Drummer Boy by Toni Sheridan Read Free Book Online Page B

else.
    Somewhere, sometime in his careful, slightly paranoid travels and collecting and accumulating, Alphie had landed his hands on a practice pad.
    “Come look what I got,” he’d said last week after lunch was done and the dishes were cleaned. Alphie had taken to helping with clean up and was surprisingly efficient and fluid in the kitchen, not as jumpy and scared as usual. “You’ll like it.”
    Tim had followed him and had been surprised. “You drum?”
    “When I was a kid.”
    “Well, hey, I’ll bring you some sticks.”
    “Sure,” Alphie had said, unlocking his shopping buggy from the streetlamp pole that he always chained it to. Sooner or later, Tim figured, someone would come and complain that having it there broke some bylaw or another, but so far so good.
    Now, seeing Alphie’s ice-blue eyes light up with interest, Tim was relieved he’d remembered the drumsticks. He was about to push his luck and see if Alphie wanted to lay down a beat, but the white noise of mellow chatting behind them suddenly changed.
    “Not drunk—only hadda couple.” A tall, burly man with a long, straggly beard pointed a belligerent finger at Robert, a slightly whiny regular, who must’ve made the offensive accusation. The man staggered a little, cursing under his breath, and let loose a wet-sounding belch.
    Tim jogged across the room, but Jane was already beside the man.
    “Let’s get you seated,” she said. “Then I’ll grab you something to eat, OK?”
    The man, still grumbling, complied, following the gentle pressure on his elbow as Jane guided him. He was about to sit when his face went a nasty pale shade.
    Tim had been this route a few times and grabbed a garbage can—too late.
    The man threw up a foul, sour-smelling mess down the front of his jacket and onto the floor.
    The room went still, and Tim realized that this was probably where he lost Jane. Why hadn’t he manned up and asked her out on an actual date or something? Cleaning up puke was the antithesis of romance. He thought of Natalie and looked up, expecting to see a similar expression of absolute distaste on Jane’s face. Though, to be honest, it took a lot less than vomit to offend Natalie. He blinked.
    Jane had whipped a mismatched pair of latex gloves—one huge and one small—out of her hip pocket. In a quiet, conversational tone, she asked the man if she could please take his jacket.
    “I’ll give it back,” she promised. “I just want to clean it for you. I hate throwing up. It feels awful doesn’t it?”
    The man’s eyes had a dull sheen—not embarrassment, but a sort of resigned hopelessness that made Tim’s stomach clench.
    “Tim, could you grab some paper towels and spray cleaner?”
    “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He practically ran to the cleaning cupboard. When he returned, Jane had the man’s jacket folded in on itself in a neat pile, and she’d wiped his face and beard with a napkin.
    She left Tim to cleaning the floor.
    “Are you all right to walk, maybe get some fresh air?”
    The man nodded.
    “Alphie, would you mind getting us a coffee, a bottle of water, some buttered rolls—and maybe a bit of cheese?”
    Tim and Alphie found Jane and the man—Bill, she introduced him as—sitting in the sun on the cement steps in front of the hall.
    Bill shook his head at the water but took the coffee.
    Jane tucked his water, the sandwich baggy of buns and cheese, and two oranges and an apple that Alphie had also brought, into a navy messenger bag that Tim hadn’t even noticed the man was carrying.
    “Try to drink the water later, if you’re up to it,” Jane said. “And please come back for lunch another day.”
    Bill grunted and heaved himself up to his feet.
    “You don’t need to leave yet,” Jane said. “It’s a nice afternoon to just take it easy.”
    But the guy was already in motion. He turned back at the bottom of the stairs. “My coat.”
    “I’m going to take it to the Laundromat. We’re done here about two