I quicken my steps, desperately casting my glance for whoever is in charge of this homeless shelter. No one official seems to be opening up the barn or anything.
I take a step backward and slip beneath Lowlife Two’s stinky underarm and wiggle my way free. My sudden move catches the two knuckleheads by surprise, and they bump their heads turning at the same time to catch me.
Before I have time to laugh or give myself a high five, the barn doors open, and someone bangs on a gong. It’s time for the soup kitchen to open.
I’m not hungry, so now’s my chance to skedaddle. Except the tight size five Mary Janes hurt, and a light rain begins to fall.
An elderly lady offers me her umbrella. “Don’t worry about those young men. They’re harmless.”
“Didn’t look that way to me,” I grumble, speeding up my steps to get away from her. I know she means well, but I didn’t get out of prison just to end up hanging around a small-town soup kitchen.
“Come eat with me,” she wheedles. “I get lonely, and as you can see, it’s mostly men here. I’m Eloise, by the way.”
“I’m Sammie, and it’s nice to meet you,” I reply.
Since I have nowhere to go, and Eloise needs me, I agree to go in with her so she won’t have to eat alone surrounded by men.
I’m halfway through the doors when I spy Braden ladling oatmeal into a bowl for an old man. My jaw drops, and my hands fall to my sides.
Braden’s also surprised, because his shocking-blue eyes brighten and rove up and down over my polka-dot dress. “Sammie? Is that you?”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, even though it’s obvious he’s serving breakfast.
“You were tired, so I didn’t want to disturb you.” He ladles scrambled eggs onto the plate for my newfound friend. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, please,” the old lady says, giving him a wink. “It’s always good to see you. Did you lose this little lady on the way over?”
He shrugs and averts his gaze, as if he’s embarrassed to know someone like me. With the red on white polka dots, I look like a ghost who died of chicken pox.
“Eloise, you’re looking chipper this morning,” he says. “Will you be visiting your daughter for Christmas?”
“If I can score a ride,” she says. “You offering?”
“For you, anywhere.” He pours her a cup of coffee and sets it on her tray. “Sammie, what will you have?”
I’m so flabbergasted I don’t know what to say. Fancy pants Braden Powers knows homeless people? I guess I really don’t know him at all. I had him pegged as a contract killer or ex-law enforcement. His love of luxury cars, fine clothes and shoes, and that dang manicure led me to believe he’s an arrogant rich kid.
But I underestimated him. He has street smarts, and even though I hadn’t intended to swipe his car keys and wallet, he acted like that was what I was after last night.
“I already ate at the Over Easy, but yeah, having breakfast with Eloise here, and a coffee, will do.” I have to act as cool as I can and not let him know this surprise is affecting me. Could it be he isn’t a cold-blooded con man after all?
Still—one act of kindness does not a saint make.
The tough guys, Lowlives One and Two, swagger in behind me, making crude remarks about my “party dress” and how it should be wrapping paper for the American Red Cross. They yuck it up about ripping it off me and having me pole dance over their greased poles, and obviously think themselves master jokers, laughing and guffawing, over how short I am and bouncing me like a beach ball between them.
I can feel Braden bristling at them. When it’s their turn, he sets his serving spoon down and crosses his arms. “You two know the rules. You bully anyone coming here, and you go hungry.”
He hooks his thumb in the direction of the barn door.
“Aw, we was just being friendly,” Lowlife One says. “Making her feel welcome.”
Braden doesn’t respond, which is actually scarier, if you think about it. He simply glares at them with his powered-up blue eyes as if they’re gas jets ready to burn through them.
“We’s really hungry,” Lowlife Two says. “Come on, man, we haven’t eaten for days.”
“Too bad you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Come back tomorrow and behave yourselves.” Braden remains firm and unyielding. He stares them down until they turn around, muttering and whining.
No one steps up to intervene, and I learn my first lesson on how to keep order without resorting to violence. When you’re right, don’t back down, but don’t incite either.
