Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
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.
We needed eighty-nine bucks, and then we were in the black.
I could barely fucking believe it.
I was so glad we hadn’t gone the bar crawl route that many establishments did for St. Patrick’s Day.
Holy fuck.
Despite it being almost four in the morning, I was too wired to go to bed. Instead, I walked around and made sure everything was set up for tomorrow. Every surface had been wiped down, the bar tables had been pushed together somewhat to give more room to the dining areas for the lunch service, the donation boxes had been emptied, doors were locked, all broken glass had been cleaned up…
As I stood there in the center of the place, with the bar area behind me, the dead street outside in front of me, and dining areas on both sides, I finally understood what Dad had talked about so many times. The Clover could be a fucking menace, but when things went well… The sheer joy was indescribable, and it was the calmest sensation. I didn’t feel like jumping up and down or taking a victory lap. I just wanted to stand here and soak it all up.
We were on the right path, and now we kept going.
On my way upstairs, I grabbed a few food containers from the staff fridge. We didn’t have soup, but we had chicken fingers, cheesy bread, Ma’s lasagna, and pickles.
Ziggy was waiting for me right outside the door as I went to activate the alarm, reminding me that he might need something more to eat too. I’d given him turkey and water earlier. Maybe if I scraped the fried goodness off the chicken fingers…
Fuck, did he have to go out? I didn’t know what to do with a dog. My grandmother had owned a yappy little thing, but I just remembered giving it treats so it would stop stalking me.
That had not worked.
To play it safe, I opened the door to the alley. “Go on. I promise I won’t close the door on you.”
He cocked his head at me, then trailed out and immediately pissed on the bottom of the door.
Thanks, you little asshole.
He moseyed down the steps next and sniffed around, and I leaned against the doorway. I guessed I could pick up waste bags and dog food tomorrow. I had to go out for a few more items before the soup kitchen anyway. We’d be spread thin up until the soup kitchen closed at five, but if Ben didn’t ghost my sorry ass again, maybe he could help.
Unless he was still sick, obviously.
I yawned and shifted the food containers to my other arm. “Ziggy! Let’s go. If it ain’t happening yet, it’s not gonna.”
I wondered if Ben had cleaned him, however unlikely that sounded. I just remembered Ziggy’s fur being way dirtier when Cliff had been around. More gray and black than yellow and white.
Ben had mentioned a dog shelter—and an exam? Oh, and his cousin.
Ziggy darted back in and up the stairs, and I followed at a more human pace.
This next part should get interesting. Did I crash right next to Ben? I wasn’t gonna wake him up, nor was I planting my ass on the foldable bed in the hallway. So…I already had my answer, yet things felt uncertain and weird.
That summed up our entire situation. Uncertain and weird.
In the end, I could be butthurt all I wanted—and I fucking was—but there was no manual for what we were going through. His life was so different from mine in terms of perspective and priorities. He didn’t view himself as someone I might suddenly catch feelings for. He didn’t see himself as anything good at all. In his eyes, he’d done me a favor by leaving.
And Christ, he’d teared up just because he’d gotten a job? That spoke volumes of his relief. My heart had fucking broken for him.
I couldn’t imagine the weight on his shoulders. But knowing it was there made it difficult to hold on to my anger, and we’d become sort of close these past couple of months. I’d used it to keep my worry at bay. I’d used it to distance myself.
I’d failed on both accounts, but what a ride it’d been.
When I reached my door, I set down the food containers on the floor so I could fold out the bed. I didn’t have kibble for the shaggy little mutt, but I had a bed and chicken.
Ziggy jumped up on the bed without prompting, and he was ridiculously well trained. Was this normal? As I started scraping the batter off the chicken fingers, he merely sat there and waited.