Someone to Love Him

Chapter 3-3

Jourdain was elated as he strolled home. “I think he’s beginning to trust me. Now all I have to do is repay it by actually finding him a job. And I think I know exactly the man who can help me.”

As soon as he was in his condo, Jourdain made a call to set up a meeting that night with an associate of his. While he waited for the man to arrive, he poured a drink from a bottle labeled Beaujolais that he kept in the refrigerator, then settled down in the living room with a book of poetry by John Clare. He had barely finished I Am when the bell chimed on the intercom, and the doorman announced that a Mr. Crispin Stanbury was here to see him. Jourdain told him to send Crispin up, then waited at the door to let him in.

“It’s been a while, my friend,” Crispin said once he was in the condo.

“Indeed. Would you care for a drink before we begin?”

“Thank you, but no. I’m fine for now.”

They went into the living room, taking seats in the armchairs by the fireplace.

“Now, how can I help you?” Crispin asked.

“Straight to the point,” Jourdain replied with a smile. “I have a friend, a young man who needs a job. To tell you a bit about him, he’s homeless and has been living on the streets for too long. He wants to improve his life, and I offered to help him.”

“I see.” Crispin tapped his fingers together. “Given what you just said, I hardly think he’d have the knowledge, or the needed abilities to work in the front office of my import business.” He smiled dryly. “However, if you think he can handle it, I can place him in the warehouse.”

“That would be perfect.”

“May I ask why you’re helping this young man?”

Jourdain spread his hands. “Because he needs it?”

“So do a thousand other people you see on the streets of this and any other city. Why him specifically?”

“Would you believe me if I said I have to start somewhere?” Jourdain replied, averting his gaze.

“Not in the least.” Crispin sighed. “If I were to make a guess, in some way he reminds you of Kelan. Am I right?”

“No,” Jourdain protested.

“You can not keep living in the past, my friend. What’s done is done. Move on.”

Jourdain hissed in an angry breath before willing himself to remain calm. “I have, Crispin. A new city, a new life. All at your suggestion. I only want to help him because he doesn’t deserve how he’s been treated.”

“How did you find him in the first place?”

“He was out there—” Jourdain pointed to the window, “—sitting across the street, begging. Very unsuccessfully. I went down and spoke with him, took him for something to eat, and offered my help.” He smiled with amusement. “He as much as told me to get lost, and took off.”

“He undoubtedly thought you were offering help in exchange for his body.”

“Oh, yes. He’s made that perfectly clear. I think, I hope, I’ve convinced him otherwise.”

“While I’m not certain I believe your reasons, send him to the warehouse Monday morning. I’ll let my foreman know he’s coming, and that he’s to hire him.” Crispin leaned back. “I’ll take that drink, now. Then you can tell me how life in treating you, otherwise.”

“And you can do the same, my friend.”