Tipping my head back, I let out an exhale, eyes slipping closed. I didn’t know how long I stayed like that, but a clearing throat popped my eyes open.
A middle-aged waitress wearing a black apron, pad and pen in hand, cracked her gum. “What can I get ya?”
“Ah, coffee? And some water please.”
“Sure, hon. Want any food?”
I hadn’t even looked at the menu. “Do you have any soup?”
“Chili. Best in Buffalo.” She pointed to a large sign on the wall that backed up her claim.
“Sure. I’ll have that.”
Her gum smacked again. “You want a sandwich with that?”
I did, but I wasn’t sure I could afford it. “Um, no, thank you.”
“All right, hon. Back in a jiffy.”
She left, and I turned my face toward the empty seat across from me, grateful to look at something besides snow. After this nice meal, I’d try my luck at snagging a bed at the shelter tonight instead of spending money on a motel room. Since the weather was so bad, they’d likely have opened more spots. The shower might not be as hot there, but it would still be warm.
I could use their internet to look up bus schedules and see how much a ticket down South would cost me. It didn’t matter where as long as it was warmer. Then I could save up for the ticket and a little extra for some food and maybe a night or two in a cheap motel. I’d take the first job I could get and start saving for a room to rent.
It wasn’t much, but it was a plan.
The glass of the entrance door rattled in protest, and I peeked around the side of the booth as three rough-looking men strolled in. I knew them immediately. Well, I didn’tknowthem, but Iknewthem. Know what I mean?
I saw their type all day, every day on the streets. The kind who used intimidation to survive and wore arrogance like cologne, the bad kind that lingered in your nostrils and made you want to gag. They would not hesitate to throw a punch—or worse—to get whatever they wanted, which was usually your money.
One time, I even saw them strip the clothes off someone’sback.
They fanned out into a V-shape, sizing up the place. A pair of eyes flicked to where I was spying, and I dove back into the booth, hiding myself from view.
God, I was tired. Exhausted all the way to my bones. The last thing I wanted was to deal with them. The two hundred dollars in my pocket suddenly felt a lot heavier, less like a blessing and more like a bold red target on my back. Grabbing a paper napkin, I started shredding it into tiny scraps.
You know how sharks can smell blood? Well, criminals can smell cash.
A large bowl of chili thudded on the table, and the waitress slid it in front of me. Steam curled beneath my nose, carrying with it the tantalizing scent of chili powder and browned beef. My stomach clenched painfully, the promise of food almost overwhelming.
A small plate joined the bowl. On it was a pile of shredded cheese, sour cream, and a few packets of crackers. My mouth literally watered as I looked up. “Oh, I didn’t order all?—”
“It’s included.” The waitress cut me off almost as though she knew what I was going to say. “It’s the best in the city for a reason.” She winked and set down another plate. “This isn’t included, but it is on the house.”
My eyes must have doubled in size when I saw the grilled cheese sandwich on Texas toast, cut down the center with melted cheese oozing out onto the plate. “Seriously?” I asked, glancing up at her.
“The cook messed up an order. Had to remake it, and this was headed for the trash,” she informed. “Figured you could dunk it in your chili.”
“Thank you,” I said, emotion lodging in my chest. I wondered how I would swallow my food.
She patted the edge of the table and went to get my coffee and water before taking off again.
Impatient, I added the cheese to the bowl and watched it begin to melt before scooping on a dollop of sour cream. I was too anxious to mix it all together, so I dove in, shoveling up a big bite and making sure it had a little of everything included. The second it hit my taste buds, my eyes rolled back in my head and I sighed in appreciation. Warmth and flavor spread across my tongue, and I took another huge bite before reminding myself to slow down. Unable to convince myself to release the spoon, I lowered it and chewed thoroughly.
I took another large bite and remembered the grilled cheese, probably the only thing capable of convincing me to abandon the spoon. It clattered against the edge of the white porcelain as I grabbed up a triangle of the gooey sandwich and dipped the corner into the chili. A sound of appreciation filled the booth as I bit into it, my body involuntarily swaying with contentment.
I was no food critic, and this was the first hot meal I’d had in days, but I was confident in saying the sign on the wall was right. This was the best chili in the city.
An odd sense of awareness washed over me, disturbing enough to make me pause chewing and glance up, but the only thing back here was the bathroom and a memorabilia-lined wall to my right.
