Page 23 of Bombshell

“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.

---