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“We need to have enough for first and last month’s rent, electricity, and water, but that shouldn’t take very long to save.”

Felix knew way more than I did about what bills we needed to think about.

I had no idea paying for water was a thing.

We had a well at the farm and I assumed everyone else did, too.

Paying two months’ rent before even moving into a place didn’t make sense to me.

Like, why would I give someone money for something I hadn’t done yet?

The whiskey bottle grew heavy in my hand; I felt the need to lighten the weight of it. Three gulps later, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before passing it to Felix. Cable was not an option and the TV only offered three channels. Two showed the news, relaying information in Spanish.

Exhausted and a little drunk—okay, a lot drunk—I just wanted to get some sleep. The sound of Felix’s voice mixed with the words I couldn’t understand irritated me. I ignored him and closed my eyes .

“We should go to the Stop and Shop and also Irene’s restaurant in the morning to see if they have any openings. I bet they’d give us dishwasher jobs or stockers, or something.”

“Mmm hmm.” I closed my eyes and allowed the room to spin around me, kind of like my life in general.

“ BEFORE MY cousin went to prison, he knew everyone. I haven’t been around for a while, but he assured me that all I need to do is mention his name and people will do whatever we want,” Felix said.

“For sure, someone who owns a gas station or restaurant will let us work for them. Maybe even a handyman. I know how to fix most anything. Except cars.”

Vehicles rolled past as we trudged to the next gas station. The manager wasn’t available at the first place we stopped. Felix entered the door to the next location with confidence to spare.

“Vato!” Felix greeted the attendant like he was a long-lost friend.

The man tilted his head. “Do I know you?”

“Amigo, it’s me. Felix.”

An empty stare was his only response.

“Felix, you know. Armando’s cousin. Armando from Mexico.”

The man lifted his eyebrows, shook his head, then turned away. Another rejection.

Every day for a week, Felix and I walked down the street and asked every gas station we passed if there were any open positions.

Either the manager wasn’t in that day, or they flat-out denied us an opportunity.

I didn’t let it bother me, though. I figured eventually we’d find something.

Every evening, we drank and played cards while the TV rambled on in Spanish.

We quickly fell into a comfortable routine.

By week two, we had exhausted our gas station possibilities and decided to start visiting restaurants.

There had to be someone willing to give us a chance.

We popped some aspirin, took a shower, put on semi-clean clothes, and headed out the door around one o’clock.

The way we figured it, after the busy lunch hour, the owners would realize how much they needed another employee or two and would give us a job.

“Y’all find anything, yet?” Dennis spent most of his time either in the parking lot with some friends or walking to and from the nearby homeless camp under the freeway. He had been watching our job hunt and encouraged us to keep looking.

“Not yet. Today we’re going to some restaurants and bars. Someone has to need extra hands.” I shrugged.

Felix took the brown bag which Dennis held at arm’s length and took a big gulp. He handed it to me, and I followed suit .

“Good luck.” Dennis nodded and turned back to his group. I heard him laugh as we walked away.

The first three restaurants we entered said the manager wasn’t there; seemed like a common theme. The next two said they weren’t looking for help.

On our walk back to the motel, Felix dreamed about what life would be like after we started making money. My spirits were lower than at the beginning of the day but not quite broken. Yet.

He kept chattering. “We’ll rent a little place in Cedars; it’s a nicer area than South Dallas.

We’ll have a car, so we can live a little ways from work.

Maybe we’ll get a job in one of the warehouses, I hear they pay more than minimum and offer insurance.

Vacation time, even. We’ll name our dog Oliver.

” As if we had finished our conversation, Felix changed subjects. “Hungry?”

“The usual?”

Street tacos were a common lunch offered by vendors on the corner of most intersections.

For a dollar apiece, we could fill our stomach on the cheap.

I didn’t know for sure, but I had the feeling Felix didn't have much money left. I needed to conserve what I had, too, so we made it a point to not spend what wasn’t necessary.

We didn’t have a refrigerator, so we needed to eat out.

“Hey, why don’t we try that place Dennis mentioned. It’s on our way home. I wonder what time the lunch special ends? It’s probably time for dinner by now. I could really go for a good meal.” His steps quickened and I picked up the pace to keep up.

“Yeah, me, too.”

Elaine’s Kitchen was the best place in Dallas for Caribbean food, as far as Dennis had told us.

He said the dinner was a really good deal; for only five dollars, you could get a big piece of jerk chicken, greens, and a huge scoop of dirty rice.

Even if it was left over from the night before, or two days before, it was still good.

The chime signaled the opening of the door into a small but full restaurant.

A pretty, young brunette turned and greeted us with a smile that reached her big brown eyes.

Her hair fell straight to the nape of her neck.

After showing us to our table, she turned and brought us glasses of water and menus.

In a shy, unsure voice, she asked if we were ready to order.

I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off her long enough to look at the menu.

She had a gleam in her eye, and I instantly understood that at one point in her life, she had been audacious.

She hid her beauty like she was saving it for someone special.

I pushed my glasses up my nose. “I’d like the special, please.”

“Make that two,” Felix added.

Her chuckle made my heart skip a beat. “But I haven’t told you what the special is. Would you like to hear it?”

Felix and I both nodded.

“Jerk chicken, dirty rice, and greens. Five dollars.” She tilted her head.

“I’d like the special, please.”

“Make that two,” Felix added.

Our repeated request was met with a full-on laugh. For a moment, I heard angels singing. While we waited for our meals, she checked on us multiple times between delivering food to other customers.

“You worked here long?” Felix raised one eyebrow. I was unable to form any words. Her aura mixed with the whiskey left me dizzy.

“Just moved here about a month ago.” She shifted her eyes down and played with her apron strings.

Before we had a chance to get to know the pretty waitress, the chef rang a bell. “Order up.”

“That’s for you.” She turned and I couldn’t help watching her backside as she walked away. I knew almost nothing about her, but I got the feeling that she was sweet and maybe a little down on her luck, like us.

WAITING FOR the night to end, Felix and I sat on the bottom step and enjoyed the finally mild weather. We had only half finished our shared bottle when my friend got froggy. “So, you and the pretty waitress, huh? ”

“What?”

“She looked at you like you’re her long-lost love. Like she has a connection to you. Like the two of you belong together.”

“Listen, Vato, women are the last thing on my mind.” I took a hard swig and shook my head. Lowering my voice so no one could hear, I admitted, “I wouldn't know the first thing to do if I was alone in a room with her.”

“What? A good-looking dude like you don’t know what to do. How did that happen?”

The whiskey hit me hard, and I blabbed about everything. Everything. From my dad hitting my mom, to the night they both died, to my time in juvy. I half expected him to laugh; when he didn’t, I expected him to run. I wiped my eyes and waited for his retort.

After a long pause, he pursed his lips. “Moose, man, I’m real sorry. I’ll always be here for you. And if you ever need to talk again, we can. My story isn't that far off from yours.”

“You can tell me about it if you want.” If he swore to stand by me, then the least I could do was repay the favor.

“My mom died of a drug overdose about ten years ago. My dad left long before that. The state took my sister and me. Separated us when we entered foster care. I bounced around for about six years before I got sick of the bullshit and ran away.

“I decided living on the streets would be better than having to deal with my so-called dad crawling into bed with me every other night. If I stayed, I swear I would have killed him.” He glanced at me and squinted. “Sorry.”

I shrugged. The abuse he had been forced into was far worse than what had happened to me. He didn't give any real details, but from the tears in his eyes,

I understood that if I had been in the same situation and my foster daddy forced me to do things with him, I would have killed him too. Felix was a better man than me. He resisted the urge, ran away from it. I hadn’t.