Page 6 of Grateful in Watch Hill
THREE
KENDRA
Ihad to admit, notonly was it kind of the Watch Hill Community Church to provide the food boxes, but it was also awesome they didn’t scrimp on what they handed out to the people. I didn’t have much experience with that type of thing, but I had to imagine that most charity food drives didn’t include fresh vegetables, a wrapped whole chicken, or boxes of name brand food.
For the first time in several weeks, I wasn’t freaked out by a lack of food in my dad’s fridge or the dwindling money in the bank.Now, if I can just find some steady work...
“I’m going to make some stew with what we got,” I said to Dad from the kitchen. He sat on the couch in the living room of the small Cape Cod, a house we’d had for all my life in the town of Fairview, a community that butted up to Watch Hill but had none of the quaint qualities of our bigger neighbor. “And I’ll leave it on the stove so you can eat it when I leave for work.”
“Thanks, honey, I appreciate that,” Dad replied, the faint buzz of a newscast playing on the TV across from him. “What time are you starting?”
I glanced at the wall clock near the refrigerator. “In about half an hour.”
“Will you be gone all night?”
“I don’t know. I’ll probably stay locked into the app for a while and see how many people place orders to-go since it’s Saturday night.”
“Hopefully, a lot.”
“Hopefully.”
I took a large pot from the kitchen cabinet and put it on the range, then set about filling it with whatever qualified as a large and cheap stew. Dad wasn’t too picky about the food that he ate, and he was more than willing to overlook my efforts to stretch the limited amount we had into as many healthy meals as I could create.
Once satisfied with what I’d made, I went to my small bedroom, threw on a jeans jacket, and slid a baseball cap over my head. Working as a delivery driver for FoodSwap meant dressing for comfort, since I’d spend my evening couriering food all over the city to get whatever tips I could make. It wasn’t easy, but if I worked hard enough, a decent night would bring in one hundred bucks or more. And God, we needed every one of those dollars.
Tonight needs to be a good night.
After saying goodbye to my dad, I slipped out the back door, and climbed into the aging SUV he bought before he had to stop working. I hadn’t needed a car in New York, so it was the only one we had, but I knew after dinner he’d most likely spend the rest of the evening staring at one of the many reality shows on the TV. I hooked the phone onto the charger and unlocked it, ready to sign in on the FoodSwap app and get my directions for the evening.
One text message awaited me.Seth Sampson.
Of course.
I leaned against the car seat and contemplated the message for a moment before I opened it. This meant one thing—Ashley must have told Seth she’d seen me in the food line earlier. I wasn’t stupid, that would be the only reason he’d contacted me.
We weren’t friends. I worked for him sometimes. That was all.
Except...
Except I liked him. I did. That was probably one of the biggest reasons why I said yes every time he texted, asking me to be a “hype person” for one his parties. Over the course of a few years, I’d dressed up as a can-can dancer, marionette, Marilyn Monroe, female superhero, or extra from a classic grindhouse film. If I was in town, I never said no. Besides, The Frosted Heart one of the best nightclubs in the region, and he owned it.
