Chapter 1

Piper

It was a lazy Saturday on the Upper West Side. Christmastime in New York was always my favorite time of the year. From the hustle and bustle of passersby with their shopping bags, to the lush wreaths on the doors of the brownstones in my neighborhood, I just loved every bit of this season. The air was so cold today that it felt like a true cleanse of my system every time I breathed it in.

I’d just left one of my favorite cafés, where I’d spent the afternoon sipping hot cocoa and looking through some catalogs to get ideas for an apartment I was re-doing. As an interior designer, browsing for décor was one of my favorite things to do, even in my spare time when I wasn’t on the clock; I really didn’t even consider it a chore.

As I approached my apartment building, I noticed a man sitting down on the ground right in front of it. From time to time, the homeless would choose a spot outside of my building, probably figuring that it was a nice, safe area. Unfortunately, all too often, residents would complain, forcing those poor people to move. I never had an issue with the homeless parking themselves outside our building. It wasn’t like they were hurting anyone.

Rather than approach this man, I had an idea. Turning back around, headed in the direction from which I came, I walked toward my favorite delicatessen. My plan was to buy the man a damn good lunch and give him some cash. After all, that gesture would be right in line with my decision this year to forego Christmas gifts to my friends and family in favor of good deeds. Rather than spending money needlessly on a scarf or Broadway show tickets, I’d help someone in need and let each friend and family member know exactly what I’d done for someone else in their honor. So, who was going to be the lucky recipient of today’s good deed? I figured helping this homeless man, buying him lunch, and giving him some cash might be the perfect present for my Aunt Lorraine.

When it was my turn in line at the deli, I said, “Large pastrami on rye, please.” After placing my order, I grabbed a bottle of Coke from the refrigerator, a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and a large chocolate chip cookie from the counter that was covered in Saran wrap. Not knowing what the man liked, I basically just ordered all of my own favorites. You couldn’t go wrong with anything from this place.

Returning to the sidewalk and feeling good about myself, I headed back toward my building. I’d also slipped a fifty-dollar bill into the paper bag.

Luckily, the man was still sitting in that same spot on the ground when I returned. From a distance, I could see he was wearing a flannel shirt. Or was it a jacket? As I approached, I also noticed ripped jeans. A baseball cap covered his face.

Now standing right in front of the man, I bent down and cleared my throat. “Hello…I’m Piper. I, uh, thought you might be hungry,” I said, reaching the bag out to him.

He didn’t immediately say anything as he lifted his hat a bit so he could see my face through the sun. Even though it was a cold day, the sun was shining brightly.

I added, “There’s also a fifty-dollar bill inside the bag. All I ask is that you don’t spend it on alcohol.”

He opened the bag and took a whiff, then said, “Then it’s okay to spend it on strippers?”

Not knowing how to answer that, I stammered,” Uh...I’d prefer you didn’t, but whatever makes your Christmas merry, I suppose.”

He abruptly lifted his hat off his head. That was when I noticed his striking blue eyes, head full of thick, beautifully tousled copper hair, and really handsome face.

His eyes seared into mine as he said, “What are you smoking, lady?”

I swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“You think I’m homeless?”

Oh.

No

What?

He’s not homeless?

In an attempt to defend myself, I cringed and said, “Why else would you be sitting on the ground outside of this building?”

“Oh, I don’t know…maybe I’m doing some work inside and came out for a smoke?” He scowled. “Any number of things.”

It was then that I really took a moment to look at him. He wore one of those heavy flannel shirts that were more padded like a jacket, the ones I’d always see construction workers donning. Of course. From a distance, he somehow looked like he might be homeless, but up close he looked like something out of an L.L. Bean catalog. He wasn’t just handsome; he was gorgeous. He had the perfect amount of chin scruff and large hands that looked like they’d seen their share of work. He looked…sexy. Not homeless. Not homeless at all, you idiot, Piper.

With every second that passed, I started to realize just how much of a mistake I’d made. The rips in his jeans were intentional, not a result of tattered wear. He was clean and didn’t look anything like someone who lived on the streets with limited access to a shower. Rather than smelling bad, he smelled quite good in fact, like cologne with a hint of cigarettes.

“Clearly, I made a mistake. But you were sitting on the ground…I jus—”

“So, if someone takes a rest on the ground, they’re automatically homeless?”

“We’ve had homeless people camp out in this very spot before, so it seemed plausible.”

He scratched his chin. “Let me ask you this, Piper...if a hooker walks the streets in heels, bending down talking to strangers, does that mean that every woman walking the sidewalk in heels—such as yourself—who bends down and talks to strangers is a hooker?”

Is he indirectly calling me a whore?

Plain and simple, I’d tried to do a good thing. And I fucked up. But that was no reason for him to be so mean.

“Look, I’m sorry. Clearly this was a huge misunderstanding. I was just trying to do something good for someone.”

“So you could feel better about yourself...”

I squinted. “Excuse me?”

“By labeling someone you perceive as beneath you, it makes you feel better about yourself. Further solidifying the entitled rich girl that you are.”

No, he didn’t.

Despite the frigid air, my body temperature started to rise.

“I’ll have you know, I work very hard for my money. There’s not a spoiled or ungrateful bone in my body.”

“Perhaps, then, you should do your research before handing your cash out to random people on the sidewalk. But it didn’t matter to you. You didn’t care who you were handing it to, as long as you were getting your fix of self-righteousness.”

This prick was getting on my last nerve.

“I don’t know who you are, or what you’re even doing outside of my building, but—”

“Finally...she asks who I am!” He stood up. “Might that have been a good idea before you handed me fifty dollars and a bag of food?”

“You know what? I am sort of wishing now that it were a bag of dicks instead, because that’s what you deserve…to eat a bag of dicks!” I huffed, “I’m done with this conversation. Have a nice day. Stuff the sandwich up your ass and use the money to buy yourself some manners!”

It had taken me hours to calm down from that infuriating encounter.

Later that evening, I was headed out with a friend when I stopped at the sight of something at my feet just outside my apartment door.

It was a paper bag. Upon closer inspection, it looked like the same paper bag I’d given to that guy earlier—because it said Rick’s Delicatessen on the front.

Hesitantly, I picked it up and opened it.

I gasped at the sight of what looked like seven rubber dildos inside in various colors.

What the fuck?

There was a note.

Per your suggestion, I went ahead and bought a bag of dicks. Actually, technically, you said you wished you’d given me a bag of dicks and that I should buy some manners, but they don’t sell manners on 8th Avenue. As luck would have it, they do sell dicks. So, wish granted. While I’m unable to “eat” them as you so kindly suggested…(because, you know, you’re such a nice, giving person who cares about your fellow man), I figured you might get more use out of a bag of dicks than me. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

P.S. The food and the fifty you left me with went to an *actual* homeless person as per your intention.