Page 21 of Downpour

“Go wait outside.”

“But I’m supposed to?—“

“Are you going to wait outside or are you going to get fired?”

I slipped outside with my tail between my legs and waited. The sun was high in the sky, and not a cloud was in sight. His deck had a breathtaking view, but curiosity got the better of me.

Through the open sliding door, I watched as Ray leaned forward in the recliner. He turned his chest to the side and slowly shuffled backward into his wheelchair. He lifted his legs onto the footrests before unlocking the brake and pushing himself out to meet me.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” Ray said as he rolled up to the edge of the deck, staring at the horizon. “I don’t want you here.”

“Okay.” I swallowed my hurt and embarrassment. “I promise I’ll stay out of your way. I can clean and do whatever you want. I just… I can’t get fired again.”

“You can drive me into town,” he said.

“Yeah. Of course. I’d love to. I really do want to help any way I can.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “Aren’t you supposed to be wearing a uniform or something?”

I laughed and looked down at my shorts and tank top. “Yeah. But Mr. Wilson—the man I check on in the mornings—doesn’talways know who I am, and he gets mad and throws things at me. This morning it was grits. I figured you wouldn’t want me covered in it. It gets crusty after a while. So I changed in my car.”

Something flashed across his face, but he didn’t say a word.

“Do you... want me to?—“

“It’s fine,” he groused.

I looked down at my hands, wishing I could melt into the ground.

Ray hadn’t stopped staring at me. It was unnerving. There was so much I didn’t know about him. But instead of sitting in the presence of a stranger, I was in the presence of a lion who hadn’t eaten in days.

“Why can’t you get fired?” he asked.

I lifted my chin. “Why don’t you want me here?”

“You first.”

“Living is expensive,” I said.

That made him crack a smile, but it quickly disappeared. “Go find another job.”

I huffed. “I’ve been fired from every job I’ve ever had. I don’t have family, and I’m already behind on things as it is. I just need to hold on to this one a little longer until I can figure things out.”

“Figure what out?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. What I’m doing with my life?”

“How much is a little longer?” Ray hedged. He was negotiating, and I was more than willing to play ball.

“Two years.”

He scoffed.

“I’m serious. I just need to hold onto a steady job until I turn twenty-five, and then I get access to my trust fund.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a length of rope. I watched as he started tying it in knots, over and over again. “So, you’re going to wait two years to figure out what you’re doing with your life?”

“What about you?”

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