The Billionaire Bum Read Online Free PDF Page A

appeared to be in his own little world. That seemed pretty on par from what I knew of the guy–nice enough, but clearly self-centered.
    Finally, he wandered over to a group of three guys who had all come together. I was fairly certain that they had walked up from the soup kitchen as a group. Homeless people had needs that went beyond food and shelter. Humans are pack animals. We all feel the need for social interaction, although some more than others.
    “Is this shelter open tonight?” Jackson asked the guys.
    They appraised him for a few seconds before one of them spoke up. “Yeah. They open up
    ‘bout eight-thirty.”
    “Great.” Jackson smiled at them, and I had to stuff my fist in my mouth to keep from laughing. He clearly was not accustomed to making small talk with bums. He looked like he was about to hit them with a sales pitch. “Do you guys know where I could get some dinner?”
    “You ain’t been around long have you?” another one of the guys mumbled. I think he was missing at least half of his teeth, so it came out as a mostly jumbled mess.
    “Uh, no,” said Jackson. “I just recently… sort of… had well, uh… this is new to me.”
    “I’ll say,” laughed the guy who had spoken originally. “But you just missed dinner. On Wednesday it’s at the church on Maple.”
    “Oh,” Jackson was clearly disappointed. I wondered if this was the longest he’d ever gone without food. “What about Thursdays? Is there food somewhere tomorrow?” The three guys looked at each other, and I thought for a minute that they might lie to him and send him on a wild soup kitchen chase, but after a pretty lengthy pause one of them offered up the truth. “Yeah, the Presbyterian Church by the docks. It’s at noon.”
    “Noon. By the docks,” Jackson repeated. He was shifting nervously from foot to foot. I was sure he was tired. The guy was used to sitting in meetings all day. He’d done a lot of walking and not a lot of eating. His body was working overtime. He was still incredibly clean compared to most of the guys who were now in line, but his fancy ass jeans were starting to show a little wear, and his hair looked dirtier than usual. If he didn’t find a change of clothes soon, he would start to look homeless.
    Jackson kept to himself until they opened the shelter doors. He was close to the head of the line so he had a pretty good choice of sleeping space. The building used to be a convent, so there was a long hall with dorm-like rooms on each side that could house six guys in three sets of bunk beds. There was also an open area with four rows of ten cots. I waited to see where he would go before choosing my own space. He chose a top bunk in one of the smaller rooms. It wasn’t a bad choice, but the more private rooms were often out of the view of the shelter employees, which meant that there was a higher likelihood of theft. I would be surprised if Jackson made it through the night with his jacket still in his possession.
    Sean thought he still had some money on him, and I hoped he had the sense to hide it.
    Down his pants would be the best place, but Jackson didn’t strike me as the type to favor putting cash in his Italian silk boxers.
    I took the top bunk on the other side of the room. There was a bed separating us, which would hide me well enough but still allow me to watch over him.
    Now came the tricky part. If he left to use the bathrooms, he would most likely lose his sleeping space. If he didn’t get in line now, he wouldn’t get a shower. He was observing the line forming at the bathrooms across the way, but he was also watching the other men in our room protect their sleeping spaces. I could tell he was conflicted.
    He must have decided that sleep was more important than showering at this point, and I thought he made the right choice. If his luck held, he might be able to get a shower in the morning before heading out. At that point, protecting his sleeping space wouldn’t matter.
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