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Christmas day at the Gafferty house was a circus. They had invited distant relatives, friends, neighbors, and anyone else they could, until the small house was packed to the brim with revelers young and old. Harry tried to keep her mind off Busy and on the party. After lunch, Harry said her goodbyes, hugged Cynthia three times, kissed the baby goodbye, bumped shoulders with Cal in a friendly but distant way, and promised she would see them all very soon.
By the 28th, the shelter was decorated for the art show, and all the kids were scrubbed as clean as possible, well fed and rested, and waiting impatiently for their donors to arrive. Between David, Ash, Ruby, and Harry, they called every donor on the 2014 list, some new ones brought in by Ash and Ruby, and Harry had circulated the word via her friends in the precinct, so they had quite a guest list. Most had even RSVP'd early.
As the guests filed in, Ash greeted them and welcomed them to the art show. She directed them to refreshments, which she and Ruby had provided, while Ruby stood with Keaton, waiting to usher donors toward the pledge table. The art wouldn't be sold until later, but the more people they could get on the pledge list, the better the event would do, and the longer the lights stayed on at Regina’s Flock.
Harry didn't spend much time standing around. She walked among the guests in a well-tailored, forgettable suit, her eyes peeled for any suspicious behavior, and gave warning looks to kids who were known for lifting wallets. Half an hour into the event, the place was packed, and Cal walked in the front door. She went to meet him.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes still scanning the crowd.
He adjusted his jacket collar and whistled in appreciation. "Looks like you guys really mailed out a lot of invitations."
Harry motioned for Brenda to come to her. When the girl was close enough, she told her to get a wallet back from one of the newer kids. "Just tell the man that he dropped it, and ask him if he wants something to drink," Harry instructed. Brenda nodded and melted back into the crowd.
"I figured you might need a hand with the security. All these high-rollers are probably dumb enough to have a wad of cash on them, and I don't want one of these knuckleheads ruining their chances for a donation by stealing." He grabbed a teenaged boy, pulled a woman's wallet out of the boy’s pocket, and held it up to his face. "Do it again, and you're out on the street tonight with nothing, punk," he announced. He tucked the wallet into his own pocket and let the boy go. "I'm going to go return this to that nice little old lady. See you at the end."
Harry grinned as he walked away. Good old reliable Cal. If anything, he was the kind of man who didn't let you down if you needed him. Unless you sleep with him. Kind of like me.
Keaton waved and darted through the crowd toward her, his cheeks bright red as if he had been running around in the cold. When he reached her, he was out of breath and puffing wildly. Harry waited, her eyes still scanning the crowd, until he had caught his breath and was grinning beside her, bursting with news, but waiting his turn to talk.
"What's up, Keaton?" she asked nonchalantly. Words burst out of him so fast, they jumbled, and Harry shook her head. "Yo, Batman, I can't understand a word you're saying."
He took a deep breath, let it out in a barking cough that caught negative attention from a woman nearby, and wiped his hand on his jeans. "Someone bought one of my paintings, and two of Brenda's sculpture thingies. They're buying more this year than they did the last!" he said with a squeaky lilt.
Harry high-fived him. "Very nice. You keeping an eye on your brothers in wallet lifting?" she asked, and turned a stern face on him. "Donors can't give if they lose their wallets. What's more, they could sue."
Keaton's head bobbed with his excitement. "Of course. I know the rules. We don't steal their money. We encourage them to give it to us willingly.”
"In exchange for a product or service," Harry added. "Good boy."
She patted his shoulder, and he jogged back into the crowd. Harry saw Cal giving Slip a hard time, and whistled to get his attention. He looked over at her, and she motioned for him to send Slip her way. He let go of the teen's hooded sweatshirt with a push in Harry's direction. The kid reached her hot around the collar.
"Your bro is an asshat," Slip said with a scowl. Harry laughed, and Slip's frown faltered. "What?"
"He can be. What's his problem with you?"
Slip stared across the crowd. Cal stood with his hands crossed one on top of the other, surveying the scene, totally oblivious to their stares. "He hassled me the first day, too. I think he just doesn't like me."
Harry kept her eyes on the crowd and tried to smooth out the smile starting in her cheeks. "Are you sure you didn't do anything to provoke him?"
"No!" Slip shot back, then sucked in cheeks still faintly rounded with baby fat. "Well, I was eyeing this dude's cufflinks. But to be fair, the guy was flapping his hands so much, I thought he was having a seizure or something."
"Were you going to liberate them?" Harry asked, her eyes on Keaton as he shook his finger at another boy about his age. She grinned. "I know you all think it would be easy to lift one of these wallets, and that these people wouldn't miss a penny. They probably wouldn't. They all go home to nice houses in nice cars and never worry about where that next meal is coming from. But you have to ask yourself: would you rather get a little cash now, and blow it all? Or would it be in your best interest to let the money go to the shelter, so you all have somewhere to sleep next year?"
Slip's head dropped to stare at worn, hi-top sneakers in silence. Harry patted the teen on the shoulder. "It's hard to be good,” Slip said.
Harry felt like she was talking to the younger version of herself. "Tell me about it. We all have wants, needs, and instincts. Some of them are good. Some... Not so much."
Slip looked up at her, and Harry met the eyes of a kid who had seen too much, too soon. "How do you know the difference?"
Harry glanced up just as Cal politely but firmly escorted out a kid who looked like a younger version of himself.
"Why do these kids have such sticky fingers?" Cal asked as he opened the door, then pushed the boy out. "Boy, don't make me catch you again." He shut the door behind him and glanced at Slip. "This one need to go?"
Harry put a hand on Slip's shoulder, and the teenager cringed, then relaxed. "Nah," she said, giving Slip's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Slip won't be a problem. Will you?"
The kid stared hard in her face for a moment, then shrugged. "What's the point? I'd just get caught and thrown out. I'd look like a real asshat, wouldn't I?"
Harry laughed and shoved the kid back into the crowd. "Be good, Slip."
"What kind of name is Slip?" Cal asked.
Harry scanned the crowd again, but didn't see the teen anywhere. "That kid is like a cat. Let her go, and it’s like trying to find Waldo. Nearly impossible.”
Cal looked all around, then dropped his head and gave a grunt of a laugh. "Reminds me of you."
"Really?" Harry asked. "'Cause I was thinking it reminds me of you."
They bumped fists, Cal headed back through the crowd, and Harry resumed her vigilant post.
