The Runaway and the Enforcer

Chapter 1-2

“I…” Rick looked around the nearly deserted street, spotting two guys, punks he figured, leaning against a building wall a half block away. “Yeah, what the hell. Why not? Can’t be any worse than out here.”

“I certainly hope not,” Beau replied dryly.

They walked a few blocks east of the diner, into a better area of the city than where they’d been. There were small houses, interspersed with older apartment buildings. Beau stopped at the end of one of the streets, scanning the area for anything that might mean trouble, Rick thought. Finally, Beau started walking again, going to an alley between that street and the next one.

Rick followed, wondering why Beau thought the alley would be safer, considering he’d been attacked in another one. He saw why when he realized it was relatively clean and neat. There were a few dumpsters, in the lots behind apartment buildings. Other than that, it was lined with garages belonging to the houses on either side.

“Hell, I’m going to start crashing around here,” he said, glancing up at a garage roof.

“I wouldn’t suggest it. Homeowners get real testy, and tend to call the cops, when the homeless do that,” Beau replied as he stopped at the entrance to a parking lot halfway down the alley. He stood silently, his gaze going to each of the few cars in it. Then, with a nod, he walked to the building’s back door, with Rick right on his heels. After Beau unlocked it, they went inside.

There was a long hallway, going from the back door to a lobby, with an elevator halfway down. Beau pushed the button for the fourth floor, then moved to one side of the elevator doors, beckoning for Rick to stay behind him.

Rick felt a tremor of fear as the doors opened, breathing a sigh of relief when nothing happened and Beau stepped into the elevator. Moments later, the doors opened again on the fourth floor. Beau peered into the hallway, nodded, then led the way down to a door at the far end.

“Stay here until I tell you it’s safe,” Beau said, barely above a whisper. He unlocked the door to enter the apartment, his hand going under his shirt to the back of his waistband. It wasn’t until that moment that Rick realized Beau must have a weapon—a gun, he figured. Why didn’t he use it when that guy attacked him? Too noisy, maybe? He decided it was probably the case, and once again wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

“All clear,” Beau said, coming back to the door. He chuckled when Rick hurried inside, closing the door behind him. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you. You were my life insurance.”

“Huh? What?”

“No one’s looking for a man and a kid.” He took the carryout bag from Rick, going to put it in the fridge.

“I’m not a kid,” Rick protested when Beau returned, before getting the gist of what he had said. “So the real reason you offered to let me stay here was to throw whoever sent that guy off the track?”

“Not the only reason,” Beau replied. “You do need a decent place to stay, at least for tonight. Still, having you with me helped, although I don’t think anyone knows where I’m living, at the moment.”

“You still checked it out.”

Beau nodded. “I’m not stupid. We weren’t followed, and no one’s outside, watching the building, but…” He shrugged.

“Glad I could help,” Rick said sourly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer of a bed.” He shot Beau a look. “As long as I’m not sharing it with you.”

“You won’t be. This place is small, but there are two bedrooms. Another way of…” He didn’t finish what he was going to say.

Rick did it for him. “Throwing off the people you’re hiding from. They’d expect you to rent a one-bedroom, or a studio, depending.”

“Yep. You’re a smart kid, but I figured as much.”

“I’d be dead if I wasn’t,” Rick replied. “You gotta have smarts to survive on the street.”

“I know.” Beau opened one of the doors off the living room. “This is the spare bedroom.”

“Spare is right,” Rick muttered when he checked it out. There was a single bed and a small dresser, nothing more. He set his backpack on the bed, for the time being. “I bet the furniture came with the place,” he said, looking at the furnishings in the living room. The sofa was old, with worn arms. The same with the two armchairs. In one corner of the room, there was a table with two chairs. They had all seen better days.

“It did,” Beau replied. “The dishes and linens are mine. They came from a second-hand store a couple of blocks from here.”

“At least you have a microwave,” Rick commented when he checked out the tiny kitchen. “No dishwasher, though.”

Beau laughed. “That would be me.”

There was a small TV, set on top of a bookcase. Rick was surprised to see the shelves held a few books and gravitated toward it to check them out.

“You like to read?” Beau asked.

“You bet.”

“That speaks well of you. Feel free to borrow one, or a couple, if you want.”

Is he saying that because he expects me to stick around? To be his cover, like he said? That’ll make people wonder. He didn’t pursue that last thought, but he knew he was right, people would wonder if they had hooked up. If I don’t leave in the morning, and he might want me to. He put the book he was holding back on the shelf.

“It’s late. You’re probably tired,” Beau said. “The bathroom’s there.” He pointed. “There’s clean towels in the cabinet over the toilet. Go take a shower. I don’t have an extra toothbrush, I’m afraid.”

“I’ve got one,” Rick told him. “They hand them out at the drop-in spot downtown.”

“Then you’re set. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, Beau turned out all but one light in the living room before going into his bedroom and closing the door.

Rick went into the other bedroom, took what he needed from his backpack, then went to shower. “I feel human again,” he said under his breath, once he’d dried off and brushed his teeth. He put on a relatively clean pair of sweatpants, folding the clothes he’d been wearing before going back to the bedroom, where he set them on the dresser. Then, he fell into bed, pulling the thin blanket over him. Resting his head on his arms, because there was no pillow, he stared up at the ceiling.

Is he going to suggest I stay here, at least for a while? And if he does, will I agree to? If tonight was any indication, being around him might not be all that safe. On the other hand, neither is being on my own, on the streets. I guess I’ll figure out an answer if he does ask.

He turned on his side, again using an arm as a pillow, and promptly fell asleep.