Chapter Eight
The cots were packed tighter than fish in a sardine can, but the men were peaceful. Jaime's job would normally have ended after they'd all checked in, but she was following her instincts. Eight of the men were the same ones from the previous night, one had appeared on previous lists and one was a first-time 'guest'. On a hunch, she copied all ten names from the clipboard onto a separate piece of paper and stashed it in her purse, then quietly joined the men.
"How are you gentlemen doing tonight?" she asked cheerfully. Unsure if she was friend or foe, the men merely stared curiously. "I'm trying to chart the frequency of your visits," Jaime fibbed, "and I wonder if you can tell me what time you usually get in line to get your beds...?"
"Why?" one of them asked with a deep, skeptical gaze.
"Just doin' my job," she told them lightly. Jaime took a small notebook from her purse. On the first page she had written the nine names still remaining from the previous day's list. One by one, the 'guests' grudgingly approximated their arrival times for her and she was astonished (and a little dismayed) to learn the line began to form just after noon. To secure a bed for the night, these men had skipped lunch.
She glanced at the furnished times. "So you were first, then, Dave?" she said to the man with the earliest arrival.
"No - Artie was in front of me."
Jaime looked again to be sure; there was no 'Artie' on her list. "Who's Artie?"
"Dunno his whole name, but he used to live with the trestle crowd before he came here."
"Does he come here often?" Jaime wondered.
"He's always first in line - hasn't missed a night in months...except tonight. Funny he's not here..." Dave's voice trailed off. "I kinda miss him," he added. "If you see him, tell him that would ya?"
"I'll see what I can do," Jaime answered with an uneasy smile. She knew it was time to visit the trestle.
Steve pushed the chicken around on the old, cracked plate until hunger finally made him dig in. In addition to the meat he and Benny had found, Harley had also had a lucky day. The supermarket three blocks over had thrown out even more damaged produce than usual, and the trestle men's plates that night were graced with potatoes and carrots, the bad spots carefully removed before they were wrapped in old foil and set in the fire to roast to perfection. A nearby bakery employed a sympathetic worker who'd dropped off several loaves of two-day-old bread. What had once been garbage was now a meal for almost twenty, and once Steve overcame his reluctance he had to admit it wasn't entirely awful.
After dinner, cardboard sheets and blankets once again staked out each man's territory. Bicycle Charlie had found an old deck of cards (the jokers stood in for two missing face cards) and Steve, Benny and Harley joined him for an impromptu game of poker.
"I'll see that bet and raise you one stone and two pebbles," Steve said, placing his wager in the center of their circle. He glanced around the camp; no one appeared to be missing. The headcount came up exactly as the night before - a very good sign. He was thinking of Jaime as the betting moved around the circle, so seeing her at the top of one of the hills didn't seem abnormal...at first. Then, just as suddenly as she'd appeared, Jaime was gone.
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