Chapter 2
“You got what you wanted, Jerry. I have to be up early for work tomorrow.” And I should tell him to stop using me for a booty call, but…
He smirked. “I know you’ll dream of me tonight when you—”
“Heya, Fitz,” a voice cut in before I could make a snide comment, and I saw it was my almost-new neighbor, Henry Teegle, who had stopped next to Jerry in the middle of the hallway. He’d just moved in last week and if my heart hadn’t been completely stomped on by life and users like Jerry, I might have found it in me to have a crush.
Henry was friendly, maybe five-foot-seven, and almost pretty with the freckles on his nose, pale skin, light-brown hair, and bright hazel eyes. I had no idea what he did for a living. He seemed to be near my age, which was thirty-five. He had laugh-lines around his mouth and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Slender and fit, he was a remarkable sight.
“Hi, Henry,” I replied. When he looked at Jerry, the instant attraction I could sense between them made my skin crawl, goddammit. I sighed internally and made introductions. “Henry, this is Jerry.”
Naturally, Jerry poured on the charm. “My goodness, they make men fine in this city.” And a brighter blush I had never seen on another human being.
Really?Henry liked that overused, cheesy pickup line? If Jerry wanted to tap that ass, it appeared Henry was more than willing to bend over and spread ‘em. How disappointing, but then, who was I to judge? Jerry liked to fuck, and opportunity had a back door wide open across the hall.
“Later,” I said and went back inside, leaving them with eyes only for each other.
* * * *
It usually didn’t take long before the crazies boarded my bus. I’d been driving twelve-hour shifts for over six years, and my current route began at five in the morning. I was typically worn to bits by the time I clocked out. The route itself wasn’t so bad, minus some of the other road users out there—it was the people, mostly. The regulars and I got along. Mrs. Manning, a seventy-something widow who greeted people at Walmart, was always so sweet, giving me cookies whenever she saw me. Then there was Mr. Bertrand, the financial planner who had gotten me into investing years ago and always had a tip handy. My little nest egg grew daily.
There were others like them, but then there were the passengers who played music without headphones, or got into loud arguments. Those were the kinds of folks who drove me nuts. But I had empathy for the homeless and the mental and physical challenges that many faced—it hurt my heart to see anyone suffering. Reminded me too much of my dad who’d died seven years before.
It still hurt to think about him and his struggles to just…be. Dad had been so strong, up until the time he started to forget things. We were all each other had had, and I’d refused to put him in a home. I owed him so much for his love and unfailing support—it was the least I could do. I’d watched over him as he’d deteriorated, using up all our combined savings after quitting my former job as an associate professor at a university to take care of him twenty-four-seven. It had been a stressful and depressing time, for both of us.
When it was time for my lunch break after a particularly difficult morning two days after Jerry’s ass-fix, I was beyond relieved. “You look like you could take somebody’s head off,” Randy Holton, a fellow driver and good friend said as he sat next to me in the breakroom at the bus depot.
Randy and I had hit it off immediately when we’d met on my first day. He had taken me under his wing, trained me on the routes, and given me some tips for surviving the brutal world of customer service and people management as a bus driver. The only reason I’d survived the first month was because of him. A freshman class of know-it-alls and malcontents had nothing on this.
“Had to throw four people off the bus this morning,” I said. “One guy tried to get on the bus without paying and got into a pissing contest about it; this one chick was arguing with a guy who might have been her boyfriend, then fists started flying. The other one…” I sighed and drank some Gatorade. “If the afternoon is worse than that, you might hear about an incident on the news.”
Randy laughed, teeth white against brown skin. “You always get the nuts. It only happens to me every other month or so. Maybe it’s the power of attraction.”
“I guess they like me,” I replied, shaking my head. I idly wondered if there was a sign hovering over me that said, “Sucker: come one, come all.” The universe and I needed to talk. I focused on finishing the BLT and chips that were to tide me over till dinner time.