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"Well, not right now. He’s still in prison. I – I haven’t exactly been much of an example to my kid brother, I guess. You might say our childhood wasn’t the best."
All I could do was smile at him in sympathy. He returned to his cheerful self and stood up. "I’ve kept you long enough, Laila. I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s hard to pass up a good cup of hot coffee."
I stood and watched John as he walked out the door of Roasted Love Coffeehouse and headed back onto the street. The wind picked up as he left and it whipped his long hair and jacket all around him. It made me think of a leaf being carried off by the wind.
Chapter Two
After I got off work, I again thought about John. I realized I had no idea how many homeless lived on the streets of West River. They were hidden for the most part and I didn’t know where any of the others were.
During the time I'd lived here, I had seen one or two like John but only rarely on streets that were familiar to me. The homeless men that I did see, struck me as being on the move – transients, as the police called them. Guys who were always traveling and never stayed long in any one place.
John, though, had recently begun sleeping between the sidewalk and the building at the front of Roasted Love. He would settle there after dark and stay until the next day, when he was gently told to move on by the cop on the beat.
There were very few mornings that he didn’t come into our coffee shop. Once he drank the coffee that one of us handed to him, he wasn’t seen for the rest of the day. He always did move on as he was told to do each morning. I knew he didn't want any trouble.
This evening, though, when I left Roasted Love, the Piazza looked as calm and homeless-free as it normally did. I doubted that many people thought about those who had no home to sleep in. It was both frightening and depressing.
But as I got in my car and started my drive home, I realized that I needed to change my mood. There was nothing I could do about John. I'd offered to help him find a place to stay and he had refused. He was not a danger to himself or anyone else, so there was no way to force him to go anywhere if he didn't want to.
My thoughts went back to Daniel Jenkins, the "good-looking young paramedic" I'd been seeing. Daniel was expecting me at his Brownstone this evening, but I was running a little late and he might be getting worried.
I hit speed dial and Daniel answered on the first ring. "Laila, are you on your way?" he asked. "I sure hope so!"
I couldn't help grinning at the sound of his voice. It wasn’t hard to envision that tall muscular man as if he were in the car with me. I could see his black hair shining in the light and his eyes, so dark brown they were almost black, bright and cheerful as he gazed at me.
Then I heard what sounded like plates crashing to the floor. "Hey! Are you throwing our dinner across the room, or what?" I asked him, with a laugh.
His own happy laugh lifted my spirits even more. "No way. That was a lid. I wanted to do a stir-fry dinner and I'm trying to find the right skillet. You better hurry, though – I need your touch on the salads as soon as you get here."
"Sure, but I have to take care of Thor first. It may be a half hour or so."
"Oh, no problems. Just bring your Doberman with you. I still have some of his dog food here. He and Benji can have their dinner together."
I couldn't help grinning at the thought of my huge, fierce-looking dog playing with fluffy little Benji. "I’ll get Thor out for a run and then head on over. We can walk them both after we eat."
"Sure thing. See you soon."
We both hung up, and for the rest of the drive the only thing on my mind was tall, handsome, dark-haired Daniel.
But Thor bounded to the door the instant he heard me insert the key in the lock, and gave me the kind of sincere welcome home that only a dog can give you.
After dropping my purse, I took Thor outside and th
rew a ball for him for a few minutes. Then I left him outside and went back inside to change clothes and freshen up.
"Hey, we’re going out for dinner, Thor," I told him, when I let him back inside. He sniffed his empty dog dish and looked at me with accusation. "Don't worry. You're going to eat with Benji tonight."
When he saw me reach for his leash, Thor forgot all about food. He leaped in my car and rode happily all the way to Daniel’s building. Once were inside his apartment, Thor and Benji ignored us both and took off for some serious dog play.
"Mmm, smells wonderful in here," I said. And it did. In the kitchen, I saw a cast iron skillet with olive oil heating in a thin layer across the bottom. Chicken strips rested on a plate nearby. Sliced onions and green peppers sat ready on a separate dish. Containers of salt, black pepper and a little ginger were at hand.
"Of course it smells great. Would you expect any less?" Daniel tossed a bit of green pepper into the skillet to see if the oil was hot enough – not quite yet, I saw.
"Of course I wouldn't," I said with a grin. I opened the refrigerator and starting taking out lettuce, cucumbers, and tomatoes for the salad, and noticed some jalapeños on the top shelf. They were sliced on the diagonal into thin pieces.
"Do you want me to use these for the salad?" I asked him. "I could put them on top."
He shrugged, still poking at the oil in the skillet. "You’re the salad maker. You have free rein."
