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“No fucking way,” a voice called as I stood just inside the glass doors, surveying the rows of junk food that had been my entire diet growing up. If the Lucky Corner Market didn’t carry it, I didn’t eat it. Which was why I’d never had broccoli as a kid. Or most vegetables. I subsisted almost entirely on chips and popcorn and sweets.
My head whipped over toward the check-out counter with its sun-faded signs and cigarette carding countdown calendar.
And there was a face I was sure I’d never see again.
Velle.
The son of the owner of Lucky Corner Market.
Our neighborhood hosted people from all different backgrounds and nationalities, but Velle and I had been the only two Middle Eastern kids in the school. We’d become friends from hardly more than toddling age.
I likely owed my being alive to Velle’s family and their willingness to let me hang out with them when my mom was missing for days on end.
Velle had been tall and beanpole thin when I’d left, a fact that made his head seem like it didn’t fit his body, but the years had packed some much-needed pounds on his frame, which took him from kind of gangly to a real knockout.
He had his black hair longer on top so that it sort of flopped to one side and had grown a pretty decent beard. His honey-brown eyes seemed more dominant than they’d been when I’d left.
He’d never grown out of his teenaged fashion choices, though, so he had on black jeans, a white tee, and an oversized zip-up hoodie over it, left open in the front. And because of that, I could see the hint of a gun in his waistband.
“Holy shit. Velle!” I said, smiling despite my shitty mood and horrible situation.
“Girl, I never thought I would see your surly ass again,” Velle said, shaking his head as I made my way toward the counter. “Where you been?”
“Jersey,” I said, nodding.
“Got something good going for yourself there?” he asked, sounding hopeful. Because it didn’t matter who you were, we all grew up rooting for someone to get out of the neighborhood and “make it” somewhere.
“I do,” I said, nodding. “How are you? Where’s your dad?”
To that, Velle’s face darkened.
“Eight months ago, he had a robbery.”
“Ugh,” I grumbled. Because I’d heard that story too many times. And even though I understood that level of desperation, all I could think was that if they kept getting robbed, the store would have to close. And then how many people in the area would go hungry? “Is he okay?” I asked, not liking the way a muscle ticked in Velle’s jaw.
“No. He’s alive,” Velle was quick to add. “But he got shot. Suffered nerve damage. Can barely walk.”
“Fuckers,” I growled. “Did you find them?” I asked. I didn’t ask if they—meaning the cops—found them. Because, well, we knew better.
“As bloodthirsty as ever, eh, Shawn?” Velle asked, shaking his head.
“More so,” I admitted. “Did you get them?”
“Oh, I got ‘em,” he said, and there was something in his voice that said they would never rob another store again.
“Is that why you’re here?” I asked, waving toward the counter.
“Partly, yeah. I do this part time, mostly overnights because it is the most dangerous. The neighborhood needs it.”
“It does. And it’s good of you to take care of it even though I know you never wanted this. Since I have something going for myself now, would you kill me for suggesting I donate a bit to fixing this place up? Maybe having some more food options to choose from?”
“That’d be great, Shawn. Really. I’ve been growing lettuce and kale under the fucking grow lights I used to grow pot with,” he said, laughing at his adolescent rebellion. “I give it away for free to anyone who wants it. Always wanted to change shit here, but never had the excess funds to do it.”
“I’d be happy to help.”
“So, what, you got a nice life going, but are choosing to take a vacation here?” Velle asked, suspicious.
“I got myself into a little trouble,” I admitted.
“That sounds like you,” he agreed, nodding.
“I know, right? I just needed to get away for a few days to regroup and get my head on right. I don’t know why, but I just automatically came this way.”
“To remember who the fuck you are,” Velle said, shrugging.
“Maybe that’s it,” I agreed.
“Have you seen her?” Velle asked.
“Have you?” I shot back, then winced.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Velle said, shooting me a smile. “Go on. Get your coffee. I can see you practically twitching for it. Don’t worry. It’s fresh. I’m still just as big of an addict too,” he told me, giving me a friendly smirk.
I went ahead and got my coffee, then a bunch of snacks to eat, and more to bring back to the hotel room later.
