Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Just having someone by my side was surprisingly nice.
Nice enough that I felt a growing sadness in my chest as our feet smacked in the slush of the parking lot as we made our way back to the warehouse.
“You didn’t have to walk me all the way back.”
“You got a lot of cash on you,” Venezio said, shrugging his shoulders.
“Are you going to fight off these nonexistent muggers you’re worried about?” I teased.
“If I have to, yeah.”
He wasn’t teasing.
Of course he wasn’t. Because those big hands of his? They had scars all across his knuckles. This was a guy who wasn’t a stranger to physical altercations.
What was he doing volunteering at a homeless shelter?
Had he been a homeless kid too?
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why are you volunteering here?”
“What? I don’t look like a do-gooder?” he asked, lips quirked up.
I sidestepped that. “Were you a shelter kid?”
“Me? No. Parents didn’t do shit else for me, but they did keep a roof over our heads. Though, fuck knows how.”
So not a shelter kid, but clearly not from a good background either. Maybe he just wanted to give back to other kids who had it hard. Since no one had given that to him.
“Didn’t have anything else to do with the holiday season,” Venezio admitted. “Figured this was as good as anything.”
“You’re not close with your family?”
“Well, technically, I guess they’re kind of around. A little bit.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“They’re dead. Got ‘em cremated. Ashes are probably scattered around in the soot of the city somewhere.” My eyes must have widened at his coldness because a low chuckle moved through him. It may or may not have moved through me too—a delicious little shivering sensation. But we were just going to pretend that didn’t happen. “Did I shock you, darlin’?”
“Uh, well, it was a little… cold.”
“So were my parents. Trust me, they don’t need your sympathy. I once saw my old man kick a homeless guy because he lost the last of his money on some shitty sports bet.”
“Oh, wow. Yeah, that’s… awful.”
I’d seen plenty of cruelty toward fellow unhoused people when my mom and I had been struggling. People mocked, screamed at them to get a job, called them drug addicts and alcoholics, laughed at them, taunted them with food only to pull it away at the last second. The cruelty people were capable of never ceased to amaze and horrify me.
I wasn’t going to blame Venezio for feeling indifferent toward people like that.
“Yep. Descended from real scumbags. Anyway. You’re here. Get that money locked up,” he said, nodding toward the building.
“I will. Thanks for your unusual crowdfunding methods.”
“Not good at begging,” he admitted. “Much better at the whole intimidation thing.”
“And heckling. We can’t forget the heckling,” I said, getting his eyes to warm and that smirk of his to stretch just a little bit wider.
“I have my skills.”
“Thank you for coming with me today. I honestly really hate the bell-ringing part of this job.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because kids are innocent. They can’t do anything about their circumstances. And they all deserve the magic of Christmas, regardless of what difficulties their parents are facing. I can tolerate a couple weeks of discomfort if it means these kids have good memories to look back on.”
To that, Venezio nodded at me while rocking back on his heels.
“So, well, thanks for coming out. I appreciate it.”
“Why you talking like I’m not coming back?”
“You’re coming back?”
“Yeah, got nowhere else to be.”
“Oh, okay. Well… great.”
“Could sound a little more enthusiastic about it,” he said with a little chuckle.
“No, really! It’s great. I’m just trying to think what job might be best for you. Since I don’t think asking for donations is your calling.”
“Probably not. What about the trucks?”
“The trucks?” I asked, brows pinching.
“Figure the toys come in from somewhere. Probably on trucks or something like that.”
“No, they do. We order in bulk as much as possible to save money. There are some small shipments coming in. Until we get some bigger donations, it’s kind of drips and drabs.”
“You don’t get a big shipment?” he asked.
“We do. Well, hopefully. Usually right before the holiday. Which means everyone has to be here working overtime to get it all wrapped so we can get them out to the shelters in time. But unless things pick up soon, I’m worried that shipment might not come through.”
“It will.”
He sounded so sure. Almost firm. Like he wouldn’t allow the shipment not to come in.
“Well, I appreciate your confidence. And, yeah, I guess that would be a good job for you: unloading, sorting, putting in the bins to be wrapped, that sort of thing.”
“I can handle that.”
“Great. Well, I’ll see you around then,” I said, giving him a smile.
“Yeah, you will,” he said, pulling open the door.
Not for the first time, I wished for a rush of warm air. But it was just slightly less freezing inside as I walked through.