Shooting Stars Read Online Free PDF

kitchen yet.”
    “I have to go.”
    He doesn’t budge one bit. “Please. It’s Tuesday.”
    I shrug my shoulders.
    “That means the nursing homes in the area drop their patients off at the mall today so the nurses can go shopping while the patients wander around the food court.”
    I have no idea what he’s talking about, but like always, he keeps talking anyway.
    “That means I have the undivided attention of an audience for at least four hours, or until one of them starts spitting at the employees at Saladworks.”
    “That’s weird,” I say.
    “I agree. I don’t know why it’s always Saladworks, but—”
    “No, the whole performing-at-the-mall thing. And no, I can’t take you. I’m already running late.”
    “You hate your job,” he says. I really have to stop sharing too much with him. “Can I borrow your car today?”
    “No, nope, not at all,” I say. “The last time I lent it to you, you brought it back smelling like weed and cold cuts.”
    “Oh, King Kevin. Please tell me, how many sorry s do you need? Okay . . . okay . . . how about drop me off? That’s it.”
    I think about it.
    He continues, “I know what this is really about. You’re gonna get the promotion. I’m sure of it. You deserve it.” Yep, I definitely have to learn to keep some things to myself. “Plus, we’re friends. Friends help friends.”
    “I know I don’t like my job, but it’s my duty to get there on time. People are depending on me. I’m in charge of too many things.”
    “Are you serious? I’ve been to your job,” he says. I always forget I got him a temp job at my company last summer for a few days, until he got fired two days later for allegedly giving a co-worker a drawing of him going down on her accompanied with an actual signed photograph of his exposed pubic hair. He said he thought of it as a tasteful invitation, but it made me look bad nonetheless.
    Robbie doesn’t believe the bullshit I’m spewing, and neither do I. He figures he can win me over with a sympathetic puppy-dog face, which is even all the more peculiar coming from a scraggly middle-aged homeless man. Now, I just feel uncomfortable and want him to stop. While I’m trying to figure out the best way to get him out of my car without hurting his feelings, our awkward silence is interrupted by the humming of my cellphone. It’s Alexis again. I motion Robbie to be quiet as I pick up the phone.
    “Hello.”
    “Yes, baby, I just made it into the office.” About a month ago I started routing my office phone calls to my cellphone every day before I leave, in case she tries to monitor if I went to work or not.
    Robbie threatens to open his mouth. I put my finger over my mouth. He looks at me as if asking if I’d drop him off. I nod my head.
    “Of course I made it in on time.” She also knows exactly how long it takes me to get to work. “The roads weren’t that bad at all. I hope you have a good day too. I have to go to an urgent meeting.” I hang up and put my phone away.
    Part of me can’t believe I’m driving Robbie to the mall when I had to be at work fifteen minutes ago. My streak now pushes to four consecutive latenesses, but the bigger part of me knows Robbie is right. I don’t like my job and will do anything to avoid going. All I needed was the excuse to delay my working day, and he provided it.
    I’m astonished as I pull up to the mall, not only by the fact there are actually people waiting in the freezing cold but by the age of these people waiting to see Robbie. This has to be a breach of their nursing-home contract to leave these old people in the elements under these conditions. About twelve geriatric nursing-home patients with their assorted illnesses stand outside in the frigid morning with their heavy winter coats, wheelchairs, and breathing equipment, some still wearing pajama bottoms. I guess the nurses didn’t bother to dress them today, or their families, who sentenced them to the home, don’t provide casual