“The first is raising funds. We’re in need of transitional housing. I can obtain grants to pay for rent for houses or apartments, but we run into a common issue. We call it ‘Not in my backyard,’ or NIMBY. People don’t want the homeless living in their neighborhoods. People have this perception of the homeless as the guy on the corner begging for money who’s very weird and scary. I understand why they wouldn’t want a group of these guys running around their neighborhood. What we need it for is the mother with small kids who was kicked out of her home by her husband. She needs a few weeks to find a job and earn enough money to put a down payment on a place to live.
“Our best results, as far as fundraising goes, are when we spotlight this issue. Who wouldn’t want to help a family with children that just fell on hard times?” he asked, and I nodded.
“What I would like to do is have you create a
“I think that makes sense,” I said.
“Good, I hoped it would. The final project involves you personally. We had a tract of land donated to us on which we want to build what are called ‘Tiny Houses.’ The houses are basically the size of a single- to two-car garage, with a kitchenette, bathroom, and a place to sleep. They are designed for transitional housing. The problem we’re having is the neighbors oppose the zoning change that would allow us to build them.
“The location is perfect because it’s close to public transportation and within walking distance of a grocery and drug store,” Mr. Orange said.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked.
“I hoped you could come to the next zoning meeting and say a few words in support of us,” he confessed.
“Do you plan to use them for housing chronic or episodically homeless?” I asked.
He smiled.
“No, we have a place for those right now,” he admitted.
Brit and I were out of time, so we had to go. I promised Mr. Orange I would consider it. We hit a drive-through on the way back to school.
◊◊◊
Right after school, there was something special planned. The guys and I all found Jim in the locker room, awaiting the press conference where he would announce which school he’d signed with. While everyone already knew, they still wanted him to go through the whole rigmarole. He was nervous.
We walked up to him, and I handed him his present.
Jim looked up at me, perplexed.
“What is it?”
I grinned at him.
“We thought you’d want to make a statement, and were pretty sure you didn’t want to go through the whole baseball-hat shtick, so we arranged something better. Now, open it!”
Jim tore the wrapping off, opened the box, and then broke out in a huge grin. He lifted out an elegant, expensive houndstooth hat, looked it over, and then put it on his head at a rakish angle. Legendary Alabama Head Coach Bear Bryant always wore one. When you visited the Alabama campus, they had his portrait displayed, and he wore almost the exact same hat.
Jim’s smile could’ve lit up New York City.
“It fits perfectly! How’d you do it?”
I couldn’t help grinning myself.
“Remember when Gina measured all our heads to see if they were getting swelled?”
We trooped out with him, and Tim whispered something to him and gave him a hug. Jim smiled and nodded, then walked up to the table and removed all the baseball hats from it as he sat down.
“Are there any questions?” he asked the startled media people.
I just grinned to myself and walked out. This was Jim’s day, and I didn’t want anything, including my presence, to take that away from him.
◊◊◊
After practicing at the dojo, I rode with Fritz to the James’ house. We found Rita and Halle in the kitchen. Rita gave me a pointed look.
“We need to talk,” she said, leaving Halle and Fritz to finish dinner.
I followed Rita to her office and sat in a chair across from her desk. Rita wouldn’t look at me as she paced back and forth. I reverted to full Dawson mode. I had no idea what she was mad about. She knew that Halle and I had sex; she’d known since the beginning. I knew Fritz had told Rita or shown her the video by the way she looked at me the next time I came to visit. I never let on, because I didn’t want to freak out Halle. Yes, I’d teased her about it, but that was just in fun.
“I talked to your mom,” she finally said.
I knew that and decided it didn’t warrant a comment.
“Dammit!” she barked and stomped her foot.
My eyebrows raised, and Rita’s eyes lowered.
“Come here,” I said with command in my voice.
I knew she needed a firm hand at times, and my Alpha Male was coming out. Rita stood up, and I wrapped my arms around her. At first, she stiffened up, and then she laid her head against my chest and pulled me tight.
“I’m such a terrible mother. When I caught you two, all I could think of was that I was jealous you were with Halle,” Rita said, shocking me.
“Do you need my help?” I asked.
