Cole and His Dog
By Edward Kendrick
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2017 Edward Kendrick
ISBN 9781634863667
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
For anyone who loves dogs.
* * * *
Cole and His Dog
By Edward Kendrick
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 1
Cole adjusted his backpack as soon as he was standing on the sidewalk outside of the house. He wanted to scream how unfair it was, but knew it would make no difference. So, he began walking, refusing to look back at the only home he had ever known.
The atmosphere there had been toxic for the last two months, after he came out to his parents. His father’s only words, when he had finally stopped berating Cole, were, “I’ll feed and clothe you until you turn eighteen, then you’re out on your ass.” His mother had nodded in agreement.
Cole would have left home that day, except he knew if he was going to survive on his own he had to graduate from high school. That happened a week before he turned eighteen, and true to his word, today being Cole’s birthday, his father had ordered him to pack his belongings and leave.
“A hell of a birthday present,” Cole muttered in reply, earning him a swift smack to the back of his head, before his father pointed to the door then left Cole’s bedroom. Cole’s mother watched from the hallway. He had the feeling the look of disgust on her face had nothing to do with his father’s actions, and everything to do with the fact that she was equally happy to see the last of her gay son.
He filled his backpack with what clothes he could get into it. He also managed to squeeze in a towel, and a pair of gym shoes. He figured he’d need the shoes, when the weather became too cold for the sandals he was wearing. Two paperbacks went in one exterior pouch, with his packable rain jacket in the other along with a plastic bag holding personal care items, including soap and a washcloth. After adding a bottle of water in the side pocket, he hefted the pack and decided it was manageable. He looked longingly at his laptop on his desk, knowing it would do him no good at the moment.
Most of what I might need to know I can access on my phone, anyway. At least it’s paid for, for the next three months. After that…He sighed, patting his pocket to make certain the phone was there.
His wallet was in his other pocket, with his ID and sixty dollars he’d managed to save from his pizza delivery job. Something I won’t be able to do now, since ‘my’ car wasn’t in my name so I can’t take it. I can see Dad reporting it stolen just to make things even worse for me.
He walked to the corner of the block, took a right turn, and then headed to the bus stop. While he waited for the bus, he debated where to go. He’d looked up addresses for homeless shelters, finding two close to the 16th Street Mall, downtown. Research told him the mall wasn’t the safest place to be. The police patrolled it day and night, trying to keep the homeless from begging there, or sleeping in the alleys. In fact, it was against the law for them to sleep anywhere in the area. Something called the ‘No Camping’ law.
I don’t have a tent, so I wouldn’t technically be camping. He smiled dryly as he got on the bus. Like that matters to them.
What he really needed, and he knew it, was an area where he stood a chance of finding work, and that would be safe for him to crash if the shelters were full. He decided to try around Sloan’s Lake, where a drop-in place, The Haven, had opened two years ago. From what he had read online, it was small but with the resources to help homeless kids, although it wasn’t allowed to take them in overnight. The reason it appealed to Cole was the fact that it was far enough from both downtown and his…My used-to-be home, up until today. He sighed deeply, getting a commiserating look from the woman seated beside him. Thankfully, she didn’t ask what was wrong.
The bus dropped him at the Civic Center bus station, where he caught one going down West Colfax. Fifteen minutes later he stepped off into the heat of the early summer afternoon. Adjusting his backpack, he began walking down Colfax, looking for the cross street he needed. As he did, he also checked out the shops and restaurants along the way. There were several car dealerships—new and used—an abundance of restaurants and fast food places, and even two pizza shops, as well as a couple of convenience stores. Discounting the car sales lots, there were still plenty of places where he could try to get a job. If he got lucky and did, he could save his money and then find a cheap apartment.
If I don’t…He didn’t like the idea but he knew it was a definite possibility. In that case, he’d be spending his nights on the street, or in an alley, and hope he could crash at The Haven during the day.
He came to the cross street, following it for four blocks until he saw a house with The Haven’s sign out front. There were kids sitting on the stoop who eyed him warily as he passed them to go inside. He found himself in a living room with several sofas scattered around. Teens were sprawled on them, some watching TV, others talking or reading. Through an open arch, he saw another room with a pool table in the center and shelves full of books along one wall.
Cole tried to figure out who was in charge, since everyone he saw appeared to be his age, or younger. Just as he was about to ask one of the teens, a handsome, dark-haired man came through a doorway at one side of the room.
“You’re new,” he said, walking over to Cole.
“Yes, sir. I’m…” Cole hesitated, uncertain what to say.
“Homeless?” the man asked, before introducing himself as Adam Franks.
Cole nodded. “Since this morning.”
“Oh boy. Folks kick you out?”
“Yeah, they did,” Cole replied, his mouth tightening angrily.
“How did you find out about us?”
“Online. I…umm…didn’t want to be downtown, since I don’t know the…I guess you could call them the rules about how to keep it together.”
“Like how to spange, or find a safe place to stay the night.”
“Spange?”
“That’s what we call panhandling,” a blond-haired guy who looked in his mid-twenties said, coming over to join them. “Hi. I’m Bret. I live here. You are?”
“Cole,” Cole said. “You live here? I thought that wasn’t allowed.” He took off his backpack, setting it on the floor by his feet.
“He and a couple of others stay here in exchange for helping me out,” Adam told Cole. “Unfortunately, you’re correct in terms of our not being able to house homeless kids. You can sleep here during the day—if we have a free bed—and we serve meals, as well as offering counseling, etcetera. But overnight is not an option.”
Cole chewed his lip. “That means I have to go back downtown or somewhere else, to one of the shelters, if I want to spend the night off the streets.”
“I can give you a list of places,” Adam told him. “There’s no guarantee they’ll have a space, and if they do it would be short term.”
“Figures.” Cole turned to leave, then had a thought. “Do you let guys use this as an address if they’re trying to find a job?”
“You bet,” Adam replied. “I can also recommend a couple of places that might hire you. Again, no guarantee—”
“That they’ll be looking for someone,” Cole broke in. “Got it. It’s always like this, isn’t it?”
“It can be,” Bret agreed. “You don’t have any relatives or friends you can stay with until you get on your feet?”
Cole snorted. “No one in my family will have anything to do with me. To them being gay is a bigger sin than killing someone. As for friends…” He shrugged. “I wasn’t the guy people at school took to. I had acquaintances, sure, but that was it. I just didn’t fit in.”
Bret chuckled. “You are sort of, excuse the expression, geeky looking.”
“Meaning I’m not tall and athletic, like you. Yeah, I know I’m skinny and trust me I paid for it when the jocks decided they wanted someone to pick on.” He sighed, clenching his hands.
“That can change,” Bret told him, patting his shoulder.
“Yeah, right. I’ll lose even more weight, living on the streets.”
“Show up here every day for meals and we’ll keep that from happening,” Adam said. “Give me a moment and I’ll get you the names I was talking about.” He returned a couple of minutes later, handing Cole two handwritten lists. “These are the shelters, and these—” he tapped the second list, “—are three restaurants that are always seem to be looking for waiters and bus help.”
“Thank you,” Cole said, folding them carefully to put in his pocket.
“Stick around, if you want,” Bret told him. “Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours.”
“Naw. I should check out the other shelters. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Thanks, both of you.”
“Not a problem, Cole,” Adam replied. “I meant it when I said you’re always welcome here, whether it’s to eat, or use one of the beds during the day.”
“Thanks.” Cole picked up his backpack and took off.
* * * *
For his first two nights after leaving home, Cole was able to find a shelter with an available bed. It was first come, first served, just as Adam had hinted it would be. During the day, Cole tried to find a job, starting with the places Adam had suggested. They all told him they weren’t hiring at the moment but to check back later. After that, he tried every diner, fast food place, and pizza shop he saw along Colfax and then downtown. The story was always the same—they weren’t hiring, or weren’t interested in him because the only experience he had was delivering pizzas—and without a car that wasn’t an option.
He did stop by The Haven at mealtime, glad for some decent food in his stomach and a chance to get off his feet for short time before taking off again.
The third evening, Cole got to the shelter he’d previously stayed at too late to get a bed for the night. The man he spoke to suggested another place, a couple of miles away, but the time Cole got there, it, too, was filled to capacity.
With no other option, he started searching for somewhere to crash for the night. He knew the area around the 16th Street Mall wasn’t a good idea, if he didn’t want the cops hassling him.
And Cap Hill’s no better, though the dangers are different. Growing up in Denver he’d heard stories about Capitol Hill being a hangout for dealers and kids prostituting themselves to make enough to buy something to eat. There’s no way in hell I’ll do that. I’d rather starve to death.
Maybe down by the creek? Last night, he’d overheard a couple of guys at the shelter talking about camping under one of the bridges over Cherry Creek. Another teen had chimed in that behind the bushes on the opposite side of the creek from the bike path wasn’t too bad either. “No one can see you, unless they come looking.”
As much as he hated the idea, Cole decided to see if he could find a spot down there. It was that or walk the streets until daylight then go back to The Haven and hope they had an empty bed. But sleeping during the day would mean I can’t keep looking for a job.
By the time he arrived at the bike path it was dark. As he walked, looking for somewhere to hide and try to sleep, he remembered riding along the same path with his father when he was younger, long before his coming out had changed everything. Then, he and his father were close. They would spend weekends on their bikes, exploring the city.
I should have kept my mouth shut, but I didn’t expect him to go ballistic, even though I knew how he and Mom felt about gays. Well, yeah, I guess I did—sort of—but I hoped they’d still accept it because they loved me. It’s not like I had a choice. They didn’t see it that way, though—especially Dad. And now, here I am, trying to find a hidey-hole where I’ll be safe for a few hours.
Cole walked along the edge of the creek, looking for a place where the water was shallow enough to cross to the other side. When he saw a spot, he took off his sandals, waded over and put them on again, then began checking behind the brush and bushes. He thought he heard voices and froze. Up ahead was one of the bridges that crossed the creek. He could see the red tip of a cigarette, glowing in the dark. Inching closer, he spotted three people, two guys and a girl, he thought, from their shapes. They were sitting, leaning against the bridge abutment.
One of them must have heard him because he called out, “This is our place, so get moving.” He sounded as if he meant it.
Cole took him at his word, turning back the way he’d come. A few minutes later he found what he was looking for. The bush was thick, standing a couple of feet away from the concrete wall that separated the creek from the street above. Cole could tell from the debris scattered around that he wasn’t the first person to be there. He hoped someone didn’t think this was their ‘place’ the way the guys under the bridge had laid claim to where they were camped.
I was stupid, when I packed up. I should have taken the blanket off my bed.
He hadn’t, however, so he spread out the towel, thankful that it was summer and the night was warmish. Using his backpack as a pillow, he curled up, trying to get comfortable on the rough ground. Every time he started to doze off, something startled him awake—a car horn, voices of people above him or along the bike path, an ambulance siren.
Finally, exhaustion overcame fear and he fell asleep. He was awakened, he didn’t know how much later, by someone saying, “Well, look what we have here.”
“I wonder what we should do with him,” a second voice said, hate and glee lacing his words.
Cole shot up, trembling, to see two men silhouetted by the early morning light behind them. “Leave me alone,” he begged, trying to back away.
“Now where’s the fun in that?” the larger man asked, grabbing Cole’s arm to pull him to his feet. He shoved Cole hard against the concrete wall.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” Cole whimpered, just before he was punched in the gut. He doubled over, trying to breathe, and slid down the wall, praying he’d survive whatever they had planned for him.
Suddenly, there was a low growl from behind the punks.
“What the fuck!”
The men spun around, giving Cole a clear view of the huge, dark fawn-colored dog, with a black muzzle and ears, standing the
re, its fangs bared. It moved closer, swinging its head from side to side as if trying to decide which man to attack first. When the smaller man lifted the iron pipe he was holding, the dog sprang, gripping his arm between his teeth. The man screamed in pain and a moment later the dog released him, starting toward the second man, who took off running, closely followed by his companion.
The dog now focused its attention on Cole, and Cole was certain it was going to attack him. Instead, the dog sat back on its haunches, head cocked to one side.
“What…what are you? Like you can answer. Not,” Cole whispered. He held out his hand, praying the dog wouldn’t chomp it off. He, for Cole was certain it was male, leaned forward to lick Cole’s hand, leaving a trail a drool behind. Cole wiped his hand off on the grass, muttering, “Yuck,” as he let out a deep sigh of relief. “Where’s your owner?” Cole asked, getting to his feet. He didn’t see a collar on the dog, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
The dog stood too, watching as Cole brushed twigs and dirt off his jeans before shaking out the towel and folding it, to put into his backpack.
“You better go home,” Cole told him sternly. “Someone is probably wondering where you are.”
The dog ignored him, so Cole pointed to the path across the creek, saying, “Go.” Again, the dog ignored him. Cole picked up his backpack, wondering where he could find a restroom, because he really had to pee. Carrying the pack and his sandals, he waded across the creek to the bike path, sidestepping an early morning bike rider. The dog followed, standing beside him while Cole put on his sandals and tried to decide which way to go. He was close enough to downtown that he hoped he could find a coffee shop where he could use the restroom, in exchange for buying coffee and maybe a sweet roll.
As he started down the path, the dog walked beside him, earning them both leery looks from the few people that they passed. Accepting the dog had no plans to abandon him just yet; Cole took the ramp up to Speer. Across the street, he saw a coffee shop. The dog was right next to him when they got there.
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