Page 28 of New Year

A sharp pang of fear twisted his stomach as he walked through the gate. Not so much because of where he was, but because of all the people. Because Austin had brought him here a few times for the gourmet grilled cheese truck in the back left corner. Austin could be anywhere in the crowd, watching, waiting for his chance to hurt Nat again.

Don’t let him keep taking from you.

Nat straightened his spine and continued forward, forcing confidence he didn’t feel into each step he made toward the nearest store. Someone told him they were called pods, which seemed odd, since they looked more like large sheds than anything pod-like, but it wasn’t his business. It was a used book shop called Jack and the Bookstore. The illustration on the sandwich board sign outside suggested the name was a play on “Jack and the Beanstalk.”

As a child, Nat’s closest friends had been movies and books. Movies kept him company during his sickest days, when all he could do was lie in bed and suffer with something entertaining playing on television. Books were for his good days, when he could sit up without nausea, focus on the words, and get lost in other people’s adventures. He’d loved fantasy and science fiction the most, because it took him out of the hell he was living in, and let him explore brand new worlds.

He hadn’t read much in the last few years, but he still adored books. The store was a touch claustrophobic, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filling every spare inch of the available space. The owner, Jack, did business on a barstool with an attached table for his tablet. Nat returned Jack’s greeting as he entered, not really looking for anything specific. Mostly happy to be doing something as normal as browsing a bookstore.

Nat eventually found himself in a section of all mass-market paperbacks. After a moment, he realized it was a bookcase full of romance novels, based on the titles and the abundance of Harlequin logos on the spines. Nat didn’t believe in romance or in happy endings, but he did believe in moments. Individual moments of pure joy that gave the illusion that happy endings might be possible.

He dragged his finger along a row of titles and randomly stopped. Pulled the book off the shelf. The cover, title and author name meant nothing, so he flipped it over. And his heart soared as he read the description on the back. It was a romance novel about two men who overcame personal challenges as they fell in love.

If only life was as simple as a romance novel.

Nat held onto the book and scoured the shelves for others like it, and he had three when he paid Jack for them. A couple of fictional happy endings were a good way to spend his down time, now that he had some. And they wouldn’t take up too much space in his pack if he had to bug out in the immediate future. Not that he thought he might. Zack’s sofa bed wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but he’d seen no indication that he would be kicked out.

He was just used to losing everything good in his life, so he had no reason to think he could keep anything.

“How have you been doing since February?” Jack asked as he entered the transaction on his tablet. “You look good.”

“Thanks. I’m doing okay.” The scrape on his face from last weekend had mostly healed, and the other fading bruises were under his clothes. “Thanks for asking.” Nat was a little tired of it, though, being recognized as “that guy who got blown up in that bar.” But it had been huge news in Reynolds, so his face had inevitably ended up on TV and all over social media.

Nat just wanted to be anonymous again.

“Not a problem.” Jack handed him his books. “I read all these. They’re really good.”

“Awesome.”

“You know my trade-in policy, yeah?”

“Yup, thanks again.”

Nat tucked the books under his arm and left. Jack had a pretty cool return policy: keep the receipt and bring them back within sixty days, and he gave back half the sale price in store credit. Nat didn’t read fast enough to utilize it, but he imagined it was damn popular with avid readers struggling to make ends meet. Especially people their age.

He circled Shindig, reading the various food truck menu boards, trying to decide what he wanted for dinner. Everything sounded and smelled amazing. He ended up at the nacho truck, partly because their Garbage Nachos were calling his name, and because the truck was run by super-hot male triplets.

While Nat had waited on the brothers before at Tim’s, he didn’t come here often enough to tell them apart on sight, except for Jayden, who was shorter and slimmer than the other two. But each triplet had the letter of their first name stitched to the corner of their matching polos, which was awesome. Keenan stood outside, taking orders, handling money, and chatting up the patrons. Someone had once described the brothers as resembling Marvel Phase One era Chris Evans, but with dark-brown hair and a five o’clock shadow, and Nat could see it.

Keenan, naturally, recognized him immediately and offered a gentle fist bump. “Hey, dude, it’s great to see you. Been shopping?” He pointed at the books under Nat’s arm.

“Yeah, I’ve got some down time, so I figured I’d find a better way to fill it than endlessly doom-scrolling on my phone.”

“I hear you. What’cha feeling for dinner?”

“Garbage Nachos, please.”

Keenan took care of the order, and Nat was glad they still accepted cash. Nat needed to open a bank account again, now that he was making real money working for Chase. A lot of places only took plastic nowadays, which made life difficult for someone trying to stay as anonymous as possible. If cash ever went away completely, victims fleeing abusive situations would be royally screwed.

“So what have you been up to?” Keenan asked, so casually it sounded genuine, rather than gossipy. One thing Nat knew about a lot of the food truck vendors here was that they were big gossips. They were also loyal to each other as a group, like a big, found family. Something Nat was insanely jealous of.

“This and that,” Nat replied, not sure how to answer the question. Physically, he was fully recovered from the explosion. Mentally, he was still a mess from PTSD, Austin’s abuse, and his own time on the streets. But he wasn’t hooking anymore. He had a real job now. “I actually just started a new job as a helper to someone with a physical condition that limits their mobility.”

“That’s amazing, man. Wow. Big career change from being a waiter.”

“It is, and it kind of fell into my lap, so to speak. But I really like the man I’m working for, and it’s kind of fulfilling, in a way.”

“I bet. People who can do that job? Like nurses and shit? They got my respect for sure.”

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