Chapter 1

I had just finished a job interview that didn't make me feel particularly confident as I was leaving the workplace. In this state, nobody is hiring unless I want a job at the minimum wage, which I couldn't accept. Not if I wanted to cover my rent and school expenses.

In exchange for their agreement that I might travel halfway across Texas with my partner, I told my parents I would find a job supporting me. I was supposed to complete that before submitting my applications to colleges.

My living arrangement was unusual since my boyfriend lived in an off-campus apartment and said it was against the law for me to move in with him. He had a friend who lived in a "share house" where several people rented apartments to one another's friends. At present, I am sharing a three-bedroom apartment with three other people. They were both dating and had a roommate.

Since I had nowhere else to go, I accepted the offer of the house's smallest room, which left a lot to be desired. I had assumed that my boyfriend would move in with me. Still, he said it was only because he had already used tuition to cover his living expenses and could not recoup it. I got it, so I now share an apartment across town with three strangers.

Because Denton's cars don't appear to stop lol, I had to swerve about elbows and jog across pedestrian walkways when I walked down the downtown sidewalk. I discovered the hard way that cyclists don't either. The other day, I went to another fruitless interview, and one damn near killed me.

I spotted a homeless man trying to talk to everyone who passed him while dodging a wide-bodied person on the sidewalk. He had hunched shoulders. They passed the man without so much as a glance in his direction. Like he wasn't even there.

I could only hear his cries as I moved closer a few steps. "Please give us a little money to get a meal." I scowled as I moved closer to the man.

Today's interview attire consisted of a blue shirt tucked into a pair of black -colored high-rise stylish trousers I borrowed from my roommate and a couple of electric black shoes.

I hold very few goods because I never carry a purse. I have a little cash in my pocket, and my phone is in a transparent case with my license, flat spare key, and DCTA transport card. Even my debit card is nonexistent.

I dug in my pocket and took out a ten and some cash. Sorry, I don't have a lot. I offered the man some crumpled bills, saying, "I need half of it to refill my bus pass, but please have the rest." He appeared astonished that I had spotted him before.

We were in Denton when I realized he was looking to find where he could spend the few dollars I offered. I glanced at his worn-out clothes and the coating of grime covering his flesh, and remorse overcame me.

I called for his attention, "You know what." We were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, angered people, but that's unfortunate. That is what they get for disobeying a man's requests. 

'I'll walk home. Take this, please. Find something to eat," I said no hi as I gave him the last of my food. The man seemed genuinely appreciative. In that brief moment, something heartfelt passed through his eyes.

Before a man in the alley next to us abruptly cut him off, he was just about to start speaking.

Give the girl her money back,  The other man said, throwing his cigarette on the ground, "This is my brother's restaurant; we'll find you something to eat. At the sight of him, I swallowed.

He had dark hair, dark lashes lining his shaded blue eyes, and his magnificent form was dressed in a fitting suit. Although the muscles are hidden, the build is visible. His lips appeared pink and sweet, yet the sound from his mouth was stern and commanding.

The homeless man gave me back the money. He said, "Thank you, sir," before putting his two hands together in appreciation. The business-casual man curtly nodded. His face was expressionless. He continued to lean into the side alley of the building we were in front of with relaxed body language. I now know it was a restaurant building.

Although it seems odd for a restaurant. The draperies were drawn during lunch rush hours, and the building was an ordinary brick structure just after the downtown skyscrapers. 

The name sounds strongly Italian, but I don't know it.

"You too," the suit-clad man said, drawing my attention. If not for his eyes, you may assume he is entirely uninterested. When they came to you, they burned and informed me he wasn't making an offer. He was directing me to follow.

Ah, no problem. I gestured to leave while saying, "Thank you for helping this man. He pushed off the wall and moved into my path in one step. His voice was heavy, and he told me to stay with him, or he wouldn't come inside.

I exclaimed, turning to face the starving man before returning to meet the suit-wearing man. He probably intended to hold me responsible if the homeless man did something. I just softly nodded because I couldn't refuse the man food.

I could tell this business was upscale when I entered the door with a closed sign hanging in the frosted glass window. It appeared to be a brick building from the exterior, with squared windows covered in heavy burgundy-colored drapes. They resemble upscale draperies. As though the location was closed, the lights were dim.

There is a hostess podium when you first enter. After that, booth seating is available along the left-hand wall behind it, up to a pair of doors unmistakably the kitchen. 

More dispersed tables could be found to the right, but a bar could be located in the back right corner. With their tribute to Italy's motherland, the walls gave the place a somewhat cozy feeling. Tiles and plates with intricate hand painting.

Black leather covered the booth seats, and I could see the dark mahogany-colored wood underneath since there were no tablecloths. The strewn tables on the right had tablecloths, so those I'm not familiar with.

Like how they strategically light the back shelves to highlight their more expensive liquor items, the bar was constructed of the same dark tone wood, and the pendant lighting hanging down from above was gold.

A dark stool that matched the bar's countertop was dragged out by the man in a suit. He told me to "sit," I thought it was the homeless man, but he had only pulled out my chair. The suit-clad man exited via those doors and into the back of the business, leaving me alone with the homeless man, whose name I should inquire because it's impolite to keep referring to him as such.

I'm Samantha; what about you? I put out my hand to slap his. He paused and peered at his own hands. He did not shake my hand after saying, "They're dirty." So, I laughed, "I guess mine are too."

Based on the stringy gray hair hidden by his rolled cap, I estimate that guy is in his 70s or 80s. When we sat down, he had removed the cap out of respect. The guy laughed.

He introduced himself as "Carlos," and this time, he shook my hand. There was a slight stench, which I won't deny, but I didn't mind it.

When he arrived, two plates of pasta with a standard bolognese sauce were in front of the man in the suit. Each of us was given one by him. Since I am trying to save money, I consume much less healthy food than I should. I thanked the man and dove into this hefty dish, which looked excellent.

I grinned to praise the flavor, "Oh wow...this doesn't taste like jarred sauce." He had an expressionless face. Fine, then.

He only responded, "Because it isn't," before getting up to get a little glass from behind the bar where we were seated. I chose to concentrate on Carlos. He spoke before I could ask him a question.

"You look pretty young, but you also appear relatively affluent. Do you work in this area? He queried me. I looked at myself from below. Oh, I'm grateful. In reality, I'm seeking a job. I explained my appearance: "I just got off an interview. "OH. Those can be difficult to find, he said with a sorrowful smile.

"Carlos, what led to your predicament? I appreciate it if you'd prefer not to talk about personal matters. I was stopped short by him. I waited as he said, pausing to shove a mouthful of noodles.

I couldn't help but take notice of the suit man's fluid motions. He moved with skill. As he skimmed the various bottles, his hand stopped, and when he located the one he liked, he grabbed it, turned the cap, and poured about two fingers' worth of whiskey.

When I got a better look at him, I could see that his thick, dark hair was long enough to be ruffled at the top but tapered more at the sides so he could keep it under control.

Something told me describing this man as 'tame' was inappropriate. He hadn't done anything for me, in any case, to merit that notion. The word "tame" didn't feel quite right to me, even though he rarely talked and moved with urgency. He had the appearance of an expensive whiskey. Smooth to swallow, smokey aftertaste.

The polished attire of a reputable businessman, but with a little darker refinement. I can see now that he has gorgeous Italian skin.

"This was some time ago when I was 51...On the job, I was hurt. I didn't have insurance. In a way, I was working for a man who, in turn, was working for a man. Anyhow, it was my knee, and it was seriously damaged. I visited some lousy state-employed doctors that practice medicine, and they only threw me some medications to make me go. The problem is that they filled and renewed my prescription since I was in severe agony. Are you following, young lady?

Did they saturate you with medications without pausing to look at you once? I understand now. He moaned, "I got hooked." He finished his lunch while returning his attention to his plate. He must have been famished since he finished his food before I had even finished mine.

I saw the suit-clad man behind the bar continuing to read a book, possibly for his brother's restaurant, while turning his back on us. He gave us the silent treatment.

And how are you doing these days? Sincere curiosity caused me to lean my elbow against the mahogany bar's high counter. Even worried. "Down near Sullivan Square, there is the suboxone clinic. I'm attempting to wean myself off the drugs. What is suboxone, exactly? He cocked a grimy head in my direction. 

It can alleviate drug dependence, I said with a nod.

I didn't want to look down at my food while he told me such intimate details, so I maintained eye contact and held my fork in my hand.

My children are here. I'm certainly older than you, but I have a life to live. While I am homeless and drug-addicted, they won't talk to me. They have stated that clearly. I don't blame Caroline; she's the mother," he said, shaking his head.

"Carlos, I'm just a random person eating pasta with you, but I genuinely think you have a decent heart and the ability to change for the better. Even if it's not for the benefit of your grandchildren, it's for their help. I thought warmly of my grandfather, who I cherished.

His thin, flapping lips exhaled as he did so. An outsider? I believe I met an angel," he said with a sincere smile. You'd best pay attention to me if I'm your guardian angel. Get sober, regain your family, and often, if you're getting sober via the state, they give some programs to assist you in obtaining employment or disability if you're still ill with your knee and everything.

He gave a nod as if he already knew. "Good girl, Samantha, you are. He advised me, or perhaps said, "Don't let this world eat you alive." He attempted to grab the suit-clad man's attention by saying, "Sir...thank you for the meal." He made a tiny bend to look at Carlos, and once more, he nodded briefly. Total lack of interest.

You have no clue what a warm smile and pleasant chat can do for a person; I thank you. He wished me well and got to his feet. He was intending to go, I knew. I stood up since it seemed unusual to me to be standing as I continued to eat. I called after him, "Bye, Carlos," but I was attempting to tuck the stool in.

The suited man told me to "eat ."Although my heart beat faster every time his lovely face came my way, I scowled at him. I said, "You're bossy," but I had already retracted the stool to complete my meal. I was pretty hungry. You're also quite talkative, he retorted. His response caused my cheeks to flush pink.

"He was being ignored by passersby. Like he wasn't even a human being. We were conversing because of that. Strangely, I defended myself. I don't know why I should give a damn what this dude thinks. Still, I'll credit him for being considerate enough to offer a homeless man lunch.

He would have used your meager earnings to purchase alcohol or drugs. Guaranteed," he said in his harsh voice, yet he could make his pace sound uninterested. It gave me the impression that I was boring him to tears.

He put the cufflinks on the end of his sleeve while I watched, then turned his blue gaze back to me. I quickly glanced at my plate and grabbed another bite. I tried to defend Carlos by saying, "Well, you can't say for sure."

He said, "You aren't from the city," more than he asked a question. My head shook. 

Listen to Carlos now. Don't let them devour you to death because terrible people are around. He leaned both hands on the bar and glared at me. And those who will take advantage of your kindness will crush your sweet little heart under their feet. He criticized me.

He appeared to be getting older, but not enough to merit this speech.

You showed kindness. Have we abused your trust? I requested that he muffle his point. I'm not kind, he deadpanned. This man was incredibly tall, so even though I was seated on a high stool, he continued to look down at me. Particularly considering that both of his hands were still flat on the counter in front of me.

He has hot guy hands. The kind you recognize. The rest of his corded muscles were hidden from me by his cleanly cut nails, with veins flowing up to and under his sleeve.

So why did you feed us? I was determined to succeed in the task he had set up for me. He doesn't appear to enjoy making mistakes. Instead of responding, he licked his lips and looked down at me. I felt a chill run down my spine and up my abdomen due to the gesture.

The stillness was too much for me. The air became so dense that it was smothering me. Oh my God, has it become warm here?