Play with Me

My eyes tear up, too, and I’m not sure why. Because hers do. Because I know she’s about to tell me something that hurts Damion. I move to sit next to her. “Tell me. Please.”

“When he was seventeen, he and his mother were here in the shelter. Or the old shelter, before we moved.”

“Damion was homeless.”

She nods. “His mama had lost her job and they had no family. Four days they were here when she just dropped dead.”

I gasp and cover my mouth. “No. God. No.”

“It was horrible,” she says grimly, swiping away a tear. “I was there. I still remember like yesterday. And that poor boy lost it. He was lying over her, screaming for his mama. He went into shock and had to be hospitalized.”

Tears spill down my cheeks. “How long?”

“Two weeks. When he got out, he was my boy. My Roberto and I nurtured him back to health. Six months later it was like he found someplace to put it all. He turned eighteen and took a job on commission, selling stocks or some deal like that, and the next thing we knew he was making money and always trying to give us some. He never turned his back on us, though. He was here every weekend.”

I stand up. “I need to see him.”

She tugs me down. “No. Not here. It’s too emotional for him. Talk to him alone.”

I swallow hard. “I just want to go hug him.”

She smiles. “He can use some hugs. He doesn’t let anyone in. There was a girl years back, when he first got money. He met her here and thought they were alike. Soon she started milking him for money and he got tired of it. Gave her some cash and sent her on her way. Only she wanted more cash. She threatened to say she was abused at the shelter.”

“What did he do?”

“Dared her to do it, and thankfully she didn’t.”

I stand up. “I’m not going to say anything to him, but I want to be with him right now.”

She pushes to her feet and squeezes my arm. “I like that idea. Then later I’ll teach you to cook and you can help with Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I’ll make the tea and roll napkins or something.”

She grins. “I can teach you to cook.”

No. She can’t teach me to cook. But she’s taught me a lot about Damion.

A few minutes later Dehlia leaves me in the sports center, and I watch Damion laughing and joking with a group of ten teenage boys. He glances my way. Our eyes meet and he sets down his paddle and walks toward me, and I have only one thought: I’m falling in love with this man. No. I don’t care if it’s too soon. This is Vegas, after all. I love him.

He stops in front of me, lacing his fingers with mine.

“Hey,” I say.

“She told you.”

“Yes. She told me. Why—”

“I still can’t talk about it. I know it’s crazy—it’s fifteen years ago—but I still get … just … can’t.”

“You are the most incredible person.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. And I’m going to spend as much time as you let me making sure you know it and showing you in any way I can.”

“Just be with me, Kali. That’s enough.”

“I am. I am with you.”