“Well today was a bust,” Davie said late that evening.
He and Vin had spent the day in the most rundown area of the city he’d ever been to, splitting their time between the soup kitchens and the day labor place. They’d wound it up by going to the local shelter where they stood in line with dozens other guys who hoped to get a bed for the night. Some succeeded, others didn’t, including Vin and Davie. But then they didn’t want to.
“I’d rather sleep behind a smelly Dumpster than take my chances in there,” Davie had whispered at one point when he and Vin had stepped out of line so Davie could kneel to ostensibly retie his bootlaces.
Of course that meant they had to go to the back of the line again as guys crowded forward to take their place—which was what they wanted. As soon as the man let
