Starting Point (10 page)

“Just came in to tell me he’d be back later,” Claude said. “I can stay here with you, yeah?”

“You sure can.”

“What are we doing first?” she asked.

“Well, I need to make some phone calls. Boring stuff like insurances and public liability for our fundraising day. Then we can head out and see some of the local businesses and folks around the neighbourhood.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the little girl said.

I followed Claude back into my office and sat down at my desk. I pulled out my notepad of contacts and numbers, while she sat patiently and smiled when I looked at her. First, I spoke to the contacts the department heads had given me about insurance and public liability. I’d spoken to them before a few times, and it seemed we were actually going to do this.

Finally given the green light, I hung up the phone and my smile must have given me away. Claude’s eyes lit up. “Can we do it?”

“We sure can,” I replied, holding up my hand for her to high-five, which she did with a laugh.

“I’m gonna go tell Boss,” she said, then darted off the chair and out of the door.

I made a few more calls, confirming details and securing the fundraising day as a legitimate event. All T’s were crossed, all I’s were dotted, now the real work could begin.

When I hung up the phone, Claude, Boss and Arizona were standing in the doorway. With the phone to my only functioning ear, I hadn’t heard them come in. I gave them a smile. “It’s all a go,” I told them. “Paperwork will probably tie me down for a week, but we have the green light to go ahead.”

Boss shook his head. “Don’t know whose ass you kissed in that police department, but someone in there must like you.”

I laughed. If Claude wasn’t there, I’d have made some smartass comment about me and ass, but I thought better of it. “Well, regardless of
how
it’s happening, it
is
happening. We’ll need to pull all the guys in for another meeting tomorrow.” I looked at Arizona. “Can you organise that?” Then I looked at Boss. “Can you set some time aside tomorrow, and we’ll go through all the financials, budgets and allowances? We’re gonna have to spend some money to make money, but between us, I’m sure we can streamline it.”

Both men nodded. “Yeah,” they agreed in unison, then went back to what they’d been doing before Claude had interrupted them.

Claude put one hand on her hip. “What about me?”

“You,” I told her, “are coming with me. We need to go talk to the other local businesses.”

“But you already asked ’em,” Claude reminded me.

“I know. But now we can tell them it’s a definite date and we’re moving forward. Most of the groundwork has been done, but now we just need to step it up. And then we need to go speak to other local fight clubs about setting up some tournaments.” We walked towards the front door and I held it open for her. “We’ve only got six weeks, squirt. We need to get organised.”

So that’s what Claude and I did. We called in to see the other local businesses who had shown interest, and we paid Pastor Michael a visit again. Ruby came back into the club around eight and collected Claude, and Kira picked me up at nine.

I was excited to tell him that we’d finally been granted permission to close the street off for the fundraising day. There were other businesses that were keen to get on board with stalls, and the FC was going to put on public displays of the kids doing their thing and even an exhibition tournament. “I want people to see that these kids are doing something, that they’re learning something here. And I don’t know,” I said with a shrug, “that we have a purpose.”

Kira’s eyes darted from the road to me. His smile became a grin, but he didn’t speak.

“What?”

“You just love it, don’t you?”

I didn’t even have to answer. My returning smile said it all. We talked all the way home, through a late night supper then as we got into bed. Mostly we talked about my work, about his work and the people we worked with. I mentioned how Claude had again spent the day with me, and a flicker of something unsaid flashed across his features.

“What?” I asked. We were lying in bed, facing each other, so I reached out and took his hand. “Lately when I mention Claude or Ruby, it’s like you want to say something, but don’t.”

Kira sighed. “I know you like them and you spend a lot of time with them, in particular Claude. And yeah, they’re good kids, but I do worry that if something happens to them, or if they move on, or just stop coming in, you’ll get hurt.”

I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed his palm. “I probably would be hurt,” I admitted. “But you know what? That’s okay. I shouldn’t stop being nice to them just to protect myself from a ‘what if’ scenario.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” he said softly. “Because you’ve got a kind heart, Matt, you wouldn’t do that.”

“So what are you saying?”

Kira squeezed my hand. “I don’t know,” he hedged. “It’s one thing to show kindness on a professional level, but sometimes I worry it’s getting personal for you, and I don’t want you to get hurt.” He squeezed my hand again. “Maybe just put in a little distance.”

Personal.

Distance.

As much as his words stung, Kira was right. I took his suggestion on board, because it was valid—it was likely that any of the kids I dealt with would stop coming in at some point, and I would feel their absence greatly.

But three days later, the one to close the distance with Claude and make it personal, wasn’t me at all.

It was Kira.

Chapter Seven

Just like always, when I worked till nine, Kira would be waiting in the car out the front of the FC. Only this time he was across the road, which wasn’t too unusual if he had to get fuel or if he picked up something for dinner. I ran across the darkened street, but when I got in to the passenger side Kira didn’t start the car.

“What’s wrong?”

Kira nodded towards the side alley where the dumpster bin was, and it was then that I saw what he was watching. Movement in the darkness. And when the person moved into the streetlight to the front of the bin, I saw who it was.

Claude.

“Jesus,” I mumbled, grabbing the door handle to get out.

Kira’s hand on my arm stopped me. “Just wait. If you run over there now, you’ll frighten her. Let’s just see what she does.”

I looked at Kira and he was staring out of the window. He never took his eyes off her. “I’ve been watching her for three minutes,” he whispered. “She doesn’t know we’re here. I think she was waiting for the lights to go out in the club.”

“What for?”

“I think she’s gonna sleep in that dumpster.”

My heart squeezed. “Oh, God.”

“Is she homeless?”

“I don’t know,” I answered quietly. “If she does have a home, she’s not looked after properly, that’s for sure. She wears the same clothes all the time, and she doesn’t eat much…” My words died off. “Oh, Jesus…”

Then Claude moved from the shadows, and we watched in silence as the small girl edged around to the front of the dumpster in the darkened night, and lifted the lid. My heart broke into tiny pieces when she climbed inside and pulled the lid back down.

I pushed my door open, but Kira was already out of the car and half way across the street. He was a few steps ahead of me by the time we reached the dumpster, but he didn’t hesitate. He flung the bin lid back, eliciting a scream from the small girl inside it.

“Hey, Claude,” I said, hoping she’d recognise my voice, as scared as she was. “It’s me, Matt.”

The bin was half full of garbage bags and flattened cardboard. She was sitting on top of the rubbish, trying to push herself into the back of the dumpster, away from the threat. Away from us.

“It’s me, squirt,” I said again.

“And Kira,” Kira added.

Claude pulled a bag of garbage closer, as though it would somehow protect her. “What do you want?” she squeaked.

“I just want to talk,” I said, using a placating tone. I really wanted to get her out of the dumpster, but needed her to know we meant no harm. “I just want to know you’re okay.”

Even in the darkness, I could see her eyes dart between me and Kira. “I’m okay,” she spoke so quietly, I barely heard her.

“Where’s Ruby?” I asked.

The little girl looked at me for a long moment. “I don’t know.”

I sighed and took a deep breath while my heart rate slowed down. “Okay, Claude. You’re okay.”

“He’s normally back by now,” she said, her voice sounding so removed from the forthright little girl I knew.

But then Kira spoke, “Claude, you need to get out of this bin, okay? You trust Matt, don’t you?”

The little girl looked at Kira, then to me and back to Kira. She nodded, but was still wielding the bag of garbage like a shield.

“Then you can come home with us,” Kira said, surprising me more than Claude. “We have a spare bed. You can sleep in it. Or on the couch. Whatever. You’ll have a hot shower, some food and Matt will bring you back here first thing so Ruby doesn’t miss you when he gets back.”

Kira’s tone was a little sharper than I was used to hearing from him. His jaw was clenched, and whether he was mad at Claude or at the situation, I really wasn’t sure.

“Kira,” I warned.

“She’s not sleeping in a fucking dumpster!” he bit back at me, as though Claude wasn’t a few feet in front of him. He exhaled loudly, obviously regretting the outburst. “Please, Claude,” he added, much softer this time.

I held out my hand. “Come on, Claude.”

“You won’t take me to the police, or to a shelter?” she asked. “You promise?”

“I promise,” I answered.

She hesitated for the longest moment, but cast the garbage bag aside and grabbed my offered hand. I pulled her out while Kira kept the lid open, and I held on to her. I didn’t want to risk putting her on the ground, only to have her run away. She was so slight, she barely weighed a thing, and she clung to me as though grateful for the human contact.

It broke my fucking heart.

I put Claude in the back seat, and climbed into the front as Kira slid in behind the wheel. It was deathly quiet for a few blocks. No one spoke, but I kept turning around and giving the little kid a reassuring smile. Kira stared out of the windscreen, never taking his eyes off the road. His reaction was baffling to me.

Normally so open and warm, he was pissed off and cold. I didn’t understand it.

Claudia was first to break the silence. “Have you got ice cream?”

“No,” Kira answered flatly. “It’s not good for you.”

I stared at Kira and blinked at his words. “No, but we can get some,” I amended. “Did you want some?”

“Nah, it’s okay,” she replied nonchalantly.

“How about we grab some drive-through,” I suggested, thinking it would be quicker, easier, and I presumed all kids liked takeout. I doubted Claude would care either way.

“I’ll cook something,” Kira said, his tone still harsh. But then he looked at me as though he realised how abrupt he’d sounded and gave me a tight smile. “It’s okay. Won’t take me long. I don’t mind.”

I gave Claude a smile then turned back around in my seat for the rest of the drive home, trying to let the events of the night make sense in my head. A few minutes later, without another word spoken between us, we pulled into our drive.

Kira mumbled something about starting dinner then got out of the car and walked up the steps. He stopped at the front door, as though we were an afterthought. I held Claude’s door open and waited for the little girl to climb out. She just kind of stood there, awkwardly, uncertain, and for a moment I thought she was about to turn and run.

“Come on,” I said, trying to reassure her with a smile. “You can have a hot shower and then watch some TV while we cook dinner, okay?”

By the time Claude and I had walked inside, Kira was already in the kitchen. I grabbed a T-shirt and a towel then showed Claude the bathroom. “We can wash and dry your clothes so they’re ready in the morning,” I told her. “One of my shirts is the best I can do for PJs. Is that okay?”

She nodded and shrugged. “I guess.”

I rummaged through the cabinet drawer and found a new toothbrush. I held it out to her. “For you.”

She took the toothbrush, and as I turned to leave her alone, she stopped me. “Matt, is Kira mad?”

“No,” I answered reflexively. “‘Course not.” I waved my hand towards the shower. “Feel free to use the shampoo and conditioner. It’s only boy stuff, so it might not smell real pretty, but it’ll have to do.”

She kind of smiled, so I pulled the door and headed towards the kitchen.

Kira had sliced up some left over beef and scraped the slivers of meat into a saucepan on the stove. From the bottles on the counter, I gathered he’d thrown in some soy and mirin into some kind of broth.

“What are you making?”

“Nikujaga.”

“Huh?”

“Niku
—
” he started to say again, but stopped. “It’s a type of stew. It’s Japanese. We don’t have any saki, so it won’t be right,” he said. He peeled a potato with firm, rigid strokes and sliced it with just as much anger.

“Kira,” I said softly. “Can we talk about this?”

He continued chopping, and I gathered his silence was in order to get the words right in his head. But his words never came. He sliced carrot, peas and shallots then added them to the small pot. He never said a word.

“Kira.”

“Later, Matt,” he said sharply. Then he sighed. “Later,” he said again, softer this time.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked.

“No.”

“Are you mad at Claude?”

“What? No,” he said, shaking his head. “God, no.” He turned back to the saucepan, put a small plate inside the pot—which was weird—and put the lid on. I wanted to ask what the hell he was cooking, but didn’t think it was the right time. His shoulders were tight and he ran his hand through his hair then turned around to face me. Just when I thought he was going to tell me what he was so clearly struggling to say, someone else spoke.

“Matt?” Claude’s voice called out from the hall.

I hadn’t heard the water turn off. “One sec,” I yelled back to her then spoke quietly to Kira. “You okay?”