” she said and he took the cup.

“I’m glad you showed up, Zack. I’m too cheap to put an ad in the paper,” she said without watching him walk out. She was already making notes in a book and then tapping things into her computer.

“Start tomorrow night. It’s a Friday, so expect some action. Most of my clients can hold their liquor, but one of my singers really drives them wild,” she explained.

He walked out and got the job done, and then returned to the hostel. He had to secure a locker and use their computer. He needed to know exactly how much money to save in order to make his trip.