The List Read online

  The List

  BL Maxwell

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by BL Maxwell

  Copyright

  The List

  BL Maxwell

  Editing provided by: Pinny’s Proofreading

  Proofreaders: Anita Ford and Nicole Walker

  Cover Photography by Warren Wong

  Copyright © 2019 BL Maxwell

  All Rights Reserved

  This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permissions from the author, except for using small quotes for book review quotations. All characters and storylines are the property of the author. The characters, events and places portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Trademarks:

  This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of all products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks in not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Warning

  Intended for a mature an 18+ audience only. This book contains material that may be offensive to some and is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

  This is for all the people that have the burning need to help other people. Don’t ever stop.

  Chapter One

  Blanket

  I walked to the dumpster like I did every night at the end of my shift to throw out the bags of garbage. And just like every other night, he was there. Hiding behind the dumpster, hoping I didn’t see him. It was hard to tell his age or what he looked like under all the dirt and grunge that coated his skin. His hair was dark and on the long side, and he wore a dark plaid shirt over a T-shirt and dirty jeans. He froze when he heard me and didn’t move, not even to breathe while I was there. I acted like I didn’t see him and tossed the bags in.

  I’d started separating the kitchen leftovers from the garbage and packing it in to-go containers. Bits of food left behind by diners and trimmings from the kitchen. I hoped he ate some of what I left, but I couldn’t be sure. “Hey, Tommy, get back in here so we can close up,” Bruce yelled out the rear door of the restaurant.

  “Be right there,” I called before I looked one last time at the dumpster I knew he was hiding behind. I tried to act like I didn’t know he was there, but my curiosity was getting the better of me. He’d been here about a week and I never saw him anywhere other than behind the dumpster. I wondered what had brought him to this life and why he never seemed to go out and walk around.

  There were many homeless in this area of downtown. It seemed the many restaurants and the large shelter nearby were a big draw. It had to be such a hard life. I couldn’t even imagine living my days worried about where my next meal would come from, and where it would be safe to sleep that night.

  “Hey, kid, what’s going on?” Bruce asked as I walked back into the kitchen.

  “Nothing, man, just got a lot on my mind.” He nodded but didn’t press me for more information. Bruce was the owner, and his graying blond hair and the laugh lines around his blue eyes gave him away as one of the older people working here. He worked harder than most of the other employees; he’d been the cook and owner here for more than thirty years and hadn’t slowed down yet. At twenty-three, I was about to start my last year of college. After this year I’d graduate with a degree in economics that I hoped would lead me to a great job and a stable future. Something I had yearned for my whole childhood. The guy in the alley didn’t know it, but we had more in common than I was willing to admit.

  Growing up in a small town in the northern Sacramento Valley didn’t offer many chances to start a career, or even have a steady job. During harvest season there were plenty of jobs on the many farms in the area, but after that there was nothing. It didn’t help that my mom was sick for most of my childhood, and my dad couldn’t seem to keep any job longer than a week or two. Of course he’d always find a way to get something to drink or smoke. He wasn’t picky, whatever it took to forget about his reality and our lives was enough. I shook my head to banish those thoughts. I wasn’t going back to that life. Never again. I’d make something of myself and have the stability I craved.

  “Hey, kid, did you see that guy that’s been hanging out back there?” Bruce asked.

  “Yeah, I noticed him the past week or so. I haven’t seen him come out at all, though, have you?”

  “No, he’s just hiding behind the dumpster. Must be too scared to come out. Maybe you can try to talk to him, find out if he needs some help?”

  “I don’t know, I haven’t even seen his face, he avoids any contact at all. How old do you think he is?”

  “I’m not sure, but I get the feeling he’s young. Maybe your age or younger. I wonder what could have thrown him into that life?” I shrugged my shoulders. I knew far too well how easy it would be to become homeless. Especially if he didn’t have anyone he could go to for help, or any way to make money to get him into a better situation.

  “It’s got to be tough, but I can’t imagine he’s surviving very well hiding behind that dumpster. And once it starts getting colder, he’s going to be miserable,” I said, more to myself than to Bruce.

  “It won’t just be cold, it’ll be dangerous. There’s a reason the city pays for warming stations and temporary shelters. People die from being exposed out there on the streets.”

  “I hope he finds a place to go before that happens.” And now I was officially worried. My gaze went to the door where I knew he was just beyond, behind the dumpster. Hopefully eating the food I’d separated for him so he didn’t have to dig through trash to get a warm meal. I could have been him; that thought was on a repeating loop in my mind. I had to help him, even if I didn’t know him or want to understand why. But after tonight I’d make more of an effort to get to know him.

  “Me too, kid, no one deserves to try to live like that. I’ve lived rough in the past, but not like that. I can’t even imagine.”

  “Me either, Bruce.” We finished cleaning up, and just before midnight we locked up together. I glanced toward the alley as I walked to my car. I couldn’t stop thinking about my past and how easy it would have been for me to end up exactly where he was now as I drove down the street to my apartment, and was more thankful for a place of my own than I’d ever been. I opened my door and set my keys on the counter as I walked on autopilot to the bathroom and showered off the day’s work before falling into bed.

  How could I help him? And would he want help? What if he decided it was better to live like he was now than to try to live in what we all thought was the modern world? Either way, I’d do what I could, even it meant leaving him alone. And I’d start soon because winter was around the corner, and there’d be no way he could sleep on the cement or pavement he had made his hiding place. I
silently made a checklist of all the things I’d do to help him. First on the list would be something to sleep in. I wasn’t sure he had other supplies, but what clothes I did see would not be warm enough or keep him dry when winter hit. As I lay in my warm bed on that cool fall night, I hoped he at least had a blanket. And that immediately went to the top of my list.

  Chapter Two

  Socks

  I lay awake for most of the night thinking about the guy behind the dumpster. I couldn’t seem to get him off my mind, and by the time the sun started to rise and my bedroom brightened, I’d had no sleep at all. I kept thinking how we weren’t all that different, we looked to be around the same age, both with dark hair, only his was long, where mine was cropped short on the sides with a little length on the top. Were his eyes light or dark like mine? I wondered how old he was, and once again how he ended up living behind a dumpster. This was going to be a rough day. My alarm went off and I slapped at it and rolled out of bed.

  “Tommy, I left a coffee for you on the counter,” my mom said as she kissed me on the forehead on her way out the door.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I called after her. I walked right to the kitchen and picked up the cup of warm caffeinated goodness she’d left for me.

  “Hey, save some for me,” my dad hollered as he rushed out of the bedroom and grabbed a mug from the cupboard.

  “Dad, can I ask you something?”

  He filled his cup then leaned against the counter next to me. “Sure, but can you make it quick. I’ve got a bid to get to in . . . forty-five minutes.”

  “There’s a guy that’s been staying behind the dumpster at work and I want to help him. What do you think someone who’s living on the street this time of year needs?” Like I knew he would, my dad gave me a bunch of great suggestions that I filed away in my memory for later. The first thing on my list would be easy, getting him to take it might be harder. “Thanks, Dad, I think I’ll start with a blanket. I’m not sure he’ll accept anything from me, but I figure a warm blanket on a cold night might be hard to say no to.”

  He nodded and set his mug in the sink. “You’re a good guy, Tommy,” he said with a wink, and rushed out the door. I stood there a moment more enjoying the warmth and the slight buzz the coffee offered on this chilly morning.

  My eyes snapped open and I looked around the room. It was the same small apartment I’d lived in for the past few years. I didn’t have to go look to know I wouldn’t find an empty coffee cup in the sink or a cup poured for me. My mom was gone two years now, and my dad . . . who knew where he was. I was alone, and once again wondered how the guy behind the dumpster was doing. He had to be freezing; the fog had rolled in last night and it was a cold, wet morning. Leaving the warmth of my bed, I found an extra blanket I thought would work well to keep him warm and dry. I shoved it in my backpack before I walked into the bathroom to get ready for my day.

  I made it to my first class, Microeconomics, with minutes to spare, and tried to focus even though my lack of sleep made that challenging. I walked over to the quad and bought another cup of coffee and a sandwich and found a quiet place to sit where I could work on my assignments. School was crazy this year, I’d taken a heavy load hoping to get it all out of the way, and I worked almost full-time. It was challenging, but so far, I could handle it. By the time I finished my lunch, I’d completed the assignments I’d been given that morning. One more class and I’d be on my way to work.

  I drove my car into the alley behind the bar and grill I worked at. The Del’s had been here since the fifties and probably hadn’t been remodeled since. I walked past the dumpster and used every bit of restraint I had to not look in that direction. I stepped inside just as the door to the kitchen slammed shut behind me, and I jumped like I’d been hit with a live wire.

  “What’s got you so jumpy?” Bruce asked. He was at the grill as usual—red bandana tied around his head, white apron stained with the day’s work over black-and-white checkered chef’s pants, and a warm smile that was almost always present.

  “Hey, Bruce, I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I probably had too much caffeine today.”

  “So, the same as yesterday,” he said before he turned back to the grill and flipped the burgers cooking there.

  “Pretty much. Has it been busy?”

  “About the usual, we’ll probably get hit with the bar crowd in a couple of hours. They do love our greasy goodness after they’re good and drunk.” He smiled as he repeated what the locals usually said every weekend.

  “Yes, they do. I’ll go refill the napkins and everything out front then get started on the dishes.” He nodded but didn’t look away from the grill. I went out front and made short work of filling the condiments, along with the napkins, and wiped down all the tables. The dishes were calling to me so I walked back and started on the mountain that would take me the better part of an hour to work through. As the waitstaff brought back more plates and silverware, I put aside the leftovers that looked like they’d been untouched and tucked them into a Styrofoam box above the sink.

  “What’s that for?” Bruce asked. I didn’t want to lie to him, but I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. I decided the truth was better than lying.

  “I was saving it for the guy behind the dumpster. It’s going to be a cold night, so I thought I’d save a good meal for him. Not sure it really helps him, though.” He gave me a look I couldn’t decipher and walked back over to the grill without a word. I went back to the dishes and hoped I hadn’t pissed him off. When I was drying the last cooking pot, he walked over to me.

  “Here ya go, kid.” He handed me a bag and walked back over to the grill. I looked inside to find a burger and fries.

  “What’s this?”

  “Give it to him, he’s got to be miserable out there. And grab him something to drink. It’s on me.”

  “That’s okay, man, I don’t mind paying for it.”

  “Kid, it’s on me,” he insisted. I shrugged my shoulders and walked out front to get a bottle of water and a cup of hot chocolate. I wasn’t sure if he liked coffee, but everyone liked hot chocolate. At least I thought they did. After taking the blanket out of my backpack, I balanced everything on a tray, along with some wet naps and a stack of napkins. I stepped out the door and walked over to the dumpster where it was so dark, I couldn’t make out anything.

  “Hello? I brought you some food. Bruce said it’s on him. I was saving you leftovers, but he wanted to cook something hot for you, so here’s a burger. Oh, and I brought you some water and hot chocolate too.” I was rambling like an idiot but couldn’t stop myself. I still hadn’t seen him, so for a moment I thought I might have been talking to thin air. Then I heard a shoe scrape on pavement, and a guy stood up but didn’t say a word.

  I set the food on top of the dumpster lid, but he didn’t take his eyes off me. “It’s okay, I just wanted to help you. Oh, I brought you a blanket too.” He tipped his head at that but still stayed silent. I set it next to the food and backed away toward the door to Del’s. His eyes were still locked on me as I closed the door behind me. I turned to look at Bruce and realized we both wore the same smile.

  “Good for you, kid, good for you.”

  Later, as I left work and stood by my car, I saw him there again. He stood to the side of the dumpster, so I was able to get a better look at him. He was tall and thin and wore shredded tennis shoes with no socks. All of his clothes looked like he’d been wearing them for years without changing or washing. They were threadbare and worn. He moved back behind the dumpster and draped the blanket around his shoulders, pulling it tight before bringing the blanket up to his nose and inhaling deeply, a small smile playing at his lips as he settled in. I decided as I drove away, next on the list would be some warm socks. Maybe a few pairs.

  Chapter Three

  Gloves

  I drove away, and on the way to my apartment I stopped at Walmart. I told myself I needed to buy some food for tomorrow, but I actually wanted to buy the guy behind
the dumpster some socks. I couldn’t get the vision of him out of my mind, he had to be freezing already, and it was just beginning to get cold. I was so thankful to Bruce for cooking him a hot meal. I realized I’d left the container of leftovers I’d been saving for him above the sink. I wished I’d remembered and given it to him. He looked like he could use all the food he could get.

  How old could he be? It was impossible to tell under all that hair and dirt he seemed to use as armor to protect himself, not that I could blame him. What could have happened to him to make his whole existence be reduced to hiding behind a dumpster? I walked into the store and grabbed a cart, figuring I might as well actually buy some food. I browsed the aisles, and everything I looked at reminded me of all he didn’t have. The list in my head kept getting longer, and without thinking, I took out my phone. The blanket went to the top with a check mark; next on the list was socks. I made my way over to that area.

  Why did there need to be so many different types of socks? I picked up a few packs of different athletic styles—ankle or knee-length, did that matter? Then a thought hit me. He was pretty much camping out there, maybe something from the camping department would be a better fit. I pushed my cart of various snacks over to the camping section. These socks were more expensive, but they were also made to keep you warm when it was cold and even wet out. I chose five pairs and hoped that was enough, but not too much. Where did he keep his things? I hadn’t seen a backpack or anything, but he’d stayed tucked behind the dumpster every time I’d seen him, except when he’d come out to get the burger and hot chocolate.