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We burst out laughing, and Jess reached for the bottle to top us off.
The night was pleasant. Jess lived on the other side of LA and worked as an oncology nurse at a private hospital. It kept her busy for long hours at a time, but we made time for each other. Wednesday nights were our thing. After we finished a bottle of wine between the two of us, we always shared a basket of pub food—Danny slipped in extra vegetarian bites for me—and then it was time to go back to our lives.
The jazz bar was right in the middle of downtown LA—equally far to travel for the both of us. I asked Danny to wrap up the leftovers for me, and when he brought it to the table after we paid, I left a note to tip him.
“The tip is included in the check, Lex,” he said with a smile.
“I never know if you guys get it,” I said.
“I told you, they split it fair and square.”
“Well, they won’t split that,” Jess said.
I hugged Jess goodbye, and she climbed into a cab. Across the road, a dark figure moved in the shadows. I looked both ways before crossing the street and approached the alley between the laundromat and the salon.
“Hey, Jerry.”
Jerry shuffled toward me. He had a thick coat wrapped around his shoulders, and it looked better than the other clothes he usually wore.
“New coat?” I asked.
“Yeah, I got it from the thrift shop. Sandy kept it for me especially. Traded it for that pair of shoes you gave me.”
“Good trade,” I said, nodding. “I got you something.”
I handed him the leftover packet of food. “No meat.”
“Thank you, Alexis,” he said.
“You can call me Lexi, Jerry.”
“I don’t think so,” he said and smiled. “Have a good night. Let me know if you need anything.”
I smiled. “You too.”
I turned to flag a cab, still smiling. Jerry had nothing. He lived on the streets and had very little to barter with for warmth in the winter, or food at night. But he always told me to let him know if I needed something. I never did, but I didn’t doubt that he would try to help me if I needed it. There was so much goodness and kindness in the world, if only people were willing to look for it.
When I arrived home, I flicked on the light in my dark apartment. My head spun a little.
My calico cat ran to me, meowing. At least, I always had Mittens waiting up for me.
Okay, not always. But when she was in the mood for it.
“Hey, cutie,” I said and picked her up, nuzzling her neck before setting her down on the counter. “Are you hungry?” I opened a can of tuna and emptied it into her bowl. She just watched me with big yellow eyes.
“Okay, don’t eat it,” I said with a shrug and took a pitcher of water from the fridge. I poured a glass and took a sip. I looked around my apartment. It was neat and clean, with everything in its place just the way I liked it. I loved the life I lived—I worked at a company that offered me a stable salary, albeit it was not much, to help others. The colleagues understood my goals, if nothing else about me, and I had Jess in my corner. It was enough.
But sometimes, I wondered what it would be like to come home to lights already on, and food cooking on the stove. Someone who might have already fed my cat. Someone I could talk to about what my day was like and tell my hopes and dreams to.
I turned on the television. It was a guilty pleasure, and it filled my apartment with conversation when I got too lonely. A news bulletin rambled in the background while I kicked off my shoes and got into pajamas.
Once again, the Conrad brothers are making headlines, and not in the way that would benefit their business. In a drunken rant, the youngest brother, Sebastian Conrad, has declared the “hunting season open” in his own words.
An image of Bas Conrad showed on the screen. I grabbed my phone and dialed Jess.
“Lexi?” she asked.
“Are you still up? You have to see this. Bas Conrad is making a fool of himself on national TV.”
