Page 4 of Homeless Heart

Chapter 3

Phin

One year on the streets.

I'd survived my first year of living on the streets, it was a lonely life, but as each day passed, I knew I'd be closer to my inheritance and my independence. Missing the holidays and my eighteenth birthday was particularly hard, but I had to remember the money would make it worth it in the end. Having hope for a future was the only thing that kept me going on those days as I lived through my first winter on the streets. You would be surprised even in Southern California that the winters could be freezing. I hated living in downtown Los Angeles; the smog, the traffic, and the people sucked. I missed being close to the water. There were times I thought about living on the beach in Santa Monica, because I'd heard they took care of their homeless. The word on the street was that they had showers and decent shelters. The police there didn't run off the invisible. Despite what I heard for some reason, I was scared to move from this area that I'd called home since I'd gotten off the bus.

Over time, I repeatedly saw different people in the neighborhood who would say hello or nod their head to acknowledge my existence. One day a considerably large guy came walking up the street. I'd seen him around before and he'd always been one to nod at me. The guy was a scary, tall, leather-wearing, biker-looking dude, with streaks of gray woven into his brown hair that hung past his shoulders. His matching wiry beard and tattoo sleeves freaked me out, but I always returned his hello when he walked by me. Those Sons of Anarchy guys would have been afraid of this dude. I'd often seen him coming out the back door of a local dive bar, and I reckoned he was a bouncer at that establishment.

As I was still underage, I was afraid to go in there to stay dry, so occasionally I would hang out with Phyllis at the diner. Today, Phyllis wasn't working, and I wasn't feeling particularly clean. The massive guy nodded at me, and I returned the chin nod. He must have noticed my teeth chattering under my coat on this unseasonably cold day for LA. He walked back and stopped in front of me, eyed me up, but didn't speak. I was afraid to look him in the eye as the guy's hard gaze made me nervous, but I'd learned to stand my ground on the streets. Fear was not an option.

"Hey, man." I was forced to speak; I thought he could break me in half with one hand.

He finally spoke. "You got a place to stay?"

I was shaking my head, unable to say no. The shame of being homeless was still hard for me.

"Want a place to stay?"

Finding my voice, I eked out, "Sure." My mouth didn't give my head a chance to think about it. If this guy was a serial killer, I guess I would die today.

"Follow me," he snapped at me, and I didn't hesitate.

I was so cold and tired that I wouldn't turn him down. We walked in silence, and I tried to keep up with his determined gait as we made our way to the bar. He was taller than me, and I was a little over six feet tall. I'd never realized the name of the place because the neon sign was never on. Standing looking at it, I could see it was called Duke's. If I were a betting man, I would guess he was Duke. We walked to the alley behind the bar, and I thought I might throw up. Next to the back door of the bar was a dumpster with the foulest smell. I was homeless and smelled some bad shit.

"What's that smell?" Shaking my head, I held my breath as he opened the door for me.

"Sushi place next door's garbage smells like the wharf at low tide. You'll get used to it."

My body was still on high alert as I took in the bar and my surroundings, looking for the exits in case I needed to run out quickly. The inside of the bar was dark even with the lights on, with its dark green walls and dark brick-red painted concrete floor. The bar was one of those places you'd never want to see in daylight. The dark green walls were covered with black-and-white pictures of vintage motorcycles and old rock stars. This wasn't a theme bar; this was a place that professional alcoholics drank in.

"Sit," he commanded, and I pushed up onto the well-worn barstool. "You hungry?"

This guy was economical in his words. Although he made me nervous, my need to speak to someone was higher than my anxiety, so I decided I better answer the man. I couldn’t remember my last real conversation with another human being.

"Sure, my name’s Phin; what's yours?"

The guy stood behind the bar, polishing a glass, staring at me. He didn't smile, but he put the glass down, not breaking his gaze from me. I swallowed hard; this guy was intimidating as fuck. He made my father look like a fuzzy kitten. He pointed at the red neon sign over the bar that says Duke's.

He stepped back and leaned against the bar, folding his massive tattooed arms across his chest. "Name's David, but everyone calls me Duke. Got the name in Desert Storm and it stuck, sounds more like a bar owner's name anyway."

"How does David become Duke?"

"Don't you worry about it, that secret stays with my war brothers and me."

His slight smile grew, so I smirked at the guy, unsure if I should laugh or not. He moved over and poured me a glass of water, placing it in front of me.

"Thanks." The small gesture immediately put me at ease. I gulped it down.

"I was going to make myself a BLT upstairs; you want one?"

I wasn't used to people being kind to me, and it put me on edge. Human kindness was few and far between when you lived as an invisible. I'd also learned that nothing came without a price, and sometimes it wasn't worth paying. Everyone wanted something on the streets.

"Sure, would you like me to help clean up around here? I could clean the bathrooms or scrape the gum off the bottom of the tables." I always remembered what the mayor had told me about helping out. These were some of the tasks I'd performed in some of the local shops to make money.

Duke looked genuinely shocked. His eyebrows shot up to the top of his head, and a giant grin grew across his hard face. I was pretty sure those muscles in his face rarely got used, and that grin rarely made an appearance.

"Phin, not sure you want to clean the bathroom here, but since you offered, I'll get the supplies."

I'd lived on the streets; I knew dirty better than most, so I wasn't scared. How bad could it be? He walked over, carrying a large bucket crammed with various cleaning supplies along with an industrial-sized mop. His grin still hadn't left his face. Now I was beginning to worry.

"Follow me."

Walking into the men's room, I was hit by the stench of urine as I stood and surveyed the reality that was my life for the next few hours. The bathroom looked as bad as it smelled. The walls were a dark olive-green, I'm not sure if that was the original color or if it was just from years of layers of dirt. Honestly, I didn't want to look too close. The walls were covered with some sexually suggestive graffiti about a girl named Gretchen and old rock band stickers. None of the band names I recognized, so I am not sure how long the stickers had been on the walls.

"All right, kid, here are your tools, so get to work! I am going upstairs and make some food. I'll be back soon; anything goes missing; I know where to find you." He pointed at the bucket and mop against the wall.

Still, in shock, I acknowledged him as he walked out, smiling. Glad he thought it was funny. Unsure where to start, I took my jacket and sweater off leaving me in an old Pearl Jam T-shirt I'd bought at Goodwill for a quarter. I put on the yellow rubber gloves and tucked a towel into my jeans like an apron to protect them against the cleaning products and the pee water. Taking care of my clothes was vital to me.

"This fucking sandwich better be worth it," I grumbled as I surveyed the damage and then pushed up my sleeves to get it done. First, I started with a straightforward task, which was cleaning the sinks. Next stop, I quickly cleaned the urinals, but the toilets were another story. I shuddered as I worked the toilet brush around the bowl, trying to scrape away the long-time neglect. The layers of dirt came off as I scrubbed hard so I could now see the white porcelain. The state of the floor was disgusting too, my feet sticking as I worked cleaning up the room. I'd decided to save the mopping until last because it would take all my strength.

As I worked my way around the room, I found the vigorous scrubbing helped dissipate some of my anxiety. The room began to smell more of lemon disinfectant, which I found comforting, but unfortunately, the urine smell still lingered. Rome wasn't built in a day, but I'd made some good progress. I rocked my boots on the floor and listened to them squeak to the sound of the sticky ground in grime. The tile, which I discovered on closer inspection, was once gray linoleum was now more the dark green color on the walls and was torn and ripped in places. Filling the bucket up again with hot water and floor cleaner, I began to mop the floor under the toilet and urinals, cleaning away all the encrusted pee. Men were often overly confident in their aim and too lazy to clean it up when they overshot the runway. Having had maids all my life, I'd never paid much attention to my aim. From this day forward, I'd pee with Jedi precision.

"I am not a miracle worker," I said to no one in particular, admiring my work. The ongoing tension in my body was lessened, and I felt pride for the first time in a long time. The clean bathroom was worth more than a damn sandwich, but I had to admit it felt good doing something productive. I walked back out to the bar, removing the gloves and wiping my sweat-covered brow. Duke was standing at the bar eating what I assumed was his sandwich.

"All done." I maneuvered myself back up on the barstool and pounded down the rest of my water. He pushed a pitcher over to me, and I refilled the water after downing another glass. The smell of lemon disinfectant stuck in my nose, but the smell of bacon suddenly broke through. The scent reminded me I missed bacon almost more than I missed a place to sleep or hot showers.

"Hope they look better than you smell," was all Duke said with a big smile on his face.

I was admiring the homemade BLT sitting on the bar with some potato chips. My mouth was watering now; I was worried I might drool on myself. The BLT was so tall I wasn't sure how I'd fit it in my mouth, and the sight of it almost made me cry.

A smug smile spread across my face. "The bathroom is cleaner than the day you opened." I pushed the big sandwich in my mouth and savored the best thing I'd eaten in a very long time. My eyes rolled in the back of my head as I bit into the crispy bacon and avocado. The sandwich tasted so good it almost made me cry.

Duke took advantage of my full mouth to talk. He was smiling at me and whistled. "I'll be the judge of that. You want a Coke to go with your sandwich?"

"Yeah, thanks," I mumbled with my full mouth. Duke pushed himself off the bar, taking a large glass he packed it with ice, then filled it with Coke from the fountain gun. The meal was pure heaven. Eating this great sandwich, I think I might have gotten a hard-on. Adjusting myself on the stool, I felt a semi coming on.

I wiped the excess crumbs off my mouth before taking another bite. "This tastes amazing; did you use the whole pack of bacon?" I picked up the sandwich again and took another bite as some of the fillings pushed out of the back. Yep, a full-on bacon boner now.

Duke's residual smile lingered on his face. "Yes, the entire package, glad it hits the spot. You missed a bit.” Duke pointed at his mouth.

I wiped my mouth with the napkin. “Thanks, I haven’t eaten like this in a while.”

Avoiding the awkwardness from his confession, Duke changed the subject. “Let me go check out your work."

He left me alone in the bar while he walked toward the back and inspected my work in the men's room. I savored the sandwich despite wanting to push it in my mouth and eat it in one bite. I noticed that the television was broadcasting the baseball game, so I forced myself to watch it despite my lack of interest in sports. A few minutes later, Duke came back out, shaking his head, and the smile hadn't left his face.

"You know your face will stay that way if you don't watch it." Somehow, I'd found the confidence to tease this guy. Again, I hadn't joked with anyone in so long I'd almost forgotten how to use that part of my brain. Suddenly, I was worried I was wrong, and he was gonna kick my ass, unsure if he could take a joke.

"Phin, if you hadn't just cleaned what was a biohazard and a violation of several health codes, I'd clip you around the ears." He was still smiling when he said it, so I knew he was kidding me. The tension I'd been holding onto for so long was leaving my body.

Proud of my work, I couldn't help myself, and let a smirk cross my face sitting up a little taller on the barstool. I slowly ate and waited for Duke to speak again. He ran his large hand through his long wiry hair and shook his head.

"Listen, kid, I've been where you've been, and I just needed someone to give me some help. I've got a good feeling about you. How old are you?"

I didn't want to lie to this guy who'd befriended me when I needed it. I couldn't betray his trust because I wasn't legal. "I’ll be nineteen soon." He didn't need to know my birthday was in December.

Duke leaned back against the bar and crossed his big tattooed arms across his chest. "Well, you can't serve, but you can help out with cleaning up. You any good with computers and shit?"

I shrugged. "I can use a computer."

"Fuck, I hate those damn things. There's a small apartment upstairs you can use, it's storage now. If you clean it up and help get it nice with some paint and elbow grease, I'll let you stay for free. You can work down here if you want, just not serving booze. There's a little kitchen in the back." He pointed with his thumb at the back of the bar. "It’s been unused for a long time, I could never find someone to stick around long enough to use it. Gave up, I can't cook for shit. Do you think you might want to do some cooking? We could offer some burgers, hot dogs, and fries to start."

We always had a chef so I hadn't learned to cook. Having a chef and servants didn't leave me with many skills on the streets, but I was smart, and I had adapted over time. Doing this was an opportunity for a warm bed and food; this guy might look like the devil, but he was an angel if I ever met one.

"I'll do whatever you need me to do around here. I've not cooked much, but I am sure I could teach myself to do burgers and dogs. You can figure out anything on YouTube."

"Damn internet." His smile grew as he held out his big paw-like hand. "Shake on it."

Unaware at this moment that this handshake would change my life, I put my slightly sweaty hand in his, and we shook. Both of us had huge smiles on our faces; I realized I hadn't smiled in a very long time.

"Kid, I've only got one rule here. No drugs! Seen drugs screw up enough people around here. You can have a beer from time to time upstairs, but you bring any of that shit here, and we are finished. Understood?"

"Yes, I tried drugs when I first lived on the streets. I didn't like the way they made me feel out of control.”

"So, Phin, tell me your story and then get your lazy ass cleaning the ladies’ room." Duke had a twinkle in his eye, and his smile returned. He filled up my Coke glass and threw me a bag of chips.

I opened the bag and ate, filling my very shrunken stomach.

I nodded to the stool next to me. "You might want to sit down too; this story's not short."

He chuckled and started cleaning the bar again. Later I would learn he did this often. I think it was a nervous habit or way to keep a division between himself and the customers. Everyone had walls.

"Don't worry, kid, I've got all night. Eat up and tell me all about it. I own a bar; I'm a good listener."

"Well, it started when I was five years old when my prick of a father beat me with his belt."

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