Page 17 of No Good Deed

“It opened a few months ago at that church that almost burned down. They let you fill up a box with whatever you want.Some weeks they run out of stuff and have to close, but most of the time we can get enough to last us a few days.”

I wish they’d had that when Dean and I lived here. We were always running out of food, but Dean would make sure I was fed before he was, even though he’s a lot bigger than me and needed to fuel up to play football.

Tara and Troy come out from the bedroom.

“See you guys later,” Tara says, heading to the door.

“You’re leaving already?” Sean asks.

“My boss called. He needs someone to fill in for the lunch shift. I need to go home and get ready.” She stops at the door. “Shit. They changed the bus schedule. What time’s the next one?”

“Ten,” Sean says. “I think. I’m not sure.”

“Get out of my chair,” Troy says, standing by Sean.

“Sit somewhere else. It’s my fucking house.”

“I’m going to be late to work,” Tara mutters, chewing on her lip.

“I can take you,” I say, quickly washing my hands at the sink to get rid of the greasy hotdog remnants.

“You have a car?” she asks.

“Yeah. It’s right outside. I can take you right now.”

“What about us?” Sean says. “You just got here, and now you’re leaving?”

“I’ll drop her off and come back.”

“She doesn’t live around here,” Troy says as he sinks down on the lumpy couch. “She’s like a half hour away.”

“I’m still living with my aunt,” Tara explains. “She’s north of the city. It’s at least a half-hour drive, longer with traffic.”

“I don’t mind,” I tell her. “And this way, you won’t have to wait for the bus.”

“Really?” Her face lights up. “You’d really do that?”

She smiles, and there goes my heart again, beating faster than it should. I don’t get it. Maybe it’s the vodka making me react this way.

Shit, I drank vodka, and now I’m about to drive. But I didn’t drink much. I couldn’t have had more than an ounce or two, and I feel okay.

“Are you going or not?” Troy asks.

Looking over at him, I see him swiping through his phone, lounging on the couch, his dirt-covered boots propped up on the coffee table.

“Yeah, we’re going,” I say. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Thanks for doing this,” Tara says as we go outside. “You don’t have to. You could still change your mind.”

“I’m not changing my mind.” I smile at her. “This is good. It’ll give us a chance to catch up.” I stop at my car and hold out my keys. “You want to drive?”

“Are you serious?”

I shrug. “I’ve been drinking. It wasn’t much, but I’m not sure I should be driving.”

“You really trust me to drive your car?” She glances at it.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t?”

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