Page 21 of The Eleventh Hour

“I want to.” He rubs the back of his neck and stares at Cherise. “I haven’t been able to do the best here. I shouldn’t have called him the other day, but I was so frustrated with this weirdo.” He pauses and inhales deeply. “How many calls today?”

I shake my head. “Eleven, I think. I’m not sure.”

“It’s disruptive and, to be honest, I’m worried about you. Dr Sparrow didn’t seem terribly worried. No one does. I don’t want to read about you dead on the news and feel that kind of guilt. You don’t deserve that to happen to you, Jax. You worked hard here, and you’re alone. I just feel sorry for you.”

Maybe I read him wrong. Maybe he does feel compassion and just hides it.

I shift my weight and clear my throat. I’m surprised. This is the first time he’s shown any sign of caring about me. “Thank you.”

He glances at me. “For what?”

“For being human, for caring, for being you and taking a chance on me.”

He pats me awkwardly on the back, and then moves away. He turns back and puts an envelope on the counter. I’m relieved it’s a dirty yellow, with my name in Eugene’s choppy script.

“Your pay. Goodluck, Jax.”

My throat is tight, but when I turn to thank him, his office door is closed, and he’s nowhere to be seen.

Cherise bounds over, and I quickly pocket the envelope and smile at her. Our song comes on the radio, some boppy, stupid song I’d normally hate with a passion. She smiles and beckons to me. I laugh and go around the other side of the counter and let my body move to the crazy tempo.

We laugh and sing until the song ends, and then fill the shelves.

I listen to Cherise chatter away about Zair’s accomplishments. The little tyke has just started to toddle around, using furniture to stay upright. It won’t be long until she’s chasing him all over the apartment, and I tease her mercilessly about it.

Cherise was an accident. She saw through my walls with twin pigtail plaits, dimples, and a thin body that looked too delicate to handle this cruel life. Maybe it was just that she bothered to look. Maybe it was because she was broken, too. Cherise worked and wormed her way into my life. She feels like the little sister I always wanted. She reminds me of my mother. I see my story in this girl, and I want desperately to change her trajectory.

Our shift finishes, we close up the shop and make our way to the locker room. Eugene left about an hour ago, so it’s just us.

I sit down and look at her, reading past her sunny smile to the exhausted woman behind. “Cherise, sit down for a minute.”

She peers down at me and her large brown eyes widen. Cherise moves and sits on the edge of the bench, her anxiety making her body stiffen. I so badly want to reassure her. She reaches out, touching my knee. She’s always been like that, needing touch, needing contact. I fear for her in this world.

“Eugene had to let me go. Today was my last shift.” I rip the bandaid off as quickly as I can.

“No. Look, we can work it out. I’ll work fewer hours.” Her immediate protest is adorable but pointless.

I scoff. “You need to keep that kid of yours fed. Don’t be stupid, girl.” I look over at her and put my face in my hands and groan. She’s crying.

“Don’t do that, Cher.”

“I can’t help it. Who will I work with? I’ll be alone.”

“You can do this. You know you can,” I say firmly. “It’s for Zair, right?”

She sobs and scrubs at her face with one hand. I take the other and squeeze her fingers.

“Cher, you gave me something I thought I’d lost. You aren’t getting rid of me. I’ll still be around. Maybe I’ll bring cookies.”

“Don’t you dare!” Cherise snaps, and we both laugh. The blackened husks of sugar dough were easily a new low for me. Cooking over a camp stove is harder than it looks.

I reach into my apron and pull out my pay and put it in her hand.

“No,” She growls.

“I have another job lined up. I had a feeling this would happen,” I lie. “Take the money and buy the spawn some toys or clothes or whatever he needs.”

“Jax.” Her protest is weak as she eyes the packet.

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