The Billionaire Bum (8 page)

By midnight I’d made less than $40 and was ready to quit this shitty job. Jessica was grating on my very last nerve, Buddy hadn’t re-appeared all night, and there was no way that anyone could live on this kind of a salary.

That’s when my saving grace walked in the door. A group of five giggling girls in halter tops and short skirts, which were really quite inappropriate for the weather, sat down at the bar.

They announced that it was the blond in the middle’s twenty-first birthday, and they’d come out at midnight so that she could exercise her new right to drink. I carded them, gave them my best smile, and prepared to make a killing.

I had never worked so hard in my life. I made Flaming Dr. Peppers, Hot Caramel Apples, Red Headed Sluts, and even a Blow Job for the birthday girl. I took pictures of them with their cameras, I posed with them in pictures, and I learned how to use a blender.

A group of guys about the same age joined them around 12:30, and I suddenly had a whole new set of shots and drinks to learn. These were easier and more expensive. About half way through the second set of Irish Car Bombs I wondered what else I had neglected to learn in college. I had a great time, and so did they.

The whole party stumbled out of the bar just before 2 a.m., and I started my clean-up. I was starving, exhausted, and I smelled like a bar, but I had earned every damn penny of the $152

I made. Buddy showed up to take my register and count it while I was cleaning up. Jessica gave him a positive progress report on me, and he smirked at me knowingly.

I left around 2:30 and set off to find a 24-hour diner or pizza place. I wanted the greasiest food I could find. Tom’s Diner didn’t disappoint. I had a burger and onion rings that I knew I would regret later. I absolutely devoured them. I followed it up with apple pie and coffee. The food perked me up, and I found that I wasn’t tired. In fact, I was positively giddy. I was proud of my honest day’s labor, and I felt like I had experienced a whole new world. I wanted to share it with someone.

Alissa. Just thinking about her made me suddenly very lonely. My stomach turned at the thought of spending the rest of the night in a cold hotel room. I wondered what it would be like to watch her sleeping, her beautiful brown hair fanned out on her pillow. I wondered what she slept in. Oh, God, I was going to embarrass myself if I thought any further along that line, so instead I paid my check and stepped out into the cold night air. It was already almost four in the morning. I wondered what time Alissa left for the market.

There was only one way to find out.

Alissa

The alarm went off at 4:30 like usual, and I smacked it with the palm of my hand. It was a good thing that I loved my job or I would never get up like this. I pulled on jeans and a t-shirt with my black hoodie over top. I had sneakers that were specifically for the market. After the fifth time I stepped in a pile of fish guts down there, I decided to designate a pair of fish-gut shoes.

I put my hair up in a ponytail and grabbed my wallet. I checked to make sure that I had enough cash for the day’s groceries and my list. I always bought whatever looked good for the day, but there were staples that I needed to pick up as well.

I wondered if Matt would show up today. I hated to fire him, but he was irresponsible.

I’d given him the job in the first place as a favor to his father. The Ozwell family owned a chain of sporting goods stores, and I had worked at one of them for a couple of years while I was putting myself through college. The Ozwells had been very good to me, so I didn’t hesitate to employ their son. Matt was a college kid, just picking up a couple hours of work every day for spending money. Unfortunately, he also liked to party, which meant that he was rarely up by six when I needed him.

Of course, I was glad he hadn’t shown up yesterday, because I wouldn’t have met Jackson otherwise.

Jackson. My fancy-jeans-wearing, messy-haired, blue-eyed, superhero. Swoon.

I was such a girl. I mean seriously, who thinks like that?

I stumbled down the steps and out the backdoor with my keys in one hand and my list in the other.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Ack!!!” I screamed, and jumped a good three feet in the air. On the way down, I somehow twisted my feet beneath me, and I would have landed flat on my ass had I not been caught by a strong pair of arms.

Yep. Definitely a superhero.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized profusely.

“You scared the crap out of me, Jackson,” I said, finally righting myself and punching him in the bicep. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect you to react like that. I mean, of course, I won’t do that again…” He was actually really cute when he was rambling, so I decided to save him.

“I was just surprised to see you. What are you doing here?” Half of my brain was screaming, “He’s a psycho killer here to stalk you!” The other half was insisting that I was glad he’d missed me. I knew I’d missed him.

“Well, I just got off work, and I was passing by, and I thought that perhaps you might like some company for your morning trip to the market. I’m sorry. I should have called, but I didn’t get your number, and…” He ran his hand through his already disheveled hair. “Well… the truth is, I just wanted to see you.”

He turned those beautiful eyes on me like a puppy that knew it was about to be chastised and gave me a sheepish grin. I was done for.

“I would love to have your company for my trip to the market,” I said.

He settled into the passenger seat of my cargo van and we started down to the docks. I loved the city this time of day. The streets were quiet and dark, but it felt like the world was just on the brink of waking up. I got to see the sunrise every morning. The world is black and white in the dark, but as the sun rises it fills with color. That’s a phenomenon I’d never get tired of.

“So where do you work,” I asked, “that puts you out so late at night?”

“I’m a bartender, at the 31st Street Bar and Grill,” he said, turning so I could see his shirt.

“Oh,” I mumbled, more confused than ever. That didn’t explain the expensive jeans. It also didn’t explain why I could see the grey t-shirt that he had worn yesterday peeking out from under his work shirt. Didn’t this man ever change clothes? It did explain why he would be awake at this hour, but it also presented a new puzzle. Yesterday he’d been awake at the same time, but not dressed in his work shirt and not reeking of beer like he was now. What a mystery.

“Oh?” he said. “That’s the only response I get?” There was mischief in his voice.

“Yes, oh,” I said, smiling in return. “Oh as in – Oh! You’re a bartender for one of my competitors. You’re probably tagging along to steal my trade secrets!” He snorted. “I hardly think we pose much of a threat to you. From what I saw yesterday, your food blows ours out of the water.”

“My food is pretty awesome,” I teased.

“Well, now look who’s all high and mighty
.
”
God he was beautiful when he smiled.
“Of course it is true… You are amazing.”

He meant my food. My food is amazing… not me. Time to change the subject.

“Have you ever been down to the docks for the morning catch?” I asked.

“Nope. First time for everything I guess,” he replied.

“It’s an experience.”

“Really? How?”

“You’ll see when we get there.” I glanced over at him briefly before turning my eyes back to the road. “You asked me an awful lot of questions yesterday. Do I get to reciprocate today?”

“Nope,” he said. “I haven’t finished with you yet.”

“I had a feeling you would say that.”

We bantered back and forth like that, with me spilling my whole life out and him offering no information at all, until we arrived at the docks.

“This is our stop,” I said, pulling the van into my usual spot. “Get ready for the adventure.”

Jackson

“Alissa baby!” The man calling was not quite as big as Jason, but his arms were built the same way. He was tossing a watermelon from the truck behind him to one of his coworkers who was then stacking them in a display bin.

“Gary!” she replied. “How’s my favorite produce man this morning?”

“I’m better now that you’re here,” Gary said. “Who’s the eye candy?” His eyes raked over me, but he showed no sign of jealousy or disappointment. I thought his relationship with Alissa was strictly business. I hoped she wasn’t seeing anyone romantically, although now that I thought about it, I had never come right out and asked. That thought filled me with dread.

“This is Jackson,” she said, snapping me out of my pondering. “Jackson, meet Gary. He’s the man to see in fruits.” She laughed, and her beauty suddenly stuck me. It was a grey and dreary morning, but looking at her smile made me feel like I was standing in the midday sun.

Gary gave me that overbearing big brother look. Apparently I was not the only one who felt protective of Alissa.

“Good morning,” I said politely. He just kept tossing watermelons. No wonder his arms looked like steel cables. Forget the gym—I should get a job tossing melons.

“What’s it gonna’ be today, Alissa?” he asked.

She placed her order and Gary nodded at her. It was a big order, but he didn’t write anything down. I wondered if he would get it right. She kept walking down the street, so I followed along. We repeated a very similar process with about four other vendors who were selling everything from produce to paper products. The last stop however was the biggest adventure of the morning. Alissa bought her fish literally right out of the ocean.

“Morning, Peter,” she called to a tall lanky man who was dressed in filthy coveralls.

“Morning, Alissa. What’s the special of the day gonna’ be?”

“You tell me. Get anything good last night?” I got the impression that this conversation happened exactly this way every morning. I was so glad I’d come along. Watching her shop was like having a window into the first two hours of her day.

“Ayuh, I’d take the salmon today,” he said, “although we did get some nice tilapia too.” He turned and whistled over his shoulder to another man who was standing about eight feet away pouring buckets of ice over huge tubs of fresh fish. The man nodded and then grabbed a massive fish from one of the tubs and tossed it to Peter. I’d never seen so much food thrown in my life. Amazingly, I hadn’t seen one thing dropped all morning. Peter caught it, using a piece of newspaper like a catcher’s mitt. He pulled the fish open so that Alissa could see the inside. It was a salmon, I knew, from the pink flesh. I had no idea that was what they looked like on the outside. That fish was huge! She ordered both, the salmon and the tilapia.

While they were packing up her order she walked over to the pier and looked out at the ocean. Her hair was taking on a reddish tint in the early morning light and framed against the water she was absolutely stunning.

“So what do you think?” she said to me.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes. “I meant about the market.”

“Oh,” I smiled. “It’s pretty cool too.”

Alissa

He is so beautiful and so infuriating. I wish I could figure him out.

We’d been walking around the market together all morning and his facial expressions had ranged from protective, to playful, to absolute awe, and even once, dare I hope, jealous.

It was clear that this was a new experience for him, but it looked like he was really enjoying it. I have to admit I was glad he’d come along. I wasn’t above showing off in front of this man. I found myself hoping that I could somehow be worthy of him.

Disbelief poured through me at the thought of him being a bar tender. The beer smell, time of day, and t-shirt did seem to verify the information, but the way he carried himself, the words he chose, and his other clothes said otherwise. I was convinced that something wasn’t right with what Jackson was telling me. Of course, he wasn’t really telling me much of anything.

Despite several attempts to pry for information, he always managed to turn the conversation back to me.

The more time I spent with him, the less I cared about the details. I just wanted to bask in his presence for a while—my own personal Bruce Wayne or Clark Kent. He could be a homeless bum for all I cared, and he’d still be perfect.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Oh God. A homeless bum.

He had a bruise on his jaw, possibly indicating a fight.

“I’ll take the tomatoes please,” I said.

He was out in the open streets at odd times, in all kinds of weather, with no coat.

“And the asparagus.”

He never changed clothes.

He ate ravenously.

“That should do it.”

It was clear that he didn’t or couldn’t shave regularly.

He jumped at the chance to use my shower.

He didn’t seem to have a car.

He said he was in transition.

It’s not possible is it?

He couldn’t possibly be homeless.

I watched him very closely as I made my way through my normal morning routine.

Sometimes it can be hard to tell with homeless people. I had done some volunteering, cooking at a soup kitchen, and I knew that some of the men and women who came to eat there were dressed like any other person that you would see on the street. Some of them even had jobs, but the cost of living, addictions, or other circumstances made it impossible for them to find a stable home.

It was possible that he was living on the streets or in some kind of program, but I didn’t think he’d been doing it very long, if at all. He had a grace about him that you didn’t usually see in ordinary people and almost never in someone with that kind of life. This must be some transition for him if he was literally living on the streets.

My brain had gone on autopilot. I hoped that whatever I just ordered would make a good lunch special. I knew Peter would have said something if I’d asked for something too outlandish, but I couldn’t for the life of me recall what I had asked for. I was absolutely stunned at my own revelation. It couldn’t be true. Could it?