Page 35 of Bossy Wicked Prince
But what if someone thinks they deserve more?
Like hell am I letting that happen.
I take her bag of bottled waters and pull it over my shoulder. Fuck, it’s heavy, even for me. How did this small woman manage to carry it this far by herself? Pure stubbornness, I’m guessing.
“Thanks so much,” Cat says. “If I don’t have time to do a full shift at the shelter, I like to come out and make sure people are hydrated.”
I nod. I’m not surprised—Cat probably has clusters of people she looks out for all over the city. It’s like she’s so full of goodwill, she can’t physically contain it.
As we enter the mouth of the encampment, my eyes sweep over everything. Some of the shelters are cobbled together from tarps, cardboard, and duct tape, while others are traditional camping tents that look a little worse for the wear.
Two young women sit just inside an open tent by the entrance. Their eyes look unfocused and hollow, until they seeCat. They smile at her, and I see that one of them has braces. I placed them both in their early twenties, but now I wonder if they might be in their teens.
“How’s it going, girls?” Cat asks. “I don’t know if you remember me?—”
“We do,” the girl with braces says. “Thanks for coming back, Cat.”
Cat kneels and chats with them, handing them granola bars and a little paper bag that I can guess has feminine hygiene products in it. Of course she’s thought of everything, including the fact that young girls might be embarrassed to have tampons out in the open.
The next tent has the door zipped shut, and I can hear a man mumbling nonsense inside. For a second, I’m worried Cat plans on going inside the tent. I’m relieved when she just quietly leaves some snacks outside the door.
“Don’t want to disturb anyone,” she murmurs to me.
She stops to talk to everyone, the people she knows and the ones she doesn’t. A few of them aren’t interested in conversation, which she always respects. Others are happy to talk Cat’s ear off about the weather, or police sweeps of the encampment across town, or gossip about people at the shelter.
I only half-listen to the conversation, since I’m watching everyone, looking for anyone acting unpredictably or anyone who might be unwell or high. Still, I admire how good Cat is at making conversation with people. Small talk is a challenge for me. If there’s no reason for me to talk to someone, I struggle to find a way to fill the silence.
Not Cat. She’s so open and curious that she seems to find something in common with everyone.
She weaves easily through the people, and suddenly I realize that I’m a few yards away from her. She’s been swallowed up bythe crowd. Before I can push through to her, a tall man lunges at Cat. He’s got something in his hand—a knife?
Fuck, he’s attacking her in plain sight!
I’m seconds away from grabbing Cat and pulling her to safety when she laughs. “Hey, Walter!”
I realize he’s not attacking her—he’s hugging her, and she welcomes it. When he pulls back, I see that he’s an older man with stooped shoulders and a limp. He didn’t lunge at her—he stumbled because of his injury.
My body goes shaky with relief. Cat turns around and gestures for me to come join her.
“This is my friend Nate. He’s got water bottles for you.”
Walter grins at me. “Nice to meet you, young man.”
I nod and hand him a water bottle without saying anything. Cat narrows her eyes, and I can sense her disapproval. She doesn’t get why I’m not as warm and friendly as she is. But I don’t know how to shut down the part of myself that was convinced this guy was a threat. Being polite is the best I can do, but I know for her, it’s not enough.
As I follow her through the encampment, she doesn’t introduce me to anyone else. I silently pass everyone she talks to a bottle of water while looking everywhere for threats. Just because Walter was Cat’s friend doesn’t mean I can trust everyone here—I couldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to her when I was right here with her.
By the time we make it through, Cat’s backpack is empty, and I’ve handed out all the waters. I follow her to the sidewalk, on the other side. I hand back her empty pack, and she glares at me. I practically take a step back—I’ve never seen her glare atanyone, not even that asshole chef.
“You didn’t have to act so rude,” she says. “I know you’re not much of a talker, but you could have at least said hi to people. Just because you’re uncomfortable around people who aren’t aslucky in life as you doesn’t mean you can treat them like they don’t matter.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Cat doesn’t give me any more time to explain. “Those people aren’t here by choice, you know. They’d rather have their own homes than be out on the street, but theycan’t.”
“I know that. I wasn’t judging them, Cat. I was just trying to keep you safe.”
“I’m not the one who isn’t safe there!” she snaps. “Do you know how dangerous it is for people on the street? People rob them and assault them all the time. Imagine if everything you had fit in a backpack, and then someone took that. You can’t even imagine what they go through. Sure, there are a few bad eggs, like there are everywhere. But most of them are kind people, and you can’t just judge them and act like they’re all predators!”
