“A lot of change.”
“Change?” he grumbled.
“I’m trying to be positive about it.”
“Yeah? How’s that going?”
“Not too well,” I admitted. I walked over to the phone bank station, dropping down my purse, then reaching inside to pull out the bag full of money, and then the one of coin rolls I’d picked up at the dollar store on the way back. “But money is money.” I pulled off my gloves and held my icy hands in front of the heater, feeling them burn as the life came back to the tips.
“You have anything to eat all day?” he asked.
I glanced up, catching his gaze already on me.
“I had a couple of cookies this morning.”
“I’ll go grab a pie,” he said, turning and walking away before I could object.
Not that I was going to. Pizza sounded amazing.
“Lock the damn door,” Venezio called after a moment. Like he was waiting outside to make sure I locked it.
Was he being bossy?
Sure.
But his protectiveness was kind of sweet.
There was a smile on my face as I got up and locked it.
“Happy?”
“Doing a damn jig.”
A snort escaped me as I made my way back to the table to sort the cash and coins.
Venezio was back within twenty minutes with a pizza and a six-pack of beer. Which also sounded great after a long day.
“Made an executive decision with this,” he said, pulling one of the bottles out of the carrier, twisting the top, and handing it to me. “Figured neither of us are driving. Christ, who rolls coinsanymore?” he asked, already reaching for one of the sleeves and a pile of dimes to start shoving in.
“I know, right?” I grumbled as I flipped the lid of the pizza box and grabbed a slice.
“Where did you collect today?”
“Midtown. I was hoping maybe the tourists would be feeling the spirit of the season and charity.”
“Nah. They already blew all their money on hotels, planes, trains, and all that Christmas shit.”
All that Christmas shit.
Clearly, this guy wasnotfeeling the spirit of the season. And yet he was here. Donating his time so other people got to have those feelings.
“Yeah, I realized that a couple of hours in. But any money is good money. Oh, uh, speaking of.”
“Speaking of what, money?” he asked, glancing over after folding the ends of the coin sleeve in.
“No. Well, yes.”
“Which one?” he asked, reaching for some of the wet wipes I’d pulled out of my bag to clean his hands before reaching for a slice.
