Chapter 9
“New Kid in Town”
The Eagles
~~~
A Very Clean, Very Cheap, No-Frills Motel Room,
On a Well-Lit, Quiet Street in the Safer Part of Town,
Showered, Dressed, and Ravenously Hungry.
JAKE SAT IN the room’s only chair, looking over a handout featuring local eateries and movie theaters. His stomach rumbled loud enough to have embarrassed him, had there been anyone in the room to hear. As it was, Dodger was in the small bathroom, showering and dressing.
“Hey,” Jake called out. “You about done in there?”
The bathroom door opened and Dodger emerged from a cloud of hot steam. The kid tried to look apologetic, but he couldn’t hold back his grin. “Sorry about bein’ so long. I ain’t had a hot shower in a while. Felt pretty good.”
“No problem. Are you hungry? Because I could really go for something to eat, myself.”
Dodger’s smile slipped away, and he took a seat on the edge of the bed nearest the bathroom. “I ain’t got no money, Jake, so how’s this gonna work? Am I runnin’ up a tab, or something?”
“Not exactly, but we can talk about it over a burger. There’s a diner just down the block.”
The boy chewed at his lip, a habit Jake had already observed several times, then stood, mind made up. “Okay. Guess I gotta eat. But I already owe you for the hospital and now this room, and I don’t like it. It ain’t safe bein’ in debt. Gives people power over you.”
“You have my word, Dodger. I will not exercise any kind of power over you.” He jerked his thumb at the door. “Come on. Let’s go get some food, and I’ll explain what I have in mind. We’ll see if it makes you feel better.”
The special of the day was an open-faced roast beef sandwich served on sourdough bread, soaked in rich, brown gravy. The side of mashed potatoes with even more gravy was probably overkill, maybe even literally for some, but it was mouth-wateringly good. Jake ate every morsel, but not as quickly as Dodger did. The boy plowed through everything on his plate, barely taking a breath between bites. Even the green beans disappeared. He wondered when Dodger had last eaten a solid meal.
As if reading his mind, the boy used a final chunk of bread to wipe up the last of the gravy on his plate, leaned back against the leatherette booth, and sighed with pleasure. “Been forever since I had anything that damn good.”
“Do you want some dessert?”
Dodger’s eyes lit up. “Really? I get dessert, too?”
“Well, I’m sure planning on some. I’m thinking a big slice of cherry pie, with ice cream on top. How about you?”
The grin that split Dodger’s face was all the better for having followed a long moment of disbelief. “Can I have the same thing, only apple?”
Jake signaled the waitress.
~~~
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, the two arrived back at their motel room, stuffed nearly to the point of pain, and—Jake, at least—noting that scarfing down a boatload of good food did not always provide an opportunity for serious discussions.
He sank down on the edge of his bed, groaning, and laughed as Dodger did the same. “I don’t know about you, kid, but I put away a lot more food than I’m used to.”
“You? Hell, that was more food than I usually get in a damn week.” His laugh had a bitter edge to it.
The discussion couldn’t wait any longer.
“Dodger? We need to talk now.”
All traces of the boy’s smile disappeared, leaving his eyes pinched and worried. “Okay.”
“First things first, then. How are you feeling?”
Dodger shrugged. “Feel pretty good, I guess.”
“You guess? Tell me the truth. How long has it been since you felt this good? No nausea, cold sweats, shakes? How long, Dodger?”
The boy fidgeted, shifting position on his bed slightly, and studying the wall behind Jake. Frowning, he seemed to dig back through his mind, struggling to maintain a neutral expression. Nonchalant. A life on the street had probably taught him this was safer than letting his thoughts show. It might even have worked with some people, but Jake wasn’t ‘some people.’
“Been a while, I guess.”
“You don’t have to guess. You know. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
Still not meeting Jake’s eyes, Dodger mumbled his reply. “Yeah. A long damn time.”
“I thought so. Now, tell me this. Are you craving drugs right this minute? Trying to figure out where you’re going to get your next fix, now that you’ve ended up a long way from your supplier? Having any withdrawal pains?”
A silent shake of the head.
Jake smiled, sending a heartfelt thank you to Azrael. “That’s what I thought.”
Dodger finally looked directly at Jake. “How come I feel this good?”
“Because you’re clean, kid. You aren’t hooked on any of it anymore.”
The boy stared, uncomprehending.
“Dodger, you don’t have to go back to that life. As of now, you’re addiction free.”
“Don’t screw with me, man. I ain’t been clean in four years. Why the hell do you think I was standin’ outside that diner? I wanted to find out how Donny did it.”
Tears pooled in Dodger’s eyes, but Jake knew better than to acknowledge them. The boy wasn’t ready for that kind of closeness, yet.
“You don’t have to ask Donny. Trust me on this. You’re clean.”
“For real?”
“For real.”
In spite of his efforts to hide them, a slide show of thoughts and feelings played out across Dodger’s face again, and came to a stop on Puzzled. “Something they did at the hospital? Is that what happened?”
“Close enough. The point is, you’re free. You can choose what you want to do with the rest of your life, and it doesn’t have to be working for people who will kill you if they see you talking to someone they don’t like the looks of. You don’t have to go back there. You don’t have to be a runner for street thugs. And you don’t have to be an addict any longer.”
Dodger wanted to believe him. Jake could see it in his eyes, but experience had taught the boy not to look for anything good coming his way. He scratched his head, stared off into the distance, then faced Jake, mouth a tight line. “What do I gotta do, then? How do I make any money at all? Not needin’ no drugs would be good, but I gotta eat and stuff.”
“That’s the next thing I want to talk about. Would you like a job?”
With a harsh laugh, Dodger shook his head. “Doin’ what, man? I ain’t even finished high school. And I don’t know how to do nothin’ but what I’ve already been doin’.”
“Which was?”
Dodger glared. “You know what. Ropin’ in other runaways. Helpin’ that shitheel in charge get ’em hooked, same way I was. It’s all I know how to do.”
“It’s all you need to know, in order to help me.”
Jumping to his feet, Dodger was ready to fight. Or cry. “You just told me I was clean, and I didn’t have to do this crap no more, and now I find out all you want is for me to do it for you? What the hell, Jake?”
Jake held up his hand. “No. I don’t want you to do the same thing. I want you to use the same skills—the ones you’ve already learned—to help me turn some of these lost kids around. You know how to work them, Dodger. You look like one of them, and you speak their language. They’re far more likely to talk to you than to me, at least at first.”
The boy sank back down on the bed, brow furrowed. “So, this is what you do? Try to help kids get back on track again?”
“Among other things, yes. No one deserves to end up living a life like the one you were trapped in—being an errand boy for gangs and thugs and working to support your habit. You’re lucky you’ve survived at it for four years. And that tells me you’re good at what you do. So, why not do the same thing, only with a very different goal in mind, and hopefully, very different results, as well?”
For a moment, he thought he had him, then Dodger sneered. “Hell, Jake. You got any idea what most kids think of Do-Gooders? You don’t even wanna know the kinda crap they call ’em.”
“I have a better idea than you might imagine. I’ve seen and heard it for myself. That’s why I know I can use someone like you. Think of it. You could be saving lives. Surely some of these kids are worth the effort?”
Still putting up a brave front, the boy scoffed. “I wouldn’t even know how to do something like that. I ain’t never done anything but the stuff you already know about, not since I dropped outta school.”
Jake wanted to find out more of Dodger’s story, but now wasn’t the time to ask him any personal questions. For one thing, they had ground rules to establish first.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll teach you exactly what you can and can’t do. You’ll have food, clothes, and a safe place to stay as long as you’re working with me. I can’t guarantee more than that, but stay off the drugs and work hard, and I’ll see that you don’t go without.”
“Food? You mean like three meals a day?”
“Yep.”
“And I ain’t gotta sleep in no alleyway? Or in some stinkin’ dirty crack house somewhere?”
“You’ll have a clean bed and a hot shower every night. Locks on the door. A bit of privacy, at least from the public at large. And I’ll have your back.”
A moment ticked slowly by as the boy digested what Jake had said. Then, swallowing hard, Dodger leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. He tried to gulp back his tears, but the dam broke, and his whole body shook as he burst into loud, wracking sobs.
Jake crossed the gap between their beds to sit beside the boy, patting his back while years of pent up misery spilled forth.
“Let it all out, Dodger. Let go of all the anger and fear and pain. It’s over. You survived, and you’re going to be okay, now. Give this a chance, and you’ll see.”
Scrubbing at his eyes, Dodger took a deep, shaky breath and sat up. “Okay, then. Tell me what I gotta do.”
Jake laid out an edited version of what he’d been doing in Atlanta for the past six weeks, only leaving out the parts about being an Emissary for the Archangel Azrael. When he finished, Dodger asked a few more questions, and Jake did his best to answer them as honestly as he could. While he wasn’t going to reveal anything Azrael wouldn’t approve of, he wasn’t going to lie to the boy, either.
Dodger needed to understand that the day-to-day work was just that. Work. And it often included long, frequently uncomfortable hours. Watching for those who needed help was a slow process. And trying to find a way to approach them that wouldn’t scare them off too soon could be very tricky.
Once he’d gone over the way he liked to handle that part—omitting anything about nudging, of course—Jake pulled out a map of Atlanta. They spent an hour poring over various areas where Dodger felt they’d have a chance of finding kids who were on their way to making bad choices on top of bad choices.
The hour grew late, and Jake called a halt to their planning session. He studied his new partner closely, noting nothing more troubling than the kind of fatigue appropriate to the hour and the evening’s emotional events.
“Let’s get some sleep, kid. Tomorrow, after breakfast, we’ll get you some new clothes and then figure out where we want to go first.” He stopped. Dodger was gaping at him like he’d grown another head. “What?”
“New clothes? Man, why don’t you just hang a sign on me sayin’ ‘Don’t Trust This Dude?’”
“You mean you plan on washing out those jeans and that army jacket every night?”
“I didn’t say we couldn’t get me more clothes. I just said they damn well can’t be new ones. The kind of kids we’re lookin’ for are a bunch of scared runaways. You want me to fit in with ’em, I need to look the same’s they do. Hell, yeah, I need more clothes, but we gotta get ’em at Good Will or Salvation Army—and you need to let me pick ’em out.”
With his mouth set in a determined line, Dodger grabbed the diner take-out menu and started scribbling a list of anything else he thought he might need. An hour in, and he was already on the job.
Jake grinned.
Well, whaddya know? Step back folks! We’ve got a new kid in town, and it looks like Atlanta’s about to undergo some serious changes.
There you have today’s offering.
Stay tuned for Chapter 10 tomorrow!
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