Shelter (closed)

[Scuttle Buttin']

She got soft emotion, but she don't let it show none
She sure as hell won't let you know, son
Unless you take your time​

Colin Larson was ready to be home.

Los Angeles had been unseasonably cold for weeks now, and at last the lack of food in the house had driven him into it. Once you were looking at a dinner of canned peaches and a block of cheese, cold or no it was time to go out. Still, as he wandered the aisles things seemed to dissolve into a blue, with boxes that shouted Lower Sodium! and 50% Less Fat! and New Look, Same Great Taste! not managing to hold his interest for the time it took his green eyes to scan the brightly colored text.

The bakery section, where he ended up by mistake, held little else of interest, but his cart still ended up with a loaf of French bread and a clear container of croissants that he realized only after setting in his cart he'd need to pick up butter for. It was, then, with a sigh that he began making his way to the dairy section, though he stopped for a moment on the way to pick up some maple sausage and chicken breasts. Slowly but surely, some semblance of a meal was coming together.

The open coolers of the dairy aisle made him happy he'd worn the grey sweater, though his dark jeans seemed to do little to protect from the chill. It was for this reason that he was in a hurry as he gather milk, eggs, and butter into his cart, and for this reason that he barely noticed the girl before he was bumping into her.

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

He laughed, a bit nervously, and slid a step out of the way, surprised that he hadn't even really seen her before he felt her against him. The girl seemed okay, perhaps understandably eager to get away from the man who had nearly run her over, and a bit embarrassed that he had, Colin didn't even bother a second look at her.

At 43, he was fairly young to be a widower, and in many ways still adjusting to it. While Emily had been gone for three years and, for the most part, he had moved on, there was still an emptiness that seemed to have a hold on a house that now seemed much too large for him, as if her death had taken all the life out of it. They were supposed to be traveling together, the pair of them having amassed a fortune they could easily live three lifetimes off of, and instead he was alone, shopping to fill an empty refrigerator on a cold Thursday night. He'd play tennis Saturday, just as he always did a few times a week, and he'd do his usual running, but other than that he felt as if he was drifting through his life. A boat unmoored, floating wherever the current may take it.

But that drifting boat was ready to get out of this store now.

One lane was open, the cold apparently driving people into their homes and leaving the store surprisingly slow, and so he had to wait in line for a short time while the cashier and the woman in front of him tried to communicate with each other in separate, incompatible languages. Their transaction mercifully finished, he set his items on the belt and pushed the cart forward so he could reach the card machine. His hand went to his back pocket, as it had a million times, and...

He found it empty.

A blink, a pause of confusion, and with his other hand he checked his other pocket, then both front pockets. Nothing. The cashier paused in the scanning of his items, clearly aware of his growing confusion and dismay, and Colin frowned at him, head shaking slowly as he patted his pockets for the third time.

"I can't find my wallet. I know I had it when I came in, cause I-"

His words cut off as the realization hit him, jaw setting.

The girl.

It was the only explanation. Eyes narrowing, he pushed his cart out of the checkout lane and turned back to the clerk.

"Would you hold on to my things for me? I think I know where my wallet is."

Without waiting for an answer, he stalked off away from the confused teenager and in search of the girl he'd bumped into. Or, perhaps more accurately, who had bumped into him.

Sneaky little thing.

 

[LovelyLuna]

Emmy Young had no place to call home.

She leaned up against the wall next to Pavilion's, one of the biggest chain grocery stores here in Los Angeles, a pair of dark sunglasses perched on her nose, a cigarette dangling from her lips. The chill in the air didn't bother her (she was not, by any means, a native Californian; 50 degrees was not now, nor would it ever be, a temperature that she considered cold). And so, while she had seen several people bundled up in scarves and jackets this morning, Emmy wore nothing but a pair of light wash jeans, ripped along the knees and thighs in a way that looked fashionable but was actually just shabby, and a dark grey zip-up hoodie. She tugged the hood up over her long, dark hair, hiding from the glares of middle-aged housewives who disapproved of her dirty Converse sneakers.

Emilia Mary Jane Young, as she was born, was a runaway. 19 years in a godforsaken town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere had groomed and manicured her into the scared, helpless child that she often felt like on the inside. But scared and helpless were death sentences when you were on the run from your parents and needed to find your own way across state borders. She had crashed on couches of friends until she finally made it out of Nebraska; then it was rest stop bathrooms, seemingly abandoned vehicles, and McDonald's booths. Emmy was tired and hungry.

She hadn't stolen anything for the first month of her so-called freedom. It didn't feel right, she wasn't a criminal. But then the hunger kicked in... she could only mooch off of people for so long before she ended up in a place where she knew no one to mooch off of. And so it was little things... emptying a tip jar at the end of the day when the staff were too busy cleaning up to notice and all the patrons had cleared out. She had taken a 20 dollar bill that some over-nipped, over-tucked 40 year old had dropped on her way out of a convenience store one day; Emmy had convinced herself that that one was merely fate making itself available to her.

And now, three months later, Emmy was outside of a grocery store, scoping people out for pickpocketing. She had only done it a few times, and only after a nice guy named Jed, also homeless, had showed her the right way to go about it. He was a champ, made it look effortless: "Bump into the person in question when they're completely distracted by something else. Phone calls are good, people can't seem to do anything else when they're on the phone. Slip in from behind, quickly extract from the back pocket (and you should only pick people with back-pocket wallets), make conversation and apologize sincerely but keep it brief. Then you leave, immediately. That way, even if they do realize what's happened, you're nowhere to be found. Don't let them see your face. Hoodies, sunglasses, try not to look memorable."

Emmy had watched Jed steal wallet after wallet, and he let her share in it all (never 50/50), as long as she let him feel her up. And she did. He was a nice guy, he was cleanly enough and he was only 22... no dirty old man with an unruly beard and a shopping cart. He was a kid, just like her. And they were all trying to get by.

Jed had left. He was headed for Arizona, being a Californian native for real; Emmy knew he would be back though. He was the kind of kid looking for an adventure. He had no real reason to leave home, his parents were loaded and treated him well enough. This was more of an excuse for him to gain attention than a cry for help. Emmy was sad to see him go but simultaneously sick of his wet lips on her neck at night. She was glad, now, that she had never fucked him.

Retreating out of her own head, Emmy spotted a potential target. He was middle-aged, very attractive... but he didn't seem to know it. He had a sort of quietness about him, and he didn't even look her way as he walked past her into the store. She was almost positive that he would never notice her slipping a wallet out of his back pocket if she could remember all of Jed's notes. Putting out her barely smoked cigarette (more a look she was going for, rather than habit... she hated the taste), Emmy followed at a safe distance behind this man.

She watched him shop from afar for a while, picking up strange items that only sort of went together. He reeked of "man living alone", and Emmy wondered for a moment about what his life was like.... most likely he was a bachelor, despite being into his late 30s, early 40s, eager to keep fucking everything that moved before he had to settle down for real. Telling herself little stories like this made it easier for Emmy to steal from others, since it wasn't in her nature to begin with.

When he reached the dairy section, Emmy saw her opportunity. She was swift and smooth, bumping, snatching, hurrying away.... wait, damn it, she wasn't supposed to hurry immediately, she was supposed to apologize. Fuck..... Emmy rushed into the next aisle, heart pumping, adrenaline shooting through her body. It was a thrill, yes, but not the kind of thrill that Emmy was looking for.

Despite knowing that she should leave, Emmy began a slow walk toward the back of the store, where the bathrooms were. She hovered in that hallway, opening up the man's wallet to see if he even had anything worth stealing. The first thing she looked at was his driver's license: Colin. Colin Larson. That was a nice name. She glanced at his birth date... 43. Not bad for 43, he looked like he was barely hitting 36. Replacing the card, she flipped through the cash that he had. Several hundreds, typical LA type... he could probably afford to lose some, honestly. And one more thing, amid several preferred shopper cards and a few credit cards.... a picture of a woman. She was pretty, probably a bit younger than Colin. Maybe his wife? How could a rich, goodlooking man like that not have an attractive wife?

And it was at this picture that she was looking when she heard the clearing of a throat to her left. Looking up, Emmy blushed a deep red. There, staring down at her, was the man whose wallet she was rummaging through. There was no way out of this one.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

The quickest way to find someone, in a grocery store, was to walk perpendicular to the aisles instead of running up and down them, glancing down each as it was passed, and then moving quickly on to the next one. There was a small risk that the person being sought after would be rounding an aisle at just the right moment, effectively hiding them from view, but the chances were slim and still less than the longer and less effective way of searching.

It was this method that Colin employed, quick steps carrying him down the length of the store, and every aisle he came up empty in he felt himself growing more and more angry.

Or was that desperation that seemed to be coiling around his heart? There was a picture in that wallet, perhaps a little worse for the wear, but it was one of his favorites of Emily and the idea of losing it because some girl stole his-

Was that her?

He stopped in his tracks just as he was passing one of the last aisles, a flash of hair catching his eye. He backed up, but too late. Whatever he saw was gone. He was met with a choice now. Go after what he'd seen and run the risk that she'd slip out while he was at the other end of the store, or continue on in the hopes that he'd find her lurking in one of the other rows? He stood, rocking for a moment heel-to-toe, debating.

With a frustrated sigh, he started down the aisle after what he hoped was the girl. Each step felt faster than the last as he hurried past rows of red and white Campbell's soup labels and styrofoam Cup of Soup packages, the colors a blur he paid about as much attention to as he had to the girl that bumped into him.

Not bumped into. Stole your fucking wallet.

End of the aisle.

No girl.

Son of a bitch.

His hands went to his hips, head turning side to side, and now it was definitely despair that he felt sinking through him. He was just about to give up, walk to the end of the store to find it just as empty of the girl as the area he was looking in now, and then go home without food, without his wallet, and without the picture of her, when his eyes caught a sign for the restrooms at the back of the store. There was one last, desperate hope. She may have no interest in the wallet, or it's contents, outside of the money. Maybe she found a private place, pocketed the money, and ditched the wallet. It was, at least, worth a look. Wasn't it?

It's not there. And you know it's not.

The part of his mind that always had to be rational (or was that just an asshole? it was hard to tell at times) had to make it's opinion known, but he ignored it as he strode towards the small hallway that would lead to the restrooms. Half-hearted glances were thrown down each aisle as he passed it, though no part of him expected to see her in places he'd already eliminated. It was this now, or nothing. He just had to hope she-

For the second time in only a handful of minutes, he stopped in his tracks. This time he blinked, not quite believing his eyes. He had indeed found his wallet... still in her hands. The despair drained away almost instantly when he saw the picture in her hands, and he knew whatever happened he'd at least get that back. The rest could be replaced.

So enthralled by her catch was she that he had, it seemed, arrived unnoticed. A clearing of his throat to grab her attention solved that, and he smiled thinly at her, a weary kind of anger thrumming in his heart now.

"I think you have something of mine, young lady."

He pointed to the picture in her hands, the only thing he was truly after, brows raising as he did.

"Give me that - and the cards in my wallet - and I'll let you keep the cash. Otherwise," his hand dropped to his side and he shrugged, as if to say what other choice do I have?, "I'll have to call the police."

 

[LovelyLuna]

Emmy could feel her face growing hotter and hotter as she stared up at the tall, smiling (why was he smiling?) man. She knew instantly that it was all over now. She would be arrested, she would be shipped back to her parents, years of abuse would continue. Any freedom that she had hoped to obtain through this little journey of hers was a distant dream now.

But then he was speaking.... he was... asking for the picture back. Glancing back down at the woman, Emmy realized she must have been correct. His wife, or girlfriend, someone very special to him. But why would he want it back so badly and allow her to keep all of the money in his wallet? That just didn't make any sense.... unless....

Suddenly, Emmy felt sick to her stomach. This was the problem with stealing people's wallets... everyone had a story. Everyone, no matter how douchey or rich or privileged they looked, had their own issues, their own problems, their own shit that they were dealing with. And it looked as if this guy was dealing with some particularly rough shit. Whoever this person was... she was gone. This picture was probably one of the only things he had to remember her by. And Emmy had gone and taken it, like a stupid fucking kid. She flushed even deeper, shaking her head and replacing the picture back inside the wallet.

"Here... take it all..." She held out her hand, wallet closed, everything that was supposed to be inside of it still inside of it. "I.... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken it from you. I don't want your money... I don't know what I was thinking." She swallowed hard, knowing that, despite being hungry and desperate for money, giving it all back was the right thing to do. Maybe a few deposits in the karma bank would send her catapulting into some good fortune eventually.

Running a hand up through her hair, pushing her hood down off of her head in the process, Emmy bit her lip hard. This guy seemed nice enough, and now that she had returned the wallet, there was no reason for him to call the police or anything like that... right? Even so, maybe she needed to convince him to just let her go on her way. She couldn't afford the possibility of second thoughts on his part.

"Please don't call the cops... I... I'm really far from home, and I can't go back. I can't. If you call them, they'll call my parents... I just... I can't have that. I took your wallet because I have nowhere to go and no food and no money and I've been sleeping in that park down the street? The weather's been a little chilly, but I've managed... it's just... I wanted a hotel or something, for the night. Just... let me go, and I won't steal from anyone else. I'll get a job. I swear..."

Emmy was gushing the truth without a filter, but she knew that last bit wasn't true... she wouldn't be able to get a job, that was the first thing she had tried to do when she got out here. No one wanted to hire a 19 year old with minimal job experience and tattered clothes. Even so, she needed to say whatever it took to get this guy off her case. Her nerves were making it hard to orchestrate her thoughts well, and Emmy felt a lot like a bunny backed into a corner.

Ceasing her incessant chatter, Emmy tugged on a strand of hair, eyes hopeful. If she was younger, she would have used her body or batted her eyelashes to get her way. But she had long stopped that kind of behavior. Now, she was just trying to survive.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

The girl had clearly not expected to be caught, she did a terrible job at hiding her reaction, and he was relieved when she didn't try to bowl through him and run away like he'd halfway expected her to do. His eyes followed the picture as it was replaced in the wallet, and for the first time since he realized it was missing he found himself breathing a little easier. Then the girl was talking, her voice pulling his eyes to her face, and she seemed to be unspooling her life for him.

But he didn't want this girl's life. He didn't want to know why she was taking his wallet, what she had planned to do with it, what she needed to make it through the night, or the week, or the month. He didn't want this girl in his head, feeding into his guilt after her took his wallet and left. He didn't want her problems. He wanted his wallet, and his warm house, and a quiet night.

"Thank you."

It was all he said, low and forced out, and he swiped his wallet from her hand when she held it out to him. A last glance was cast up at her face, and he turned away from her, head shaking. In his hands the wallet was opened, and he pulled Emily's picture out to make sure it had not been damaged. His eyes settled on the smiling face staring up at him from the past, slowing his steps until he was stopped just inside the nearest aisle.

If she was here, she'd help the girl. If she was here, she'd yell at him for not offering to help the girl right away. And for turning away from her. And for still standing there, debating it. He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping a bit, and then turned around to face her again. The short distance between them was crossed, though not quite as quickly as it had been created, and he slipped his wallet instinctively into his back pocket as he stopped in nearly the same place he had when he first found her.

"Alright, look. I'm not going to call the police, but I'm not going to give you money either. If you really are hungry, then we'll walk to the diner across the street and I'll get you something to eat. But that's it. Take it or leave it."

It was out, an offer that was nice, reasonable he thought, and most importantly would stop Emily's voice from nagging him in his head.

 

[LovelyLuna]

Emmy was a bit confused. She had just stolen this man's wallet. Instead of calling the police or berating her further, he was offering to buy her a meal. Of course, this was bizarre and a bit disconcerting. She was embarrassed already.. it seemed spending more time with this man would make an awkward situation even more awkward.

"Uh. Well..." She wanted to say no, had even practiced it in her head a couple times - but instead...

"That would honestly be so awesome. I'm just pretty hungry."

Fuck... She hadn't wanted to sound so damn eager. That particular tone she had just taken on was extremely unattractive. And this was the kind of guy who kept a picture of a beautiful woman inside his wallet. Shame had never been so heavy on Emmy's shoulders.

"I'm Emmy, by the way. You're.... Colin, right? Sorry if that's creepy, but I did glance in your wallet..." Making this so much worse, idiot. Shut up.