didn’t even have foster parents. My college spree was funded by a second chance charity foundation. I don’t know, I guess they thought I was smarter than the average bug.”
“Smart men don’t beat total strangers half to death.”
“That was different. It was one of my first nights on the street … as a bum. I was on my own and the guy started giving me hassle. I lost it.”
“If me and Blondie hadn’t found you, you’d probably have finished it. That was the night we met, since then I’ve always known there was something different about you. That bogus back story just confirms it.”
“I remember that night,” Sierra said. “Alex was the first guy we ever took back to our shack. Rum was so suspicious he stayed up all night clutching a baseball bat. He’d jump a mile if Alex so much as rolled in his sleep.”
“Pleasant days,” Alex said. “And he still doesn’t trust me.”
“I trust you, I just don’t like you.”
Rum frowned his distaste at Alex, who returned it in kind. The staring match brought about a sudden quite. At once they realised how loud they’d been speaking.
A bell over the entrance rang out. Hand in hand an elderly couple entered with a titter of laughter. They stopped at once to sight the miscreants in the rear corner. The old woman’s halt settled into a slow retreat, but her husband waved a reluctant hand as if to let it slide.
“Well, that oughta do it for us,” Rum said.
Even though the couple ordered their food and sat down anyway, their hesitation to enter had caught the manager’s attention, and lowered his tolerance level. He remained fixated on the tramps until the next customer entered.
It was a short, skinny middle aged man, drunk and staggering. From the way the manager greeted him he appeared to be a regular customer. From the way he grimaced at the tramps then whispered close to the manager’s ear, he might have been a valued one. Whatever he said, it looked like a marching order.
Almost at once the manager’s shadow fell over their table. He acted discretely at first, sweeping up crumbs and spilt soup they hadn’t yet eaten. Like a cat lashing for a rat his gaze landed upon Rum.
“So, did you enjoy your meal? You’ve nurtured it so long I imagine it must be too much for you.” He sighed as if building to something. “I’ve been accommodating to you. You should know we don’t usually take in … your kind like this. It looks like things are about to pick up and you’re making the guests nervous. So if you wouldn’t mind…”
Henry reacted first, pronging to his feet and stuttering apologetically to the door. Alex followed with a gentle sigh. With Sierra at his back, Rum didn’t budge.
“Other guests?” he cried. “There’s only three people!”
“You smell like shit!” a new voice cried from the background. “And you look like shit! Stupid bums.”
It came from that skinny little drunk man. He sat hanging off his chair with a damning fist raised.
Rum pushed past the manager. “You think you’re better than me you little son of a bitch!? Come here and say it to my face!”
The words reached him. Within seconds Rum and the drunk were locked hand to hand in combat with the manager scrambling to pry them apart. Out of pure cheek Sierra piled over Rum’s back, reached over the manager, and began smacking the drunk man‘s head.
All the while Alex and Henry watched this commotion through the open view window outside. By then the fight degraded into a display of tumbling and muffled threats. The manager’s threat came through loudest.
“We’ve called the police. They’ll be here any minuet! They don’t side with bums so you better leave now!”
Alex scrunched up at the words. They oozed with a familiar truth he knew all too well. When one is set against the other, police tend to side with wealth over the deprived. He found his fist tightening, mind racing with memories. He thought of charging back into the diner. He’d
“Smart men don’t beat total strangers half to death.”
“That was different. It was one of my first nights on the street … as a bum. I was on my own and the guy started giving me hassle. I lost it.”
“If me and Blondie hadn’t found you, you’d probably have finished it. That was the night we met, since then I’ve always known there was something different about you. That bogus back story just confirms it.”
“I remember that night,” Sierra said. “Alex was the first guy we ever took back to our shack. Rum was so suspicious he stayed up all night clutching a baseball bat. He’d jump a mile if Alex so much as rolled in his sleep.”
“Pleasant days,” Alex said. “And he still doesn’t trust me.”
“I trust you, I just don’t like you.”
Rum frowned his distaste at Alex, who returned it in kind. The staring match brought about a sudden quite. At once they realised how loud they’d been speaking.
A bell over the entrance rang out. Hand in hand an elderly couple entered with a titter of laughter. They stopped at once to sight the miscreants in the rear corner. The old woman’s halt settled into a slow retreat, but her husband waved a reluctant hand as if to let it slide.
“Well, that oughta do it for us,” Rum said.
Even though the couple ordered their food and sat down anyway, their hesitation to enter had caught the manager’s attention, and lowered his tolerance level. He remained fixated on the tramps until the next customer entered.
It was a short, skinny middle aged man, drunk and staggering. From the way the manager greeted him he appeared to be a regular customer. From the way he grimaced at the tramps then whispered close to the manager’s ear, he might have been a valued one. Whatever he said, it looked like a marching order.
Almost at once the manager’s shadow fell over their table. He acted discretely at first, sweeping up crumbs and spilt soup they hadn’t yet eaten. Like a cat lashing for a rat his gaze landed upon Rum.
“So, did you enjoy your meal? You’ve nurtured it so long I imagine it must be too much for you.” He sighed as if building to something. “I’ve been accommodating to you. You should know we don’t usually take in … your kind like this. It looks like things are about to pick up and you’re making the guests nervous. So if you wouldn’t mind…”
Henry reacted first, pronging to his feet and stuttering apologetically to the door. Alex followed with a gentle sigh. With Sierra at his back, Rum didn’t budge.
“Other guests?” he cried. “There’s only three people!”
“You smell like shit!” a new voice cried from the background. “And you look like shit! Stupid bums.”
It came from that skinny little drunk man. He sat hanging off his chair with a damning fist raised.
Rum pushed past the manager. “You think you’re better than me you little son of a bitch!? Come here and say it to my face!”
The words reached him. Within seconds Rum and the drunk were locked hand to hand in combat with the manager scrambling to pry them apart. Out of pure cheek Sierra piled over Rum’s back, reached over the manager, and began smacking the drunk man‘s head.
All the while Alex and Henry watched this commotion through the open view window outside. By then the fight degraded into a display of tumbling and muffled threats. The manager’s threat came through loudest.
“We’ve called the police. They’ll be here any minuet! They don’t side with bums so you better leave now!”
Alex scrunched up at the words. They oozed with a familiar truth he knew all too well. When one is set against the other, police tend to side with wealth over the deprived. He found his fist tightening, mind racing with memories. He thought of charging back into the diner. He’d
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