Rattled, стр. 14

All of the plates in the diner are filled with turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, green beans and a roll. The works. There are also pumpkin pies lined up on the counter, waiting to be served for dessert. My mouth waters. I’ve practically existed on ramen to save money for the tat, make rent and pay for luxuries like internet. I wouldn’t even be paying for that if I didn’t need it for research and emails with professors.

“We see Santa after this?” the little girl asked with excitement. She couldn’t be older than four or five.

The parents share a look and my heart breaks in that instant from the pain in the mother’s eyes. I’ve seen many families like them. They can barely feed their kids, let alone give them a magical Christmas, and every kid deserves a visit from Santa.

No, I don’t have money to spare, but I did save a lot by risking my tattoo on someone auditioning and not insisting on having a Reed do my tat. Pulling my wallet out of my bag I look at the bills, then take a deep breath and take out fifty dollars, leaving me with $200 from what I’d saved up, then I fish out an envelope and shove the money inside.

“You keep envelopes in your bag?” Alex asks.

“I write a lot of letters.” He doesn’t need to know who those letters are written to, or why.

On the inside flap I write “For Santa shopping”.

When the waitress comes by, I ask her to give it to the family in the back booth.

Alex pulls me back outside.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot that it’s Thanksgiving.”

Actually, I had to. Today was about my daughter turning six and getting a tattoo. “If you have someplace to be, no big deal. We can catch up later.”

He shoves his hands in his front pockets and blows out a breath. It’s white in the cold air. “What are you doing for dinner?”

I shrug. Maybe I’ll splurge and open a can of tuna.

Turning, I glance back at the window and to the booth where the family is sitting. I want to make sure they get the envelope and that the waitress doesn’t pocket it. It’s not that I don’t trust the waitress specifically. I just don’t trust a lot of people to do the right thing.

The mother is holding it, a hand is over her mouth and then she wipes a tear before giving it to her husband. He opens it and a small smile forms before he covers his wife’s hand with his own.

I did need that money, but they need it a hell of a lot more and for once, I’m glad I acted spontaneously.

“Roommates got stuff planned?”

I blink up at Alex.

“Roommates? Plans?” His blue eyes bore into mine as if saying Earth to Kelsey.

“No, they went home.” Each invited me along but I had the excuse of the job interview tomorrow. They thought it odd that I’d interview on a day when schools are closed, but I explained that Baxter was working with my schedule. Nobody else needs to know that Baxter doesn’t celebrate holidays. Any holiday, and tomorrow is just another Friday for them.

My roommates don’t know about the tat either, and probably never will. They don’t even know all of my past. Just that I’m an orphan and went to an art academy. It’s good enough for them, and thankfully, they don’t pry. Besides, I’d been to their homes and never felt comfortable. Families gathered around the table, being nice to each other because it’s a holiday, trying desperately to make me feel welcome, like one of them. Feigning interest in my school and future plans. It’s like being dropped into a foreign country where you don’t know the language and you’re without a translator. The job interview was my perfect out.

Alex grins and grabs my hand. “Come home with me.”

I pull back. “That’s okay. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“You can’t be alone on Thanksgiving, Kelsey.”

“I don’t exactly want to be with strangers, Alex.”

His grin grows large. “But, they aren’t. Not really.”

I narrow my eyes on him. Was he just trying to get me back to his place? He’s got to know that we may have started repairing a once burned bridge, but I sure as hell am not starting anything or getting involved with anyone at this point in my life.

“Come on.” He pulls me toward the subway. “Great meal, great guys. You won’t be sorry.”

I anchor my feet so he can’t pull me any further. “Alex, we haven’t seen each other in almost five years, and we were never friends.”

His head drops, and he turns around, facing me. “Yeah, I know.”

“Just go on home. I’ll go home, and maybe we’ll get coffee some other time.” I pull on my hand, but he’s not letting go. Normally this would send off alarms in my head and my gut, but it’s not.

His blue eyes study mine. “Come with me Kelsey.”

“Why?” What can this matter to him?

“I fucked up. I should have gotten to know you, and because I was a stupid ass with a chip on my shoulder, I didn’t.”

“It’s no big deal.” Though it was. At least back then, and the reason I hated him. But it’s not so much anymore. Not after today.

“It is to me.” He grabs my other hand so that he’s now holding both, like he doesn’t want me to get away or something. “Come back to my place, enjoy an awesome Thanksgiving meal, and we’ll talk.”

His phone dings and he lets go of one hand to pull it from his jeans pocket. After reading the screen, he grins at me and turns the phone so I can see. “See what awaits.”

There’s a photo of a turkey, or what I think is a turkey, mostly wrapped in foil. Beside it on the counter are bowls and all kinds of pots on the stove in the background. Thirty minutes and counting. Browning, carving