Page 1 of Blade

Chapter One

Eloise

Shivers wracked my body so hard that my teeth chattered. It was February in Georgia. Like today, most days were in the high seventies, but I was freezing.Just two more bins. I can make it two more bins.Checking my dollar store watch, I was relieved to see I still had plenty of time to get my bag of cans to the scrap yard. Maybe if Elias was working, he’d give me the higher rate and I’d be able to buy more medicine before I went to the shelter for the night.

I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn’t see the person standing in front of me until I looked up from the garbage bin.

“I’m not stealing. I’m just getting the c-cans,” I blurted at the man. Why did he look so familiar? Why couldn’t I place him?

“I know, Eloise.” He chuckled. “I was hoping you’d help me.”

“How do you know my name?” That was suspicious.

“I’m sorry. That was probably scary, huh? I work with Kay and we met when you returned her wallet the other day. My name is Blade.”

That’s where I recognized him from. Several weeks ago, I’d found Kay’s wallet in a garbage bin. Her home address had been too far for me to walk, but there were business cards in there and the tattoo shop she worked at, Daddies Ink, was close. I’d returned it there. She’d been so happy, she hugged me.

“Oh right, I’m sorry. What did you need help with?” I asked, cautiously. Life had taught me not to turn down a chance to help someone, just to be super cautious about doing it.

“I’m an artist and I really need aluminum cans for a sculpture I’m doing. I don’t have the time to collect as many as I need for a project and I was hoping I could buy them from you.”

“Well, how many do you need?” I asked, as another shiver shook my body.

“Are you okay, darlin’?”

“Yes. I’m f-fine. Thanks for asking. How many do you need?”

“Three thousand over the next three months. It’s a lot, I know, but I was thinking maybe I could buy the ones you find. If you don’t mind,” he said hopefully.

“I a-average about one hundred a day, so s-seven hundred a week. Seven times twelve is eighty-four-hundred in t-twelve weeks, which is more than you n-need, but that’s good because some days I m-might not be able to do it. It’s h-harder when it rains,” I said as I calculated. Thinking made the pain in my head ten times worse. It was excruciating.

He nodded. “It would really help me.”

“C-could you pay f-fifty-cents a p-pound?” That was what Elias gave me per pound when he was working.

A mixed look of sympathy and hurt flashed across the guy's face and it made me happy to know the world hadn’t made him callous to people in situations like mine. I worked over eighthours a day collecting cans and I made less than one dollar most days. Thankfully people were kind to me and often they would give me food to eat here and there. On days they didn’t, I used the money I earned to buy lunch. It wasn’t a good life. The shelter only offered us a place to sleep and shower. It opened at 8 pm every night and closed at 7 am the next morning. The woman who ran it was so sweet, but she couldn’t afford to do anything else for us. We tried to repay her by keeping the area clean and helping her with things. Last week, I’d hemmed all her granddaughter’s uniform pants for school. Another woman, Allyson, trimmed their hair before school started. The kindness I saw gave me the courage to keep dreaming that things would get better for us.

“I will pay you more than that, actually. I know it might mess up your schedule a bit. I would need you to drop all the cans you collected for the day in my truck, so I’ll pay you more for your time.”

“Which truck is yours?” I asked, thinking about the vehicles in the tattoo shop parking lot.

“It’s the only black one in the back parking lot.”

“H-how much are you p-paying then?” I didn’t want to sound too desperate, but even five-dollars a day would go a long way.

“How is twenty-five dollars a bag?”

Twenty-five dollars a bag? Holy shit.Swallowing my hopefulness and stomping down the butterflies in my stomach, I worked to control my feelings. He didn’t need to think I was desperate. That was unsafe, so I nodded instead. “T-that’s good.”

“Could we start today?” he asked, reaching into the pocket of his ripped jeans and pulling out his wallet.

“Y-yes, Sir.”

He extended his hand with the cash and I took it before handing him the bags of cans.

“You sure you’re okay, darlin’?”

I nodded, shivering again. “J-just cold.”

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