Free Time to Steal by John Gilstrap Page B

“You learn who to stay away from, and who you can trust. I’ll tell you what surprised the hell out of me is that there really is a homeless community. Just like you get to know people in your neighborhood because you go to the same clubs or the same church, us street bums do okay taking care of each other.”
    â€œHow did you live? On handouts?”
    â€œI wish. You see, that’s what the smart ones do. You can make a pretty decent living panhandling if you’re not one of the drooling crazies. My age kinda worked against me there. People look at a homeless guy who’s sixty and they feel sorry for him. Try that when you’re a teenager, and you just get a lot of lectures about your work ethic.”
    He intercepted the look that flashed through Nicki’s face.
    â€œYou’re one of them, aren’t you?” He laughed. “You’re one of the lecturers.”
    â€œWell, why should you get handouts when you’re perfectly capable of working?”
    â€œWhat was I going to do? I couldn’t put my hands on a school transcript if I had to, so I can’t even qualify as a high school graduate. If you pick the right street corner, you can get double minimum wage, and you don’t have to clean baby vomit off the fast food booth.”
    â€œWhat about your dignity?”
    This time, the smile erupted into a laugh. “Okay, well, there are early casualties to certain lifestyles. My dignity stopped being important around the time when my mother started screwing strangers in our living room.”
    â€œGod, that’s awful. So, how did the prison thing happen?”
    â€œI was stupid. Begging bored me. It might keep food in my belly, and a buzz in my head from time to time, but I gotta tell you: It’s really freaking boring. I needed a business to get into. Something I knew how to do.” He glanced over at Nicki and waited for her to connect the dots for herself.
    â€œDrugs?”
    â€œBingo. The family business. You know what they say. Do what you know. So, I did.”
    â€œYou’re lucky you weren’t killed.”
    â€œI was in the game for precisely one day.”
    â€œYou’re kidding. Why?”
    â€œMy very first customer was a cop.”
    â€œNo way.”
    â€œI swear. I walked right up to this guy, offered him a nickel bag, took his money, and then every cop on the planet swooped down on me.”
    â€œYou were in Michigan then?”
    â€œNo, that was in New York. Rikers country. Anyway, I didn’t have to do much time. A few months, and then a long probation, which I promptly ducked, but nobody seemed to care.”
    â€œGetting away seems to be another one of your special gifts.”
    â€œWell, I certainly hope so. I never want to do anybody harm. I never really want to get in trouble. It’s just that whenever I see an opportunity, I somehow get involved only on the dark side of it. Everybody dreams of being an entrepreneur, right? I just chose a bad product.”
    â€œThat happened to be illegal.”
    His eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Look who’s sounding like a prosecutor.”
    Nicki blushed.
    â€œAll the really profitable stuff is either already taken, or it’s illegal. And I didn’t have a lot of seed capital, as they say.”
    â€œYou don’t even sound repentant,” Nicki said. Her tone was leaden with accusation.
    â€œAbout what? Surviving?”
    â€œAbout being irresponsible.”
    Brad laughed. “Oh, responsibility . And who are we supposed to be responsible for? Do you think that old Chas back there felt responsible for earning money for college or for a new car, and then ended up bleeding to death on a cold floor? Life isn’t about responsibility, Nicki. Life is about living, and doing whatever it takes to make sure you end the day the way you want to end it. It’s why I’ll never go back to prison. You own nothing in that place, not