Page 17 of The Guy in the Alley

“You worked up a sweat today for us,” I said. “Shit like that makes me trust easier. Please get comfortable, okay? I’ll get us something to drink.”

I hoped he stuck around for a while, to be honest. He could ride out the winter in the hall, knowing he at least had food and a warm bed, and we’d get extra help on Thursdays and Sundays.

In the kitchen, I grabbed us a couple orange Crush from the fridge and two spoons.

Ben had entered the front room, but he just stood there, looking at the bed. The one occasion I should’ve turned it back into a couch, maybe. Whatever. I always sat at the foot of the bed when I ate. I had the coffee table there for a reason.

“You don’t use your bedroom?”

“Nah, there’s no use in cleaning two rooms.” Or three, for that matter. I sat down and nodded for him to take a seat next to me. “Plus, I have the TV right here.” I set down my food on the table and reached for the remote. Another luxury of mine, I guessed. I had all the sports channels, courtesy of the bar footing the bill. Which reminded me… I turned to Ben as he removed the lid from his container. “I understand sports aren’t a priority when you’re concerned about finding a place to stay, but I hope I’m not sheltering an enemy here. You root for all the right teams, yeah?”

“Of course,” he assured. “You don’t, however.”

I lifted my brows. The fuck?

He smirked wryly and scooped up some food onto his spoon. “Considering the obscene amount of Cubs memorabilia downstairs, I can only assume you’re a Cubs fan.”

“Ah man, don’t say it?—”

“The Sox runs in my blood, kid.”

“Fuck, you said it.” I shook my head and dug into my food. “Knew you were too good to be true.”

He let out a laugh. An actual laugh—and it was fucking beautiful. He had a rich, warm, slightly scratchy voice that just did it for me.

“First time I was ever in the running for being too good,” he chuckled.

I wouldn’t know. I didn’t know jack about him, except what I’d scoped out in his wallet, and I didn’t wanna reach a new level of douchebag and dig deeper. I’d prefer to ask questions and get answers from the source.

I turned on the TV and proceeded as casually as I could. “I wouldn’t turn down the CliffsNotes of your life story.”

I’d expected his silence. Either he’d mull things over and then offer a short sentence, or he’d say nothing at all.

I hoped he would give me something. I’d caught glimpses today. He had a sense of humor, definitely. He was a hard worker. He didn’t complain. He didn’t just follow orders either; he pitched in where he saw the need. He was a math whiz…

He cleared his throat, and I pretended to scroll through game results.

“Grew up Back of the Yards, married at twenty, started a company with my brother-in-law, things were going all right, we moved to Hinsdale, had a son…” He let out a breath, and I side-eyed him. He was staring down at his food. He had a kid. And a wife? “Shit went sideways eventually. My brother-in-law, he—” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I lost everything. Then my ex-wife died about seven years ago, and bad turned to worse.”

Seven years ago. I… Fuck. I only had more questions now. But it sounded like my initial profiling wasn’t far off.

“Congrats on making me even more curious,” I said. “Why did you divorce?”

He paused, spoon midair, and furrowed his brow at me. “Why are you curious?”

I don’t fucking know.

Was it against the law to be curious? Huh?

Fuck it.

I dismissed the topic with a bitchy exit. “You sound like my ex. If I asked a simple question, he accused me of interrogating him. I was just makin’ conversation.” I looked away from him and shoveled food into my mouth.

Petey and I made damn good goulash. Our version of it anyway.

“He…? Are you gay?”

Oh, for the love of?—

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