Shelter for Blythe Page 2
“Just be honest with her. I understand where you’re coming from, but you’re right, you’re a hell of a man—and yeah, you’re overbearing, overprotective, and annoyingly macho, just like the others.” She smiled to let him know she was teasing. “Any woman, and especially Blythe, would be lucky to have you by her side. She’s lived a hard life, Squirrel. I’m guessing she couldn’t give a flying fuck about what a man looks like. She’ll be more interested in what he’s like on the inside. And you, my friend, are amazing. And from the little you’ve told me about her, exactly what she needs.”
“Thanks, Tiger,” Squirrel said. “I appreciate it.”
“You need anything, all you gotta do is ask,” she said.
“I know. And believe me, I won’t hesitate to ask if I need you.”
“Good. Now…did I tell you what Smokey did yesterday?”
Squirrel shook his head and didn’t even feel bad when he tuned Penelope out. All she ever talked about lately was her new pet and how amazing he was. He’d heard so many stories about how “Smokey did this…” or “Smokey did that…” that he was donkey-ed out.
All he could think about was Blythe. He liked her. She was funny and, based on the stories she’d told him about helping out others on the street, genuinely nice. Squirrel worried about her constantly. The sooner Blythe was off the streets herself, the happier he’d be.
Chapter Two
Blythe shoved the cell phone to the very bottom of her backpack and zipped it. She shivered, even though it wasn’t cold outside. Looking around, she mentally sighed. She’d gotten to the shelter too late tonight to get a bed. She totally understood why Tadd had said he didn’t like the shelters, but Blythe much preferred them over sleeping on the streets.
She’d thought her life was bad when she was living in the abandoned building with Tadd and his wife and dog, but she hadn’t realized how good she’d had it. Living on the streets sucked. Majorly.
Part of it was boredom. There was literally nothing to do. Oh sure, she could walk around and look for money on the ground, or try to scope out safe places to sleep, but for someone who was used to being busy from the time she got up in the morning until she went to sleep, having nothing to do was almost painful.
But mostly, life on the streets sucked because she never felt safe. Ever. Probably because she was never safe. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and it seemed as if everyone she met was waiting for her to screw up.
And she’d screwed up a lot when she’d first found herself homeless. She’d trusted the wrong people and had all her belongings stolen. She’d thought she’d found a group of people she could hang around with—because there was safety in numbers on the streets— but they’d ended up being a bunch of thugs who found pleasure in robbing others.
She’d tried to use some of the services that were available for the homeless, especially homeless women, but so far nothing had worked out long term. She’d gotten some clothes and even had an interview arranged, but the night before, she couldn’t get into the shelter and had to sleep under a trash bin. She’d missed her interview because she’d been trying to find a place to take a shower, without success.
Another time, her bag had been stolen while she’d been in the shower, and she’d had to cancel the interview once again. It seemed as if every time she tried to get help to get off the streets, something had transpired to keep her knocked down.
Some days, it took more effort to keep trying than to just succumb to the helplessness that seemed to permeate the air around the shelters and on the street.
Now, the closest she’d come to letting her guard down recently, and truly connecting with someone else on the streets, had been with Tadd and Louise. But they’d been hurt in the fire that had burned down their sanctuary.
That had also been the night she’d met Sawyer.
She’d seen him from across the road and had found herself heading toward him before she knew what she was doing. He’d reminded her of her very first boyfriend.
She’d been in the fourth grade and had the biggest crush on a little boy in her class. He was short, nerdy, wore glasses…and wanted nothing to do with her. All he was interested in was math and reading. At recess, he sat against the brick wall of the school and read. Blythe had tried to get him to play, but he’d ignored her. She’d had a crush on that kid for years. She’d never been attracted to the jocks and popular kids. There was just something about a guy who had a brain in his head that did it for her.
In high school, she’d dated the president of the chess club, who was also the third-chair trumpet player. Matt was hilarious and smart, but there had still been something missing. Oh, he was generous and funny, but when they’d graduated from high school, she hadn’t felt bad when he went off to the northeast to school and she’d stayed in San Antonio.
There had been something about Sawyer that had struck Blythe the moment she’d seen him. He was standing next to a fire truck and listening intently to the others around him. His gaze was fixed on the burning building as if it was talking to him. He’d pushed his glasses up on his nose a couple of times…and that had been that. She’d found herself leaving the corner she’d been hiding in and heading straight for him.
If anyone could help Sophie, Tadd, and Louise, she’d known it would be him.
He hadn’t blown her off, had listened to what she’d told him—then surprisingly, had given her his sweatshirt because she was cold. Things had gotten crazy after that, and Blythe had done what she usually did, faded into the background. She’d seen her friends rescued and had watched as the sanctuary she’d been living in burned to the ground.
It wasn’t until later, when she’d crawled under a bush in a park, that she realized there was something in the pocket of the sweatshirt she’d been given. She’d pulled it out from under her and stared at the expensive phone in disbelief.
Her first thought was that she needed to return it. But the firefighters were long gone by then.
It had vibrated a few times that night with incoming messages and texts. Blythe had felt so guilty for having the phone. She hadn’t stolen it, but she felt as if she had all the same. She figured that the firefighter would eventually deactivate the phone when he got a new one, but he hadn’t.
Instead, he’d started texting her.
Squirrel: Hey, pretty lady.
Squirrel: I’m Squirrel.
Squirrel: Real name is Sawyer.
Squirrel: You can keep the phone.
Squirrel: 2-2-5-5 is the unlock code.
She couldn’t believe that he was just giving her his phone. Figured there had to be more to it. But he continued to text her. Short little notes that Blythe found herself looking forward to seeing every day.
Finally, after a horrible day, and while she was lying in an alley, scared because she’d barely managed to hide from a group of thugs who’d wanted something she wasn’t willing to give them, she’d caved, unlocked the firefighter’s phone, and texted him back.
Squirrel: you’re insane.
He’d texted back immediately.
Squirrel: Blythe! Finally! I thought you were never going to talk to me!
And that was that. They’d talked for an hour that night. She offered to leave his phone at the hospital for him, but he’d told her to keep it. They texted until the battery on the phone was almost drained dry. He’d walked her through how to change the name so it didn’t look like he was texting himself. He’d told her she could charge the phone at any of the branches of the public library downtown. She’d teased him for some of the apps he had on the phone, and he’d teased her right back when she admitted she had no idea what Snapchat was.
By the end of the night, she’d felt almost normal. Almost forgot that she was lying on the ground in a foul-smelling alley, hiding from a group of men who wanted to rape and probably kill her.
Over the last couple of months, the feeling of safety and contentment only increased every time she talked to Sawyer. It was as if talking to him kept her in
a bubble of protection. She could pretend she was a normal woman, talking to a man she was interested in, and who was interested in her right back. But the second she hung up, reality was always a hard pill to swallow.
She wasn’t normal. She was homeless. Living on the streets. Everything she owned was in the bag on her back. She smelled. She was dirty.
And she really needed to ditch the phone and stop torturing herself by talking to Sawyer.
But she couldn’t. His phone was her lifeline. She’d used it several times to call the police when she’d witnessed things on the streets that she couldn’t ignore. And she’d used it to call Sawyer to tell him what had happened to his friends.
Blythe still felt awful for her part in what had happened to Milena and her friend. Yes, her involvement had ensured a little boy had been returned to his mother safely, but it wasn’t enough to assuage the guilt Blythe felt over telling a scary, psycho man where Milena was that night. He’d kidnapped Milena and her friend. Luckily, Sawyer had told her they were both fine, but that didn’t make Blythe feel any better.
And thoughts of Hope and her son Billy still tormented her. She hadn’t seen them in way too long. She had no idea where they’d gone, and the thought that they might be hurt or in trouble was excruciatingly painful.
Things had been stilted in her texts with Sawyer tonight, and Blythe knew why. She knew he didn’t like the fact that she was homeless. Hell, she didn’t like it. But she couldn’t accept his help. She should, she knew that, but she’d been burned in the past by someone who’d said he only wanted to help.
It was why she was on the streets in the first place.
But the more she got to know Sawyer, and the longer she was on the streets, the more she wanted to take him up on his offers. Would it be so bad to be in his debt? He wasn’t like the landlord who had promised to work with her regarding the rent, but then got tired of waiting for her to catch up with what she owed him. He was honorable. He was Sawyer.
Blythe shifted on the hard concrete, trying to get comfortable. She was extremely sore tonight. She’d walked for what seemed like miles, looking for Hope and Billy, but hadn’t had any luck in finding them. It seemed as if they’d fallen off the face of the earth. Now she was using her backpack as a pillow and had a piece of cardboard over her legs. She had wedged herself as far under the trash bin as possible, even though it stunk to high heaven. She’d found that, for the most part, people would leave her alone if she slept under the trash. The parks were the worst places to try to get a decent night’s sleep, even though they were the cleanest.
She’d just closed her eyes when she heard a scream from the other end of the alley.
Blythe was immediately awake. She could no more ignore a scream of distress than she could ignore a crying baby or child.
Shifting slowly so she wouldn’t make any noise, Blythe sat up. She unzipped her backpack and pulled out the phone she’d recently stashed. She dialed nine-one-one but didn’t hit send. Not yet. She needed to see what was going on first. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to Sawyer once again for letting her have his phone. She wasn’t sure she’d have the guts to check out what was happening without the reassurance that she could call the police and have them on their way within seconds.
Not willing to leave her belongings for even the minute or two it would take to investigate, Blythe shrugged the backpack onto her shoulders. Gripping the phone tightly in her hand, she eased down the alley toward where she could hear voices.
She’d decided to sleep in the more touristy part of downtown. It was risky, because while it might seem like it was the safer option, most nights it was dangerous from ten to two. The mentally unstable or simply bad people who hung out on the streets were more likely to try to rob or assault tourists for the money and jewelry they inevitably carried and wore.
Tonight was no exception.
At the entrance to the alley were two thugs Blythe knew well. They were part of the group that had chased her earlier that night. Dog and Tweek.
She had no idea what their real names were, but it didn’t matter. Dog was probably in his mid-forties. He was a little taller than her own five-seven, and wiry. Every time she’d seen him, he was filthy. His hands were covered in black dirt and his clothes were always torn and tattered. He had a bushy black beard that hit him mid-chest. Blythe had been disgusted by his rotting teeth the one time he’d cornered her and smiled cruelly.
Tweek was newer to the area. When she was hiding from the group earlier, she’d heard some of the other men talking about him. Apparently, he was in his early twenties and had shown up one day with a ton of drugs he’d stolen from his dealer. He was hiding out on the streets and had joined Dog’s group. They were happy to have him because it seemed he was able to charm some of the local prostitutes. The group had laughed at the memory of Tweek bringing the latest prostitute into an alley, and her horror when she realized that, instead of quickly servicing Tweek and making a few bucks, she was expected to service all five men.
Blythe shuddered, recalling what they’d done to the poor woman. It had made her all the more determined to get away from them—and to finally accept Sawyer’s help. She was too aware it could easily be her on the ground in an alley, being raped by Dog, Tweek, and their cronies.
She’d been on the verge of telling him earlier when they’d been texting, but she knew if she’d said something, he’d immediately want to come and get her…and she was still just barely vain enough to not want him to see her after she’d been sleeping under the trash bin. She’d let him know tomorrow after she’d had a chance to clean up.
A low voice brought her out of her musings and made Blythe remember where she was.
“Leave her alone.”
Dog laughed as he brandished a knife at the couple.
The man was wearing a gray suit and lavender tie to match his date’s dress. He was standing in front of her, one arm stretched out, as if that alone could keep her safe. The woman was wearing a pair of high heels and her light purple dress came to mid-thigh. The purse she’d been carrying was lying on the ground in front of the couple, open. The man’s wallet also lay on the ground. Dog and Tweek had obviously already gone through both and taken anything of value.
Blythe would’ve slipped away quietly at that point, even after seeing the look of lust on Tweek’s face. He was standing about four feet behind Dog, licking his lips as if he were starving and someone had just placed a full plate of food in front of him.
But it was the look on the man’s face that ultimately kept Blythe from leaving. Even from where she was standing nearly at the other end of the alley, she could see the desperation and fear. Not fear for himself, she was certain, but fear for the woman he was with.
He continued to keep himself between her and Dog and Tweek, trying to protect her. He was doing his best to back up, away from the danger, but every time he took a step, Tweek and Dog would close in, yelling at him to stay still.
Not even thinking about what being a snitch might mean for her if word got out that she’d been the one to call the cops, Blythe hit the send button on the phone. She kept her eyes on the situation in front of her as she quickly informed the dispatcher of what was happening and where they were. She clicked off the phone, even though she was instructed to stay on the line, and shoved it into the outer pocket of her backpack.
Knowing she needed to give the police some time to arrive, Blythe looked around frantically. She needed a distraction…and a weapon to protect herself. She knew without a doubt that Dog and Tweek weren’t going to take her interference kindly.
Seeing what she needed, Blythe stepped out of the shadows.
The movement must’ve caught Dog’s eyes, because she heard him shout, “There’s that bitch!”
Blythe palmed the broken bottle with one hand and picked up a long piece of wood with the other. “Leave them alone,” she called out, not moving toward them.
“Why don’t you come here and make us?” Tweek yelled.
Knowing she was going to piss them off, she yelled, “I’ve called the cops!”
“Fuck. Stupid bitch,” Dog growled.
He looked at his partner and, as if they shared a brain, they turned away from the couple and headed down the alley toward her.
“Run!” Blythe screamed at the man and woman, who were standing stock still where they’d been the entire time. But her single word was enough to break the man from his trance, and he spun, keeping himself between his woman and the alley and hurrying her away from the danger.
Blythe had time to be thankful he hadn’t tried to gather their belongings before fleeing. She’d seen idiots do just that. Show more concern over their material things than getting to safety.
As happy as she was that the couple had gotten away, even if she wished she had a man who would be willing to stand between her and danger the way the stranger had done, she now had to deal with a very pissed-off Dog and Tweek.
They were closing in on her quickly, and without taking her eyes from them, Blythe backed up. She was cornered in the dead-end alley, with nowhere to run. She tightened her hold on the bottle and the piece of wood, knowing they wouldn’t protect her much but refusing to drop them.
“If you wanted some of this, all you had to do was ask, bitch,” Tweek sneered as he palmed his dick.
Blythe wanted to gag but didn’t say a word.
“Where’d you go earlier?” Dog asked as he continued to stalk her. “We wanted to play.”
“Sorry, but I had better things to do,” Blythe returned.
“What’s better than a good fuck?” Tweek asked.
“I really have called the cops. You two better get on out of here before they get here,” Blythe told them in desperation.