Touch And Go - Aiden Bates Page 0,50
until Derek stopped short.
“Sure thing, sir.” He handed a shockingly thick wad of cash to the guy whose hands were dirty and trembled.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” The man bowed his head to both of us. Every time he thanked me, I grew an inch smaller. Why hadn’t I stopped in the first place? Well, I had shit-all to give him, for one. But was that all?
I was wracked with guilt as we walked away.
“White knight.” I shot Derek a wink to let him know I was joking, and he pushed me playfully with a growl. “Are you worried he’s going to spend it on booze?” I didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but genuinely curious.
Derek smiled. “So, what if he does? Don’t you spend cash on alcohol?”
“Yeah but…” I didn’t have an alcohol problem, a weakness that left me on the street. Of course, it didn’t matter. Once my time with Derek was finished and the “help” dried up, I would be as homeless as that guy.
“But what?” His tilted his head and stared like I was supposed to be able to put it into words, to make him understand.
“I don’t know. It’s different…” I groaned and rubbed my face. “Shit, maybe it’s not. But if he’s an alcoholic, and if his alcohol use keeps him on the streets, then it’s unethical to support that, right?” And since when was I spouting ethics? Since when was a bend or a slight fracture of the rules too much for my righteous soul? Since never. I was a hacker. I took information I needed whether it was mine or not and sold it to clients based on what they needed. I should’ve been no judge.
“First of all, he’s an adult, he makes his own choices. And if he’s an alcoholic, then his body could go into shock if he doesn’t drink, and then he ends up in my ER, I patch him up, but there’s nothing I can do about his addiction or his homelessness, and the emergency housing system is bullshit, so once he’s stabilized, there’s nothing else but to send him on his way to make room for gunshot victims and heart attack patients. Except this guy doesn’t have a home, so he’s back on the streets, still addicted to booze, nothing changed for him because he couldn’t get enough cash together today but buy the alcohol he needed to prevent it.”
Hmm. His words made sense. Maybe. “So…you’re basically paying him to not end up in your ER?” If that was the case, if he planned to keep the ER empty by paying off the homeless in DC, he was going to go broke.
He laughed and slapped my back. “You make it sound like I’m lazy!”
“Efficient, I guess.” And tonight, he’d saved one.
He stopped again, his smile aimed and potent, and my heart leaped as I turned to him. Was he about to kiss me? Right here in the middle of the street? No, he pointed with his chin over my shoulder.
“We’re here.”
The hole in the wall behind me was covered in Turkish lettering and it was impossible to identify its name, let alone recognize it was an ice cream parlor. I did a double-take and Derek beamed as he pocketed his sunglasses. “Trust me, it’s great.”
He was right, the place was incredible. We sat by the window in the front of the small cafe-style space, my heavy backpack between us on the bench. He jumped up and gave my shoulder a squeeze.
“I’ll order for us.” He looked at the words on the menu board then turned back to me. “Any allergies?”
“Yeah, I’m allergic to not making my own choices. I’m an adult, remember?” Jesus, this guy.
But he smiled, braced his hands on the edge of the table in front of me. “An adult who doesn’t like fun surprises?”
I could grumble and pout, be way too aware of how petulant and stubborn I sounded, but I waved him off to go order for me. Whatever. But he leaned over and held my shoulder tightly as he reassured me, and my resistance melted. “I’ve been coming here for fifteen years, and I want to impress you with the flavors. But you can come order with me if you want.”
I sighed and shook my head. “You order. I’m a fun adult who is into fun surprises and having fun.”
He left, and I leaned back to watch as he walked up to the counter and greeted a guy in a turban like