Max turned the corner and automatically glanced up at where the boy normally stood selling his papers. But today his part of the sidewalk was filled with people on their way to work. Max looked around in case the boy was just standing somewhere else. But the thin figure was nowhere to be found. Max's brow furrowed in confusion, and he suddenly felt he needed a brandy. His favourite bar was just across the road; he went to the edge of the busy street to wait for a break in the steady flow of traffic. There was a short space between a taxi and a bus so he took his chance. He ran in front of the bus and onto the traffic island for a second, then made a dash for the sidewalk, almost colliding with a parked car. Max readjusted his hat, then reached out to open the door into the bar. Just as he touched the cold metal of the door handle he heard a loud smashing noise from the inside and several male voices shouting. Quickly, he pushed the door open, curious to see what was happening. As he hung up his hat on his usual hook he heard more glass breaking and the scrape of chairs being pushed away from tables.
"Pay me back, you little runt!" yelled a man.
The whole bar was in uproar; Max could barely hear himself think. He turned around and stood on his toes in an attempt to see what was going on.
"I've called the police, they're on their way!" someone yelled over the rabble. Even as he said it, Max thought he could hear sirens. Wanting to see who was causing all the commotion, he stood up on an empty chair to search the crowd, which was—at that moment—just a crowd. But then he saw four people: the bartender behind the bar, a black telephone beside him; another man with his fists raised, and the last man holding up a scrawny person who seemed familiar…
Max's mouth dropped open as he recognised the boy. The man had him by his collar, and the boy's feet dangled uselessly above the ground. Meanwhile, the sirens had grown louder, and Max heard them outside. The boy lashed out with his feet, kicking and twisting in an attempt to get free. The other man opposite him lowered his fists and chuckled nastily. "Maybe they'll teach you not to steal in jail, you flea," he sneered.
The boy glared at him and suddenly, he lashed out with his right leg, kicking the man hard in the stomach. The man stumbled back, winded, and the boy took the opportunity to fling his left arm behind him. It smashed into the nose of the man who held him; he automatically let go, bringing his hands up to his face. The boy dropped to the floor, and dodged another man who tried to grab him; he slid across a table and pushed it over to block his pursuers' way.
Max grabbed his hat and opened the front door again, crashing into a policeman as he came in. Max barely paused to apologise—he ran outside and around the corner into the alley. He sped up a short flight of metal stairs and wrenched open the heavy door, finding himself in the bar's storeroom. He ran into the corridor as suddenly, the boy jumped lightly over a pile of empty crates and crashed into Max. He began to cry out in surprise, but Max clamped a hand over his mouth.
"It's alright, kid. It's me," he whispered, grinning at the boy, but the fear didn't completely leave the boy's eyes. Keeping a tight hold on his skinny arm, Max pulled the boy back down the corridor, into the storeroom, and to the exit. He glanced down the alley, and, seeing it was empty, dragged the boy down the steps and together they hurried down the alley. They didn't stop running until they were two streets away, standing safely behind a bus shelter. When Max finally got his breath back, he straightened up to look at the boy.
"Sir, please… you're not going to turn me in, are you?" the boy asked, his blue eyes pleading.
"That depends on what you did. If you murdered someone…"
"No, sir! I would never—" began the boy, looking shocked.
"It's alright, kid; I was just teasing you. But what happened? How did you get yourself into a situation like that?"
"Well, I was getting really cold and I thought I could sell the papers better inside. So I went into the bar and started waving them around. After a while, no one wanted any, and I was real hungry, sir. And there was this cup of something hot just sitting on the table, and no one seemed to be claiming it. So I began to drink it and the next thing I know, I'm being grabbed and hit and yelled at for being a thief. Then the bartender said I was too young to be in there and he called the police," answered the boy, but Max noticed he didn't meet his eyes.
"So that was all you did? You didn't…. accidentally take anything from the man?" Max asked shrewdly.
The boy looked at the ground. "Well, I might've taken a few things that day, but I was real hungry, sir! And no one was paying me, so I thought I'd just get by like I always do," said the boy.
"By stealing, you mean."
He looked up at Max, a little bit of guilt shining in his mischievous eyes.
Max sighed. "Son, what about all the money I've been paying you? I mean, you got that scarf and I thought you were getting a few good meals…" Max trailed off as the boy looked at the ground again.
"Or did you steal those, too?" Max guessed.
The boy nodded.
"And the scarf?"
"The money went so quick, sir. There ain't barely anyone but you who buys my papers," said the boy.
"But surely some people still toss you money, even if they don't buy a paper?"
The boy looked up in surprise at him. "No, sir. Why should anyone care for someone like me? I'm just a kid who sells papers. No one can care less whether I get food or not. But I still gotta survive, don't I? So that's why I steal."
He stared steadily up at Max, eyes shining defiantly, and Max was suddenly hit with the realisation of what a cruel world they lived in. The kid was right—no one cared. He cleared his throat.
"I just realised: I've been buying papers off you for weeks, and I don't even know your name," said Max.
"Jonathan, sir. Jonathan Hart," the boy answered, and smiled.
Max grinned back, lighting a cigar. "Nice to officially meet you, Jonathan. You can call me Max," he said, and shook Jonathan's hand.
"If you'd like… Max," said Jonathan, hesitantly.
"Sure. We're both men, aren't we?" said Max, grinning. Jonathan smiled back.
"Well, after all this commotion, I'd sure like a cup of hot coffee. How about I buy you one too?" suggested Max.
Jonathan's blue eyes lit up. "Yes, please."
"OK. Come on, kid," said Max, putting an arm around Jonathan's bony shoulders.
They headed down the sidewalk and Max led the way to a small coffee shop at the end of the street. The scent of fresh coffee washed over them as they entered and made their way over to a booth in the corner. Max watched Jonathan as he stared all around him in wonder. He felt sorry for the kid; he'd probably never been in a place like this before.
A waitress came over to them.
"What would you two gentlemen like this morning?" she asked, her pencil poised expectantly above her notepad.
"I'll have a cappuccino please, and I think a hot chocolate for the boy. That sound alright, kid?" Max asked, glancing at Jonathan.
Jonathan nodded silently, his mouth still hanging open in awe. The waitress moved away.
"So, tell me about yourself, Jonathan. How come a kid like you is on the street selling papers and living a life of crime? Or are you helping your dad out by earning an extra few bucks?" asked Max.
"No, Max—"
"Your mum, then. She's working hard but needs a good, strong kid like you to help her?"
Jonathan shook his head.
"Then what? No, wait! I got it: Your parents don't work so you're working instead of them," said Max.
"No, Max. I don't have any family—I don't have any parents. I'm an orphan," said Jonathan.
That brought Max up short. His one hope for this kid was gone. "Oh. I'm sorry, Jonathan. I didn't realise…"
"That's OK, Max. I don't worry about it, because I don't really know what it's like to have a family anyway," said Jonathan.
"So how did you get to be selling papers?" asked Max.
"I grew up in the San Francisco Orphanage. But a few months back, I was sent away because I turned 15. They don't keep you at the orphanage after you're too old. Folks just don't want you. So I was sent off by myself, and I've been selling papers ever since," he said.
They were silent for a moment as the waitress came over and put their drinks down.
"Thanks," they both said, and she nodded before moving away again.
Max took sip of his hot coffee. The steam felt warm on his face, but he noticed Jonathan hadn't picked his drink up.
"Are you gonna drink it or just stare at it?" Max asked.
Jonathan looked up at him and then back at the drink. "I don't know. I'm still trying to decide whether it'll disappear or not," answered Jonathan.
Again Max felt a wave of pity wash over him. The kid probably hadn't eaten a proper meal in a long time. He leant forward and touched Jonathan's arm lightly. "Don't worry. It won't go anywhere," Max said softly.
After a moment of hesitation, Jonathan nodded. Slowly, he cupped both his hands around the mug and brought it up to his blue lips.
"Careful. Don't burn yourself," warned Max as Jonathan took a sip. He felt the warmth flood through him as the hot liquid slipped down his throat, and Max could almost see the colour returning to his face.
"Better?"
"Yeah. I've never tasted anything like it," said Jonathan, his blue eyes shining in excitement.
Max grinned at him, and then he knew without a doubt that he was making the right choice.
"Jonathan, I want to ask you something serious, and you don't have to say yes if you don't want to. I think you're old enough to make your own decisions…"
Jonathan waited politely.
"I'm very lonely in San Francisco. I don't have a wife, well… not anymore. We're divorced, but that's not the point. I'm moving to Los Angeles in a few weeks, and it's a big city. I think I'll get lost without someone with me, and since I don't have any friends there, I thought maybe…" Max took a deep breath, "...you could come with me?"
Jonathan stared at him.
"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to," said Max hastily, seeing his expression.
"You want me to come with you? Like on a holiday?" Jonathan asked, looking confused.
"Well…yeah, but I sort of thought that maybe it could be more permanent. You could think of it as a lifelong holiday with Max," he grinned.
"Wait, Max—you actually…do you mean that you want to…" Jonathan swallowed hard, "…adopt me?"
Max grinned. "You got it, kid. I mean, it's legal, right? You're not at the orphanage anymore so the only person I have to ask is you. So what do you say Jonathan? Do you want to live with me?" asked Max.
"But, I—I… I don't know anything about being in a family…" said Jonathan, sounding worried.
Max leaned forward again. "You know, I got this kind of motto that I live by," he said.
"What is it?" asked Jonathan, leaning forward as well.
"Sometimes, you just gotta get on with the exciting business of life. It's gonna be an adventure every step of the way; we'll help each other along. We can both get used to it at the same time," said Max.
Jonathan considered this, his forehead creasing. Then, his expression cleared and he looked up, giving Max a wide smile. "OK, Max."
"OK, Jonathan." Max stood up. "Then let's go get on with the exciting business of life."
H2H