Page 22 of Ruthless Riches
“Hey, how are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m okay. I was just wondering if you could help me out with something.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“When I was still in the hospital a few weeks ago, you mentioned a homeless man who hangs out near your art studio on Seventh Avenue. Do you know if he’s still there?”
Sascha went silent for a moment. “Uhh…yeah, he’s usually somewhere around there,” she finally said, voice tinged with suspicion. “Why?”
“Nate and I want to start helping people like him, so I thought we could take him some food.”
“Oh, right. That’s nice of you,” she said. “I know he likes mochas and chicken sandwiches. He likes pasta, too. Oh, and his name is Brian.”
“All right. Thanks.”
I ended the call, face flushing hot with shame. “I feel really shitty,” I said, looking over at Nate.
“Why?”
“For lying about that.”
“You couldn’t tell her the truth,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road. “She’s worried about you starting up any sort of investigation, remember? So if you told her the real reason we want to find this Brian guy, she’d lose her shit.”
“I know. But it’s not just that. It feels shitty to say we’re going to help a homeless guy when we really just want to pump him for information.”
Nate nodded slowly. “We can do more than lunch and coffee, if it makes you feel any better.”
“What do you mean?”
He gestured toward his phone, which lay in the center console. “Find a shelter on Avalon and make a donation,” he said. “As much as you want. You know my passcode, right?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. If we say we’re going to help people, we should actually do it, right?”
I used his phone to search for a homeless shelter in Avalon City. There was one on Fourth Avenue attached to a soup kitchen, and their website said they were always looking for volunteers or donations. “How much should we donate?” I asked.
“How does fifty sound?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Seems a little low.”
“I meant fifty thousand, Lexie.”
“Oh. Are you sure?”
“Yeah. It’s not really my money anyway,” he muttered, clenching his jaw.
I made the transaction and returned his phone to the console, watching him out of the corner of my eye. I could tell he still had a lot of anger in him, largely aimed at his family for their part in the Golden Circle. Their fortune was tainted with blood, and I knew it bothered him to still have so much of it at his disposal.
Some of the anger was aimed at himself, too, for everything he’d done to me in the past.
I reached over and put a hand on his leg, hoping he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I forgave him for who he used to be. He glanced at me and smiled faintly, eyes flickering with affection.
When we reached the city, we picked up some sandwiches and coffee. Then we parked on Seventh Avenue, right near Sascha’s art studio, and set about searching for Brian.
We found him in a narrow alleyway near the studio, sitting next to a large black backpack. I could see why he liked to sit there. The alley had cobblestones, potted plants, and lights affixed to cast iron brackets on the brick walls on either side. It was much nicer than the dingy alleys further uptown.
We approached him slowly. “Hey, man,” Nate said. “Are you Brian?”
