Free Romeo is Homeless by Julie Frayn Page B

men.”
    “Men? You have sex with men?” He was a prostitute. Did boys do that too?
    “Yes, August. I have sex with men. Sometimes it’s women, but mostly men. Usually older.”
    “Like how old?”
    “Like thirty-five, forty. Older.”
    “You have sex with men.” She deadpanned, waiting for it to sink in. “Men my father’s age?” The shrill of her own voice made her wince.
    “God, relax would ya? It’s no big deal. All of us do it. It’s the only way to get any money.”
    She looked around then put her head closer to his. “Are you…”
    He laughed. “Only for pay.” He looked her in the eye. “Look, I like girls, okay? I just do that for cash. It doesn’t mean anything.”
    She stared at him. How could it not mean anything? She was saving it, holding out for someone she loved, because it meant everything.
    “Why can’t you just get a normal job?”
    “No one will hire me. I’ve got no permanent place. And under the bridge doesn’t count.” He winked at her. “Besides, I’ve got no skills. Well, not the right kind of skills. And I’ve gotta eat, don’t I?” He stood up, grabbed her hand and pulled her up beside him. “Now come on. We don’t need money for breakfast.”
    *****
    August and Reese walked for blocks before turning into an alley behind a row of shops and restaurants. A few yards in, she wrinkled her nose and then plugged it against the foul stench with one hand.
    “It smells worse than an outhouse back here.”
    Splashes of green and yellow stained the building walls, flies buzzed all around, their steady drone the soundtrack to her filthy new life. The acrid air burned her nostrils, the smell of aging human waste like caustic poison. The manure on the farm stunk, but at least it was earthy and natural. Sweet, even.
    An indigo Dumpster, scarred with deep dents and stained with rust, sat cockeyed in the laneway as if the garbage truck that last emptied it had just tossed it aside.
    Reese pushed a pile of boxes up to it, scaled them with ease, sat on the edge of the bin and held a hand down for her to grab. “Come on up.”
    She hesitated, looked up and down the alley. “What if we get caught?”
    “It’s garbage. I don’t think they mind so much. They dump leftovers from last night in here just after dawn, so it’s usually fresh.”
    “Gross.”
    “Yup, but it will keep you alive for another day. Just look for stuff that isn’t moldy. And I hate bread with lipstick prints on it. Too much like Mom used to make.”
    She clasped his hand and he hauled her up beside him. The bin was more than half full, boxes of discarded food tossed in next to bulging garbage bags held shut with twist ties.
    Reese ripped one of the bags open and the stink of rotting meat assaulted the air. He didn’t even flinch, just tossed it to the far side of the bin, grabbed another bag and ripped into it.
    She turned away and stared toward the end of the alley, forcing down the queasiness that was rolling up her throat.
    He tapped her arm with the back of his hand and held up two partial sandwiches. “Pastrami? Or tuna?”
    “Yuck. Tuna, I guess.”
    He swung his legs over the side and jumped down, holding his hand out to her.
    She couldn’t help but smile. He was a complete gentleman, kind and considerate. She took his hand and accepted his chivalry, scaling down the cardboard, protected and safe in his strong, firm grasp.
    They sat on some discarded newspaper on the alley floor. Reese took a big bite out of his breakfast. She just stared at hers.
    “I can’t do it. I can’t eat someone else’s leftovers.” She started to cry. “It’s disgusting. I could get a disease.”
    “You won’t get a disease. The runs, maybe.” He grinned. “Besides, it beats starving."
    “But just barely.” She took a tentative bite. Nausea gripped her stomach before she could even chew and she spit the food into her hand. “I’m going to puke.” She ran behind the other side of the Dumpster. It was bad