The Inheritances Game (Jameson Hawthorne)

Spaghetti and New Friends

A month since my mom died, five days since I left the only memories of her. Two days since I have eaten actual food. Around an hour since I last cried and about a couple of minutes since I saw the stupidly overdressed boy with a briefcase walking toward me. 

I hadn't been on the streets for long, but I knew no one in that nice of clothes should be wandering around so carelessly. Except he wasn't wandering around, he was walking towards me. He appeared to be around ten, his dark brown hair and green eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

"Hi" Was he talking to me? I mean he was talking to me but why?

"Hi?" I said looking from him to the weirdly formal briefcase he held.

"Do you know where the closest restaurant is? I'm starving."

"Welcome to the club." I mumbled. "What are you looking for?" I then asked for him to hear.

"Don't know, anywhere with decent food to eat."

I gave him a puzzled look. "There's a place down the street, but it's expen—"

"Money's not a problem."

He was becoming stranger by the second. "Okay... Follow me," I said reluctantly, and we walked in silence.

After a couple of minutes, he introduced himself, "I'm Jameson."

"Catalina." I replied.

"You have a long name."

"So do you; mine only has one more letter." I retorted, crossing my arms.

He shrugged, "My brothers usually call me Jamie. Gray sometimes calls me James, but only because he wants to be fancy. This is his bag." He gestured to the briefcase. "I took it to make him mad."

"Your brother is named after a color?"

He smiled. "Kinda, that's his nickname."

I nodded, his family sounds interesting. "My mom used to call me Catie." My heart hurt thinking about her.

"I'll call you Cal, it's easier to say." he suggested.

I smiled, I stopped in front of the restaurant, "Well here we are. Enjoy your meal."

He looked at me, "Are you hungry?"

I shrugged, "Yeah."

"Want some spaghetti."

My eyes lit up. "Yeah."

"Follow me." We entered the restaurant, and the enticing aroma of food filled the air. Jameson led me to the host, who eyed my disheveled appearance and dirty clothes with disdain. 

Uncomfortable, I looked at Jameson, suddenly uncertain about being there. The host then looked Jameson up and down, his attitude changing as he fit in better with his neat attire.

"Can I help you?" the host inquired.

"Yes, we would like a table." Jameson replied confidently.

"This restaurant is very expensive; are you sure?"

I looked at Jameson worried, he only smiled. "I'm sure."

The host pursed his lips before grabbing two menus. "Follow me."

We followed him to a small table tucked away in a corner; he placed the menus down before walking away without a word. I hesitantly sat down and asked, "So, what were you doing wandering around alone?"

"I was running away," he confessed, crossing his arms.

I looked at him confused. "Why?"

"Because my brother is being mean"

"That sounds tough," I replied sympathetically. "Family stuff can be hard sometimes."

Jameson nodded solemnly. "Yeah, it can be. But hey, at least we have each other for now, right?"

I couldn't help but smile at his optimism. "Yeah, I guess we do."

We both scanned the menu, and I couldn't believe the prices. "Jameson, this place is really expensive. Are you sure you want to eat here?"

He shrugged. "Like I said, money's not a problem." Here I was, worrying about the cost of a meal when Jameson seemed to have an endless supply of money. It made me wonder about his family and what kind of life he led.

As we waited for our food to arrive, Jameson started asking me questions about myself. He seemed genuinely interested in getting to know me, and I found myself opening up to him more than I had to anyone else since my mom passed away.

Before I knew it, our food arrived, and we dug in eagerly. The spaghetti was delicious, and I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten something so satisfying. Jameson seemed to be enjoying his meal just as much, and we chatted and laughed as we ate.

By the time we finished our meal, I felt a sense of warmth and comfort that I hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe it was the food, or maybe it was Jameson's company, but for the first time since my mom died, I didn't feel so alone.

As we left the restaurant and headed back out onto the streets, Jameson turned to me with a smile. "Thanks for showing me around, Cal. I had a great time."

I smiled back at him. "Yeah, me too. Thanks for dinner, Jameson."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, which he handed to me. "Here, take this. Consider it payment for being my tour guide."

I was taken aback by his generosity. "I can't take this, Jameson. It's too much."

He shook his head. "Nonsense. Consider it a gift. Besides, I have plenty more where that came from."

I hesitated for a moment before reluctantly accepting the money. "Thank you, Jameson. I really appreciate it."

He grinned at me. "Anytime, Cal. Anytime."

With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. I stood there for a moment, watching him go, before heading off in the opposite direction. As I walked, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the chance encounter with Jameson. He may have been a stranger, but for a brief moment in time, he had made me feel like everything was going to be okay. And for that, I would always be thankful.