Jersey Six(10)

“What do I mean by bartering?”

“Yes … no …” She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “Never mind. I was just looking for spare change. Thanks for the hot dog.” Hugging her arms to her chest while denying him one last glance, Jersey fled in the opposite direction.

“I have change.”

Her steps faltered. The hot dog satisfied her hunger. She could figure out the next meal later, but she thought of Chris and wondered if he needed something to eat.

She turned.

He held out a twenty-dollar bill. “What are your benefits? What do you do in exchange for them?”

The girl who took off her clothes and gave away the last piece of her pride for a sack of groceries, a blanket, and a gently used pair of shoes had no good reason to withhold simple information with twenty dollars at stake. “A gym membership and a bed.” Her chin lifted, heavy with her life’s reality. “I clean a few things and help out where I’m needed.”

He slipped the twenty dollars into the pocket of her hoodie. Jersey stiffened, holding her breath. Lifting his hands up slowly, palms toward her, he offered her a soft smile.

Jersey asked for spare change. He gave her more than a buck or two. She felt foolish for her reaction.

“I’m Ian.”

“I’m not going to buy drugs with this, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

His head inched side to side. “I wasn’t.”

Lunch. Twenty dollars. A real smile. No judgment.

There had to be a catch.

“Well … again … thank you.” Her gaze bounced around to avoid looking at him and the way he studied her like Chris studied the pages of his books.

“You’re welcome. My name is Ian.”

She nodded, watching the cars just over his shoulder. “You said that.”

“I know. I’m just wondering how many times I have to say it before you tell me your name.”

Her lips betrayed her, letting the cute stranger pull a smile from her. “Jersey.”

“Jersey … good name.”

“No.” She chuckled, relinquishing eye contact to go with the smile. “It’s not. It’s a lazy name. It’s the name they give an abandoned baby from New Jersey.”

“Could have been Mississippi. You know, that poor kid who never gets to see their name in alphabet magnets on the fridge because some dimwit gave them a name with four S’s and only two S’s come in a bucket of those rainbow-colored magnets.”

People like him didn’t have conversations with her. For a long moment, she inspected him—his dark eyes, his gleaming smile, his relaxed posture.

“Are you a reporter?” she asked.

“What?”

“Are you doing a story on Newark’s homeless population? Are you wondering what’s going to happen to me when Marley’s shuts down and I have no place to go? Is that what you need? My story?”

“No. I—”

“An undercover cop? Are you going to offer me money for sex to see if I take it?”

Ian flinched, rubbing his neck while shaking his head. “No to all of the above. Uh … Marley’s? That’s the gym?”

Jersey kept her invisible shield held high. “Yes. You heard of it?”

“That’s…” Ian pointed in the direction of the gym “…where I’m headed.”

She squinted. “Why?”

On a soft laugh, he shrugged. “I’m not sure. To say goodbye to memories, I suppose.” His head circled slowly. “I just wanted one last look at everything before it undergoes this image rehabilitation. That’s what they’re calling it, correct?”

Jersey lifted her shoulders to her ears. She had no clue what politically correct term they used to justify running businesses into the ground and displacing poor people. “Maybe just walk by Marley’s. If I were you, I wouldn’t go in there.”

“No?” Ian’s head tilted to the side.

“Everyone’s in a shitty mood because of the closing. Not that the people there are ever particularly welcoming, but today they’d have no tolerance for someone like you popping your pretty head into the gym for one last look.”

Ian shared his easy grin. “You think I have a pretty head?”

“I think your hat looks warm.”

“I see … so popping my warm hat into Marley’s isn’t a good idea?”

“Not if you want to leave with your hat.” Jersey gave him a sly grin before pivoting and strutting back toward the gym. The wind blew her hood off her head. She tugged it back up, but it blew right off again.

“So you’re just going to eat half of my lunch from my favorite hot dog stand, pocket my twenty dollars, and leave me feeling vulnerable on the streets with my warm hat and pretty head?”

“Yes,” she hollered on a very uncharacteristic giggle. “Even if you have good taste in hot dogs.” Jersey tossed a flirty smile over her shoulder. At least it felt like that. She had no experience with actual flirting.

As she attempted to wipe the grin from her face, the scuffing of shoes behind her grew closer.

“Under Dog is still the best. All these years later … it’s perfection.”

“Ian, are you stalking me?”