Read Online Less Than Nothing by R.E. Blake - Free Book Online

I’m reminded of how awesome his hair is. Focus, Sage. Do not start down that road. You’re making progress dragging info out of him.
    “No, I’m not in trouble.” He pauses. “At least, not the kind you’re thinking.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “You think I can talk them out of some cake or ice cream?” he asks, clearly wanting to change the subject.
    “Pretty sure they sell it here. Let’s ask Doctor Doom.”
    “His name isn’t Doctor Doom. It’s Chuckles,” Derek says, his tone somber.
    I almost blow the last of my soda through my nose. I swat his arm. “Don’t do that.”
    He looks at me innocently. “What? That’s the kind of abuse I get on my birthday?”
    I signal for the waiter, who looks like he’d rather be skinned alive than return to our table. If you’ve ever seen a basset hound that’s lost his favorite toy, that’s our man. He slinks over to us, and I offer my most endearing smile.
    “It’s Derek’s birthday. Can you make something special for us?”
    He nods once and barely contains his eye roll before tromping off to the kitchen.
    I sigh and look at Derek. “He likes you best.”
    “Are you kidding? That’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him. He was dizzy with excitement. Don’t let him fool you.”
    I laugh some more and have a hard time stopping. I’ve kind of got the giggles. Part of the reason is I feel a lot more comfortable with Derek – he seems more human now. Before he was this unapproachable hot guy with danger written all over him, but after spending the day, and now the evening, with him, I’m starting to be able to look past that. Not that I want to – the eye candy part’s also pretty compelling. My gaze drifts to his Elvis tattoo.
    “What’s the story with the King?” I ask.
    “It’s a reminder of what you can do if you really want to. He came from nowhere, and he made history.”
    “You really like his music?”
    Derek shrugs. “Some of it’s pretty good. But I’m more talking about his bulldozing whatever was in his way and making it, no matter what it took.” His eyes take on a passionate gleam. “He started as a hillbilly singer, but became a force of nature. You have to admire that. And he did it all while he was young – not much older than we are.”
    “Really?” I ask. I’m not that big on a singer who would have been old enough to be my great-grandfather.
    Derek nods. “He was told he couldn’t sing by everyone in the business, and to quit. He got passed up in tons of auditions. But nothing could stop him. He just kept at it until the world came to him. He dragged it kicking and screaming, and never gave up.”
    “And that’s what you’re planning to do?” I ask playfully. His eyes never waver, and I see the truth in them. “You are, aren’t you?”
    He looks away. “Everyone’s got a dream, right?”
    I consider that. Do they? I don’t. I don’t even have a plan for the week, much less a dream.
    I feel like a loser again. Who’s either of us kidding? We’re street people one day away from starvation – or one good storm from pneumonia. Our life expectancies can be measured in years, not decades. Dreams are for people with futures. We’re like some kind of lost tribe, living in limbo. Our reality is one that doesn’t exactly encourage wishful thinking or optimism.
    A part of me envies Derek for his Elvis tattoo, for his reminder that extraordinary things are possible. At least he has something to wake up for.
    I sigh, wondering whether I’ll ever have anything, or anyone, and then push the thought aside. No point dwelling on possibilities that don’t exist for me.
    For now I’ll settle for my bag of coins and a chance at a better tomorrow. This week, with Derek. Next week? We have to make it to next week. I’ll worry about it then.

Chapter 7
     
    Dessert turns out to be tiramisu, and a mega helping of it that tastes like sin. I don’t think I can choke down more than two bites, and then I’m baffled when a