“Nope. Just cheap floors.” He shrugged. “So . . . whatcha cooking?” he asked with a smile.
“Oh shit! My pizza.” Eliza bolted to the door, and I followed because . . . well, pizza sounded good.
She ran inside through her front door, and I went around to her window.
“So, what do you think?” I asked, pushing myself up to sit next to the oven.
“I think you need to get your ass off my counter and we’re both lucky that I didn’t burn dinner, but mostly, I think it’s really exciting that you’re going to be living upstairs.” She blew her hair out of her eyes and set the pizza on top of the stove.
I smiled and swiped a pepperoni off the top, burning the shit out of my mouth as I popped it in. “Damn, that’s hot,” I mumbled, blowing around it.
“Genius. You just watched me pull it out of the oven. Were you expecting it to be cold?”
“No, I was just hungry. Oh, that reminds me.” I jumped off the counter and pulled a twenty from my pocket. “Use this for food.”
She looked at my hand then began slicing the pizza. “No, just keep it. You’re going to need a bunch of stuff for the new apartment. Do you have enough for the first month? I get my student loan check next week. I can help you a little and you can just pay me back—”
I swiftly interrupted her. “Stop. I’m good, I swear. I appreciate it, but I get paid on Friday—”
Then she interrupted me. “But what about your mom’s rent? I know you and your dad . . . Well, I just mean . . . Are you, um . . . going to help her this month?” She shyly looked up at me through her lashes. My dad was a sensitive subject, and even mentioning him usually put me in a shit mood.
I sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know. I’ve been paying their rent for years. But now, I’ve got my own bills to worry about. I couldn’t care less about her getting tossed to the streets, but Flint and Quarry can’t be homeless. I don’t want to give her the money, though, if she doesn’t really need it, because, let’s be honest here—I do. But at the same time, she’s already a month behind, so if she doesn’t pay before the first, they can evict her.”
“Okay, well, what if you go in right before the office closes the day it’s due. If she’s paid it, awesome. If not, you can pay it so she doesn’t get evicted, but then make sure she really understands that you won’t be paying it again. And if you do have to pay it, let me help you at least for this month.” She looked up from the pizza and pleaded with her eyes way before she did with her mouth. “Please.”
A warm feeling passed over me. I’d never take Eliza’s money. She lived counting her pennies the same way I did. But the fact that she was willing to give me the little she had . . . There were no words. It hit me deep.
“All right, moneybags. If it comes down to the wire, I’ll let you help out. Let’s start with you taking this twenty bucks and then feeding me some pizza.”
Her lips twitched. She knew I was lying, but she didn’t bother calling me on it. Instead, she took the money and passed me a plate loaded with over half of a pizza.
One day, I was going to buy that woman everything she wanted. I didn’t know when or how. I just knew that, one way or another, it would be done.
Three years later . . .
“YO, TILL!” DERRICK BAILEY YELLED as I walked into the gym.
“What’s up?” I called out, rolling my eyes.
I fucking hated that kid with a passion. He was such a fucking suck-up. He wasn’t one of the poor kids. No, his daddy had plenty of money, and he paid a shit-ton each month for his son to be a part of the gym. So while I was mopping floors to earn my keep, he would sit and talk to me. It was obnoxious. Besides being loaded, something about him just rubbed me the wrong way.
“Flint called a minute ago while I was covering the phones. Said you need to go home as soon as possible. Some sort of cop showed up at your mom’s place.”
“Nothing new,” I mumbled to myself. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call and see what’s going on after I start the load of towels.”
“Okay. He was pretty messed up though. He said they were there about your little bro.”
“Quarry?” I spun to face him, confused.
“That’s what he said, man.” He shrugged.
“Shit.” My pulse spiked as I dropped all of my bags and sprinted from the gym.
My feet pounded the pavement as I ran the few blocks to my mom’s apartment. Quarry was ten and by no means a golden child. He had a serious attitude. Where Flint was book smart, Quarry was slick and cunning. I had been keeping a close eye on him recently. But the older he got, the sneakier he became.
He was also still a kid though.