by CeeCee James
“Again, Miranda?”
“No, you’re—” she waved her hands to indicate his clothing. “You’re different.”
“What, my clothing? Now you’re just making excuses.”
Her blue eyes caught his and she shook her head. “You need some time to figure things out.”
“Run, run as fast as you can,” he taunted.
Fury flamed up inside of her. She could barely see as she hurried off the car lot, hair whipping in the wind.
Jason watched her walk away. Finally, he yelled, “Miranda, do you want a ride?”
She shouted to him as she walked backwards. “You just enjoy being the new improved you. I’ve got to get to work. Call me when you’re ready to really talk.”
25
Winter
Jason parked the Porsche in the garage of his house and climbed out. He was renting while a real estate agent worked to find him his own place. She’d insisted someone of his means should be living the good life in the right neighborhood.
A quick tap of the button and the garage door whirred on its tracks as it closed. He glanced around. Everything was sterile. Bare white walls, an empty workbench, tiled floor.
During the showing, the realtor had brought him in the garage with a dramatic sweep of her arm and gushed about the benefits of the heated floors, ergonomically-positioned shelves and earthquake-proof green construction walls with designed flexibility, blah blah blah. He’d been impressed at the time.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the memory of the smell of the old barn hit him, and he took a deep breath as if he were standing in the middle of it: clean hay and sunbaked wood. He recalled the way the sun fell on the floor, half-blinding him as he lay on his back under the beater truck. And how whenever he’d stick his head out to grab a wrench, old Archer would be there to greet him with a wet nose. Jason grinned. That freaking dog. I really miss him.
That wasn’t all he missed.
It had been weeks since the disaster at the car dealership. There’d been a few texts, terse and fake. He’d thrown his phone over the last one she’d sent, feeling cut off from her in a way he’d never felt before. And she said he was the problem.
Sighing, he opened the side door into the house, and ran over to key in the alarm code. He glanced around the house, sterile like the garage. How the hell did I let myself get talked into this? The house had come furnished. A white sectional sofa sprawled across the living room floor. The couch was an oddity to him. Never in a million years would he have sat on something so pristine before, as a mechanic—and he could now.
The thought was detestable to him.
Tall ceilings magnified the echoes of his footsteps on the tile floor as he moved down the hall. He caught the scent of lemon and took a deep breath in, trying to discern the cause. He slumped as he realized it was the cleaning product the housekeeper used on the floors.
Jason didn’t know who the housekeeper was. He’d never seen her. The agency paid her. She appeared when he was gone, leaving the house as sterile and clean as he left it.
A hollowness echoed inside of him. He hadn’t felt this lonely since after his grandma died.
Lying on the entry table was a small chunk of wood. Jason had found it the day before in the yard, somehow missed by the landscaper. He reached for it now and rolled it in his hands. Absentmindedly he patted his pocket for his knife, before remembering he hadn’t been carrying it anymore. His pants didn’t have those types of pockets. He sighed and dropped the wood back on the table with a clatter.
Jason wandered into the kitchen, newly remodeled, the ceiling ornamented with an empty brass pot rack. The drawers and cupboards were empty too, with the exception of a shelf in the pantry jammed with plastic utensils and paper plates.
There were two ovens and a walk-in refrigerator. He set the keys on the granite counter and glanced at the stainless steel appliance. Miranda would be lost here. He smiled to himself. He imagined teaching her how to cook on the convection stove, wrapping his arms around her to help stir a pot. His mouth curved as he pictured smelling her neck, kissing the soft skin there. What kind of home could he have without her? She doesn’t want me. She hates the new me.
His stomach rolled and suddenly he felt sick. She used to always see value in me, even when I was a giant nothing. How did I become this person that she hates? Who the hell am I again?
A shard of pain drove through him. I cant do this. I’m out of here. He grabbed the keys again and headed back out to his car.
Revving the engine, he spun out of the driveway, unable to help his grin at the car’s speed. Ten minutes later and he was on the highway. Quickly he worked through the gears. The car was a smooth and hot ride, there was no doubt.
Jason exited back towards the city, mulling over the incident at the car dealership. His frown deepened as he thought of the expression she’d given him, a mixture of betrayal and disgust. “What’s wrong with you?” she’d said, flinging those words like rocks at his heart.
What is wrong with me? He drove passed the Centennial building and glanced at the statues of lions guarding the steps. His life had changed that day.
He’d changed.
For nearly his entire life he’d felt like he’d been caught in quick sand, constantly fighting to get his feet on solid ground. Trying to make up for drug-addicted parents. Trying to make up for just being a screw-up. For the last few months he’d thought he’d done that. He thought he finally had it together.
He gave up the girl because he didn’t have money. Now he had money and still didn’t have the girl. Slowly, the car rolled to a stop at a red light. “I guess I still am a screw-up,” he mumbled, shaking his head.
A teenage girl on the opposite corner caught his eyes. Wearing an oversized sweatshirt and dirty shorts, she waved a cardboard sign. Next to her, a teenage boy sprawled on the ground with his head resting on a backpack.
Memories of himself and Miranda as run-aways hit him like a dump truck. He sat, gasping in the seat at the memory of Miranda grabbing his hand and smiling while they ran for the river.
He quickly spun the steering wheel and swung into the parking lot. The kids watched as he drove slowly past.
After parking the car, he strolled over to the two kids. The girl tugged her long shirt down and eyed him nervously. The boy turned his head, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.
“Hey.” Jason waved as he approached. I know you. I’ve been you.
She waggled the sign at him. In crooked print, it read, “Will work for food.”
Jason grinned sardonically. “Really? You’ll work for food? Or is this just a pity sign?”
“No one’s making you stop, old man,” the boy’s sharp, narrow face scowled and he slowly stood up. “Maybe you should keep going.”
“Hey, I’m not here to judge,” Jason said, shrugging. “I was just reading your sign.”
The kid lowered his glasses and squinted at Jason over the top of them. “And?”
“I’ve been in your spot before, or similar. I know what it’s like.”
The kid snorted, and even the girl smiled. “You think you know us, huh?” The teen boy eyed Jason from top to bottom. “You probably never worked a hard day in your life. Your biggest struggle is probably trying to decide between a shirt with an alligator on it, or a little pony.” He spat and loosened up his shoulders.
Jason shoved his hands into his pockets. “Wow, I’m in awe at your keen judgment. You have me all wound up in shock with your detective skills.” He bounced back and forth on his toes and studied them. “Thought you guys could use a meal. Guess I was mistaken.”
“Yeah. Get out of here. We don’t need your kind of help,” the boy said, settling back and rearranging the pack under his head.
“You feel the same way?” Jason asked the girl. “Want a meal?”
“I’m.…” She licked her lips and shot a quick glance back at the boy. “I’m feeling pretty hungry.”
Jason nodded and indicated the fast food rest
aurant they were begging in front of. “Let’s go get something to eat then.”
Her movements were hesitant, eyes darting between Jason and her friend. She set the sign down, her dirty blonde hair falling like a curtain over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back, Brian.”
“Don’t leave with him,” the kid warned. “He touches you and I’ll kill him.”
“Why don’t you tag along and make sure she stays safe,” Jason suggested, moving toward the restaurant.
The kid sighed and stood, grabbing both packs. “Fine, let's go.”
Ten minutes later they were seated on the cold plastic benches at a booth, a tray of burgers between them. The restaurant swam with the scent of grease and coffee.
“How long have you guys been out here?” Jason asked, chewing on a mouthful of fries.
“What’s it to you?” The kid asked. “You think you can feed us some dollar menu burgers and now we owe you our life story?”
Jason arched his eyebrow but said nothing. The girl bit her lip and looked down at her food.
“Let me rephrase that. How can I help?”
“You’re helping already, thank you,” the girl said.
“My name’s Jason.” He stuck out his hand.
The girl glanced at it for a second before slowly reaching out to take it with a slight squeeze. “Julia.”
“Nice.” Brian rolled his eyes and slid his sunglasses back down, covering his eyes. “Now you’ve done your good deed for the day. Go back to your Porsche and pat yourself on the back.”
“You’ve got a sharp mouth.” Jason grinned.
“Sorry I don’t have manners like you. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon and all that.” The kid crossed his arms and refused to eat.
Julia clutched her burger close to her and ate it in nervous bites. The air-conditioning kicked on. She shivered and held herself smaller. Her bony wrists poked out from the sweatshirt, pale and vulnerable.
Jason winced as he glanced at her. Poor kid. After two seconds of thought, he checked into the front pocket of his sports coat. Empty. He patted the side pockets to be sure they were empty too, then shrugged the jacket off. “Here,” he said, handing it to the girl.
“Aw man, she don’t want that,” the kid said, even as Julia reached for the jacket. She stopped and watched Brian, waiting for his answer.
“Take it,” Jason said, nodding to her. “Like you said, my good deed for the day.”
“Whatever, man,” the kid said.
Julia took that as permission and grabbed the coat. She wriggled into it, a smile blossoming over her face at the warmth it held from Jason’s body. “Thanks,” she murmured.
Jason stood up. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded at the two of them and headed out the door.
An idea was brewing in his mind.
26
Winter
Tapping his fingers against his leg, Jason sat in the passenger seat as the real estate agent turned her sleek Mercedes down the dark street. The sky was moonless and the buildings shrouded in inky black shadows. Nearly all the properties along this stretch of the road had been abandoned or appeared that way. Half of the streetlights had burned out, and the one at the far end flickered ominously.
“Enchanting neighborhood,” she muttered under her breath.
“What, Valerie?” Jason asked.
“I just—You sure about this?” she asked him again for the twentieth time.
“Yeah.” He unhooked the seatbelt and leaned forward with anticipation as the building approached.
“Okay.” Valerie nodded grimly. Carefully, she pulled the car over to the curb, its shiny fender reflecting the abandoned building before them.
Jason stared up at the brick structure. His hair fell in his eyes and he pushed it away impatiently. It had been a while since his last hair cut. He was appreciating the way he recognized himself in the mirror again. The waxed style never quite sat right with him, despite all the reassurances of the barber.
Valerie hesitated a moment and said, “So…quaint.” Her lips pursed in a sour expression.
Jason flashed a grin at her. “Quaint, huh?” he snorted. “Bet that’s the first time this place has ever been called that.”
“You know, I’m reaching here for the right words. I’m trying to support you,” she deadpanned. “This place makes finding positive adjectives a bit of a struggle.”
“Your support means everything to me.” Jason nodded. “I know this is unconventional.”
“Well, you’ve got guts and definitely the gumption. If anyone can do this, it will be you,” she replied. Sighing, she gathered her purse close to her body and grabbed her keys. “Shall we go in and check it out?”
“Sounds great.”
They climbed out of the car and she hit the alarm twice as the car beeped and the headlights flashed. The air carried the scent of rotting trash. She wrinkled her nose and cast a nervous glance around the neighborhood then back at her car. Her thumb turned white as she hit the alarm again. “What?” she questioned, catching Jason’s eye. “You can’t be too careful.”
The street was still wet from the earlier rain. Valerie stepped carefully around the puddle, mindful of her Prada shoes. Directly above them the streetlight sparked and went out. “Fabulous,” the real estate agent muttered.
The two of them walked to the door. It was covered with a roll cage, secured in place with a padlock and thick chain running through the handle. The padlock was rusty and the agent struggled to get the key to move. After a bit of twisting and her muttering “Come on, come on,” the chain finally fell free.
Jason grabbed the cage and yanked it up, causing a sharp grinding noise that echoed in the street. Valerie glanced over her shoulder, her eyes darting around anxiously. Jason shoved the door all the way open with his shoulder and walked in, with Valerie clinging to his elbow.
After feeling around the wall, Jason found the light switch.
The fluorescent lights above them flickered as they warmed up. Slowly, the empty warehouse brightened. Two rats, probably startled by the bloom of light, squeaked in the distance.
Valerie squealed at the sound. Jason put his hand out to steady her. “Don’t worry. They’re more scared of you.”
“They better be,” she said nervously. “I’ll spike my heel right through their skeevy hearts!”
Jason’s gaze swept over the room. Newspapers littered the concrete floor. The air smelled musty and undisturbed. On the far wall, a row of shelves hung on vertical white spacers, a couple of them fallen at a diagonal. A door to the back indicated where the bathrooms were.
He walked over to the front window and tipped the blinds to look outside. The window was large, covering nearly a third of the wall. Valerie read from her notes. “This window has been recently replaced.” Her lips pressed together as she read further. “A stray bullet took it out.” Then she smiled brightly. “The good news is…it’s now reinforced.”
Jason laughed at her words. “See—there’s always a bright side.”
He looked up the street. A paper cup blew along the grimy curb. The building across from him was tagged in graffiti, its windows boarded shut.
Stepping back, he faced the agent. “It’s perfect.” He grinned. “I want it.”
“Okay,” she faltered, flashing a glance around in an effort to figure out what he saw in the place. “You sure?”
“Yep. The sooner the better.”
“I’ll go write something up.”
At the sound of rodents scurrying in the wall she flinched and added. “I know it’s just hit the market, but I’m sure we can get them to bargain.”
“Do what you need to do, but I don’t want to lose it.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “It’s exactly what I envisioned.”
“Full price, then?” She looked sad at the thought.
“Yeah, whatever it takes. Don’t low-ball them.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for you in the car.” Valerie reached for her cell phone and whir
led back out the door, racing to leave the building. Jason heard her car beep as she rushed towards it.
Then, silence. The room was cold and his footsteps echoed. “Just you and me, baby,” Jason whispered to the empty interior. Rats squeaked again. “Sorry, and you guys too.” He walked the length of the building and examined the corners. He ran his hand down one of the walls. Something stirred in his hear that he hadn’t felt for a long time. A soft laugh came out of him, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.
Already the promise of what he wanted to build played in his mind, belying what was actually there. He could imagine a fridge and food prep station here, a call center there. A support center in the corner. What here? Maybe some emergency cots? Clothing over there, tables, maybe a few computers. How big could this go? He needed to get ahold of his lawyer to answer some questions. And churches, and maybe the police station, the firehouse, and Children’s Protective Services. The ideas began to overwhelm him. Jason grabbed his phone out of his pocket and did a quick search. He needed to find someone with some experience to show him the ropes.
He knew exactly where he had to go.
27
Winter
“So what are you doing for Christmas?” Dylan asked as they stood on her front porch. Miranda paused with one hand on the railing, trying to wiggle her foot into her high heel. “Confounded things,” she muttered.
“You’re supposed to be dressed before I get here,” Dylan said dryly.
Her eyes snapped at his. “What are you talking about? I am dressed. My strap slipped off my heel. Besides, where are you taking me? I told you my budget was tight this week.”
“Why do you keep insisting on paying for stuff?”
“Dylan, I’ve told you. That’s what friends do.”
He rolled his eyes, waiting on the bottom step until she had her shoe situated. “So, your plans?”
