Chapter 35

 

 

Ron took a look at the line of people waiting for the turkey dinner at the shelter. Okay, it would have been simpler and quicker to grab something at a fast food place. It wasn’t as if his pockets weren’t filled with plenty of money.

He remembered a snide comment made once by a coworker, back when he had a stupid office job. “You’ll do anything for a freebie, won’t you, Ron?” the guy had said. “You’d probably take a free meal from a hungry person if you got there first.”

The remark had stung at the time, but the more he thought about it he’d decided. Yeah, so what? I get there first and the other guy’s moving too slow—then yeah, I deserve the food every bit as much as he does.

The one thing he didn’t like about getting freebies was having to wait around. His time was valuable—more than a hundred dollars an hour, he’d calculated, based on his take at the street corners. This food line was moving too slowly for his taste. He glanced over toward that hippie place. Maybe they were having one of their services tonight. The idea of getting away with a fistful of that cash was pretty appealing.

He walked across the open space between the shelter and the Moon Temple, laughing a little at the sight of the real moon rising above it. Pretty sky. One of these days he might take some time off, choose a good lounge chair somewhere, and do things like stare at sunsets and the rising moon. But not yet.

His best month on the corners was right now, and the take would continue to be good until after New Year’s Day. People would get all those gifts tomorrow, and the next day they would rush right out to exchange everything, or to spend gift cards, or whatever else they thought they had to do after a couple days of family closeness started getting old.

Ron approached the front door of the temple place and tried to read the sign telling about the hours of their programs, but it was too dark to see very well. The building looked closed, but he reached out and tried the front door anyway. Locked.

“Hey! What are you doing?” called a graveled male voice.

Ron jumped back and turned. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Thirty feet away stood one of those goons who dressed in white and passed the money basket around during the services. Ron dipped his head so the guy wouldn’t get a good look at him, but it was too late.

“Hey, you’re that guy—” The man’s growl was interrupted by a yellow VW Beetle pulling into the driveway.

The moment the man turned toward the car, Ron sprinted away.