You can tell by the lines on her face
You can see that she's been there
Probably been moved on from every place
'Cause she didn't fit in there

"Places," she answered, her hands shoved into her pockets, her hair spilling over the collar of her coat. JC grimaced at her vague answer and she laughed. "Fine, pouty. I have to go to the hotel I work at and pick up my paycheck. Then go cash it. Then meet a couple of friends I hang out with sometimes. See what's crackin' in the streets today. Always something going on."

JC nodded, pleased with some sort of run-down of the day. He walked beside Phee until they reached a bus stop, Route Number 34, southbound. She sat down on the bench and patted the seat next to her. "Take a load off."

"I don't have money for the bus."

She glared at him. "Would I invite you to hang out, knowing we have to get across town and not know I'm gonna have to get you there? Sit your ass down. I'll take care of it."

He sat, quickly. Anything to diffuse her. She rummaged around in her bag and pulled out the faithful pack of cigarettes. "Sorry. I haven't been smoking as much because I know you hate it. I get kinda bitchy when I miss my cigs."

"It's okay. Be yourself, I guess."

The day was nice, sunny and cloudless even if it was cold. He hardly noticed since he had a nice coat on. The streets were empty, primarily since it was still early. Even though he was normally up and moving by then, he still felt like it was early to be out. He felt productive, though. And, waiting for the bus with Phee, almost normal. They were running errands. He smiled to himself.

"What are you grinning at?"

He glanced over at her, wiping the smile off of his face. He hadn't realized it had crawled its way from his insides to his outsides and plastered itself across his mouth. "Nothing. I like this coat. Thanks."

Phee nodded and shoved the filter tip of a cigarette into her mouth, sucking it down like it was a thick milkshake. She turned her head to blow the smoke away from him. When she turned back, she looked up at him. He noticed her eyes, for the first time. Not blue but not brown but not green. Hazel, he guessed that was called.

"Yeah. It fits you nice. And it's real warm, especially on days like this. You gotta wear more layers. You'll catch your death of cold and then where will you be? In a mass grave somewhere with no one giving a shit."

Morbid, JC thought, but dared not say it. She seemed overly concerned with death and dying, for his taste. Maybe the coat reminded her too much of Davey.

Number 34 came down the street and stopped in front of them. JC let Phee get on first, where she paid the $1.25 fare for the both of them. He nodded at the driver, out of respect. The driver rolled his eyes.

"Get on and sit down. On a schedule," he said. He pulled the doors closed behind them and pulled away from the block. JC followed Phee to the back of the bus and sat next to her in the very last seat on the left.

"Don't mind him. He's always cranky but he's harmless. A lot of the crowd tries to get over on the bus drivers and scam free rides. It jades them. They don't want to pick up anyone that looks homeless."

Did he look homeless? He tried hard not to. He shaved, washed every day, tried to keep clean. He needed a haircut, but that wasn't what made him look homeless, was it? He raked a hand through the dry pile of curls. He had to get a haircut soon.

"JC? Did you hear me? Are you listening to me?"

"Oh." He hadn't been listening. "Sorry. I was thinking about... something. What'd you say?"

"I asked if you had any buddies out there or if you were a loner. I don't know why I'm asking, though. I followed you around enough to know you don't really have friends. Not out on the street, anyway."

“You know,” he started, more irritated than angry. “It’s really creepy how you know too much about me. Following me around and shit. Why do you do that?"

"I don't anymore. I told you."

"But you used to."

"I also told you why. You seem different. You remind me of someone I used to know."

She turned her attention to the scenery passing by at a slow pace and didn't say more. JC dropped the subject. The last thing he wanted to deal with was more crying. When a girl cries in front of a guy, a little piece of him dies, mostly because he knows that it's either his fault and he couldn't fix it even if he knew how, or it wasn't his fault and fixing it would make it worse. He didn't even have a Kleenex or a handkerchief to offer her.

They rode in silence, watching the world from the inside of a pane of plastic. JC hadn't been to this side of town— downtown— in awhile. Even before he was homeless, he was never one for the hustle and bustle of downtown. He had an office job but it wasn't a high class corporate job. No suits and briefcases and wing tipped shoes and smart phone for him. No rushing here and there, talking to two people on the phone while reading the Wall Street Journal. No Bluetooth ear piece that made him look like he was talking to himself at Starbucks. Something told him, though, that Phee's friends wouldn't be that type either.

She reached up and pulled the cord that ran the length of the bus. A melodic 'ding' rang out, alerting the driver to stop at the next designated point. That point was in front of a hotel with a circular drive and a lot of glass and a revolving door and marble floors. There was quiet elegance and efficiency, people rushing about in dark uniforms and polite, professional smiles.

Phee waved and smiled at a few people as she walked past the front desk, through an employee entrance and down a hall that was a severe contrast to the rest of the building. The floor was concrete, the walls were cement brick. It was cool, lit by long strips of fluorescent lights along the ceiling every few feet. He felt like they were walking through a dungeon.

There was noise further down the hall that got louder the closer they came, until they were right up on it— a radio, two few ladies in uniform talking and cackling over the Spanish lyrics and guitar twang.

"Hola, Miss Nix," said one of the ladies, her smile wide and accented with red lipstick. "You're not working today?”

"Hey, Miss Lola," she answered, heading for a filing cabinet at the far end of the room. She opened the top drawer and rifled through a stack of envelopes and plucked one out. She set the remaining envelopes back in the drawer and closed it. "No, not today. Came to get some money. You guys have a good day."

"Sure, sure," the one Phee called Lola said, and went back to loading a rolling cart. His eyes bugged out, watching her. She pulled items from boxes lined along shelves, miniatures of everything he could possibly want. Toothpaste, toothbrushes, shampoo, conditioner, even mini combs and razors. He could live forever on a few handfuls from her cart.

"This is your friend?" The other woman was older, shorter, quieter. JC could just barely hear her over the radio. She smiled that smile that old ladies smile when their granddaughters bring around a new man.

Phee was reading some notices on the bulletin board, checking what looked to be a schedule clipped to the corner. "Yeah," she said, without turning around. "JC, these are my coworkers. Lola and Shirley. Yeah, like Laverne and Shirley. We're pretty funny around here."

She saved him the trouble of making the joke in his head. He nodded at them both, while trying not to look at the carts overflowing with items he knew he was running out of. When Phee turned around, she noticed him looking, watching them load their carts. "I’ve got you covered," she whispered, dragging him by the crook of his elbow out of the room.

"Bye Miss Nix!"

Phee only waved as she made her way down the hall. She pulled the envelope from her pocket and slid it open with her index finger, practically ripping the check out of it. She pumped her fist and grinned, her face lighting up the grey hallway.

"Yessss! I love overtime! I have extra money this week!"

He smiled, happy for her. "Cool," was the only think he could think to say.

"Now to cash it and go have some fun." She led them back through the lobby, waving and smiling at the same people, then it was back through the revolving doors and out into the cold, but not far. A few blocks down the road, they stopped at a credit union. JC waited on a couch in the lobby while she got in line. In no time at all, she was tucking an envelope into her bag and nodding her head toward the door and they were, yet again, headed back out.

"Gotta run an errand. We've got a bit of a walk, but it'll be faster than taking the bus. You up for it?"

He shrugged. "If I want to go somewhere, all I can do is walk."

"True that."

So they walked. For nearly an hour and he was even more grateful for the coat. Phee talked about her early days on the street and things she and Davey had done to make money, sometimes just enough to eat. From panhandling to recycling to washing dishes for food or a bed, they did it together. JC was envious. If only he had someone to conquer the world with him.

They were beyond downtown now, in the south part of town. The south side was considerably more run down than the part of town he tried to stay in. There were more places to hang out down south but also a lot of trouble— drugs and gangs and people he didn't want to get mixed up in. JC was getting a little nervous, but had no idea where he was and kept up with Phee like his life depended on it.  

They walked until they reached a white stone ranch home that was in such disrepair, it was hard to believe someone lived there. There was little grass and what there was of it was dead. There was a lot of junk in the yard anyway, so what was the use of planting grass? JC tried holding his breath or breathing through his mouth, but he gave that up when he became lightheaded and he felt like he could taste the smell of wet garbage that sat around the house like an aura.

Phee turned the knob and, finding the door open, walked right in. "Cass? You home?"

 From somewhere in the house, a TV blared. There was junk everywhere— shoes, clothing, boxes, bags, like they had been used and then left right there, at the spot in which they became useless. Phee walked through the house as if she was used to seeing and smelling it, ducking her head into a few rooms until she arrived at the back bedroom. That was where the TV sounds came from.

The bedroom was as much of a mess as the rest of the house. Clothing was strewn from one end of the room to another. A pile of fast food garbage covered one end table. Cups, saucers and bowls covered the other. Even the spots on the bureau and TV became catchalls for junk.  JC started to have a lot of appreciation for a nomadic lifestyle, in which he could not physically carry around a lot of stuff.

"Cassandra!” Phee called to the comatose figure lying across the bed in a bra and panties, gripping the woman by the shoulders and shaking her. “Wake up, honey."

The woman groaned and stirred a little but didn't sit up. "What?" She finally moaned.

“Welfare check! How are you?"

Cassandra sat up and rubbed her eyes, ran her hands through her hair of tight blonde ringlets. A long, hard night was etched into her face— dark circles under her eyes, mussed lipstick that had wandered past her lip line. "I'm fine. Sleepy. I worked all night. I just got home a few hours ago, damn it."

"Oh.” Phee blanched, but only for a second. “I'm sorry; I forgot you started working graveyard. I'm just checking in. You got food?" Cassandra nodded. "Light bill paid? Rent paid? How are the kids? They got food? Clothes? Shoes?"

She nodded again, seeming irritated at the inquisition. "I told you last week. We're good right now."

"Well, you better get this place cleaned up before DFCS comes back. It's a sty in here.” Phee looked around, her eyes roving the mess. She sighed, then looked back at her charge. “Hey, Cass…you'd let me know if you needed help, right?"

"Yeah, I would. I’m not too proud—“ Cassandra must have noticed JC for the first time. She blinked a few times before asking, "Who's the hunk?"

"That’s my friend, JC. JC, this is Cassandra. I've known her a long time. She used to hang out with Davey and me. Then went and got herself with some bastard who knocked her up then cheated and left. I come by here every week to make sure she's still doing good."

Cassandra nodded at JC but made no moves to cover herself up. "I'd offer ya'll some coffee or whatever but....” She paused and yawned before finishing her sentence. “Don't think I have any."

"Don't worry about us. I'm gonna check your cabinets, real quick." Before Cassandra could argue, Phee stepped over piles of things on the floor and left the room, leaving JC and Cass alone. JC stared, not meaning to. She glared in return.

"What?" She snapped. JC fled.

Phee was in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors and mumbling to herself. She opened the refrigerator and wrinkled her nose up at its contents. JC noticed a jug of milk and a container of juice, a few packages of lunchmeat, a loaf of bread, some cheese and a bag of apples and oranges. In the freezer were some frozen dinners and a bag of chicken nuggets and fries. It didn’t seem like enough to feed a woman and two children, but he didn’t have much room to talk. His food stash consisted of crumbled up Saltine crackers in the bottom of his backpack.

“Where’s her kids?”

“Her mom keeps them at night, because she works at an all-night diner. She’ll drop them by this afternoon, probably.”  Phee stood in the middle of the kitchen, her hands on her hips, assessing the situation. “I guess she’s okay for a few days. I’ll see if her mom brings her anything when she comes, and check again over the weekend on my way home.”

Phee seemed satisfied, or as satisfied as she could be, as she walked out of the kitchen. She picked her way around stacks and mounds of…stuff and yelled back down the hall. “Cass? I’m leaving.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. JC had no objections. The sooner he could get out of that house, the better. He’d never before felt lucky to be homeless. If having a home meant living in this kind of squalor, he’d happily wander from the park to the overpass to the shelter, carting his every belonging on his back. Then again, if he had a home, he liked to think he would take pride in it, after not having one for so long.

Phee waited until they were down the block before she pulled out a cigarette and lit up. They were headed back the way they came. She talked and smoked and walked.

“Cass fell on some real hard times. Believe it or not, she’s doing pretty good, right now. At least she has food and water and lights and now she’s working, so that’s good. With that money and Public Assistance, she might do okay.”

“I thought you couldn’t work and get Public Assistance?”

“You can’t,” she said. “But what the government don’t know, won’t hurt ‘em. Those kids need to eat.” She flicked the butt of her cigarette into the wind and shoved her hands into her pockets. “Hungry? Let’s get some pizza. I’m craving something hot.”

Pizza! He hadn’t had pizza in forever. 

They walked back toward town, just where the edge of downtown met the south side. A Pizza Hut restaurant loomed ahead. JC wanted to run for it, but managed to hold himself back, walk beside Phee, and appear nonchalant.

“When we get in here, you’re gonna see some guys I hang with a lot. We meet here on Thursdays, eat some, bullshit some and then go hang out.  Don’t let them give you a hard time and don’t take them seriously. They’ll respect you more if you don’t freak out. I won’t let them do anything to you.”

JC nodded, wondering what kind of guys these were that Phee hung out with. And what did she mean by I won’t let them do anything to you?

The smell inside Pizza Hut was enough to make JC forget about the potential trouble he could be walking into. Frankly, it was enough to make him forget about all of his troubles. Bread rising, sauce and cheese and meat and vegetables co-mingling and melting together to create a symphony of flavors, off-brand as they may be, hit him as soon as they opened the double doors, made him weak in the knees and a little bit delirious.

The restaurant was dark and mostly empty except for two tables occupied by a group of guys that looked a lot like JC. Long, scraggly hair, some unkempt, some unshaven, tattered plaid shirts over t-shirts, long jeans with the hems walked off and cheap sneakers. He liked to think he kept himself looking pretty nice, but he could see from these guys that he looked just like anyone else whose lifestyle was transient in nature. JC was a little disappointed, but not much. It had to happen sooner or later; becoming a part of the culture instead of living just outside of it.

Phee strode quickly toward the occupied tables with the biggest smile JC had ever seen from her.

 “Colin! What’s up, dude?” A bear of a man with a full beard stood up from the table and dwarfed her in a hug, then stepped aside so she could greet everyone else. She called out a bunch of names, hugged them all, and gave some high fives. JC hung back and watched the group interact.

And watched Phee work the room. Flirt, that is. He was strangely… jealous. He’d had her to himself for nearly a full day. Having to share her now made his heart throw a little bit of a temper tantrum and until he could get it under control, he just watched.

After a few minutes, she remembered her guest. “Oh, hey! You guys! This is my friend, JC. He hangs out over on my side of town.” JC stepped forward and nodded as Phee introduced everyone around. He didn’t pay attention to names, really. He’d pick them up eventually, he supposed.

“You too good for the south side?” Asked one of them. He was laughing, slapping the hands of other guys at the table. JC couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, but decided to pretend that he was, and laughed along.

“Knock it off,” said Phee. She pulled him by the arm toward two empty spots at one of the tables. “Not everyone wants to come down the ghetto and hang out with you losers.”

The only black guy in the bunch feigned offense. “Ay, watch what you’re calling the ghetto.”

“Right, Jamal. We know, we know. This is the pleasure palace compared to the actual ghetto.” She turned to JC, then and asked if he knew what he wanted. He shook his head.

“Whatever’s fine. Should I go up with you?”

“Nah. Hang out here. I’ll order. You guys eating or just taking up space?”

A few of the guys got up and walked with Phee to the front counter, leaving JC with the rest of them. They carried a mindless conversation across two tables for a few minutes before deciding to engage JC.

“So, who you hang out with, up by Nix’s place?”

“Nix?” JC seemed confused, before he remembered other people called her something else. He called her Phee to be funny, and then it just stuck.

“Oh.” He clasped his hands before him and rested them on the table. “No one really. Kind of a loner. I met Ph—Nix the other night when it was wicked cold out, then we lost contact for a couple of days. Then I saw her again last night and we’ve been hanging out and stuff. She’s the first uhm… friend I’ve made out there.”

“They got good shelters and stuff up there. Why are you out on the street at night?”

“Man, you know how shelters are sometimes. It’s loud, it’s hot, and it stinks like ass and garbage. And you wake up light.” Meaning, missing a few things. “I don’t know,” he continued. “I sleep better out in the open, I guess.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

The group came back to the table, their loud banter taking over the conversation. JC sat back and listened, watching the volley of conversation between Phee and her friends. It was obvious that they had all known each other for a long time.

A few minutes later, a server showed up with enough pizza to feed an army, dropping two pies at their table and two pies at the next table. Next came pitchers for each table, cups and plates, and then it was a free for all.

JC ate until he felt like he could pop, savoring each hot, bubbling slice of meat and cheese and peppers until he was stuffed. When he couldn’t stand eat another slice, he excused himself and headed to the restroom.

He was alone, the fluorescents above him buzzing, cool water running through his hands into the stainless steel sink. He had washed his hands and was bent over the faucet to splash water on his face when a loud thump sounded behind him, reverberating through the room and bouncing off of the tiles.

Colin, the bear of a man that had greeted Phee first, exploded into the room and before JC realized it, his feet dangled a good half inch off of the floor and he was pinned to the wall by Colin’s enormous hand. He could breathe—barely—but his heart thumped out of his chest and he was starting to panic.

“You fuckin’ around with Nix?” He growled. Gone was the playful, joking demeanor from earlier. His eyes were small and beady, his wiry eyebrows knit together in fury. “Answer me, fucker!”

JC shook his head and clawed at Colin’s hand. “N-N-No. No, I’m not. I swear. I swear to God, I’m not.”

“You sure? Because if you are, and you fuck her over—“ His grip tightened and JC started to choke.

“I swear,” he squeaked. “I didn’t know her before yesterday. She was nice to me, offered me dinner and a warm place to sleep and then said we should hang out. I swear I’m not messing with her. We’re not together like that.”

His grip loosened and he lowered JC to the ground as he emitted a gruff chuckle. “Not yet, at least.”

JC sucked in air, just so happy to still be alive. The room spun and was intermittently out of focus. This was the reason he avoided the south side.

“What…” He panted, trying to catch his breath. “What do you mean, not yet?”

Colin stared at him, cockeyed. “You ever seen a picture of Davey?” JC shook his head. “Figures. Have her show you. You look like him, sort of.” He looked JC up and down, nodding and mmhmm-ing. “I see she gave you his coat.”

JC glanced down at the coat he hadn’t bothered to take off. It was unzipped, revealing the jacket he usually wore. He fingered the thin jacket made of denim and sweatshirt material. “Uh huh. She-she said my jacket wasn’t enough, and—“

“It’s not,” he snapped, cutting JC off. “Good move, on her part. You act new.”

That was the second time that someone had suggested he didn’t know what he was doing, out there. Maybe they were right.  

“Alright. Let me tell you something.” Colin stepped back, giving JC some room to breathe. “Phee’s a cool kid. She really cares about people. They’re like her little projects. Davey was nuts about her. You’re the first guy to come sniffing around since him. She can be a little rough around the edges, but underneath that edge is a sweet girl, who is a good friend to us. You stay on our good side, you’ll be alright. You fuck her over, or hurt her?”

Colin stepped close again, forcing JC up against the wall. He couldn’t see around his view of burly chest. “I will find you,” he snarled down onto JC’s head, “And cut off your balls. And I won’t even give you the courtesy of knocking you out, first.”

“Okay.” JC nodded. “Okay, I got it.”

“Good.” He stepped back, and magically the menacing demeanor disappeared. Replacing it was a friendly smile. “Glad we had this talk. Hope you didn’t piss your pants.”

JC straightened himself, surreptitiously checking, because he wasn’t sure that he didn’t. “No,” he said, confident.

“You go on out. I’ll be out in a few. I promised Nix I wouldn’t fuck with you. Don’t rat me out.”

JC shrugged, shuffling toward the door. “Yeah…I… no… of course not. Nice talking to you, and stuff.”  Once he was clear of the door, he stopped to breathe, wilting against the wall and willing his heart to stop thumping triple time.

“JC? You okay? Did Colin mess with you?” Phee had poked her head around the corner.

He stood up straight, bolt upright. “No. He was fine. I think I ate too much, though.”

“Well, come on. We’ll walk it off.”