long if she still cared about her table manners. The deep rose in her cheeks made her look prettier, sending a ripple of desire through Ethan’s body.
The boy was still standing in front of him, so Ethan ladled up a portion of peas.
“Actually, could I just have some extra chicken instead?”
Ethan put the spoon down and eyed the kid in disapproval. Skinny, with big teeth that would need braces in another year or two, he looked as if he hadn’t eaten in days. “Didn’t your mother tell you beggars can’t be choosers?”
The boy’s ears colored. “My mom’s dead, but thanks for the words of wisdom.”
Ethan grinned. Spunky little shit. He couldn’t have been older than ten, but it was hard to tell because he was skeletal under his stained sweatshirt and jeans. He might very well have been a malnourished twelve.
Ethan placed a chicken drumstick on the boy’s plate. “That enough or you want more?”
“More, please.” The boy’s voice was quiet and he seemed to be thinking hard about what he was going to say next. Finally his chin jutted out. “And I’m not a beggar. The food is free for anyone who’s hungry. At least that’s what your sign says out front.”
“Does it, now?” Ethan said, amused. He gave the kid two more drumsticks. Reaching over to the other station, he grabbed a plastic cup full of cherry Jell-O. “Here, dessert. So what’s your name?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just making conversation. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“Is that another old-man saying?”
Ethan couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it is, wise guy. And my name’s Ethan.”
“Ben,” the kid said finally. “The chicken’s for my dad. He didn’t want to come up and ask for a second helping.” Ben pointed to a table where a man who looked old enough to be his grandfather was sitting. He was slumped in the chair. His deeply lined face was haggard and his cheeks sagged where there’d once been fat to fill them out. “We’re on our way to Alaska.”
“Yeah? What the hell for?” Ethan wasn’t particularly interested, but the dinner rush had passed and the kid was cool. Also, the redhead was watching them, smiling. Ethan stood up straighter and looked at Ben, continuing to keep one eye on her.
“My dad got a job on a fishing boat.” The boy looked glum. “We have to go because he lost his job and he says we have to go where the money is. But I don’t want to. Our room will be, like, the size of a closet. And I heard that it’s dark all the time in the winter. I saw that movie, 30 Days of Night? All these vampires came out and killed everybody.”
“Good movie, though, wasn’t it?” Ethan said. The redhead had finished eating and was looking around for a spot to leave her tray. “Here, Ben, take another Jell-O.”
“Thanks. So, do you think it’s true?”
“Do I think what’s true?”
The redhead had stacked her tray on the table with the others and was buttoning up her sweater. It was impossible not to notice her breasts. High and firm.
“About the thirty days of night,” Ben said, exasperated.
“Oh, yeah, that’s true. Absolutely.” The redhead was near the door. Shit. Don’t leave yet.
“For real?” The boy’s eyes were round. “I thought it was just a movie!”
“Yeah, but don’t worry about it,” Ethan said, his mind in two places at once. “All you need to do is get one of those laser pointers. You know the kind you get on a key chain from the dollar store? You just flash it at the vampires’ eyes. It blinds them.”
“For real? That works?”
“Little-known secret. And if they can’t see you, no way they can catch you.”
“Awesome.” Ben grinned. “Thanks, Ethan.”
“Anytime. Now go eat.”
The redhead was gone.
Next time, then. Probably best not to complicate things, anyway. Sheila was enough for now.
Ethan watched as the boy passed the older man his plate of chicken and got a halfhearted hair ruffle in return.
Ethan wondered briefly what would become of them in Alaska and knew he’d never find out. Maybe they’d be okay, maybe they wouldn’t. People passed through St. Mary’s all the time. But at least father and son had each other, which was more than Ethan had ever had. His old man had split when he was five, leaving him alone with his crazy bitch of a mother.
On the surface, a really sweet woman, and he’d loved her. Until she tried to kill him on his tenth birthday.
At first, he hadn’t minded being locked in the closet. In the darkness of the closet, with its narrow walls and the smell of mothballs, there was comfort.
Ever since Dad had gone away, Mom had become forgetful and easily frazzled. She couldn’t work, so she had boyfriends instead. Lots of boyfriends. And when one of them visited, Ethan would be locked away in the closet. Grown men didn’t like little boys hanging around.
The closet was in Mom’s bedroom. It had a little keyhole that he could peek through. At first, he felt guilty watching her with them, seeing the things she’d let the men do to her. The handcuffs, the straps, the different positions. Eventually he came to understand that she must not mind his watching. After all, she could have sent him to the park. Or to the mall with ten bucks for a movie. But, no, she chose to put him in the closet, where he could see everything…
So he watched.
But, sometimes, she’d forget about him. One time, he’d been cooped up for thirteen hours. She’d forgotten about him and had gone downstairs to the living room to watch television, where she’d fallen asleep until the next morning.
He hoped he wouldn’t be stuck here that long tonight. It was his birthday, and he really wanted to open his presents. He really wanted some birthday cake.
Unfortunately, Michael was coming over. Michael was his Mom’s favorite boyfriend. Even though Michael knew today was a special day, he’d insisted on seeing Ethan’s mother anyway. So Ethan was put in the closet, his birthday celebration on hold until they were done.
He hated Michael. He hated all these men because they came into his house and took his mother away from him and did things to her he couldn’t.
Tonight her bedroom was filled with candles. They were everywhere, on the dresser, on the window ledges, on the nightstands. Mom said candlelight made women look more beautiful.
And she did look beautiful. The sex thing went on for a few hours, maybe longer. Ethan had finally fallen asleep, his head pressed against one of his mother’s long winter coats.
It was the smell of smoke that woke him.
In the dark, he sat up straight, confused at first by the intense but unmistakable odor, his nostrils working like a rabbit’s. He felt the closet door.
It was hot. Very hot.
Panic washed over him like a rogue wave. He looked through the keyhole. His mother’s bedroom was awash in bright orange flames. He scrambled to his feet, pounding on the door, screams pouring out of him.
“Mom! Mom! Mom!”
Nobody answered. The closet was locked as it always was. The house was burning down, and she had locked him in a closet.
He was trapped.
“Bye, Ethan.”
He looked up to see Ben waving at him from a few feet away. He waved back. “See you, buddy. Best of luck.” He forced himself to sound enthusiastic. “Remember what I told you about the laser,” he added, and nodded to the boy’s father.
Ben grinned. “I will. Anything else I should know?”
Ethan smiled. “Yeah. Don’t get locked in any closets.”
