Page 53 of The Guy in the Alley

Good job, man. Ramble like Ma, and Ben will be too overwhelmed to answer.

I stalked out of the room, realizing I came off as a lunatic, but I couldn’t help it. I’d really worried about him—and I’d cursed myself for having forgotten his last name, because I couldn’t remember how many times I’d wanted to look him up. If only to make sure he was still alive.

Cleary, something. Ben Cleary, Benjamin Andrew Cleary—except, it wasn’t. At least, I hadn’t found anyone under that name who could be him, and I’d even reached out to a cop buddy I hadn’t spoken to in two years.

“When was the last time you ate, Ben?” I asked for the third time as I dug out a bottle of painkillers in the bathroom.

I heard him sigh heavily.

“Yesterday.”

Go fucking figure.

I grabbed a pop from the fridge too, since the juice hadn’t survived the shower. Then I was back, and he was at least getting started on the food. Well, if one could call pretzel sticks with Nutella food.

I opened the pop for him and handed over the painkillers. “Take both right now.”

He swallowed what was in his mouth and accepted the pills and the drink. “You’re angry with me, but I can’t figure out why.”

That was the fucking problem.

“I can leave?—”

“No.” The thought alone put me on edge, where I’d essentially already lived for the past two months. “Well, I know you can—you’ve proven that.”

He flicked me a brief, confused look before he downed the pills. Then he must’ve found the Coke good, ’cause he immediately started chugging.

It was my favorite drink for when I was sick too. Ice-cold Coke.

He lowered the can after a moment, and he shuddered and looked down. “You’re mad I left without saying goodbye.”

I’m mad you left at all.

He nodded to himself. “I knew it was a coward move.”

As he’d stated in that goddamn letter. By now, I could recite it word for word.

I cleared my throat and knew I was out of time. “We can have a lovely chat about that later. Right now, I’m gonna sacrifice my cold cuts and give them to your new pet. Then I’m going back to work. We close at two. And if you leave?—”

“I won’t,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Trace. You’ve been so happy that I assumed?—”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I…” He gestured tiredly at the door. “I’ve seen you. When I stay in the alley, I look sometimes. You’re always in a good mood behind the bar.”

I rubbed my forehead and—no, I didn’t have the time to unpack all that now. He stayed in the alley a lot? Why? And me flashing a grin and laughing it up when I worked didn’t fucking reflect what I was going through. But after reading his letter a million times, I could see how the slightest grin might strengthen his belief that I would be “relieved within a few days” of his leaving. Because I wouldn’t have to “babysit” a “burden” anymore.

I shook my head. “Just be here when I get back.”

* * *

“See you tomorrow, boss!”

“Yeah, see ya. Get home safe,” I responded absently. I smiled to myself as I tore off the EOD receipt and looked at the total.

I mean, I’d been here all night, so I knew we’d done well, but this…

I grinned and headed straight for the office with the money. We kept our drop safe in a supply closet just outside the office, the safe camouflaged by an old moving box, and tonight’s shindig was definitely gonna give me a good night’s sleep.

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