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Well, one peed on my foot because I couldn’t give him fifty bucks for whiskey. And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to give him fifty bucks. Asshole didn’t realize these days people don’t carry cash. What was I going to do, hand over my credit card?
Fuck that.
From then on, my assessment of the homeless isn’t exactly positive. It’s tainted by that one douchebag.
The man Mase offered a room to stands from his place on the ground and nods to Mase. “Yes, sir. But t-t-they don’t let g-g-guys like me inside there.”
He has a good point. He smells like urine and garbage. Being downwind of him, I take a step back and move to the other side of Mase. One bath isn’t going to fix this dude’s smell.
“What’s your name?” Mase asks.
“Rosco.” He glances at me and then back to Mase, probably wondering what the fuck is going on. Not too often guys like us start asking a man like him questions. Unless we’re with the FBI, and honestly, by the confusion on his face, I bet he’s curious now.
Having no idea what Mase has planned, I watch with confusion as to where he’s going with this one.
“They don’t ask questions if you’re with us.” Mase points to the hotel. “We got a spare room you can have.”
What was he talking about? We don’t have a spare room.
I lift my eyes to Mase. “We don’t—”
Mase elbows me in the stomach. “Come on, bud.” Mase helps him from the alley. “Let’s get ya inside.”
I follow them. I have no idea what to make of the situation. Last time he rescued someone, he fell in love with her. Let’s hope this isn’t the case.
With not too many looks, we get the man up to the tenth floor, where our rooms are, with absolutely no questions asked by the hotel staff.
After we get him up there, we stand outside the room Mase is sharing with Ryan. “Now what?” I whisper to Mase, staring at the door and the trail of water leaking behind Rosco. At least I hope it’s water.
I take a step away from him because the smell is making me sick. I’m not judging him, but I’m ready to give him a bar of soap and a loofah, or at least swipe some hotel soap from the rolling cart in the hall and tell him to head to the nearest hotel restroom and give himself a once over before we go one step further.
Mase grins as he hands Rosco his room keycard. “All yours, bud.” His smile widens, and I begin to understand what’s happening here. He’s one-upping Ryan. “Order room service if you want and just charge it to the room.”
“Take a shower too,” I add. “Takeallthe time you need and just enjoy that hot water.” I’m not trying to be rude, but good God, can you smell him? He’s like a garbage dumpster that hasn’t been emptied in weeks during the summer. Did he roll in it? Mase touches his hand to the man’s shoulder, who’s staring at him like he can’t believe someone is this nice to him. “You’ve got the room to yourself, buddy.”
Without a second look, the man turns to Mase, hugs him, and then goes inside the room.
Nothing’s said until the door closes.
Mase sneaks inside to grab his bag and then comes back out. “I’m rooming with you and Remy.”
Shaking my head, I laugh as we walk down the hall to my room. “How exactly is that gonna work?” I gesture to Rosco and his new pad as I stick the keycard in the door. “How’s Coach gonna feel about this one?”
“He won’t know.” Mase adjusts his bag on his shoulder. “When Ryan comes back, hopefully old Rosco will be in the shower.”
Mase apparently thinks this is the funniest prank he’s ever done, because look at him laughing. He can’t even stand up straight.
“Did you just see that guy on the street and think, man, I can get Ryan back?”
He nods, still laughing.
“You know, Ryan’s going to fuck you up when he finds out it was you. What if he steals something in there?”
“Doubt he will. He’s just looking for a dry room.” Mase shakes his head, as if this wouldn’t be a problem. I’m not so convinced. Not just about Rosco stealing shit, but Ryan has an ornery side, especially since half his head had been shaved by Mase two weeks ago. He hasn’t even fixed it yet either. It’s like a fashion statement now.
Inside the room, Remy’s on the bed watching game highlights. Mase tosses his bag on Remy’s chest. “Hey, roomie.”
“You’re not sleeping with me.” Remy sprawls out on the bed, kicking his legs to the very edge of either side, sort of like he’s about to start making a fucking snow angel. He leaves himself wide open for attack, so I toss the remote on the nightstand between his legs.