Off Sides(9)

"I got your number," I reassure her.

We talk about mundane things while we work as there is just no opportunity for deeper conversation. I do find out that Danny has been volunteering here a few times a week since she was sixteen, which also leads her to confirm that she's a Boston native like me. Maverick bustles back and forth between the kitchen and dining area, bringing in dirty pots and serving pans. While the residents and street guests actually clean their own dishes and utensils at a washing station in the dining hall, the lovely duty of scrubbing the cookware falls to me and Danny.

After two hours of peeling potatoes, scrubbing pots and hauling garbage, I realize my back is actually a little sore. That surprises me because I'm a pretty fit guy. You can't play NCAA hockey and not be in top shape. I don't know how Danny does this twice a week and I'm finding myself respecting a girl for something I've never really experienced before in the opposite sex.

Dedication.

This is a crappy job and she actually volunteers to do it. It kind of humbles me.

I'm wiping down the last counter top and I look over at Danny. She's holding my sports jacket out to me. "You did great tonight. How about letting me buy you a beer?"

I put the cloth in the sink and take my apron off. Taking my coat from her, I drape it over my arm. I hold the other one out to her and she hooks her arm through it.

I smile down at her as she looks so freakin' adorable right now, her arm linked with mine. "I asked you out so the beer is on me."





CHAPTER 4




Danny



I'm impressed. Ryan has taken this like a champ. I fully expected him to pitch a fit when I told him we were riding the bus. I was ready for a tantrum when he saw the area of town we were in. And then I waited for him to bail when he realized we were working at a homeless shelter on our date. But he did none of those things.

Instead, the bastard kept a smile on his face and seemed to eagerly enjoy the work we were doing. And I say bastard because I also fully expected to finish this date tonight and we would go our separate ways. Now, I have to admit to myself I'm intrigued by him and more than a little attracted to him. I mean, I was attracted to him when I first saw him, but only in the way you see a really hot guy and think to yourself, “that's a really hot guy” and then you go on your way.

But now, I really want to know more about him. I'm attracted to him in a way I don't want to be.

I should have never asked him for a beer but here we are, back near campus and sitting in a popular hangout called Neely's. The waitress takes our order. I ask for a Bud Light and Ryan orders a Sam Adams and a plate of nachos.

"Nachos? Didn't that delicious bowl of soup satisfy your hunger tonight?" I tease him.

"I will agree that was one delicious bowl of soup we ate tonight, but it in no way was enough to fill me up."

I watch him frown after he says those words and his brow furrows deep.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

He shakes his head for a second, staring at the table. Then he looks up at me and my heart actually flips a little at the tortured look in his eyes. Now I'm concerned. "Ryan, what's wrong?"

"It's just...I make a flippant remark that the bowl of soup wasn't enough to fill me up. Then I order a plate of nachos. Those people back at the shelter...that bowl of soup is all they are getting tonight. I just realized..."

Our waitress arrives with the beers and sets them down. I'm glad for the slight interruption so I can collect my thoughts. Poverty and homelessness is not an easy subject to discuss.

"And you're feeling guilty." I don't ask it as a question but state the obvious. "Which is okay, Ryan. I feel that way too a lot of the time."

"I admire you a lot, Danny. Your commitment is...inspiring."

I take a sip of my beer and give a smile of thanks. "Well, the cause is a bit personal to me. My dad was homeless and he died out on the streets."

I'm not sure why I told Ryan that bit of personal information. I guess I didn't want him thinking that everyone had to be as involved as me. I didn't want him carrying guilt. And now he's looking at me...and his coppered eyes are swimming with...pity? No, that's not it. Sympathy. Definitely sympathy.

"What happened?" he asks softly.

I shrug my shoulders as if it's not a big deal, but it is. My dad fell down a spiral of despair and hopelessness that not even the love of his family could pull him out of. I took another sip of my beer and leaned forward with my arms resting on the table.

"My dad was a cop here in Boston. He worked narcotics and unfortunately, had a dirty partner. He got my dad dragged into stealing drugs from evidence and re-selling them on the streets. It was only a matter of time before they got busted and when they did, my dad's life was over for him."

It's funny how I can talk about him now without experiencing blinding pain because there was a long period where I couldn't. But as with all things, time can dull the hurt.

Ryan reaches across the table and takes my hand. He gently runs his thumb over the top while he holds it. "How did he end up homeless then?"

"His life just unraveled. First, he was fired. Although the DA cut him a deal to avoid prison time if he turned state's evidence against his partner and the other people involved, he was humiliated beyond repair. He started drinking... heavily. He became depressed. Ultimately, he started using drugs... hardcore stuff like heroin. Eventually my mom had to ask him to leave the house. He did but being unemployed and an addict, he ended up on the streets."