Dub
Dub woke Sunday morning feeling stiff and sore. The sleeping bag was thick, but the metal floor of the van had been hard underneath it. He felt like he’d slept on a rock.
At least he was still free. A security guard employed by Walmart had apparently noticed Dub’s van had been in the lot all night on Friday. When Dub went inside the store Saturday morning to use the bathroom, the guard stopped Dub and told him that overnight parking was not allowed. Dub had been forced to find another place to park on Saturday night. He’d chosen an apartment complex near the TCU campus. He figured college kids would be less likely to report the van.
He’d nearly panicked last night. He’d woken to police lights flashing outside the van. He’d pulled the sleeping bag over his head and laid as still as possible. A cop had shined a flashlight in the window and slapped a violation sticker on his windshield. He’d heard a dog bark and sniff around the doors, and a female voice ordering the dog back into the car. Thank goodness the cop hadn’t noticed him inside the van and he hadn’t been arrested.
He couldn’t be sure whether the officer and the dog had been the same ones he’d run into at the Bag-N-Bottle, but chances were good. There were way more male cops than female cops, and probably not many K-9 teams. But if he were going to be caught and taken into custody, he’d rather it be by those two than some dickwad who’d rough Dub up first.
Dub found his keys, climbed into the driver’s seat, and drove to a gas station to use the restroom and brush his teeth. When he finished, he splashed some warm water on his face and scratched at his scruffy beard. He wished he could afford to shave. The damn thing was itchy and made him look like a terrorist. Sometimes he wished the puberty fairy hadn’t been quite so generous with the facial hair and had instead made him a few inches taller.
The clerk frowned at Dub as he walked to the exit. “Next time you come in to use the bathroom,” the man said, “buy something.”
Ignoring the clerk, Dub returned to his van. As he pulled away from the curb, he caught a whiff of himself. Phew. He could really use a shower.
Remembering his membership card, Dub drove to the YMCA. He parked his van in a spot next to an old blue Nova with orange flames painted down the side. He flashed his card to the attendant at the counter and headed to the men’s locker room. He had no soap, no shampoo, and no towel, but figured he could make do with a handful of the liquid soap from the sink dispenser and a dozen or so paper hand towels.
After the cold, uncomfortable night in the van, the hot shower felt beyond good. He washed his hair and body with the hand soap, and just stood under the spray for a good twenty minutes. What else did he have to do? When he was done, he had no choice but to put his sweats back on, despite the stench. At some point he’d find a Laundromat and wash his clothes. For now, his funds were too tight to splurge on detergent.
He exited the locker room into the indoor pool area and stopped still. Holy crap! That female cop and her shepherd were standing by the pool, talking to a blond man who was in the water, his arms hooked over the edge.
Dub ducked his head and hurried by, keeping one eye on the cop, hoping she wouldn’t see him. The dog turned, sniffed the air, and wagged her tail. She looked at Dub and let out a loud Arf! that echoed in the enclosed space.
The officer looked down at her dog and wagged her finger. “Brigit, hush!”
Yes, dog! he thought. Please be quiet!
Once he was in the hallway, Dub jogged as fast as he dared to the exit and ran to his van. He pulled out of the parking lot and lurched down the street, one eye on his rearview mirror.
Good. Nobody was on his tail. It looked like the cop hadn’t spotted him.