Making the Rent the Hard Way - 5

 

"Luca Montana?" the receptionist at Lake Westerden Realty said. "He's not one of our sales representatives."

"I know. He's a graphic designer who, from what I understand, was hired to do some work for your agency."

"Ah. Then you should talk to Ms Holden. She's the owner. Let me see if she's available."

Ms Holden was. She came out to meet me in the waiting room, then took me back to her office. When we were seated, she asked the obvious question. "Why are you interested in Mr. Montana?"

"He's missing and I've been hired to find him."

"By whom?"

"I'm sorry. Client confidentiality and all that. The same, I'm sure, as why you wouldn't reveal who was interested in buying a specific piece of property without their say-so."

She smiled. "Understood. What information do you need from me about Mr. Montana?"

"Why did you hire him?"

"I didn't, actually. I was interviewing him about redesigning our advertising brochures and coming up with a new logo for my business." She handed me one of the present brochures and I could see why. It was very mundane. "With so many Realtors in the city, now…" She shook her head. "I swear they're popping up like fleas on a dog. Sorry. Probably not the best analogy, but you get the picture. Anyway, I decided it was time to upgrade to something much more professional."

"And he came up with a design that you liked?"

"Yes and no." Her mouth tightened. "He had several ideas that he sketched out for me on our first meeting. I chose three and asked him to develop them. That's the last I heard from him."

"This was when?"

She checked her calendar. "Three weeks ago yesterday. I've called several times since then but only got his voicemail. Or I did until I got messages that his mailbox was full."

"Did you get any sort of feeling while you were talking with him that something else might be on his mind?"

"You mean, did he lose his concentration occasionally?"

I nodded.

"Not at all," she told me. "He was very professional during the entire interview—asking the right questions, taking notes on my answers, and, as I said, coming up with ideas. I got no sense that he might have been worried about anything other than would I like his suggestions or not."

"All right. Thank you for talking with me."

"I hope you find him and that whatever's going on with him is personal. You know, like a sick parent he suddenly had to go take care of. Not that I'd wish that on him, because I don't. He seemed like a very nice young man, but it would be better than the alternative, like he was attacked, or…" She shrugged.

"That's what I intend to find out," I replied. I thanked her again, asked her to let me know if she heard from him, then left.

I returned to my office just long enough to pick up the file I'd started on Luca, which included the folder Farnham had given me on him and the notes I'd taken during our discussion. From there, I went home since it was almost six, meaning dinner time, as far as I was concerned.

I tossed together a quick tuna thing with mayo and tomatoes on a couple of English muffins, topped them with cheese then broiled them. While I ate, I read Luca's file one more time. Nothing in it popped out at me. Not terribly surprising since all the info came from Farnham, who didn't seem to know all that much about his 'friend', if that's what Luca really was to him. There was no list of who Luca hung out with, nothing about his family—all things a real friend would know.

With that in mind, I knew the first thing I had to do in the morning was run background and credit checks on Luca. But that was then. Right now, I needed some down time so I'd have a working brain tomorrow. I turned on the TV, found a couple of shows I could tolerate, then, when they were over, went to bed.

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 4

 

My first order of business was to get the money Farnham had paid me into the bank—which I did. From there, I went to the mom-and-pop store to set up the security cameras and show my client how the system worked. He was happy enough that he paid me on the spot, meaning a few more pennies in my pocket

Back at my office, I wrote out a check to the landlord, sent it off, then settled down to figure out how to find Luca Montana.

My first two steps were obvious—visit Luca's last known address, then the company that he'd, presumably, been doing some sort of design work for.  

The high-rise where Luca had lived was a sprawling complex taking up half a city block. His apartment, from the address Farnham had given me, was in the center building. Luca's name was still on the list of tenants in the entryway. Unsurprising, I figured, since he'd only been missing for three weeks, according to Farnham. I pushed the buzzer, not expecting to get an answer—which I didn't. So I used the time-honored ploy of pushing other buttons until some idiot buzzed to let me in without asking who I was.

The first thing I did when I was in the lobby was check the mailboxes. Luca's was crammed full—with a note from the postal worker on the front saying he could pick up the rest of his mail at the local post office.

I took one of the elevators up to the tenth, and top, floor where his apartment was located. He lived at the end of the right-hand hallway in 1012. I knocked, waited, then knocked again. No one came to the door, and no one popped their head out of the adjoining apartments to see who I was or to tell me Luca wasn't home. Not too surprising since it was early afternoon and most of the tenants were undoubtedly at work.

It took a couple of minutes—and my trusty lock picks—for me to get into the apartment with no one being the wiser. It was nice, a hell of a lot better than my two-room place. The living room windows were large, with a view of the lake and downtown Westerden. The furniture was contemporary—steel, leather, and glass—and dusty. There were two bedrooms, one obviously Luca's with a king-size bed, dresser, and nightstands in basic black. The second one held a smaller bed and dresser and was obviously meant for overnight guests.

I checked his bedroom closet. If he'd taken off willingly, it looked as if he hadn't packed much in the way of clothes, since there were no empty spaces—the same with what was in the dresser. Sure, he might have packed light, but who doesn't take their personal items, like a razor, toothbrush, and combs, which were still sitting in the bathroom?

Going into the kitchen, I opened the fridge. While nothing there was a science experiment…yet…it was obvious he hadn't been eating meals here recently. One sniff of the milk in an opened carton told me it was well past its sell-by date.

Having established that Luca hadn't been in the apartment for a while, I began searching to see if I could find anything to tell me why he was missing. I figured there was a good chance Farnham had already been through the place. He was a shifter, after all, and if he'd been here even once, it would have been no problem for him to get in again any time he wished—without coming through the door since shifters can teleport into a room if they'd seen it previously or had an image of it.

I started with Luca's desk. It was large, with a state-of-the-art computer and peripherals. I quickly discovered there was no way I could get past the password protections he had on it. A hacker, I'm not. Going through the desk drawers netted me nothing—mainly because, other than the usual pens, pencils, and other normal office supplies, there was nothing else except some empty file folders in one drawer. It appeared that someone had beaten me to it as far as searching the desk. Even the folder marked "Bills Paid" was empty.

"Farnham?" I muttered, "or someone else? Did Luca take whatever was in them when he vanished?" Not questions I could answer at the moment.

A search of the rest of the place netted me zilch. There wasn't even a safe—and I looked in every conceivable place where he could have hidden one. I might not be a rich and famous private investigator, but I do know my business when it comes to doing a search. 

With nothing gained, and since it was getting late, I left the apartment complex, heading to the business where Luca had been hired to do…whatever.

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 3

"Not at all," Farnham looked incensed. "As I said, he and I are friends. I'm worried about why he's gone missing and would like him found."

I half expected him to say "dead or alive", but he didn't. "How long has it been since you last saw or spoke to him?"

Farnham frowned momentarily before replying, "Almost three weeks. I called him to let him know I had a project for him. He promised to come by my restaurant the next morning. He never did."

"That would be where—and what?"

"My restaurant? The Waterfront After Dark. I presume you've heard of it."

I had. It's a bar slash restaurant catering to the shifters of the city, although anyone is welcome who can afford its prices. It sits, unsurprisingly, on the edge of Lake Westerden, the city's namesake, and from the outside it looks like it's been there since the city was founded over a hundred years ago. I've never been inside, but from what I've heard, the interior is dark and cozy in a sleazy way befitting its name. The food, however, is supposed to be top notch.

I scanned the information Farnham had put together on Luca Montana. He was thirty-one, a free-lance graphic designer, single, and lived in a high-rise complex in the fancy part of town. There was more, but I'd look at it later, if I took the case.

"What did you want him to do for you?" I asked.

Farnham started to reply, stopped, then said, "I needed a new design for my advertising campaign."

Uh-huh. That was not what he was going to say at first. No way I'll get the truth out of him, though.

"Is he who you usually use for that?"

"No," he replied. "I was unhappy with the company who had been handling it and figured I'd give Luca a shot to see what he'd come up with."

Why didn't I believe a word he was saying? Maybe because he'd hesitated once too often while telling me something. I'd bet my bottom dollar he and Luca were no more friends than Farnham and I were. And whatever he'd wanted from Luca, it had nothing to do with advertising. Not that I wouldn't take the case anyway. My interest was piqued, and, on a very practical level, I needed the money.

"Before we go any farther, you should look at this," I told him, handing him a copy of the contract I had clients sign, and a list of the various costs for my services.

He read it through, nodded, and signed the contract, then said he'd rather pay my retainer in cash instead of using his credit card. Another "what the hell" moment, as far as I was concerned, not that I was about to turn down the cash. When he counted out five hundred dollars, I felt it implicit on my part to point out that it was twice what I required for the retainer.

"I suspect it will be difficult to find Luca," Farnham replied. "The extra is an incentive not to give up. According to the contract, you'll be sending me weekly bills and reports. I'll have Mr. Bracco"—he nodded toward the bruiser—"drop by with the payments."

"All right." I put the money in the desk drawer for the time being, relieved that I'd be able to pay the rent for at least one more month. Then I had him fill out another form with all his pertinent information.

With that completed, Farnham thanked me for taking his case, then he and the bruiser left.

'I Hunt by Night' is out.

 I Hunt By Night

https://www.jms-books.com/edward-kendrick-c-224_229/i-hunt-by-night-p-3534.html 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08LC2HMD8

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/i-hunt-by-night

 

GENRE: Gay Paranormal Erotic Romance
LENGTH: 34,556 words
RATING:

My name is Lucas Barrett. I was human, once, and lived the normal life of a bartender in New Orleans. Then I met Justin and everything changed.

Now I'm a vampire and I detest humans. Am I jealous of them? Perhaps, but it's more than that. To me they're vermin infesting the world and I intend to do what I can to eliminate them.

Of course I need to be careful. If I'm caught, I'll be declared a rogue and every vampire will have me in their sights. I am careful, or so I thought, until Axel appeared. He's also a vampire, and sexy as hell. It seems he's been watching me when I go out to hunt. Luckily for me, he feels the same about the humans or I'd be dead now. Truly dead.

The attraction is there, and our shared desire to do something about the humans. Can we succeed without being caught and destroyed? Only time will tell.

EXCERPT:

The fourth day, no, night ... I have to stop thinking of them as days. There are no more days for me now, only nights.

Be that as it may, that evening I awoke with the usual hunger that drove me down to the kitchen. This time, however, I put on my jeans, first. I wasn't up for another confrontation with Justin. If it happened I might let my anger out, physically, which I knew wouldn't be my smartest move. He was much older than me and undoubtedly a hell of a lot stronger. Not that I wasn't tempted.

I took the stairs two at a time, flung open the refrigerator to grab a blood bag, and tore into it as if I hadn't drunk in a week. Dropping it onto the counter when it was empty, I got another one and drained it before putting both of them in the trash.

"Feeling better," Justin asked laconically from the doorway.

I whirled to glare at him. "You had no right!" I snarled.

"What does right have to do with anything?" he replied calmly. "We're vampires. We do what we want as long as we don't reveal our existence to the humans."

"So if I wanted to kill you for what you did to me, I'd be within my rights to do so?"

"First, you couldn't. I'm ten times as powerful as you. Second, even if you succeeded you'd immediately be designated a rogue and every vampire in the area, no, in the country, would be after you." He smiled maliciously. "When they caught you, and they would because you're too young to know how to hide from them, they would make certain your death was extremely painful."

I wanted to punch the smug look off his face. Instead, I turned to walk swiftly away, calling over my shoulder, "You never intended to fuck me, did you?"

"Of course not," he replied. "I don't do men."

I'd said that in anger, figuring he'd admit he would have because he at least found me interesting as more than a companion for the next year. Whirling around to look at him, I asked, "Then why the hell didn't you pick up some woman?"

"They may be fine in bed, but as housemates they're a royal pain in the ass. They either expect to be catered to hand and foot or they try to take over, bustling around cleaning and rearranging things and ..." He shook his head.

I almost laughed. Not because I found that funny, but because at least in that he and I were in agreement. I'd grown up with a mother who ran roughshod over me and my father. The most important thing in her life was a clean house and God help us if we left a sock under the bed, a water-ring on the coffee table, or crumbs anywhere in the living room while we were watching TV.

"I see you agree with me," he commented.

"Reading my mind?" I snarled.

"It could have been your body language or you're very expressive face."

"But it wasn't."

"Not this time, Lucas. I try not to pry but occasionally it's necessary. I had to find out how much it bothered you that I'm not gay."

"I don’t give a damn one way or the other, although it's going to be a long, dry spell since you aren't. It's the idea that you used the fact that I am to get me to come home with you that pisses me off."

"Would you have, otherwise?"

"I, umm ... Probably not. You could have compelled me to," I pointed out.

"True, but I didn't."

"In a club full of willing men, why did you choose me?"

"I told you, the first night, you're young and healthy. The fact you're not some big bruiser also played into it. I learned a long time ago that men like that tend to think they're better than everyone else because of their size."

I could see his point. I'd run into a few of them in high school. They would bully smaller guys like me for the fun of it. I was a slender five-nine which made me the perfect target. I'd bulked out since then, in order to protect myself, but I'd never be synonymous with tall and athletic. Not that it seemed to bother the guy who'd hired me to tend bar at the club. As he'd said at the time, there were bouncers to handle troublemakers.

Thinking of that reminded me. "What about my job? They must miss me by now. At least I hope they would," I added dryly. "And my apartment? The rent's due in a week. If I don't pay it, chances are the landlord will toss my stuff in the street. He's not big on people who pay late."

"Tell me where it is and I'll get your clothes and anything else you think you want to keep. Not the furniture, though."

"Yeah, well the furniture's mostly from a secondhand shop so I can live without it. If I come with you ..." I looked hopefully at him.

He considered the idea and nodded. "If you've calmed down, we can do it tonight."

"Let's say I'm not about to try and strangle you at the moment and leave it at that," I replied.

He chuckled. "Tomorrow or next week is another thing?"

"You never know." I smiled, briefly.

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 2

"Mr. Warner?" the man asked. When I admitted I was, he said, "A pleasure to meet you."

That set off my radar. No one starts a conversation with a small time PI by saying that. At least, no one I've ever run into.

"And you are?" I asked him.

"Richard Farnham." He looked around then gestured to my office. "If you don't mind."

"That's fine. I'm not sure your bruiser will fit in there with the two of us. It's pretty small."

Farnham chuckled. "He'll stay where he is."

I nodded, taking Farnham into my office. When we were seated—me at my desk, him in the only other chair—he said, "I want to hire you to find someone, Mr. Warner."

"Please call me Cade." He nodded, so I asked, "Is he, or she, human or otherwise?"

He smiled. "I've heard you have the ability to know who's who or who's what."

"I do. I know you're a shifter. Gray wolf?" He nodded. I smiled wryly. "Not that my ability had done me much good except as a party trick, but that's neither here nor there. Who did you lose?"    

"A…friend of mine by the name of Luca Montana," Farnham said. I wasn't happy about the slight hesitation before he said "friend", but I kept my thoughts to myself for the time being.

"Like the state," I said.

"If you mean the spelling, yes," Farnham replied. "He's far from being a cowboy, however."

"With a first name like Luca, that doesn't surprise me. Why are you looking for him?"

"My reasons are personal. I'm willing to pay well for your services, if you'll take my case."

Given my current financial problems, that definitely sparked my interest. "I'll need to know details, like his address, where he works—"

"He's self-employed," Farnham said, interrupting me. "He'd just started working on a new commission for a client when he went missing."

"Okay. I'll need to know who it was for. Since you say he's a friend of yours, I'll need a list of his habits, as much as you know—where he hangs out, who his other friends are, anything else you can tell me. I'd also like a picture of him, if you have one."

"I do. I came prepared." Farnham snapped his fingers and the bruiser came into the office. I was right. With him there, the room felt half its size. "Give me the folder," Farnham said.

The man took it from the bag he had slung over his shoulder, handing it to Farnham, who handed it to me. Then the bruiser went back to—guarding, I guess—the hallway door.

The first thing I looked at was Luca's picture. He was a handsome man with very dark auburn hair, amber eyes, and a smile that probably melted a lot of female hearts. 

"Shifter or human?" I asked Farnham. 

"Red wolf shifter."

"Interesting, considering that true red wolves are an extremely endangered canid species." I shot Farnham a hard look. "Is that why you want me to search for him?"

 

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 1

 

Ever have one of those days when you wonder why you even bother to get out of bed in the morning? If you have, you know where I'm coming from.

To start with, Carol—my girl Friday, as I affectionately thought of her—up and quit on me. She called this morning—Wednesday, to be exact—just as I was fixing breakfast, to say she'd been going crazy with nothing to do, so she'd gone looking for another job and found one.

Things had been slow and that's the truth. I think maybe it's because people are looking for detectives like the ones they see on TV—tall, dark, and handsome. Sexy. They want to walk into a fancy office suite and see a buxom woman at the front desk, then be taken into an office that looks like something out of an architectural magazine to talk to a suave dude who reminds them of James Bond or Remington Steele. I wouldn't mind if my agency was like that. Hell, I wouldn't mind if I was sexy. It might help. But I'm just your average Joe, running a now-one-person business.

So anyway, there I was, wondering where I'd find another gal willing to work for cheap as my secretary slash receptionist. Probably nowhere, but I had to at least make a stab at looking.

As soon as I got to my office, I called to put a Help Wanted ad in the local papers. Then, being at very loose ends at the moment, I sat down at my computer to check the state of my finances. I knew they were bad, but when I saw exactly how bad… Maybe I could have dealt with it if the first of the month wasn't coming up, which meant I had to pay rent. A fast bit of math told me that at the moment, it was the rent or eating, and, like most people, I do like at least one meal a day. That was looking very iffy right now if I wanted to keep my agency alive.

I had two cases I was working on. One was the sleazy 'is my husband playing around?' type, which I hate, but it does bring in the pennies. The other one was setting up security cameras for a new client so he could stop shoplifters in his mom-and-pop grocery store. I'd spent several nights on the first one. Said husband probably was cheating on his wife—I would, if I were him—but not with his business partner like the wife suspected. So far I hadn't been able to get any photos of him with anyone else in compromising positions. He and the business partner had gone to a local bar after work one evening, but he'd gone home right after that. Setting up the security for the shopkeeper would happen this afternoon.

Disgusted, as I did the math again and came up with the same answer, I wondered, not for the first time, if I was in the wrong business. When I'd started out two years ago I had dreams of being another Sam Spade or Phillip Marlow—or Sherlock Holmes, as if. That was not happening.

I leaned back, staring up at the ceiling of my tiny office, when I heard the door from the hallway open. I spun around, got to my feet, and went to see who was there.

A huge man was framed in the doorway as he looked around. When I say huge, he made Dwayne Johnson look like a ninety-pound weakling. I was about to greet him when he turned to say to someone, "It's safe, boss," then stepped into the waiting room.

A moment later a well-dressed dude about my age—meaning in his early thirties—came into view. He had black hair, a small mustache, and dark brown eyes under thick eyebrows. Even though I'm human, I knew he wasn't. I can sense shifters a mile off if I can see them. It was a good talent to have—and, as far as I know, a unique one for a human.

 

 

Sing for Their Supper - 68

  

Tuck and his group returned to the theater late that afternoon with three extra kids, Ira, Zeke, and Callie—a rather plain girl with a remarkable voice.

 

The company was quick to make them all feel at home, the girls helping Callie get settled in with Dena. The guys decided it would be easier on Zeke and Ira if they shared rooms with DJ and Mace. "That way, you'll get to know at least one of us before the madness sets in," Ricky told them.

 

The group decided to eat supper down by the lake, so everyone pitched in to make sandwiches and a salad.

 

"This is…nice," Callie said to Dena as they sat together on the shore.

 

Dena smiled. "You don't sound sure."

 

"I keep thinking I'll wake up and find myself in some alley, like always."

 

"Yeah. That's no fun. But this is real. Honest. So relax. Okay?"

 

"I'm trying to. Will we get to see the show tonight?"

 

"I'm sure they'll squeeze you in somewhere," Ricky said.

 

"Even looking like this?" Callie gestured to her worn shirt and pants.

 

"I've got something you can borrow until Peg brings in another load of donated clothes," Jolie told her.

 

"Peg?"

 

Jolie and the others went on to tell the new kids who else was involved with the theater. By the time they finished doing that and eating, it was time to get ready for the night's performance. When they got back to the cabins, Keith was there. He told the newcomers they could stand with him at the rear of the auditorium to watch the show—which they did.

 

*****

 

When it was over and everyone was back at the cabins, Zeke seemed downhearted.

 

"What's wrong," Mace asked.

 

"I'll never be as good as you guys, so I'm going to end up back where they found me."

 

"Naw. Trust me. If they can keep me around, they'll keep you, too, unless you can't sing." Mace smiled at Zeke. "And you can, or we wouldn't have picked you in the first place."

 

"But what if I can't act?"

 

"That's what I thought when I first started," Mace told him. "If Keith's anything like Tuck, he'll show you how to feel the character, as it were, even if you're only in the chorus."

 

"And that's where I'll be right now, I bet."

 

"Undoubtedly," Sam said. "You, Callie, Ira, and whoever we find tomorrow. Trust me. There's nothing wrong with that. It'll let you get your feet wet before we move on to whatever show we do after Peter Pan."

 

"Feel better now?" Mace asked.

 

"Yeah. I do. Thanks."

 

"No problem." Mace yawned. "Bedtime, I think, at least for me."

 

"For all of you," Vin told them. "Snap, snap."

 

"Yes, Daddy," Ricky replied, grinning.

 

"He's not really, is he?" Ira asked Sam.

 

"Anyone's dad? Nope," Vin replied before Sam could. "Leastways not that I know of."

 

"You'd make a good one," DJ told him.

 

"I'm trying, with you guys. But that's neither here nor there. Get. To. Bed. Now."

 

And they did.

 

*****

 

The next morning, Tuck took Evie, DJ, Ricky, and Dena into the city while Keith worked with the others, including the three new additions to the company. That afternoon, two other kids became new members of the theater—Birdie, as she called herself, an eighteen-year-old who had been on the streets for three years, and Shade—"Because I'm hiding in the shade so my old man don't find me". That was all he'd tell them about himself, which was no problem as far as the others were concerned. As Ricky put it, "We totally get it, man. We're good."

 

And so the Vale Lake Theater added five more actors to the roster, and a permanent director, because Keith decided to stay on.

 

Keith was right when he'd told everyone, "There will be growing pains, but the joys of being one large family working together will more than make up for the small problems that we'll face from time to time."

 

*****

 

As Tuck said to Brent late one night while they got ready for bed, "We might never have kids of our own, but it really doesn't matter now. We've got a theatre full of them."

 

"And we love each and every one. So, yeah, they may not be ours by adoption, but damned if they aren't ours in every other way that counts."

  

The End

 

 

Sing for Their Supper - 67

 

"Evie, one more time, please," Keith said.

 

Evie stood by the piano, sheet music in hand. She sang along while Vin played "I've Gotta Crow".

 

"Now you, Dena."

 

"He is auditioning us—or them," DJ said quietly to Ricky as they listened from seats in the auditorium.

 

"Because he doesn't know us. Yeah, he saw the show last night, but that only tells him how we did with those characters and those songs. I'm betting he's already decided on Evie for Peter. She's got that boyish thing going. But he's got to make certain. Dena or Jolie could surprise him."

 

DJ nodded. "Want to know my bet? I'm going to be John, because I'm the shortest guy."

 

Ricky chuckled. "No bet, I'm afraid. But when you think about it, your size won you the starring role in Oliver!, so you really have nothing to complain about."

 

"True."

 

"Very good, Dena," Keith told her when she finished the song.

 

"Thank you. Can I ask a question?"

 

"Of course."

 

"Is Peter going to be flying up there?" She pointed above her.

 

"Yes. Norm will come up with rigging to make that happen."

 

She sucked in a breath. "Then, if you're considering me for Peter, don't. I'm terrified of heights."

 

Keith nodded. "Thank you for telling me." He turned to Evie. "What about you?"

 

"They don't bother me at all. At least, looking over the edge of a tall building doesn't." She grinned. "I'm not sure I could walk along a ledge, but I've never tried, so who knows?"

 

"I'll remember that," Keith told her. "Ricky. Your turn."

 

"I think I'm too big to play Peter," Ricky replied, deadpan, as he climbed on stage.

 

"Ah. A smartass. I like that. I was thinking you'd make a good Smee. Now I'm sure of it."

 

"He's sort of a kiss-ass, isn't he?" Ricky said.

 

"Which makes you perfect for the part," DJ called out, laughing.

 

"Hey, now," Ricky protested. "Only when… Never mind. That's not anyone's business."

 

Keith ignored the interplay. He had Ricky sing one of the pirates' songs, told him he'd done well, then asked DJ to come up.

 

"John is me, I bet," DJ said.

 

"I'm afraid you're the only one who can play him. Not that you wouldn't be good at most of the male roles, but—"'

 

"I'm the shortest guy. Don't worry. I'm used to it." DJ glanced at Evie, smiling. "She told me once that Daniel Radcliffe, Tom Cruise, and Joe Pesci are all short, so I'm in good company."

 

"Indeed you are. I know you can sing. Well—" Keith looked at the others, "—I know all of you can sing. I just wanted to hear you singing solo on one of the songs from this show. Once I've listened to the rest of you tomorrow, I'll make my decision on who's playing which character. Then, day after tomorrow, I'll hand out scripts and we'll begin read-throughs. Now get out of here. Go have some fun. Pretty soon you'll be up to your ears in work, between rehearsals and doing Oliver! in the evenings."

Sing for Their Supper - 66

 

"What do you think?" Sam asked the next morning, leaning against the wall of a building, listening to a young man singing while using two tin cans as makeshift drums.

 

"He can't be more than sixteen," Roma said.

 

"So? He can carry a tune. Right?"

 

"Right," Ricky agreed.

 

Jolie nodded. "He looks rough, like he's been out here way too long."

 

"That makes it even more important that we talk to him."

 

"He'll take one look at us and figure we're yanking his chain. We should have worn old clothes," Jolie said.

 

"You three, wait here." Roma took off, not waiting to see if they obeyed. When she got to the boy, she stood for a few minutes, listening and watching. "You're very good," she told him after he finished a song.

 

"Thank you," he replied shyly.

 

She squatted down beside him. "Where did you learn to sing like that?"

 

"Church."

 

"I sort of figured, since two of your songs were gospel. Somewhere here in the city?

 

"No." He frowned. "Why do you care?"

 

"I was in your shoes, once. I spent ten years out here, trying to keep it together."

 

"You're kidding."

 

"Nope. I finally made it off the streets, thanks to a man who had faith in my abilities as a singer and actress. Same as them." She pointed to Sam and the others.

 

"What does that mean?" the kid asked warily.

 

"This man—his name is Tuck Williams—decided to start a theater and use homeless people as his actors. Well, mostly homeless. He brought in two professionals because there weren't enough of us. Now, we're trying to expand the company."

 

"What kind of theater?'

 

Roma laughed. "Not what you're probably thinking. We're legit. Right now we're putting on Oliver!. Have you heard of it?" When he shook his head, she gave him a brief idea of the plot. "It's a musical," she said when she'd finished.

 

"We did one of those at the church. A Christmas thing. I was an angel." He sighed. "That seems like a long time ago."

 

"Before you ran away?" she asked him.

 

"Yeah." His mouth tightened. "Don't ask why."

 

"I won't. Would you like to meet my friends?"

 

"I guess."

 

Roma gestured to them, then asked, "What's your name?"

 

"Umm…Ira."

 

Roma had a feeling that wasn't his real name, but then, Roma wasn't her real name, so who was she to question.

 

"Guys," she said when the others came over, "This is Ira. I was telling him about the theater. Ira, meet Sam, Jolie, and Ricky."

 

"Hi," Ira said shyly.

 

"Hi. You're good," Sam replied. "You should join us."

 

"Did you tell him he'd have a place to stay?" Jolie asked Roma.

 

"Nope. I haven't gotten that far." She returned her attention to Ira. "There are two cabins. One for the guys, one for us females. They have kitchens, and the theater provides the food."

 

"For reals?"

 

"Yep, for reals," Ricky said. "You interested?"

 

"I…think so."

 

"You don't have to make up your mind right now," Roma told him. "We're going to be around all day, looking for other kids. If you stay here, we'll come back. I promise."

 

"No. I'll come with you. I mean, what have I got to lose? Right? This?" Ira waved his hand around, encompassing the grimy wall behind him and the people walking by, not even looking at him. "They don't see me, most of them. Maybe they'll stop for a minute if they like the song. Maybe they'll toss a quarter in my cup, but they don't see me. Not really. So, yeah, I'm coming with you."

Sing for Their Supper - 65

 

"What do you think of him," Ricky asked the other guys as they fixed supper.

 

"He seems nice enough. And he's not bossy," DJ replied.

 

"Sorta not. He did tell us who's going looking for more kids tomorrow, instead of asking us," Mace said.

 

"I guess."

 

"I don't think that's bossy." Sam chuckled. "Not like Gloria-bossy. He's just making the decisions he needs to, to get to know us better, as he said. He could have told us he was going to be the one looking for new kids."

 

"Lots of luck with that," Ricky said.

 

"And he probably knows it."

 

"True."

 

*****

 

"What do you think of Keith?" Jolie asked as she made the salad.

 

"He's cute," Dena replied.

 

"Handsome," Evie said, looking pointedly at Roma.

 

"Do not even go there," Roma retorted. "He seems to be a nice man, who knows what he's doing."

 

"And cute." Evie grinned at her.

 

Roma rolled her eyes. "Let's eat. We have to be back at the theater in half an hour."

 

*****

 

"You'll like working with them," Norm said to Keith. "They're good kids and very professional, for their age."

 

"Absolutely," Peg agreed. "They've been through a lot in their lives but it hasn't hardened them, if that makes sense."

 

Keith nodded. "It does. I suspect it was the music. They used it to stay alive, rather than selling drugs, or themselves."

 

"And now they're here, sharing it with everyone who comes to the theater," Norm said.

 

"Exactly."

 

Tuck suggested at that point that he and Keith should get something to eat, and fast, as they had to be back in less than an hour if Keith wanted to see the show from the beginning.

 

*****

 

"You did a great job with them and the show," Keith told Tuck as the curtain fell for the final time that night. "I hope I can do as well."

 

"Of course you can. It's what you're best at."

 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Keith grinned. "Of course, I'm going to have to deal with a stubborn actor who likes doing things his way, if I remember rightly."

 

"Oh? And just who would that be? Sam? Mace?"

 

Keith laughed. "Nope. One Tucker Williams."

 

"I resemble that description. Or I did, way back when. I've grown up since then and I'm  married to a man who would have my ass in a sling if I tried that now."

 

"Good. I'll keep that in mind when you start telling me how to do my job."

 

"Believe me, having had a taste of directing, I would never do that in a million years. I've learned it ain't easy."

 

As they bantered, they went back stage. Keith congratulated everyone on a job well done, then he and Tuck headed back to the city.

 

Sing for Their Supper - 64

Two days after the meeting, Tuck called another one. As everyone entered the auditorium, they saw Tuck wasn't alone. An older, dark-haired man sat next to him on the edge of the stage.

 

When everyone was seated, Tuck said, "I'd like you to meet Keith Harris."

 

"Good afternoon." Keith grinned. "I understand you all are going on strike if Tuck doesn't play Captain Hook. I'm here to keep that from happening. Tuck told me about the theater, and, to be honest, I was surprised. It's not something I would have thought of in a million years. But from what he said, it's working—and very well. So I'd like to be a part of it, at least for your next show."

 

"What are your creds?" Sam called out. It was obvious he was kidding, but Keith replied anyway.

 

"Tuck and I worked together at a local theater when he was in college. After he graduated, he came out here, but we still kept in touch. I've moved around, taking directing jobs at various small theaters." He smiled. "Before you wonder if I'm lousy at it, I'm not. I just have problems settling down in one place. Since I'm between jobs right now, when Tuck called, explaining what was going on, I told him I was interested—and here I am."

 

"You do know we're amateurs," DJ said.

 

"I prefer the term actors in the process of learning the craft. And, from what Tuck's said, you're dedicated to what you're doing." Keith looked at each one of them in turn. "Some of you will make it, some of you may not. Down the line you may decide there are other things you want to do with your lives. No matter what, I'm going to try to bring out the best in each of you, and in you as a group, to make Peter Pan as successful as Oliver!. Does that work for you?"

 

"It does," DJ replied.

 

"I might as well start learning names," Keith said. "You are?"

 

"DJ. I'm eighteen."

 

"Evie. I'm very close to being seventeen, so I'm going with that."

 

Keith laughed. "That works. Next."

 

They went down the row. "Sam. Nineteen." "Ricky. I'm eighteen." "Mace. Twenty."

 

"So you're the old man of the group?" Keith said.

 

"That would be me," Vin told him. "I'm the pianist, not an actor. I'm fifty-plus."

 

"And you?" Keith asked, looking at Roma.

 

"Roma. I'm thirty. I'm also a pianist, but more of a singer."

 

"She's great," Jolie said before introducing herself.

 

"And last but not least, I'm Dena. Also eighteen."

 

"It's nice to meet all of you."

 

"There's going to be a few more, if we can find them," Sam said.

 

"So Tuck told me. In all honesty, do you think that's going to be possible?"

 

"Yes," DJ replied. "It might take a few days, but we will."

 

Keith nodded. "If you don't mind, I'd like to break you into two groups—four of you to go out looking, while I get to know the other four. I'll be watching the show for the next couple of nights, but I'll also want to talk to you individually to find out your strengths and weaknesses."

 

"Oh, boy," Mace muttered.

 

"Stop doing that," Tuck told him. "You're just as good as everyone else, whether you believe it or not."

 

"I'm trying to be."

 

"You are. Deal," Dena said, patting his arm.

 

"She's right," Jolie said, squeezing his hand.

 

Keith asked Tuck, under his breath, "Are they both interested in him?"

 

"Hell if I know," Tuck replied quietly. "Looks like."

 

"Keith," Sam called out. "Are we going to have to audition for the parts? Tuck just assigned us our roles for Oliver!."

 

"That's one reason I want to get to know each of you better," Keith replied. "Once I have, I might do the same thing. It's not like there are a dozen of you competing for each role."

 

Ricky snorted. "More like, how many characters will each of us have to play, like we're doing in Oliver!."

 

"With luck, you won't have to do that if you can find four or five new kids with decent voices, to play pirates and Lost Boys."

 

"We'll try," Sam said. "Starting tomorrow."

 

"Perfect. Does anyone have any more questions?" Keith asked.

 

"How old are you?" Evie asked.

 

"Old enough to be—" Keith saw Tuck give a brief shake of his head. "To know better and young enough to do it anyway," Keith amended. "I'm thirty-seven."

 

"Ancient," Evie teased, taking a quick glance at Roma.

 

"Maybe from your perspective," Keith retorted. "I see myself as in my prime. And how did we get on this subject?"

 

"Because I asked," Evie pointed out.

 

Laughing, Keith told them that if there were no more questions, the meeting was over. "I'd like to talk to DJ, Evie, Dena, and Mace tomorrow morning in the lobby. The rest of you, hit the streets."

 

"How will we get there?" Sam asked.

 

"I'll pick you up," Tuck told him.

 

"Okay."

 

With that, the group disbanded. Tuck took Keith to meet Peg and Norm, who had shown up early expressly to meet him, while the cast returned to their cabins.