“Hi there, I’m Abby and I’ll be booking you in today. Just let me fire up the computer and I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” I start my computer and get ready.
Why is this dude staring at me? He’s kind of creeping me out and his gaze is so intense.
“Hey, sir, while I’m waiting would you like to come over and tell me your name and what brings you here,” I holler to the man.
He gets up and holy hell is he ever tall, must be six and a half feet for sure. Dark messy hair, muscular build, and his clothes are clean. He comes over and stands in front of my window. My area is enclosed by plexiglass.
“Hi, Abby, I’m Brad. I’m here because, well, I recently became homeless.” He’s looking me dead in my eyes. His are such a dark brown, they almost look black.
“Ok, Brad, I’m going to need identification, if you have any, and I’m going to ask you a lot of questions. They are standard questions we ask everyone. All information is kept strictly confidential,” I say, looking into his black as night eyes. It looks like he has some little scratches on his face, which makes me wonder how he got them.
Guys come in here all the time with scratches, cuts, blood and it’s not uncommon, but he seems familiar. Running into people you know at The Shelter can happen from time to time.
“Brad, you seem familiar, do I know you from somewhere?”
I can’t place it, but it’s like I know this guy from somewhere.
Stalker
I’m standing in front of her and we are face to face. She seems to recognize me, but can’t place where. She’ll never remember. She was too stoned and had one too many drinks when I had actually put my hands on her hips. Fuck, I’m getting hard. Thank God, she can’t see that.
“Um, well, I don’t think so. I recently moved here from Vancouver to find work. My wife and I split and I was left with nothing, so I came here to start over.”
She nods her head at me in understanding. I’m sure this is not the first, ‘Oh my wife took everything and now I’m here’ story she’s heard.
“Hmmm, so weird. I could swear I know you from somewhere. What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m an IT Tech so I shouldn’t have to be here too long. There are jobs in the field and I still have a few connections in Toronto, but I just don’t want anyone’s pity. I’ll get back on my feet soon enough,” I say, convincing even myself at this point. She’s totally buying it.
“Brad, do you have a last name,”
“Yes, sorry, I am Brad Bailey and I would show you my ID but my wallet was stolen.”
“Oh man, I’m so sorry. You have to be careful downtown and hold your belongings close to you so nobody steals them. Theft is rampant around here so be more careful,” Abby warns. “Ok, it seems we are done here and I can show you around a bit.” She gets up from the chair and makes sure her walkie-talkie is on her. She comes out from behind the enclosed glass space.
“Sounds good, and thanks, Abby. I really appreciate your help.” I smile at her.
“No problem. This is standard for all new residents. Since we’re on the first floor, let’s do a quick tour here first.” She leads the way and I follow behind her, staring at her delectable ass.
“Brad, have you stayed in a shelter before?” she asks, glancing back at me.
“No, this is my first time,” I answer honestly.
“Yeah, I thought so. So, this here is the TV room for all residents. And over here we have the dining room, where breakfast, lunch and dinner are all served, as well as a snack at about nine o’clock. You must be here to eat your meals if you aren’t working. If you are working, we can give you a bagged lunch to take with you. We like to make sure everyone around here eats,” she says, seriously.
“Well, that’s great because I found a part time job working nights and could probably use that service.”
As I look around, there are men everywhere in various states of homelessness. Some are passed out on tables from partying too hard, some are in line waiting for breakfast, and some are watching television. This doesn’t seem so bad for a shelter. I mean, as far as shelters go, it could be a lot worse I suppose.
“That’s not a problem at all. I’ll make a note in your file so whoever will be assigned as your counselor will know,” she says, looking at me with a soft smile. She’s good at making people feel at ease. This must be why she’s the first point of contact for men when they come here.
“Oh, you mean you won’t be my counselor?” I say with feigned innocence.
“Nope, sorry, I’m just the staff who books people in or out, as the case may be. Our counselors here are great and I’m sure you will get along fine with whomever you are assigned.”
“Why aren’t you a counselor?”
“Counseling is not for me. I’d much rather hang out with the guys and try to get them out of their own heads for a little while. Besides, any resident can talk to any staff about anything so a title doesn’t really make a difference.”
I’m shocked she answered me honestly. I wasn’t expecting that. It’s probably easier for her to just be who she is and it works for her.
“Abby, it’s a good thing you are doing here; helping people who are having a hard time helping themselves,” I say, looking at her with admiration. She blushes.
“Thanks, why don’t we go get you some bed linens and I’ll have one of the other staff members show you around the second floor. I’ve got to get back to my post.”
She’s going up the stairs to pawn me off on someone new. She leads the way to a staff office on the second floor where I meet Mike, Dave, and Jake. Yes, THE Jake Jackson.
Abby introduces me to them, being the gracious hostess that she is. “Hey guys, this here is Brad Bailey and he’s all booked in and good to go. He just needs some linens and to be shown his bed. Brad, this is Jake, he’s the supervisor on duty today, so if you have any problems you can talk to him or anyone of these guys.” Oh, I plan to.
All three of them shake my hand as if they are actually glad to meet me. Grips are firm; they want me to know that they are in charge. They are some pretty big boys working here, but I suppose you need that in a place like this where anything can happen.
Mike and Dave continue the tour with me while Abby steps into the office with Jake. Seeing them at work together is a sight to be behold. I glance behind me as Mike and Dave are pacing themselves forward and I can see Abby smiling sweetly up at Jake. I can see that they will blow their own cover, but maybe there is a way to make it go up in flames, so to speak.
I’m led to a dormitory style room and there are about twenty beds. How do people do this for real? HOLY FUCK! My nose is assaulted by the pungent odor coming from this room and the staff can see it on my face.
“Don’t worry, Brad, you don’t smell it after a little bit,” Mike says. I’m not convinced and it’s showing on my face. They both chuckle.
“We’ve been working here a long time and you do kind of get used to it. I know it’s not pleasant and this is clearly your first time in a shelter,” Dave adds, stating the obvious.
These guys are perceptive. The staff here may be slightly smarter than I had originally thought. They point my bed out and tell me the same things that Abby already told me about keeping all my valuables with me at all times, or else it’s an invitation to be stolen. Since I didn’t come here with anything except the clothes on my back and the small blade in my pocket, I’m good.
“Hey guys, I start my part time job tonight and was wondering what I need to do about being out all night? Will I lose my bed here?” I ask with slight fear in my voice. I need them to think of me as weak and not a threat due to my size.
“Naw, just ask one of the staff for a late pass so you don’t get booked out and they will make a note in your file stating that you are working,” Dave says, informing me about the procedure. I can’t believe it’s that easy. “We try to encourage everyone here who has a job to keep it. How else do you get back on your feet, right? We are very accommo
dating and want you to succeed so the staff here will help you, provided you follow your case plan.”
He seems like a nice guy. In fact, they both do. Everyone who I’ve come into contact with here has been great. If I really was homeless, I think these people would actually help me. Instead, I will inevitably use them in my plans to destroy Abby and Jake’s relationship. I will use as many staff as I need to accomplish this feat. I have my work cut out for me. But for now, I will play the part of the poor, homeless guy down on his luck, and go to the dining room to eat breakfast.
The line is shorter now and I can’t wait to see what kind of food they serve up in this joint. I look around and nothing looks too bad. The aroma of food mixed with body odor is one I’m not sure I can get used to. I grab my tray and make my way through the line. I grab my plate of food which is eggs and toast with a bowl of cereal. The eggs aren’t real and the toast is cold, but I know I need to eat it if I’m to play the part.
Heading over to the juice machines, I grab some glasses and fill up with the sugar-flavored water. I cringe. Finding a table with the least amount of people is paramount because I’m not ready to mingle with anyone as of yet. I need to watch. I need to observe and this may take me a few days. I have no intention of sleeping here. I will be going back to my apartment since I already told them the story of my fake job. I’m not sleeping in a room with that stench and I don’t want anyone hovering over me. I will spend at least most of the day here checking things out and seeing how everything works; observe the staff dynamics and who talks to whom. Things like that.
I finish what I can of whatever they are trying to pass off as food and throw the rest out. I imagine this is close to what food in jail tastes like and it’s not palatable for me. However, if I was a starving man this would be perfectly acceptable. Cooking for over one hundred men can’t be easy and the meals need to be easy to prepare for this purpose.
I’m curious to see what Abby is doing and I peek to see her booking in more guys when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“She’s a hot one, isn’t she?” someone with wretched breath whispers into my ear. Turning to look, I see an older man who has clearly seen better days.
“She booked me in and was really nice to me,” I whisper back.
“She’s always nice and gets treated like shit most days with guys yelling at her for things she has no control over. Abby is my favorite staff member here so I watch her to make sure she’s ok,” the man tells me.
“It’s a good thing she’s got you watching her back. What’s your name, sir?” Turning around I stretch out my hand to shake his.
“Name is Trevor, son, and what is yours?” Trevor grips my hand.
“Brad.”
He smiles up at me with no teeth in his mouth. Jesus fuck, what happened to this guy?
Trevor walks over to a table and gestures for me to sit.
“I know what you see, Brad. You see a decrepit old man, no teeth, dirty clothes, stinks and I can only imagine what you must think.” Not really sure where he’s going with this. I nod in understanding. “I’ve been here, off and on, for about ten years since my wife died. I turned to crack and never looked back. I lost the rest of my life and family because of my addiction. Choices are made and consequences happen for choices, whether good or bad, and these are my consequences. Don’t let what happened to me happen to you, son. Fight for your life and you will possibly get it back. I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes.”
I look into his old blue eyes and see immense sadness lurking behind them. I almost pity him. Almost.
I spend the rest of my day observing the staff and the dynamics of how this place seems to work. I wonder to myself why Abby even works in a place like this.
I suppose I’ll be able to take care of us both, once we are together.
Abby
The day passes and there have been no incidents to speak of…
“Fuck you, asshole, I know you stole it!” I hear shouting coming from the common area and find two men in a standoff. For fuck’s sakes, why does this happen near the end of my shift? I grab my walkie-talkie and call for assistance in the common area.
“Hey guys, what’s going on here?” I approach with caution and with and an easy tone so I don’t agitate anyone further; anything can happen. I see that Doug is the aggressor here and my goal is to get him to focus on me for a minute. “Doug, what did this man steal from you?” I say, approaching with caution. Doug’s eyes are blazing and he only sees red. I know that look and I know he’s going to lose his shit.
“Abby, get the fuck outta here because this guy is about to get it,” he warns me and I step back, but don’t leave.
“Doug, how much does he have?” I keep my gaze on him. He shouts, “That fucker stole my forty piece and he better give it the fuck back or I’m gonna fuck him up!” He is casting a death glare towards the man. He has a nervous twitch about him.
It’s too late. Something glistening moves in my direction. The man I don’t recognize reaches around with his switchblade. I feel the pain in my forearm as the knife makes contact, slicing my skin. Thank God for quick reflexes because if I hadn’t put my arm up, it could have been worse. That’s the only contact the knife makes with me before six male staff have him on the ground, face down, and restrained.
“Call the police! Take Abby to the back office and grab the First Aid kit!” Jake calls out to whoeverthefuck is listening.
I just got my fucking arm sliced by some crazy fuckin’ crack head!
“Abby, come with me,” Mike says, grabbing my injured arm, applying pressure, so that the blood isn’t dripping everywhere. “Abby, are you ok? I need you to answer me.” I stare at him blankly. “Abs, talk to me, hun. You ok?” He’s wiping the blood off with a towel while inspecting my wound; all staff are trained in First Aid and CPR.
“Did I just get fucking stabbed, Mike?” I’m still staring and I hear the words coming out of my mouth, but I feel foggy.
“There’s our girl. Yes, Abby, some asshat just sliced your arm, but it’s not looking so bad. It’s a superficial wound and I doubt you’ll need stitches. I’m going to clean it up a little better for you.”
He leaves me to grab some more supplies, but not before he sits me in a chair. I hear the sirens and I know the police are here. The commotion coming from the common area is only getting louder, but I don’t know what’s happening.
“Mike, is everything ok out there?” I ask, even though I know he doesn’t know anything because he’s trying to help me right now.
“I’ll have a look, but stay put,” he warns me. It’s like people think I don’t listen. He goes over to the door that leads from this office area to the common area and looks for a few minutes. He comes back over. “Oh hell yeah, he’s all cuffed and being hauled to the cop car now. Jake is talking with them and I’m sure they are going to want a statement from you.”
I nod. I know I’m going to have to give a statement, write up an incident report, and fill out WSIB forms due to being injured at work.
Fuck my life.
Paramedics are being led towards me, with Jake in tow. Jake’s eyes are the deepest, blackest shade of hazel green I’ve ever seen and it’s really intense. As they lock onto mine, I can see he’s pissed. It totally sucks that this just happened.
Jake kneels down in front of me. “Abby, are you ok?” he says in the softest voice I’ve ever heard. He looks so pissed and speaks so calmly. I nod and hold out my arm.
“Fuck, that’s going to leave a scar for sure, but it doesn’t look so bad.” He is repeating what Mike has already told me. “Abby, the paramedics are going to check you out so let them do their job, please.” I nod my head in agreement.
The paramedics clean my wound, and again, I’m informed I don’t need stitches. They have me bandaged up in no time. I hear them talking to Jake after they finish with me and I hear Jake tell them ‘not to worry about it’ and that ‘I’ve got it.’ What the fuck is he saying? Why do I still feel foggy-li
ke, for fuck’s sakes? A familiar voice brings me out of my fog.
“Abby, fancy meeting you here. I thought you were a trained ninja,” Kev says to me, trying to lighten the mood. It works because I start to laugh uncontrollably.
“Fuck me sideways, clearly a ninja I am not.” I get up to give him a hug. I see Jake glaring in my direction.
“Abs, Jake already gave me the rundown, but I need an official statement from you and we will be pressing assault charges,” he says, using his cop voice. I’m glad it’s him and not some strange dude I don’t know. “You ok? You seem like you’re still in a state of shock.” He is staring at me with concern.
“Uh, I just almost got my arm sliced off today, and I really wasn’t expecting it, so yes, I guess you could say that I’m in a little bit of shock.” The words whip from my mouth with probably more attitude than I meant to spew out. Damn, I didn’t mean it to come out that way.
I give my statement to Kev and he goes over to talk with Jake. I don’t know what they are saying. At this particular moment, I also don’t care. I have a shit ton more paperwork to fill out now and I’m pissed. I go to an unused office and shut the door so I can write my report. I hear a soft knock on the door and I see Jake. I nod for him to come inside.
“Abby, I need to hear from you how you are, baby,” he says softly, and that’s when the waterworks start. He shuts the door and closes the blinds on the window, and makes his way around the desk. He pulls me up and into his arms. “Shhhhh, baby, you’re ok, you are ok. Ralph is being charged with assault and Kev is handling it. I’m sure Ralph will get the royal treatment where he’s going.” I wrap my arms around him. He pulls slightly from me and lifts my face to his. Gently brushing the tears from my face with his thumbs, he looks into my eyes with concern.
“I got sliced,” I say, stating the obvious. Jake pulls my face to his and kisses me softly, not even giving one flying fuck that we are at work.
Obsession (Stalker #1) Page 12
