Homeless

Chapter 2

Danielle's POV

When I get home, the first thing I do is kick off my rain boots and crank up the heat. As much as I love living in New York, I am a California girl at heart. This rainy, 20 degree weather is not it.

I live in a cute, two story condo just about 2 miles from my bakery. On the second floor is my room and a guest bedroom, both of which have private bathrooms. I've made them both super comfy and cozy, as I believe a home should be. But my favorite part of my home is my kitchen.

I have an industrial style kitchen with chef-grade appliances. The countertops are made from a bright, white marble. The kitchen island is large, with my stove built into the center. I also have two more ovens, built into the back wall of my kitchen. It's a bit excessive but I love it.

Even after a long day of baking at work, one of my favorite things is to come home and experiment with new flavors, both in my cooking and in my baking. I sample my baking but also share new recipes I come up with my neighbors. If I get good feedback, I take the new recipe to my bakery for a trial run. If the recipe sells, it gets added to the rotation. Otherwise, I come back to the drawing board.

Tonight I want to try experimenting with some new flavors for next spring. It's only early December but time moves fast and I want to make sure that I have some new cupcakes to introduce in March.

I pull out my baking basics and grab some lemons from my pantry. I want to try and make a lemon cupcake with a vanilla curd center and whipped frosting. It takes me three separate batches to get the flavor of the cupcake to where I want it. As I finish frosting the third batch, I take a small bite of one cupcake. It is perfect.

Instead of finishing the cupcake, I toss the rest of it in the trash. As much as I love baking, I don't love eating the stuff I make. As long as the flavor is good, I'm happy. I box the rest of the cupcakes into half dozen and individual containers to share with my neighbors tomorrow morning. I also put 3 individually wrapped cupcakes into my work bag, two for Lizzy and Anna and one for the homeless man behind my bakery.

My mind stops when I think of the homeless man camped in the alleyway beyond my bakery. I look out the window and it is raining heavy. I really hope he's okay.

Derek's POV

I peel back my blanket to see that the rain has let up. It's actually completely stopped. To keep myself from getting wet overnight, I moved myself to the step that leads to the bakery's backdoor. I waited until I saw all the lights go out before making my way here.

I've been chased away by so many New York City shop owners but this one seems to be different. I know my place is out of sight and under the awning but unfortunately the rain started blowing sideways last night. The only way to have a bit more protection was to come up to this top step.

As I'm folding up my blanket and getting ready to move back to under the awning, I'm startled by a loud banging on the glass door behind me. I look to see a white woman with curly, ginger hair with an angry look on her face. She is fanning her hands at me and yelling. I can't hear what she's saying but deep down, I know. She's telling me to go away.

I start to pack my stuff, starting with my wool blanket. As much as I don't want to go, I know my time here is up. It's been weeks that I've been able to stay in this back alley. Usually after just one night, I am being chased away by a shop owner or asked to move by the cops. My shortest stay ever was just about 5 minutes. As soon as I sat down behind this restaurant in the upper west side, a security guard told me I had five minutes to get out of there.

I grab my blanket as well as my black trash bag and begin to make my way out of the alley. I keep my head down as I begin to round the corner. I'm not sure where I'm going but I'll figure it out.

As I round the corner, I run into the woman who brought me cupcakes last night.

"Sorry," I mumble, avoiding eye contact. I side step her and keep walking.

"Where are you going?"

I figure she isn't talking to me so I keep walking.

"Hey!" This time she shouts. I pause and look back. And she's looking right at me.

This is the first time I get a good look at her. She's a dark-skinned, black woman with long, twisted hair that's been pulled back. She keeps herself healthy. One glance and it's clear that she has good skin and a very toned body. Her outfit is simple but I can tell she has money just by her rain boots. She's wearing Le Chameu. Just like my mom used to wear.

"I said where are you going?" she asks again.

I don't even know what to say. Not once in my life has anyone ever bothered to ask me that question. Maybe I don't know what to say because I don't actually know.

I simply shrug my shoulders then turn back around. I start to walk away again, confused as to why she is even speaking to me. It's been months since I've spoken to someone and this all feels so strange.

"I..." she calls out again. "I got you another cupcake."

I stop mid stride and she walks up to my side. She digs through her bag and pulls out a small white box.

"This is for you."

I take the box from her. "Thanks," I mutter. She isn't leaving and I'm not sure why.

"What?" I finally ask.

"I..." she stutters over her words before finally blurting out. "I'm just not sure where you're going. You've been behind my bakery for weeks and I was okay with you staying there. Are you moving?"

I snicker at the moving comment. There's no such thing as moving when you're always on the move. "Your employee kicked me out."

"My... Lizzy?"

I shrug and look down.

"Listen, Lizzy does not have the right to do that. I'm the store owner and have the right to decide who stays on my property and who doesn't. You are more than welcome there. I'm going to talk to her."

I mull on her words for a minute. As awkward as it will probably be for me to deal with this woman I now know by the name of Lizzy, I think returning to sleeping and hanging out behind the bakery is my best bet. The worst of the New York winter is just starting and right now, at least I am somewhat protected from the elements. In a few weeks, when the snow starts to come down, I know I'm going to have to make my way to a shelter. I absolutely hate the shelters. For now, being behind the bakery offers good protection.

"Okay," I nod, turning back around. We walk side by side back to the corner.

"I'm gonna go through the front door," the woman says. "But you can go back to where you were. I'm sorry for Lizzy."

I simply nod then head back to under the awning. I put my stuff down then pull out my wool blanket. As I sit up against the wall, I can't help but feel thankful for the small act of kindness.