Someone to Love Him

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Luke used the money he’d earned to buy a new pair of shoes—one of his few indulgences. He could deal with used clothing. Had since he’d hit the streets three years ago. Shoes were another thing. With as much walking as he did, keeping his feet warm and comfortable was a must in his book.

He also stocked up on jerky, fruit cups and granola bars, as well as nuts and single-serve ravioli and spaghetti tins. He stashed the tins with his sleeping bag rather than load down his backpack. The rest he kept with him.

For the next two days, he went to his usual spots to panhandle. Things were a little better and he made enough to buy cheap meals for himself and a couple of friends who hadn’t been as lucky. Then everything seemed to dry up again.

Maybe it’s because there’s too much competition downtown—and too many cops.

With that thought in mind, Luke headed to the west side of the city and the area around the university campus. He knew he could panhandle there without being hassled, if he was careful. After all, age-wise he fit in, and with his relatively decent, if far from new, clothes he looked like half the kids who went to school there. All he needed to do was work the street facing the campus, which was filled with bookstores and inexpensive eateries.

He decided to forego using his sign, as that would make it obvious he wasn’t a student. Instead, he shyly approached people eating on the patios of coffee shops and burger joints, asking if they could spare some change so he could get something to eat. Or so he could afford to take the bus downtown since his ride had stood him up and he was broke at the moment. Most people looked away, shaking their heads. Still, enough of them gave him change or a dollar or two that he deemed the day a success, meaning he wouldn’t have to spend his nights on his knees, servicing horny men.

Tomorrow, I can try the hospital zone, and then some of the strip malls. He knew better than to return here for a while, which was the problem with begging in places other than downtown. People were more likely to remember his face—or more so the lines he used to ask for money—and give him a hard time if he approached them again. He’d learned that soon after hitting the streets. Stay in the congested parts of the city when possible, where flying a sign was commonplace and passers-by were used to dropping spare change in a cup or hand if they were in the mood. Or sneer and make disparaging comments—something he’d hardened himself to early on.

Luke made it back downtown just before dark. He felt flush and decided to have a real meal at one of the diners. Finding a vacant table in a back corner, he read the menu, settling on meatloaf with mashed potatoes. Stick-to-the-ribs food, as his mother called it when he was a child.

“What’s your order?” the waitress asked, looking at him as if she doubted he could afford anything other than coffee.

“The meatloaf and a soda, and I can pay now if you don’t trust me.”

She smiled dryly. “I’ve seen you out there panhandling, so yeah, that might be a good idea.”

Rolling his eyes, Luke dug into his pocket, taking out what he needed. Feeling snarky because of her attitude, he paid mostly in change, stuffing the bills back in his pocket.

“Smart ass,” she muttered, but she smiled, too, before leaving the table.

The meal was good and by the time he left the diner he felt almost human. From there, he walked two blocks over, to one of his usual evening spots for begging. Even though he had some money, he wasn’t about to give up the chance to make more. Positioning himself next to a high-class restaurant, he realized it was the same spot he’d been at a few nights before. When I really looked like a bum. Maybe tonight things will be better.

He brushed a hand through his dark brown hair to tame it as much as possible, and leaned against the wall, his sign at his feet. When people approached or left the restaurant he put on his best ‘please help me’ smile, holding out his cup. Tonight, some of them actually responded, dropping change into it, rather than moving as far as possible to the edge of the sidewalk to avoid him.

A couple of hours later he’d made back what he’d spent on dinner and decided to call it a night. Folding his sign, he put it in his backpack and started down the street, heading toward the river. He’d gone two blocks when he heard footsteps behind him and a man said, “How much?”

Turning, Luke saw a good-looking, dark-haired man in a business suit standing there, a smile playing on his lips.

“For what?” Luke asked innocently, praying the guy wasn’t an undercover cop.

“For the pleasure of your company.”

“Boy, have you got the wrong person,” Luke replied.

“And you have the wrong idea,” the man said, smiling again. “I’ve seen you, three times now, across the street from where I live. Do you at least make enough to be able to buy a decent meal now and then?”

Luke shrugged, wondering where this was going. “I’m alive, so, yeah. What business is of yours, anyway?”

“None, of course. I’m concerned, is all.”

“For my welfare? Don’t be. I’m sure you have better things to worry about.”

The man eyed Luke with amusement. “For someone living on the streets, you’re pretty quick to take offense, when all I want to do is help you.”

“What? You have a job for me? Like…polishing your fancy shoes or walking your dog?”

“No dog.” The man glanced down. “And my shoes don’t need a polish.”

“I was being facetious.”

“Do you even know what that means?” the man asked.

“No. It’s a word I heard someone use and it sounded cool,” Luke replied scathingly. “Yes, I know what it means. I may be homeless, but I’m not stupid.” He turned, starting to walk away.

“Wait,” the man said, putting one hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. I’m used to people thinking I’m uneducated because I’m out here.” Luke waved his hand to encompass the area. “And I look like I’ve been wearing the same clothes for the last month.”

“Have you?”

Luke waggled a hand. “I got them from a drop-in spot a few days ago, so for me they’re pretty new.”

“Don’t you ever buy clothes?”

Luke snorted. “Nope. The only thing I spend cash on is shoes and food—when I can afford it.” He c****d his head, looking at the man. “Why do you care, and why the hell am I standing here answering your questions?”

“Good question. We could be sitting in a restaurant, eating a late supper.”

“Uh-huh. Like you’d be willing to be seen with me in some nice place. Besides, I already ate.”

“As have I,” the man admitted. “Perhaps coffee?”

“Why?”

“You…interest me.”

Luke backed away quickly. “Okay, I get the picture. This is your way of propositioning me. Next thing you’ll be suggesting we go into the nearest alley so I can blow you.”

The man looked at him in shock. “I wouldn’t do that.” He frowned. “Is that how you make money?”

“When I have to. It comes with the territory. Begging, giving blowjobs, selling drugs, which, by the way, I don’t. I have no use for drugs and I’m not about to get involved with them, using or selling.”

“That’s good to know. Now, back to my question. Would you join me in a cup of coffee?”

Luke laughed. “Old joke, but I don’t think we’d both fit in the cup.”

The man looked puzzled, then smiled. “Probably not. Would you care to go get coffee with me?”

“Maybe, but only if you tell me who you are. That way I can tell the cops, if you try to drug me so you can carry me off to your den of iniquity.”

“My what? Why would I do that?”

“Sorry,” Luke said. “I was kidding.” I hope. This is too weird. What’s he after and why me?

“My name is Jourdain. Jourdain Laurent.”

“French?”

“Yes. Although it’s been a long time since I’ve lived in France. As long as we’re trading names, you are?”

“Luke Ryder.”

“A strong name. So, coffee?”

“Sure. Why not. It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“There’s a place right around the corner,” Jourdain said.

“That works.”