The North Star | COMPLETED ✔️

Chapter 6 ~ High Steaks

Chapter 6

The large expanse of property behind the shop could have been a campground. By the time I slowly caught up, the old man was already sat at a weather-worn picnic table, and Zeke had a grill fired and going on the opposite side of the yard.

Between them was a charred fire pit, a corn hole set, a broken tether ball pole, a scattering of tiki torches stuck into the ground in random order, and as if all of that wasn't enough to scream suburban family vacation, a rusty motor home looked abandoned on the far backside.

I looked around as I slowly took the seat across from Mr. Frankfire. "Why do I feel like we're about to sing Kumbaya?"

His lips curved into a crooked grin. "You just be quiet." He chanced a glance over his shoulder at Zeke, then turned back to me with a more serious expression. "I swear, for a girl who seems smart, you sure do some stupid shit."

I'm stupid? If anything, us sitting here was stupid. I opened my mouth to give him hell, but the old man cut me off.

"We live on the street, girl! When someone offers you food, you don't just turn it down. That's the difference between livin' and dyin'."

Living and dying. "I'm more concerned about what comes after the food." I shot him a look that made him bow his head. "It's not smart to trust just any asshole that offers you a piece of bread. I've got my reasons for not trusting him. Did you ever think of that?"

He looked to the sky as if asking for aid, then looked at me as if I were an infant. "You can trust this one."

I scoffed. "Really? And how do you know that?"

"I'm older than dirt, that's how," he hissed. "I've been on these streets longer than you've been alive. Hell, you weren't an itch in your daddy's crotch, and I was out here." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "You don't want to live like this. Not your whole life." His eyes crinkled, and his jaw firmed as much as it could behind aging loose skin. "You need to take this damn job. You're going to take this job, and if you don't... you can just go about your damn way after this."

I stared at him. Was he kicking me out? From under a fucking bridge?

I laughed.

His eyes narrowed. "You think this is funny?"

His voice was raw. Emotional. My laughter dulled at the sound of it. If I didn't know better, I'd think he actually cared, and looking at him now, I almost believed he did.

He cleared his throat. "I've seen a lot of shit in my life, girl." His gnarled knuckles whitened as he clasped his hands together and stared at them. "I like you," he said. "I like your spirit, but if you don't get out, it's gonna fizzle and die. I've seen it happen before. I've got no aim to see it again." His eyes met mine. "I'm too damn old for that shit."

Zeke chose that moment to set a plate of steaks on the table top between us. I'd been too caught up in the old man to notice him, and something in his expression let me know he'd heard at least part of what was said.

He set a stack of paper plates down beside the bounty and took the seat beside Mr. Frankfire. "I didn't have anything to go with them," he said, voice as even and steady as it'd been. If he had heard, he didn't let it show. I instantly liked him a fraction more for it. "But I cooked up six of them." He smiled as he took the plates and began separating them.

I watched his fingers work, his arms move about as he placed one down in front of me then the old man and himself. I took a closer look at the artwork spreading across every inch of his skin. A dragon. A horse. Flames. But the largest and most detailed stood out the most.