Hex had experienced it all, from frantic flight to habitual circumstance. He wanted to be a friendly face especially for those who felt most alone and lost. So he went out and walked around, looking for new lost souls. When he found one, he stopped and talked and handed them a small flyer with details about St. Benedict’s.
Rare was the day that he went out and didn’t find someone new wandering near the shelter.
*****
On this Sunday afternoon, Hex was heading back into the shelter to finish up some paperwork and head home. He’d just turned to go up the main walk when someone vaguely familiar pushed through the glass doors and headed down the steps. She was digging in a handbag, pulling out her phone, as she walked.
It wasn’t all that unusual for strangers to come into the shelter for reasons other than need. People came in to ask about making donations, or to check if a friend or family member had been there, or countless other reasons. Normally, if someone was walking out of the shelter, he’d simply give a regular stranger greeting, a smile and a nod, and walk on.
This woman caught his attention because he thought he should know her and didn’t, so his gaze lingered as he tried to place her. She was Black and slim, dressed with casual style, in snug jeans and little brown suede boots, a matching suede jacket over a white t-shirt. Her black hair was straight and pulled back in a ponytail, and a pair of sunglasses rested on the top of her head. Damn, she really looked familiar.
She looked up, saw him, and stopped, a smile spreading across her face. She was attractive, actually. Had he flirted with her at a bar or something? His social life couldn’t be described as vibrant, but he got out a bit when he could.
Wait—no. He had her. She’d been at the rummage sale yesterday. His little chica guapa’s friend who’d bought up a box full of kitchen stuff.
Not remembering her name, he simply stopped and said, “Hey! How are you?”
She gave him a wry smile and held out a hand. “Shani. Hi, Hector. Or … was it Hex?”
He’d gotten that nickname in a life he’d wanted to forget, but it had been as indelible as the ink in his skin. Eventually, he’d realized that he simply was Hex, and denying any part of his life was denying what had made him who he was. Hector was a name he used only professionally.
“Shani, right.” He clasped her hand. “Just about everybody calls me Hex, yeah. Hi. What’re you doing here?” With a grin he added, “No take-backs on sales. We’re doing the good works here, after all.”
With a laugh, she shook her head. “No, I’m very happy with my purchases. My mom squealed when I gave her the Corelle.”
Remembering their exchange now, he said, “But she didn’t pass out, I hope.”
“Nope. Retained all her senses. But she was thrilled.”
“Excellent. I like a satisfied customer. So, what can we do for you, then, here at St. Ben’s?”
Did Shani like him? She was pretty cute, and had a good vibe to her personality, but if Mila and Shani were set side by side and he had to choose, it would have been Mila he picked. He couldn’t exactly say why. Just something about that little bit of woman in the huge red hoodie had caught his attention.
“Well,” Shani said, with that smirk firmly in place. “You and my friend Mila had a little moment yesterday, I thought.”
Hex had thought so, too, but he didn’t know what to say to Shani about it. And Mila hadn’t called, so he wasn’t sure there had been a moment at all.
When he didn’t respond, Shani added, “She didn’t call you, did she?”
He shook his head. “Nope. That’s okay.”
“I don’t think it is, actually. I saw the way she looked at you. But Mila … doesn’t like to put herself out there. She’d rather stay home with her pets than take a chance on getting hurt.”
“She doesn’t know you’re doing this, does she?” He remembered that Shani had been the one to prompt the phone-number sharing in the first place. She was that kind of friend, apparently.
Shani laughed. “Oh, she really doesn’t, and she’ll kick my ass when she finds out. But as her best friend, I claim the right to do what’s best for her even when she won’t. You seem like a decent guy. I mean my God, you’re an actual Good Samaritan. And you’re definitely in her wheelhouse looks-wise. So it’s worth getting my ass kicked. There’s a whole lot of very strong people who will line up to hurt you if you hurt her, but if you think it’s worth that risk, I’ll tell you where to find her. After that, it’s on you.”
“What if she doesn’t want me to find her? Isn’t that what her not calling means?”
She sighed. “Men are not very bright, you know. Just, as a group, you’re all morons.”
Hex laughed but didn’t try to defend himself or his gender.
Also, it dawned on him that he was hearing a little something in her voice, the faint hint of accent that he recognized as a native bilingual speaker of English and Spanish. Maybe she was Afro-Latina. Maybe Dominican or Puerto Rican, something like that.
“What she wants and what she tells herself she wants aren’t necessarily the same thing,” Shani was saying. “What she needs and what she tells herself she needs aren’t, either. So, if you want to see if that little moment in the parking lot means anything, you can find her at Cap City.”
“Cap City?” This was Sacramento, the state capital of California. A lot of places had a name like that, but the one that came first to his mind was the Capital City Fight Center, and she couldn’t have meant that. It was an MMA team gym. It wasn’t a sport he followed, but he followed enough local sports to catch some MMA stuff by osmosis.
“Capital City Fight Center. On El Camino. She’s there most days.”
“She is?”
“Yeah.” Shani’s grin had taken on a patronizing sheen. “So am I.”
“You’re … fighters? MMA?” Jesus. Really? Those women were badass. That tiny woman was an MMA fighter? This slender, stylish one was, too?
“Yep.” Shani patted his arm. “Breathe, Hex. We don’t bite. It’s against the rules. But I meant what I said about the strong people lining up to kick your ass. If you’ve got the cojones for it, stop by the gym sometime. Soon.”
With that, she put her sunglasses on her nose and walked away. Stunned, Hex stood where he was and watched her walk to a purple Jeep Wrangler and get in. She flicked a sassy wave at him before she pulled from the curb.
Cap City, huh?
Interesting.
THREE
Since she’d begun earning enough from fighting to quit her job as a server at Mel’s, Mila’s life had fallen into a fairly predictable routine—which was as she liked it. Even if the rest of her day went tits-up, she was almost always able to start it the same way. That steady start gave her a whole day’s worth of resilience for the rest of it.
She woke every morning at four-thirty, lay for about fifteen minutes in the tiny portion of bed all five animals allowed her while she scanned through social media, then got up, used the bathroom, and went to the kitchen to drink half a liter of water.