The Ultimate Gift by Rene Gutteridge
“What are you talking about? He hated me.”
“Jason,” she said, putting on her motherly voice, “he did not. He didn’t come around much, but I always thought it was because of me.” She tightened her robe a little more.
“It doesn’t matter. Do you have any extra spending cash?”
“I would love to help you, but I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“They told me specifically that you would be coming around for money and that I was not to give you anything.”
“But I’m your son, Mom. That’s what you’re supposed to do.” She looked up with pleading eyes. “If I violate their instructions, I am out everything. Everything!”
What was this, the mob?
“So for the sake of the greater good, I must insist that you leave.” She jutted her chin up a little. “I’m not gonna upset the whole apple cart just because you’re facin’ a few challenges. I’m sorry. I just cannot help you.”
“Thanks,” Jason said as she closed the door in his face.
chapter 6
jason couldn’t believe it, but he’d witnessed yet another sunrise. Well, almost. The maid had found him asleep on one of the poolside chairs and beaten him away with a feather duster. Anyway, the sun at this time of day was spectacularly over rated, if you asked him. But then again, he was in a bad mood. A really bad mood.
With his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed at his chest, he stared at nature. Birds pooping all over the place. Dogs sniffing each other’s backsides. Women jogging who looked like they’d rather be dead.
And then there was him. Not that anybody had noticed or cared, but he was, apparently, homeless. No, that was too harsh of a word. Well, maybe not. He’d actually spent the night outside, and it wasn’t because he was camping.
Think. There had to be a solution. A way out of this. Some way he could outsmart Hamilton.
His stomach grumbled loudly enough that he glanced around. He was alone, to his disappointment. Maybe it was him, but it seemed like people were avoiding eye contact with him. Not that he cared, but it seemed weird. Or maybe he was just being paranoid.
And he was cold. Who knew mornings could be so cold? There was dew on the grass, but the air smelled kind of clean. Crisp. Whoopee.
“Hey, man. You’re . . . you’re on my bench. On my bench.”
The man standing over him looked like Jason felt. And smelled like Jason looked, after a weekend of partying. He looked like a chimney sweeper.
“Beat it,” Jason told him.
“A simple no would have sufficed.”
Sufficed? Where’d this guy come from? Maybe he was one of those investors his uncles talked about who went berserk when the stock market plunged.
“Fine. No.”
“No, what?”
“No, you cannot sit on this bench. This is not your bench. This is a city bench,” Jason said, gesturing toward the park to help the guy get a clue. “Go sit on another bench.” He pitched a thumb sideways to the two additional benches that sat less than five feet away.
“But it’s my bench, you know?” The guy was kind of whiny. “I’ve got just as much right to it as anybody. It’s a free country, you know.”
“See,” Jason said, anger bubbling, “that’s where you’re wrong. Name one thing in this country that’s for free. You need money for everything. Without money, you’re nothing. Look at you. No money. No food. No family. No friends. Nothing. Besides, I’m sitting on this bench now. This is my bench. Okay?”
The man didn’t look the slightest bit deterred. “I’ll flip you for it.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. Standing, he drove his hands into his pockets, searching for a coin. So did the bum. At the same moment, they realized neither one of them had a coin. “I have a quarter.”
Jason whipped around to find a child standing there holding an umbrella. Why was she holding an umbrella? It was bright and sunny. And why was she offering money to two grown men she didn’t know? She stuck out her hand and offered Jason the quarter.
“Uh . . . thanks.”
Jason turned to the bum and smirked. The bum smirked back. Jason flipped the coin high in the air. But as he waited for it to fall again, the bum suddenly snatched it midair and took off running.
Whatever. Jason flopped down on his bench.
“Well, aren’t you going to chase him for it?”
“Beat it, kid.”
“I’ve been watching you,” the girl continued. She had an irri- tatingly mature way about her. Sort of like a miniature mother. Her disapproving eyes studied him. “You’re not a real bum. I saw you at a funeral.”
His eyes blinked open. “What were you doing at the—”
“My mother and I come here for lunch every day. Except right now, she doesn’t know where I am.”
Her self-satisfied smile was broken by yelling, which made Jason jump and the little girl roll her eyes like a teenager.
“Emily! Emily!” A woman came tearing across the grass toward them, her eyes frantically glued to Jason.
“Whatever,” the girl sighed. She looked at Jason as though nobody was calling her name. “You must really be having a bad life.”
The woman, apparently the girl’s mother, charged toward her, now in a full-fledged stomp, relief replacing fear. “Come on. Right now.” She glanced at Jason, somewhat apologetically, and took her daughter by the shoulders, trying to move her in the opposite direction.
But Emily didn’t budge. She looked at her mother with one hand on her hip. “I was just having a pleasant conversation with this gentleman. Leave us alone, please.”
“Dear, don’t be ridiculous,” the mother said, embarrassment washing over her face as she looked at Jason. “Sorry to disturb you.”
“That’s okay. I’m not the one who’s disturbed.”
Emily looked indignant. “Some friend you are. Thanks a lot, poser.”
Finally, the mother guided her away, lecturing in her ear about stranger danger. But Jason couldn’t help himself. Like someone else at the controls, he followed them. How creepy could he get? Maybe not as creepy if he tried to smile and look normal. Didn’t he look normal? Surely.
“Hey,” Jason said, calling after them.
The mother quickly turned, pulling her daughter toward her. Jason held up his hands and tried a kind voice. “Wait . . . wait, wait.” He took a few steps closer. The mother’s eyes widened. “Okay, this is going to sound really, really strange, but I’m just going to come out and say it. I’ll make a deal with you. I need a friend, but only for a little while, and, uh, in return, I don’t know . . .” Jason looked up, searching for something he could give away. “I’ll take you both to Disney World!” Yeah. That was good. Of course, he couldn’t do that now, but later, when he got this mess sorted out.
The mother leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“I need a friend,” Jason said again. Maybe he needed to look more desperate. That probably didn’t need to be feigned.
The mother began glancing around nervously, obviously hoping to catch the attention of a jogger or maybe even a bum. Anybody but him. Emily, however, looked intrigued. She slipped out of her mother’s grasp and put her hand back on her hip. “Explain yourself,” she said.
Jason paused. How could he explain this? “It’s complicated.” The mother gave him an I’ll bet look that could’ve melted iron.
“No. It’s not. It’s pathetic,” Emily said. She stared him down, just like her mother, and then they both turned back and began walking toward the hospital.
“Okay . . .” Jason sighed for what must’ve been the eightieth time in an hour. Throwing up his arms, he turned to go sit on his bench. “Oh, dude. Come on.”
The bum sat smiling on the bench, flipping his quarter through his fingers.
He’d been chased by a dog from Caitlin’s backyard, scaling the iron gate to avoid the fierce, snapping jaws of the Rottweiler. But a bite out of his flesh mi
Jason didn’t have to turn around to know that the neighborhood security guard was about to involve himself. Clinging to the wrought iron fence, Jason watched Caitlin lose herself in the moment.
The security guard came up beside him and, with Jason, observed the two through the window. He seemed to sense Jason’s pain. Temporarily. Then he grabbed Jason by the shirt and led him toward a patrol car. Jason gestured toward them and their oblivion.
“You know, she doesn’t even like Chateau Montrachet?
“Miss Hastings,” Hamilton said, “bring me the Stevens file. Looks like our boy’s not even going to make it through round two.”
She stepped toward his desk, clasping her hands together. “But, sir. Doesn’t he have until the end of today?”
Hamilton looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Well, from what I hear, he could have another month and still get the same result.”
Miss Hastings looked down. She knew Hamilton was a skeptic; that was practically part of his title. But something told her Jason just needed a little more time. Maybe she could talk to Hamilton, convince him to give the boy at least another day or two. Jason wasn’t brimming with maturity, but she was starting to think he might be catching on to the idea.
“The Stevens file?”
“Yes, sir.”
chapter 7
jason awoke. The first thing he saw was a bright blue sky. Finally. He’d missed the sunrise. Things might be on their way to normal again.
With his hands tucked under his armpits, he tried not to shiver. But his chattering teeth were doing a good job of reminding him that sleeping on a bench outside in the middle of a park was far from normal.
He tried to doze back to sleep but then heard a commotion. A woman yelling. Sitting up, he turned around to find the little girl he’d met yesterday with her umbrella. Except she wasn’t holding it over her head—she was jabbing it toward that stupid bum, who had tried to steal his bench once again last night when nature came calling. The mother was yelling something about 911 and holding her phone up in the air as if it might detonate a bomb. Apparently they were defending Fort Picnic.
To Jason’s surprise, they seemed to be holding their own. Emily didn’t look frightened, but rather annoyed. Her mother kept threatening to use the cell phone to make a call, but Jason thought she might actually throw it at the guy. All this while dodging the bum’s attempts to snatch lunch.
The bum managed to grab a bag of chips, except he didn’t look like he wanted the chips. Maybe he wanted the PB&J.
“Hey . . . hey . . .” the mother said, stretching her arm out to hold him off. “Give that—sir, you need to step back.” The bum grabbed for the entire lunch basket but missed. “Hey! I’ve got 911 all dialed in!” she shouted. “All I have to do is press Send. See? See?” She quickly moved Emily behind her. “Sweetheart, get back.”
“Hey! Hey!” Jason ran toward them. “Leave ’em alone!”
The bum turned, and to Jason’s surprise, started running . . . toward Jason. Which caused Jason to come to a screeching halt and wonder if he was going to have to dial back his memory to fifth grade when he’d taken karate.
Even with the little limp he had, the bum clipped along toward Jason at a good pace.
“Oh . . . no you don’t!” Jason quickly turned, rushing back to his bench and planting his rear on the wood. The bum stopped and sighed. Jason reclined and smirked. “My bench.”
Grumbling, the bum skulked away. Jason looked at the mother, who was kissing Emily and, to Jason’s delight, looking pretty grateful.
“Thanks,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
She stuck out her hand. “I’m Alexia. This is Emily.”
“We’ve met,” Emily said, putting the umbrella back over her head.
Alexia smoothed her hair and tucked her cell phone away. “Well . . . um . . .” She glanced down at the picnic basket. “Maybe, uh . . .”
“I would love to.”
Jason had been forced to attend etiquette school when he was in third grade. His mother had been big on it. Something about how all his other cousins ate like pigs, burped at the table, and acted, in general, like heathens and idiots. So he learned to chew with his mouth closed, use the correct utensil, and fold his napkin in his lap.
Except now he was stuffing an entire peanut butter and jelly sandwich into his mouth. His cheeks bulged on each side, and he barely had enough room to chew. Gulping it down as fast as he could without choking, he felt only slight embarrassment as Alexia and Emily watched him like he was a monkey at the zoo. Between chews, he was attempting an explanation for how he’d gotten himself into this mess.
“So,” Emily said, those scrutinizing, mother-like eyes watching him at every moment. “You have a bet with a dead guy?”
Jason nodded, glancing at Alexia.
“Cool.” Emily smiled.
Yeah, not so cool, but that was another story.
Alexia patted Emily on the shoulder. “Emily, be polite.” But she looked equally as curious. “Wait, how can you have a bet with a deceased person?”
“See, that’s the part that’s complicated,” Jason said, sitting back and letting the food rest in his stomach.
“So you come up with a friend. What do you get if we go along with this?”
“Emily!” Alexia said, embarrassment trickling into her tone.
“No, it’s okay,” he said. He’d be curious too. In fact, this whole thing would be rather amusing if it weren’t happening to him. “I don’t know. Something about an ultimate gift. Or something.”
“But you’re not sure what that is?” Emily was asking all the adult questions. Alexia looked like she was restraining herself to not look eagerly interested.
“Yeah. That about sums it up.”
“So what do we get if we agree to do this? We need money. How much are you willing to pay?”
“Emily!” Alexia shook her head and glanced apologetically at Jason. “I’m sorry. You’re going to have to excuse my daughter. Sometimes she tends to be a little outspoken.”
Jason gazed at Emily. He was beaten. She was smart, savvy, and had his number. “I can’t promise you anything,” he said to Emily.
“Now that’s better.” She smiled as if she’d just conquered him, then she placed a can of soda in front of him. “But what if we really did become friends?”
Hamilton sat comfortably in one of twelve leather conference room chairs that encircled a table. Jason slouched with his knee against it. And this little girl, though cute enough, was sucking the life out of a soda can and wasn’t about to begin anything until she finished. He glanced back at Miss Hastings, who looked hopeful.
He was skeptical. The mother of the young girl didn’t know whether to sit back and let it all unfold or sit forward and help both Jason and this girl with their manners.
The little girl, who had introduced herself as Emily, looked a little familiar. Hamilton couldn’t place her, though. And that wasn’t his concern now. Emily finished off her soda with the loudest slurping sound he’d ever heard.
The mother couldn’t stand it any longer. She leaned forward. “Emily, it’s not polite to—”
Hamilton held a hand up. It was time to get down to business. “So you’re Jason’s friend?”
Emily sat up tall, folded her arms on top of the table, and looked him right in the eye. “Yes, I am.”
“True friend?”
“Absolutely. Pinky promise.”
Hamilton could hear Miss Hastings snicker behind him. “So how long have you known Mr. Stevens?”
“We go way back. We’re like this.” She held up her hand, tw
Hamilton leaned forward, engaging the girl with a serious tone and sharp eyes that didn’t affect her at all. “And, he hasn’t promised you any compensation for this friendship?”
The girl gestured toward Jason, who still hadn’t managed to undo the slouch he was so fond of. “Look at him.” Everyone did. “Does he look like he has anything to offer?”
Miss Hastings let out a chuckle. Everyone in the room looked as though they agreed. Jason finally sat up a little and ran a hand through hair that looked in bad need of a shower.
“So, do you expect,” Hamilton asked, “this friendship to continue?”
“I plan on knowing Jason for the rest of my life.” Suddenly the girl stood. “Now, where do I sign?”
Hamilton sighed, pushing the paper forward. They all watched as she carefully wrote her name on the bottom line, complete with a heart over the i and a squiggly tail at the end of the y. Then she unfurled her umbrella, nearly hitting Hamilton in the face with it. The mother looked ready to die of embarrassment
Jason, on the other hand, looked like he could burst into song and dance.
“Thank you for your time, Miss Emily,” Hamilton said, shaking her hand.
She marched out the door, her exasperated mother trailing. Jason followed, but not without a satisfied smirk.
Outside the office building, Alexia said good-bye to Jason. “Tomorrow. Lunch at noon. Our usual spot in the park,” Emily told him.
“Sure,” Jason said, his tone giving away his insincerity.
“Just a minute, pal!” Emily said, her face drawn into a fierce scowl. “You owe me!”
But he was walking away, leaving them both staring after him incredulously. To his retreating back, Emily made a gesture: three fingers up, out, and then an L. “Whatever, loser!”
Alexia watched the guy walk off. Emily stormed the other direction. “Emily, wait . . .” Alexia was sort of inclined to make the gesture herself.
Having nothing better to do, Jason headed back to the conference room, but it was empty. The coffeepot wasn’t. He poured himself a cup, loaded plenty of sugar into it, and guzzled.