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“Thanks, Rob. It’s nice to have someone believe in me. I’m really glad we’re hanging out.”
It was a good thing Matt couldn’t see the blush burning his cheeks. No way he’d be able to hide his swelling crush face-to-face. They played another hour or so before the timer beeped on his phone. As much as he’d been feeling better, he’d promised himself he’d attend another meeting tonight.
“I’ve got to sign off, but I can’t wait to hear all about the new gig on Monday.”
“I won’t leave out a single detail. I promise.”
The plan, small though it was, made him feel ten feet tall as he drove downtown. The feeling convinced him he really didn’t even need the meeting, but he went. Other than Thomas, there were all new faces. Only two of the folding chairs were open tonight.
The dragon always did ride hard on a Saturday.
Robby didn’t have much to share tonight, but he introduced himself, then settled back to listen to others offer their truths.
One guy who started taking Oxy after a car accident and couldn’t stop.
A nurse who lost her license swiping pills from a locked cabinet.
A kid who stole from his parents to buy heroin.
Then a small, dark-skinned, androgynous person stood, clad in jeans and a gray sweatshirt. A twisted scarf covered their hair. But what struck him most were the big brown eyes, fringed with dark lashes. Those eyes looked older than time. “My name is Sara, and I’m an addict. The first time I took pills from a stranger was after my first night sleeping on the street.”
Robby’s heart sped up, knowing how the rest of the story would unfold.
Only, it didn’t. Sara clamped her mouth closed and retook her seat so quickly, the front legs of the chair lifted briefly from the floor.
He had to talk to her. Let her know he understood.
It took all of his patience to wait out the rest of the meeting, but as soon as Thomas called it a night, Robby made a beeline to her at the table with the stale coffee. Her eyes hardened instantly when she realized he’d sought her out.
“See something you like, doll?” The sharp edge in her gravelly voice reminded him of dozens just like it he’d heard over the years. The kind that said a good offense was the best defense.
He held up his hands. “I just wanted to introduce myself. See if you could use someone to talk to.”
She scoffed. “Talk, huh?”
“Yeah. And to make sure you had somewhere to sleep tonight.” How many nights had he wondered where he’d find a safe place to rest?
“You’re precious, but yeah. I stay at the Q-Center next door.” She cocked her head. “And no, I’m not inviting you to join me.”
“Q-Center?” She had to be talking about the place with the pride flag in the window he’d seen the other night.
Sara sighed. “Yes. Q. Like queer. It’s a community center—and a place to sleep sometimes for people who need it. A safe place.”
His gaze skittered across the room before focusing back on her. “A safe place might’ve made a real difference for me a few years back. I’d love to see it.”
The heroin-kid swiped a couple of cookies off the table before stalking off.
Sara watched him for a moment before glaring into her coffee cup. “I told you it wasn’t an invitation.”
“I don’t mean tonight. Tomorrow maybe? I’m not looking to make you feel unsafe in your home.” But something inside him practically shouted he needed to see it firsthand.
“Nothing is driving me out of there. Not you. Not anyone. They won’t let me stay in the women’s shelter anymore. Not since some asshole outed me as trans.” She gulped down more of the burnt brew. “It’s not safe at the men’s shelter. And the streets—”
“I know. Nobody is safe there.”
She gave him a skeptical once-over. “You know firsthand?”
He grimaced, and she didn’t wait for further confirmation. “Yeah. I see it now. You hide it really good, though. The hustle.”
