11

Dolly

I normally spent Saturdays at home—cleaning, doing laundry, homework—or sometimes I’d visit my momma. Filling in for Zander at work today had thrown me off my schedule. However, seeing as I no longer had a boyfriend, my night was free, except for helping Jeremy with his art project.

I put the homemade pizza in the oven while Jeremy set up all his supplies on the kitchen table.

“How many of those guys like that do you know?” Jeremy asked me.

Ringer was camped outside my door and refused to come inside. It seemed Micah had ordered him not to come in my apartment. I thought that sounded unfair to him, but Ringer seemed fine with the situation. Micah’s orders sounded silly to me. I intended to make sure to take Ringer some pizza when it was finished, as well as take some to Harold. He loved my pizza, but then again, he loved any food given to him.

“Not many,” I replied. “Micah thinks I need some protection right now. It’s a long story and not important.”

Jeremy’s brows furrowed in a frown. “Seems important.”

Smiling brightly, I walked over to the table. “Well, it ain’t. Now, let’s get started,” I said, hoping he would drop the subject.

“Is it about that other guy who was coming by here a lot?” he asked.

I paused and glanced at him. I’d never introduced him to Canyon, but it didn’t surprise me that Jeremy had noticed him coming by.

“It’s really not important. We need to get started on this project. If we start gluing now, it can dry while we eat,” I said with a smile.

He didn’t seem happy about my response, but he nodded, and we began putting the pieces he had already cut out together. While I held them in place, he glued them. I asked about his classes and the girl he had mentioned who was new this year. After a little prodding, he began chatting away, seeming to forget about the biker standing guard outside my apartment.

When the pizza was ready, I sliced him a large piece and made him a glass of chocolate milk before preparing some to take to Ringer and Harold. Telling him I would be right back and to get another piece if he needed it, I headed for the door with my two plates of pizza and a bottle of water tucked under each of my arms.

When I stepped outside, Ringer was leaning against the wall, texting on his phone. He lifted his head and looked at the pizza, his eyes lighting up before meeting mine.

“Hungry?” I asked, handing it to him.

He took it. “Yeah, that looks great. Thanks.”

I took a water and gave that to him too. “Enjoy. I have more if you are still hungry when I get back.”

“Where are you going?” he asked, straightening his stance, suddenly alert.

“Just to walk this down to a friend. He is one block over. No need to go with me.”

He smirked. “You go. I go.”

I sighed and shook my head. “Eat your pizza while it’s hot.”

He picked the large slice up and folded it, then placed the water and plate by his feet. “I’ll eat while we walk.”

“Seriously?” I asked, frustrated.

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Fine. Come on then.”

We walked in silence the small amount of time it took to find Harold. He was sitting on an upturned plastic crate with his harmonica, playing an upbeat tune, when he spotted me approaching. A smile lit up his face as he lowered the instrument from his mouth.

“Got me somethin’ good, do ya?” he asked when I reached him.

I held out the pizza to him, wishing I could do more for him than stopping by with food. “My homemade pizza,” I replied.

“That just might be my favorite,” he told me as he took the pizza from my outstretched hands, then raised his shaggy white eyebrows as he looked behind me. The way his mouth tightened into a firm line made it clear he wasn’t happy about Ringer following me.

“Harold, this is, uh, well, this is my friend’s…uh, friend. Ringer,” I explained.

“Friend’s friend, is it?” he asked, still studying Ringer closely. “Sweet girl like you ought not to have friends like that. Ain’t right. You got the world at your feet.”

I gave Harold’s arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “It’s Pepper’s brother’s friend. I assure you, he is just here to protect me.” I stopped then as his eyes narrowed.

“What you need protecting from?” Harold asked.

Why had I said that? Explaining my way out of this one was going to take time I didn’t really have. Not with Jeremy waiting on me in my apartment.

“It’s overkill,” I assured him. “I don’t think I need any protecting, but a guy I was dating turned out to be not such a good man. Anyway, all is well. I promise. You eat that pizza. And where is the blanket I brought you?”

His concerned frown didn’t ease. “It’s folded up real nice under my box here. I like to keep it clean until it’s time for bed.”

“Good. Well, Jeremy is back at the apartment, needing help with an art project. I have to head back, but I’ll make sure we have time to chat next time.”

He nodded. “And you let me know if’n these boys protecting you step out of line.” His eyes were locked on Ringer, making sure his threat was clear. It was sweet really.

Harold was sixty-three, but living on the streets the past fifteen years made him appear closer to eighty. He had arthritis something awful and refused to take any of the medications I had brought him, saying that taking pills was what had gotten him here.

“Enjoy your pizza,” I told him and wished he’d take money, but I already knew he wouldn’t. I’d tried too many times to offer it to him.

“Always do,” he assured me.

Turning, I glanced up at Ringer, who was grinning like an idiot. Nothing about this was funny. I shot him an annoyed glare before starting back to the apartment.

“You feed old homeless men and help kids with homework.” He chuckled behind me.

“Why is that amusing to you?” I asked, not giving him the satisfaction of a scowl.

“ ’Cause it just is.”

Rolling my eyes, I walked as fast as I could back to the apartment. It wasn’t like I was trying to feed all the homeless in Miami. I would if I could, but that would be an impossible task. Harold was special.

I’d met him the week I moved in. I had been walking home a little late after getting lost in a book I was reading at the burger place just a mile from my apartment. Some young guys were calling out to me from their car and following me slowly. I was right near ready to take off running and screaming. Promising God that I wouldn’t do this again if he just got me out of this mess.

Then, Harold came out of nowhere, waving a gun, and yelled at the boys that he’d shoot all their sorry asses if they didn’t go on. He scared me a touch, but then he’d explained the gun was a toy but a real good replica. He had walked me the rest of the way, and I’d found out that he’d been in the Army. Served in the Vietnam War, and due to some PTSD he’d gotten, he’d become an alcoholic and lost his wife, and his only son had been killed in a car accident two days after he turned sixteen.

His story was tragic, and it broke my heart that he was so alone in the world. So, yes, I fed Harold, and I checked on him. He deserved to be cared about too.

We made it back to the apartment, and I was barely inside when I heard Micah’s voice, followed by Jeremy’s laughter. I froze for a moment, then hurried to the kitchen.

Micah was busy holding a small square sheet of foil while Jeremy was working on covering the structure we had built with another square. Micah’s eyes lifted to meet mine, and then he gave me a crooked grin.

“Hey, Tink.”

I paused, looking from Jeremy to Micah, trying to make sense of the situation.

Jeremy glanced back at me. “Micah is helping me. You can eat.”

“When did you get here?” I asked Micah.

“Almost right after you left,” he replied. “Ringer texted that you were feeding the homeless, so I thought I’d help Jeremy out.”

Jeremy’s pizza was half eaten on his plate.

“You haven’t finished your pizza,” I pointed out.

He took the next piece of foil from Micah. “It’s okay. I’m almost done with this, and I can take it with me.”

This was so odd. I stood there, trying to make sense of it. The last time Jeremy had seen Micah, he hadn’t liked him. I hadn’t been gone but maybe ten or fifteen minutes. How had things taken a complete one-eighty in that amount of time? Something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“I’m really hoping there is enough of that pizza for me too. Smells amazing,” Micah said as he took a piece of foil and started wrapping the tower too.

I had another one made up in the fridge that I hadn’t cooked yet. I’d thought about Micah when I did it, but I hadn’t wanted to assume he would be here in time to eat dinner. It was a Saturday night, and…well, he was Micah. He had things to do on Saturday nights, unlike me.

I cleared my throat and decided I would figure this out later. “Yes, I have another one ready to put in the oven. I’ll, uh, do that now.”

I didn’t wait for him to respond, but went about busying myself so as to not think about how he looked right now, bent over a model of the Eiffel Tower, helping Jeremy finish it up. The only thing that even remotely made sense right now was that I had fallen and hit my head somewhere. Because this was not something one would ever expect to see Micah Abe doing.

By the time I had the oven heated and the other pizza slid inside, Jeremy had announced they were finished and brought his plate and cup to put in the sink.

“Thanks for your help and dinner,” he said brightly.

Yes, something was off. This felt like the twilight zone.

“Uh, yes, of course. It turned out great,” I said to him. “Do you want to stay for some more pizza?” I asked him.

“No. I’m good.” He nodded his head toward the pizza on a napkin he’d left on the table. “I’ll take that with me. See you later, Dolly.”

I watched as he walked back over to the table and picked up his pizza.

“I’ll carry the Eiffel Tower,” Micah offered.

“Thanks!” Jeremy said, seemingly happy about it.

Well, all right then. Whatever. Men of all ages confused me, it seemed. I was clueless, or I was missing something. Either way, I was going to let it go. Jeremy seemed happy enough.

Micah took the tower and followed Jeremy, but glanced back at me and winked before leaving the room. I stared at the door for a few moments before shaking my head and walking over to the fridge to get out a bottle of prosecco.

I considered texting Pepper to tell her what had just happened and get her opinion on it, but decided against bothering her. I had already distracted her enough from the bar this weekend.