Page 36 of Hard Rock Heat
The burger placewas exactly the kind of hole in the wall I would have expected from Damon. He didn't seem like the white tablecloth and silverware type ofguy.
True to form, when we got to the counter, he ordered the biggest burger on the menu, along with extra largefries.
"Is this how you normally eat?" I asked. "How are you still so—" I stopped, not wanting to spout off about Damon's many positive physicalattributes.
"You mean, how am I still so built and hot?" he finished. "I don't eat like this all the time. Plus I work out a lot. Not as much as Cam, but then again, I don't drink more than half my calories in beer everyweek."
"So this is like a special treat?" I asked. "What's theoccasion?"
"Your lovely company, of course." He winked playfully. I looked away before he could catch the flush of mycheeks.
When I placed my order I thought Damon would call me out on it — a grilled chicken sandwich with a side house salad — but he didn't say a word. Although he was craving a thousand calories, I wasn't much one for greasy foods. Except when it came to Asian take-out, ofcourse.
That thought only brought to mind my dad, making me wonder how he was doing. I'd have to visit him again soon. He hadn't looked so good last time. My heart sank alittle.
It was terrible that I dreaded visiting my own father, but I never knew what to expect. Would he be up and about, with a clean house and freshly laundered clothes? Or would he be sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, unshaven and greasy-haired? Some weeks, some months, were better than others. We'd been in a string of bad months recently. I'd learned not to get my hopesup.
When our orders were ready, Damon and I took our food to a small booth with uncomfortable plastic seating. I placed the folder Jessie had given me to theside.
"Don't touch it with your greasy fingers," Iwarned.
"Wouldn't dream of it." He picked up a fry and held it out to me. "That salad looksdisappointing."
I had to admit, the wilted lettuce and unripe tomato chunks didn't seem all the appealing. I took the fry Damon had thoughtfully offered. "We should start contacting those community groups right away. Maybe split them betweenus."
"Getting right down to business, are we?" Damon asked. He munched on a fry, giving me a considering look. "Have you always been aworkaholic?"
"Runs in the family," I said without meaningto.
He examined me closely. "Your dad?" heguessed.
The quiet words woke something in my chest. Damon wasn't teasing or playing. I scrutinized him, wondering how much he knew. No doubt Hope had confided in Ian. Perhaps Ian had told Damon a bit aboutit.
"My brother mentioned your mom passed away when you were younger," he said, confirming my suspicions. "He didn't say much else. I'msorry."
"It's okay," I said. "It was a long timeago."
"You never really get over childhood trauma, no matter how long it's been," hesaid.
I wondered if he knew that fromexperience.
"You said Ian was your only family. Did your parents also…?" I trailed off, trying to bedelicate.
A brief cloud shaded his expression. He shook his head. "They're stillalive."
"Kat mentioned—" Ihesitated.
Damon nodded, understanding what I was getting at without words. "Me and Ian left home. We mostly couch-surfed with friends, sometimes stayed at shelters, once in a while cheap motels if we earned enough money busking. It wasn't like we were living in a box under a bridge the whole time." He gave me a sad sort of smile. "Still. There were some roughnights."
"I'm so sorry," Isaid.
He shrugged. "It was better than staying athome."
"I get that," I said quietly. "Me and Hope moved out on our own when we turnedeighteen."
The both of us went silent, neither one wanting to ask the difficult questions. Nether of us wanting to be the first to ask exactly what was so bad about our home lives that we'd had to leave. I had a feeling Damon's story was worse thanmine.
We each took a few more bites in silence. Finally Damon spokeup.
